On the Boss’ orders, she was pushed up against a post and her arms pulled behind it. It
was then that the Boss admonished his men to bind her extra tightly. Two of them eagerly
began the process of binding her arms together behind the post, then wrapping a great deal
of rope around her body and the wooden post. One had smarts enough to bind her ankles
together before her legs were wrapped, to make it harder for her to work her way out. Not
that any of them believed she could do it; the ropes were cruelly tight, especially around
her chest where the tightness made her breasts stick out like ripe melons.
Under his orders, some more rope was wrapped around her head, through the mouth,
effective gagging her as well as locking her head against the post. Had the men been
looking a little higher than they were, they would have seen fear in her eyes, but their
vision was lower down and they missed that.
“Now,” began the Boss walking back and forth before the captive woman, “I am going to ask
you some questions. Give me truthful answers and you won’t be hurt.” He paused
dramatically. “But lie or refuse to talk, and you will experience great pain.” He smiled
wickedly as she grimaced.
He snapped his fingers and one of the men handed him a whip. Not much in size, but it
was mainly a thin, stiff metal rod covered with leather. The end was very thin and would
act almost like a knife when it hit female flesh. He took the whip, made a few
preliminary swishes through the air before her, and then asked, “Who do you work for?”
Blaze could hardly say a word, both from fear and from the ropes through her mouth
holding down her tongue. She managed to force out something that sounded like, “Mummphle
Loon Shhir.”
“What?” the Boss said, then, angrily, “Get that rope out of her mouth!”
One of the men jumped to obey, thinking to remind the Boss that he had ordered the gag in
the first place, but had just enough smarts in his tiny brain to realize that the Boss
probably did not want to hear that. He took off the rope gag.
“Now, again, who do you work for?”
“Mayfair Loan Service,” she said. It was partly true. That was the small company she
had worked for before being recruited into the CIA.
“Wrong!” exclaimed the Boss. Then he swung the whip across her breasts.
A surprisingly loud scream echoed off the wooden walls.
All eyes were drawn to the thin red line crossing the front of both breasts. Blaze’s
body shook and strained against the ropes holding her. Her head tossed from side to side
a few times as she sucked in air. “That hurt!” she informed loudly. Looking down at her
breasts, she could just barely see the red line of swelling up flesh. It had scored her
breast just above the nipples.
“Now,” the Boss continued calmly. “Who do you work for?”
“I told you, Mayfair Loan…”
Her statement was cut off by another scream as the whip swept across her breasts again.
A thin red line was forming, this time just below the nipples. Blaze’s eyes were wide
open with fear. The pain shooting into her body from those abused breasts was more than
she had ever known.
“I…” she began but nothing more came out.
“I can continue this all night,” he told her. “Now, who do you work for?”
Blaze tensed. Her eyes closed as her body braced for another painful blow to her
wonderful breasts. But that did not happen. Instead a burst of fire shot across her
upper thighs between two windings of the rope. He had cut a fresh line across her thighs
and the pain was almost as bad as the first two strokes. Blaze gasped and whined loudly,
trying to keep the scream in.
Her head was moving back and forth in denial. “Please, no more! That hurts so much!”
she pleaded.
The Boss smiled. The men watching licked their lips, and bulges in their pants increased
in size. There is nothing like inflicting pain on a gorgeous woman to arouse a man.
“Once again, who do you work for?” he said.
Blazes’ eyes opened wide as she shook her head. But then she remembered who she was: a
secret agent for her country, and bravery overflowed in her. “I can’t tell you. No
matter how much you torture me, I will not tell you. Wild horses couldn’t drag it out of
me!”
He delivered the next cut right over her pussy.
“The CIA!” Blaze howled. “Oh, that hurts! Ohhhh…”
She began sobbing, with big tears flowing down her cheeks to fall on the injured
breasts.
“See, boys, a little incentive and she’s signing like a nightingale.”
The boys were nodded agreement, looking much like a line of three bobblehead dolls.
Behind the post, her hands were twisting around frantically in response to the pain being
delivered on the other side.
“Now we go to the second question. What are you doing here?”
Blaze looked around frantically but saw no chance of rescue. “Nothing,” she blurted out.
“Nothing. We are on vacation!”
With a chortle, the Boss cut the whip across her thighs again, this time between two
other windings of the rope. Again she howled in pain and tried to thrash about. Her
body, however, moved only slightly despite her straining against the ropes. Her head
tossed from side to side, but that was all.
“Like I say, I can continue this all night,” the Boss said.
At that point two things happened. The newlyweds, having heard Blaze’s scream, came into
the stable. Instead of looking shocked at what they saw, they smiled. “Oh, goodie, he’s
torturing the bitch!” said the blonde wife. “Can we watch?”
“Of course,” Silverman said graciously.
They walked closer to get a better view.
At that moment, the second event occurred. From a distance there came a man’s scream
rushing in through the open stable door. It sounded as if he were in terrible agony to
judge by the long, drawn out cry.
Blaze heard it and her heart skipped a beat. That had to be Mark! What was being done
to him? Later, she realized that if she heard him, then he probably heard her screams as
well.
The man with the Middle Eastern appearance walked in, took one look at the naked, bound
and whipmarked Blaze, and smiled. He got as close as he could and leaned against a stall
door to watch.
The Boss saw him but said nothing, returning instead to his bound beauty. “Again: what
are you doing here? And I don’t believe you are on vacation. Vacationers don’t carry
Glocks.”
Blaze swallowed hard and tried desperately to think of a convincing lie.
The whip swished and fresh pain appeared on her abdomen just above her pubic patch.
Again she howled; she could not help herself.
At that point, she did the logical thing. She fainted.
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