A Second Interrogation
Dieter had to return to Germany for some kind of family crisis. He would be gone for over a week. She begged him to hand her over to the police chief again but he refused absolutely. He was terrified that even if they didn't actually kill her, they would finally push her over the edge and permanently traumatize her. But cow could be very persuasive, when she was gently licking his cock after he had spanked her and then fucked her. As he was getting hard again she pointed out how bad it would be if she got bored and wandered off, never to return. Then she deep throated him, teasing him, slowly bringing him to an explosive orgasm.
"See," she said, "you'd miss that, wouldn't you?"
And so he relented. On the day of his departure a police truck visited the house. cow left in a wooden crate, barely big enough to hold her tiny body folded up inside. Dieter had kissed her almost tenderly before the lid was nailed firmly in place, mumbling sweet nothings in German. She didn't understand the words but his concern for her was obvious. In his own strange way he had fallen in love with her.
The police chief had to use his creativity. He couldn't hand her back to his interrogation team, now they knew that she was not only a innocent tourist, but practically a friend of their big boss. He sent her to the regional centre a couple of hours drive away. The crate bounced around on the primitive roads, shaking cow up until she puked in her tiny space. When she arrived, they left her in the crate for three days, unable to see anything or to move. Her arms were pinned in place, unable to reach her increasingly desperate clit. The only contact with the outside was a hose pushed into her anus, which they used to keep her hydrated by pumping several litres of water into her every now and then, stretching her belly as it coursed through her guts.
Finally the box was opened. She was raped repeatedly, beaten, and made to lick up the decaying filth that had leaked from her body during her confinement. Then they strung her up by her arms, her feet barely able to touch the floor, and left for for several hours before a senior-looking man in a fancy uniform appeared before her.
"We're going to play a little game with you. It will be a lot of fun - for us anyway. We're going to tell you something, and then another team is going to try and get you to tell them. Sounds easy, doesn't it? I mean, why wouldn't you just tell them, without any unpleasantness? Here's why."
Then she was released, collapsing in a heap on the floor. After three days in the box her muscles simply didn't work. She tried to crawl as a guard dragged her into another room. To her horror, she saw why she couldn't just tell them.
A couple of months earlier one of Dieter's Thai maids, Mali, had left to go to a proper job working in a hotel. It happened all the time, and she was quickly replaced. She had been a good friend to cow from the time she arrived at Dieter's house. They had enjoyed a lot of things together. And there she was, a noose round her neck, her head tilted at an awkward angle, her hands bound behind her naked body. She was standing on her toes on a wooden table. A couple of heavy chains held the table in place. There was a young policeman sitting on a broken wooden chair beside it, holding a crop and a cane. The officer pointed out a padlock on each chain.
"We're going to tell you the combination for those locks. If you reveal them, he'll undo the locks, push the table out of the way, and your friend will hang there, struggling for breath, wriggling on the end of the rope, until after ten or fifteen minutes she'll be dead. You'll be able to watch, it should be quite an education for you. These days very few people get to see someone hang to their death.
"Don't try to play games. If you give a number and it doesn't open the lock, he'll crush one of her fingers and amputate it. Very, very painful for your poor friend. The team will do everything they can to get you to speak, but they'll give her a beating from time to time, too. Like this."
The guard laid into poor Mali's virgin flesh with the vicious crop, landing blow after blow on her belly and her cute tits. She had never had anything stronger than an enjoyable spanking before. Very quickly piss was streaming down her thighs as she howled in pain. When the blows stopped and she had recovered, she cried out,
"Please pet, please be strong. Don't tell them. Please, or they kill me."
cow was dragged to her feet and marched along way down a corridor to another room, where she was strapped into a chair. On a piece of paper opposite her was a four-digit number. She looked away, but they slapped her face hard and held her head fast in position.
"There, can you remember that? No, that's what I thought. Nothing would be easier than to forget it, so no matter how much they torture you, your friend is safe. That sounds like a really an easy game. So we're going to make sure you don't forget. Now, what's the number?"
She tried hard to say nothing, but when they pushed a metal rod into her cunt and connected it to a battery she jerked in the chair and whispered the number. They increased the voltage, telling her to speak louder, until she was yelling the number at the top of her voice, over and over.
Over the following hour they made her shout the number over and over again. They made her write it in huge figures. They made her tap it out with her hand. They made it completely impossible to forget - so much that even now, many years later, she can still remember the number of, as she says, those fucking padlocks. Then it was time for the interrogation to begin. She was suspended by her ankles, her legs spread wide apart. She expected them to start demanding the number, but to her surprise they gagged her with a pair of flimsy panties, then covered her head with a rough sack tied around her neck.
"We have plenty of time. First we want you to understand how we will question you. Then, later, you'll be very happy to tell us. We hope you like your gag, you should remember the taste - your friend here was wearing them when she arrived."
And then the torture started. They beat her exposed cunt with a thin cane, dozens of times. They pushed a spiked dildo into both of her holes and twisted it around. They sprayed her with ice cold water for half an hour. They beat every square inch of her exposed flesh. This went on for several hours. Sometimes they stopped while Mali was beaten, her terrible screams and pleas for mercy filling cow's ears as an even worse alternative to her own punishment. After several hours they removed the hood and yanked the saliva-soaked panties out of her mouth.
"What is the number?" She remained silent. "Tell us, this girl is nothing, we kill her, there are millions more in Thailand. What is her life compared to your suffering? Nothing at all. Come on, tell us. No more punishment, no more suffering. You watch her die then you go free."
Mali was crying, pleading with cow between sobs not to tell them. Which, for now, she didn't. But she wondered how long she could resist. They gagged her again and hung her by her arms, her toes not quite reaching the floor. They showed her their little toy, as they called it - a huge dildo, over two inches across, with a hook on the end. As the hook was pulled, the dildo opened up, sharp spikes pushing downwards. In case she didn't understand, they pushed it into her and attached a heavy weight. The spikes tore into her flesh and stopped the dildo escaping from her cunt. They lifted the weight up and dropped it. She howled in againy as the spikes tore into her tender cunt flesh.
Over the next two days they tortured her in every way possible. They beat her, they raped her, they plunged her head into a bucket of cold water and later a bucket full of shit and piss. They burned her, they pushed pins under her nails. They bound her in impossible positions, standing on one leg with the other hanging from her cunt rings. Every hour or two they removed her gag and asked her again, speaking to her almost tenderly, telling her how worthless Mali's life was in a country like Thailand. Still she resisted. In her head she made up random strings of numbers, trying to hide the real answer from them.
For the whole time Mali was suspended by her neck, her head twisted, her toes just able to support her wait and stop her from being strangled. He skin, which had been a beautiful, flawless pale brown when they started, was now a mass of blood, bruises and marks. None of it was left untouched. When they beat her she whimpered but had no strength left to scream. She pleaded with cow, between her sobs, to stay strong, to keep the number to herself.
Suddenly, after two days of continuous torture, the door burst open. The officer from the first day marched in, accompanied by several soldiers. He started yelling at her torturers in Thai. He switched to English, for cow's sake.
"You're completely useless. You've spent days torturing this worthless foreign slut when all you had to do was ask me. The number is..." he recited it, nodding at the young guard who still sat on the broken chair. "She would have told you eventually, they always do when you break them enough. And as for her," he nodded at Mali, "she was always going to die. Let's get it over with."
The guard fumbled with the padlocks, undoing them as quickly as he could. He pushed the table out from under Mali, who dropped, her whole weight now supported by the noose around her neck. She screamed, sobbed, and started to kick and thrash around. Her bowels emptied instantly. cow burst into tears, sobbing louder than she had during her torture. She was still bound in a hideously painful position, her muscles screaming for relief from cramp. Blood was oozing from her cunt and from the wounds that covered her body. But that was nothing compared to her horror at Mali's fate, after her own heroic resistance to the torture for two days.
The soldiers grabbed the other torturers, handcuffing them, and shoved them out of the room, yelling at them in Thai. Once they had left, the officer took a knife and slashed the rope that was holding Mali. She collapsed in a heap on the ground, her chest heaving as she started to breathe again, then to sob as she curled up into a ball.
An hour later cow was sitting in a comfortable armchair, still naked, blood still oozing from everywhere, cum dribbling from her cunt. Mali sat facing her, her body too covered in weals and bruises, an ugly red ring around her neck.
"You did very well, " said the officer. "My men would all have given up after the first hour. Pity you don't work for us. Your friend was never really going to die, but you both had to believe it. As for the useless bunch that was supposed to be extracting information from you, they obviously have a lot to learn."
The next day they were both back at Dieter's house after a journey in comfort in the back of the police chief's car, snuggled up together. Mali stayed at the house for a few days, while her bruised body recovered and the mark on her neck faded. She and cow spent a lot of time talking about what had happened, while the current Thai maids listened in horror and amazement. Mali couldn't believe that cow had taken it all so stoically.
"I was sure they were going to kill you," she said. "I couldn't believe you could take such punishment and just refuse every time they asked you how to kill me." It was true that it had been awful at the time, but even after this short time she coudln't resist rubbing herself when she thought about it. Mali was only too happy to help out with her tongue.
For cow it was another fabulous adventure, to wank to for months afterwards. But she was worried about Mali. She needn't have been - she was very philosophical about it.
"You think it's the first time I've been raped? Every week, most days even. No big deal. My neck hurts though. That was scary. I really did think they'd kill me. I didn't want that." She didn't say any more because cow was hungrily kissing her, licking the tears from her face.
She told Dieter all about it when he returned. She told him not to be angry at the police chief - it was exactly what she was hoping for. By now he was resigned to her strange ways. He just fucked her and let her suck his cock while she told the story.
At the time she had been too busy with her own agony to pay much attention to Mali. But now she thought of her with the rope around her neck, the drop as the table was kicked away from her, her desperate but hopeless struggles to try and breathe. Mali had been terrified, her only thought that she must try to stay alive, but the more cow watched the scene in her mind, the more it turned her on. What would it be like? What would it be like to hang until she didn't have the energy to struggle, until she just stopped breathing? She asked The American doctor for help. To her surprise, despite his predilection for strangling her, he flat out refused. He told her that after just a few minutes, she would suffer permanent brain damage. But, as always, she was persuasive. And even if it only lasted for a few minutes before she was released, what an experience it would be!
So a few days later, cow was standing naked on a flimsy wooden structure, her hands tied behind her, the noose around her neck. Dieter had fucked her and beaten her, as he said just in case it was his last opportunity. He and the Doctor were there, and Mali, who was easily persuaded to watch someone else being hanged. The current Thai maids were there too. Now that it was real, cow was genuinely terrified. She really didn't want to die. They tormented her for a long time, kicking at the structure, pulling her up on the rope until her toes barely reached, beating her, laughing among themselves. Then, suddenly, she was hanging from her neck, the rope pulling tight around her throat. She couldn't breathe. Her legs kicked, her body twisted, trying somehow to relieve the pressure and take just one gasp of air. But it was hopeless. She felt her bladder and bowels empty in her terror. Mali jumped up from her seat and ran to cow - was she going to be saved? But no, Mali pressed her mouth to cow's cunt as she swayed, licking at her clit. The bitch! She struggled even more violently, even as the world started to black out. Was this the end?
When she came to she was lying curled up on the floor, Mali hugging her and whispering in her ear. As soon as he saw signs of life, the very relieved doctor pushed his already hard cock into her mouth. She sucked willingly, a finger already straying to her clit. It was an experience she would treasure for years afterwards.
One day she got very sick. She spent several days delirious with a high fever. The American doctor visited, professionally this time. He didn't strangle her, nor fuck her, but prescribed several medications - though he didn't resist when in her delirium she took him in her fevered mouth. Slowly the drugs took effect, her fever abated. She was treated as an invalid, waited on by the maids, visited by an apologetic Dieter. The maids were under strict instructions but still she persuaded them to feed her and snuggle up in the huge guest bed.
Dieter was very anxious. In his small town he knew everyone who mattered and could keep anything quiet, but suppose she had got really sick or worse? That couldn't be covered up, and he didn't want his pleasant Thai life style disrupted, much less to go to jail. Anyway it was getting close to the end of her year in Thailand, and there were still places she wanted to visit.
He held a party for her departure, where she was the honoured guest and for once not a sex toy. Everyone was very charming with her, even the police chief who was more used to her screaming in agony under his expert torture. At the end though she bent over the table, her legs spread wide, begging to be fucked. None of them could resist, nor when she begged to be beaten. She received one final cigar burn from the police chief, screaming as the maid licked at her clit.
The next day saw her on her way, a string of slow cross country buses that eventually took her to Chiang Mai. For the first time she had luggage, a small bag containing her favourite little red dress with her stockings and suspenders. She insisted on wearing her favourite heels, some very strappy red stilettos - the only backpacker in all Thailand to wear heels, until eventually after one too many muddy trails they disintegrated and had to be discarded.
Once there, she resumed her backpacker lifestyle - lots of fucking, lots of dope, and a litany of temples and Thai villages that merged indistinguishably. People were intrigued by her collar and cuffs, by her heels, by her festering burn scar and, for the first couple of weeks, by the bruises and weals that covered her whole body. Regardless of which one they asked about, the answer was always the same: "A present from a very good friend".
As time dragged by she missed the abuse and outright sadism of Dieter and his friends, and the happy acceptance of her unusual kinks by the Thai maids. It was nice being fucked several times a day, and sucking lots of pretty cunts, but it just wasn't the same without pain and degradation. Still, she enjoyed herself until finally it was time to return to Bangkok and to England.
She slept through the whole of her flight home, without even attempting any airborne adventures. And that was the end of her gap year, and time to return to normal life, relatively anyway, in her own country.