Group XS

Synopsis: Catherine is a public prosecutor who thought she'd quashed the sadistic Group XS. Then her friends and family start disappearing and the spectre of her past comes back to haunt her and ensnare her.

Disclaimer: This story is a fantasy which contains graphic descriptions of sex, violence, rape, non-consensual imprisonment, scatology and torture. It is definitely NOT for anyone under 21 or anyone who is offended by such material. This story is fictional and any resemblance to anyone dead or alive is purely coincidental.

The story is long and I will happily add further chapters if people let me know they are interested in more - I welcome comments and suggestions from readers but all flames will be ignored.

drsaavik@hotmail.com

Group XS

Preface

The girl hung from a metal frame securely bolted to the wall. The frame was like a wide metal ladder, shaped rather like the number “4” – her torso fixed to the sloping side, her arms straight down the uprights and her thighs to the underside of the horizontal part.

The effect was to thrust the naked girl's ass out invitingly and, the way her legs had been drawn apart to the edges of the frame, force her tender sex on display.

The girl was only dimly aware of the shadowy figures in the room with her.

She was in pain from her position: they had not been kind to her. The girl's breasts had been pulled between two of the rungs on the ladder-like frame - rungs peppered with short, sharp, spikes – and the rungs had been slowly ratcheted together so her breasts now bulged obscenely like two dark purple balloons. She had not been strapped to the frame; she had been bound to the frame with wire.

The girl was aware of a new figure entering the room. She tried to turn her head to see who it was, but the wire passed through her tongue and wound round the rung in front of her prevented any but the smallest movement.

Then she was aware of the newcomer coming close to her, aware of soft female hands stroking her, aware of expensive perfume… a perfume she recognised.

The girl felt a leather-gloved hand stroke gently down her back and expertly manipulate her pussy, teasing the lips apart and stroking her most secret parts, teasing her clitoris until she felt a shudder of pleasure. Abruptly the fingers stopped.

A soft female voice whispered to her in her own language. “You never could control yourself, could you? Perhaps I need to teach you another lesson…”

The girl recognised the voice, a voice which had haunted her nightmares and waking hours for years. A voice from which she had run halfway across the world. She started to scream.

She was screaming long before the first blows of the bullwhip struck her back; she was still screaming as the heavy cat found the soft flesh between her legs; she was still screaming when the cane found her breasts. She stopped screaming as she passed out from the rain of blows she had received from the rubber hose.

The dungeon was quiet for the first time in over two hours; quiet, that is, except for the rhythmical SWISHHHH!! THUNKKKK!!! of the rubber hose which continued the unconscious girl's relentless punishment.

Disclaimer: This story is a fantasy which contains graphic descriptions of sex, violence, rape, non-consensual imprisonment, scatology and torture. It is definitely NOT for anyone under 21 or anyone who is offended by such material. This story is fictional and any resemblance to anyone dead or alive is purely coincidental.

The story is long and I will happily add further chapters if people let me know they are interested in more - I welcome comments and suggestions from readers but all flames will be ignored.

drsaavik@hotmail.com

Group XS

By "Dr Saavik"

Chapter 1

 Date Monday 18 th October 19.00

 There was an autumnal chill in the air as Catherine Grace walked home from the State Prosecutor's office where she worked as a prosecuting lawyer, and she reminded herself to bring her coat with her tomorrow.

As she neared her apartment block, Catherine was thinking just how much she would miss Lynne when she went away tomorrow; this trip would be the first time they had been apart for more than a night since they had met four years ago.

The woman waited in the shadows of the apartment for Catherine to return home. She smiled to herself as she waited, feeling the sexual tension rising inside her body, in anticipation of what was about to happen. She imagined Catherine's surprise, firstly at finding the apartment in darkness and then at finding a masked intruder bent on doing terrible things to her body.

Hearing footsteps approaching the front door, the woman nervously smoothed down the black rubber of her catsuit and adjusted the mask which disguised her face, her fingers dwelling on the raised outline of the lettering on the mask as she did so; the letters were “XS”!

Mistress XS was ready and waiting as her prey entered the apartment; the evil lawyer, Catherine Grace who had put her friends and sadistic associates, Dr Saavik and Dr Zorhof behind bars.

Catherine hesitated as she entered the apartment, obviously surprised not to find Lynne ready and waiting for her. “Hello! Lynne?” she called as she shut the door. Catherine was surprised not to hear the burglar alarm beeping - it was unusual for Lynne not to set it – they had both rigorously set it since Catherine's employers had installed it 6 months before as a “precaution”.

The woman watched Catherine flick the light switch on and listened to her curse as nothing happened. She waited while Catherine, unaccustomed to the darkness, edged her way forward to the table light just in front of her and bent down to fumble with the lamp switch.

Just as Catherine switched the light on and the hallway was flooded with light, the woman stepped forward from the shadows and said “Don't move Catherine! Stay just where you are!”

Catherine did move as she heard the voice. She swivelled round to see the masked face of the demonic Mistress XS standing there, a small revolver in her right hand levelled directly at Catherine, and a pair of handcuffs held casually in her left. Catherine gasped and said “No! Please, don't hurt me…”

The woman laughed and said, “What makes you think I want to hurt you Catherine? I just want to play a few games with you, that's all! Now, if you will, please take your clothes off and put these cuffs on your wrists behind your back!”

As Catherine unsteadily began to remove her clothes she wondered how she could escape, but the pistol levelled at her gave her no option other than to comply; her only hope, Catherine realised was Lynne. “What have you done with Lynne?” Catherine asked nervously as she removed her bra.

“You don't need to worry about Lynne!” Mistress XS replied. “She's gone on holiday, remember? Only not, as you might believe to the Caribbean , but to the darkest dungeon of Group XS' new home – a distant castle!” Catherine gasped. “You've abducted her?” She said.

The cuffs clicked into place behind Catherine's back with a finality which made any chance of escape an improbability. As they did so, Mistress XS visibly relaxed and said “Right now Catherine, go into your bedroom – I have a few toys there I think you'll, what should I say, enjoy?” Catherine moved in the direction of her and Lynne's bedroom and shoved the door open with her hip. She waited in the darkness while Mistress XS followed her in and flicked on the light. Laid out on the bed, waiting for Catherine, were a whole plethora of bondage and torture implements!

“Mistress XS?” Catherine said. “Yes.” Came the reply. “I really need to pee before we get started – it's cold outside and I'm bursting.” Mistress XS considered the request for a moment and said “OK. You know the way.”

At this point Catherine burst out laughing.

“You might look the part Lynne, when you get that mask on and slither into that catsuit, but you are crap at acting the part! Do you really think Mistress XS would give two hoots whether I was bursting or not!” Catherine said.

Catherine's partner started to laugh too, and said “Well, I guess not – but I was thinking of you, you see. The last thing you want to do on our last night together is to end up peeing in the bed!” Lynne moved the mask up on her head and closed in on Catherine, her full lips smothering her lover's in a lingering kiss. As she broke for air, Lynne said “Now you can't tell me that this isn't a nice surprise! I just thought that on our last night together for two weeks we ought to do something memorable!”

“You bet it was a surprise!” Catherine replied. “I was just getting ready to start bitching to you about your holiday; the next thing I know I'm being abducted! Now, if you don't mind, I do need that pee and would love a glass of wine before you do your worst to me; and then, if you are a truly wicked Mistress, I might just have to do the same to you, and send you off on holiday with a tanned backside!”

Lynne pouted and said “Oh no! You don't mean to say you're going to tie me up and give me a spanking? How terrible!” before pirouetting and going out to the kitchen end of their open plan living area and fetching a bottle of wine from the fridge.

Catherine returned from the bathroom, having discovered it wasn't as easy taking a pee with your hands cuffed as she had thought, and moved some of their bondage apparel to the side of the bed to create space for her to stretch out. As she lay down on the bed she saw the well worn leather hood staring up at her and she felt a shiver of thrill run through her. It had been that hood which had actually brought she and Lynne together and kindled both of their interest in a certain amount of kinky sex.

It had been one evening during the trial of the two doctors, after the court had emptied, while Catherine was busy packing away some of the items of evidence, that Lynne had approached her. Catherine had of course recognised her, Lynne was in court every day taking a record of everything which was said and, Catherine had found, it was hard to keep your eyes off her with her long legs, short skirts, massive chest and shock of long naturally blonde hair.

Lynne had approached Catherine shyly and said, “Excuse me, Miss Grace? I wonder if I could have a look at those things before you pack them all away; only I'm writing about them every day and haven't managed to see them properly yet.” Naturally Catherine had agreed. She would have found it hard to deny this young beauty anything and found herself staring into the soft blue eyes and wondering what her lips would feel like.

Lynne had taken her eyes off Catherine, finding it hard to hold Catherine's gaze, and looked down at the mass of leather and steel items, all neatly labelled, Catherine was placing back into a packing case standing on a trolley. She looked around her nervously, Catherine picking up the mixture of fear at being discovered studying the things in the open Court and the sexual excitement which was driving her.

“Look,” Catherine said impulsively, “I'm taking these back to my apartment now, why don't you give me a hand with them and you can look at them properly without any prying eyes around?” Lynne had agreed with the idea enthusiastically and, deep down, Catherine had hoped it was because she wanted to be with her rather than see the things close up.

Lying on the bed now, Catherine smiled to herself at the recollection of her own impetuous invitation. She hadn't been intending to take them home at all, rather to wheel them into the Court storeroom for the night. Of course Lynne now knew this, but at the time she had seemed to have been wholly taken in by the ruse, helping Catherine fold the seats in her hatchback and not commenting on the improbability of Catherine having to lug the large and heavy box too and fro from the Court.

Back at the apartment they had shared most of a bottle of wine and chatted about the case and the various characters involved before Lynne had ventured to ask if she could have a look at the things now. The hood at which Catherine now stared had been at the top of the box and the first thing Lynne had pulled tentatively out.

Catherine could hear her now saying “So you mean to say, they locked these on the girls for days at a time? I mean it's barbaric, isn't it?” Lynne had studied the hood carefully, taking in the massive leather plug on the inside and the countless teeth marks around it from hours of use. She had studied the worn straps which encircled the eyes, the mouth, went under the jaw and over the top of the hood and also formed a collar. “And they used to put padlocks on all of these?” She had asked incredulously as she studied the hood.

“And didn't you say in Court that this restricts breathing as well?” Lynne had asked, peering at the two tiny metal grommets under the shaped nose. “That's right.” Catherine had said. “And if that wasn't bad enough, they used to use these…” Catherine had replied pulling a rubber rebreather bag fixed to an attachment like a small gasmask on the end of a strap out the box. “… these meant the girls had to re-breathe the air from the bag before they got any fresh air!”

“This is going to sound like a very strange request.” Lynne had said once they had emptied much of the box. Catherine's heart jumped as she guessed what she was about to ask. “But after hearing all this talk from you in the Courtroom, I'd kind of like to find out what it felt like for the girls. I know it's silly really,” she said taking a large sip of her wine for courage, “but I'd just like to feel for five minutes what they felt like being helplessly bound and dressed in this stuff at the hands of a sadistic lesbian!”

Catherine had not really needed any encouragement. She was feeling wet with the sexual tension and, would have had to admit, she had wondered the same thing herself and had even brought some of the things back to her apartment to try out on herself. This said, she didn't want to appear too willing so she hesitated and seemed to deliberate. “Well I shouldn't really, I mean it's more than my job's worth to let you handle the stuff here and now – let alone put you in it!”

“Oh go on!” Lynne had said, turning on the pout she had worn a few moments ago. “I won't tell and, if you do, I won't be able to resist if you turn out to be a lesbian who wants to take advantage of me!” Lynne had paused and looked seriously at Catherine. “You are a lesbian too, aren't you? I hope so, because I really want you… I've been fantasising about you everyday in Court and getting quite hot and bothered!”

Catherine's heart had skipped a beat as she had heard these words. “The feeling's been mutual.” She said, taking Lynne's wine glass from her and setting it on the table before running her hand through the seductive blonde hair and pulling Lynne close towards her. As their lips touched, tentatively at first, it was like a firework had gone off inside Catherine's head; all that mattered to her was to taste more of the beautiful young girl she held in her embrace.

Catherine was brought back to the present as Lynne walked back into the room, carrying two wine glasses, and said “Do you remember that first night we had together?” Lynne placed the glasses down and climbed onto the bed next to Catherine. “You mean when you tied me up and you fucked my brains out or when we made love before that?” Lynne asked.

“Well I suppose I was thinking of both, really, and some of that really kinky stuff we brought home which definitely wasn't for us!” Catherine said. Lynne held one of the glasses of wine to Catherine's lips and gently poured it for her, allowing Catherine to take several deep gulps of the wine.

“Because I was thinking about when you tied me up…” Lynne put her finger to her mouth and made as if to think hard to recall. “I seem to remember you made me dress up in a kinky schoolgirl's outfit, then put my arms into a binder and put the hood on me before bending me over at the waist by pulling my arms up behind me to the beam in the living room. I seem to remember you spent a whole lot more than the five minutes you promised me was all it would be fucking me from behind with your dildo!”

Lynne looked down at the bed. “Oh!” She said in mock surprise. “What's that I see on the bed? Is that the hood you used? Oh, yes it is… and look, there's the sleeve and the uniform!” Catherine was laughing as Lynne went through her pantomime performance, for a few minutes, at least, the spectre of their being parted left behind.

Offering Catherine another sip from the wine, Lynne said, “You've reminded me of all that stuff we tried, or at least intended to try. Do you remember your bringing that box home, the one with that inverted V-shaped ridge along the bottom?” Catherine remembered, it had been a heavy wooden box which she'd somehow managed to manhandle into her car to bring home for a weekend shortly after the trial. Group XS had, apparently, kept girls in the box for long periods of time, their heads folded between their knees and their weight resting on the cruel V of wood. Catherine had tried the box for about 5 minutes before she panicked; Lynne had fared little better.

“Oh yes!” Catherine said. “We didn't like that at all, did we? That went straight back, together with the bodybag they put that girl in, what was her name, you remember the claustrophobic one?”

“Hannah, Hannah Firman.” Lynne prompted.

“That's right, we never did try the box combined with that awful bodybag with the slit over the ass that they made poor Hannah wear. Can you imagine how she must have felt, in there for days at a time?”

“No.” Lynne answered with a shudder. “Nor can I imagine ever wanting to wear any of those horrible schoolgirl outfits… apart from the one we have here, that is!” She said with an evil smile. “I think it's about time we got you dressed up so “Mistress XS” can have her wicked way with you!”

In mock horror, Catherine said, “Oh no! Please don't tie me up and rape me Mistress XS! Please, I beg you!”

Lynne smiled and bent forward to kiss Catherine, whispering softly just before their lips met “I'm going to do just that, you naughty slut.” They kissed deeply and for a long time.

As they kissed Catherine was unable to defend herself with her cuffed hands as Lynne's left hand explored her naked sex, it felt like they were back on that very first night of passion and exploration, the night when they discovered each other and the fun of a bit of bondage and role-playing. In fact, Catherine thought as Lynne's eager fingers explored inside her soaking pussy, it was better than the first time; now, unlike back then, they didn't have the spectre of Group XS hanging over them and the sinister side to what had now become their toys was still a reality.

“Yes.” Catherine thought to herself. “At least Group XS are dead and buried now…”

Disclaimer: This story is a fantasy which contains graphic descriptions of sex, violence, rape, non-consensual imprisonment, scatology and torture. It is definitely NOT for anyone under 21 or anyone who is offended by such material. This story is fictional and any resemblance to anyone dead or alive is purely coincidental.

The story is long and I will happily add further chapters if people let me know they are interested in more - I welcome comments and suggestions from readers but all flames will be ignored.

drsaavik@hotmail.com

Group XS

By "Dr Saavik"

Chapter 2

Date Monday 18 th October 20.00

Even as Catherine was having these thoughts, in a house set well off the main road a couple of hours drive away from the city, there was evidence to the contrary.

The house dated from the 1930's and was a peculiar mixture of Victorian austerity and gothic excess. Basically a square red brick house, the front had four columns supporting a canopy which stretched for the width of the building and forming a balcony for the first floor rooms.

There were three floors to the house, the third set in the roof where small windows protruded, the ornate tiles and ridge to the roof contrasting starkly with the dark brooding institutional building in whose shadow the house stood.

In the dark, lights could be seen blazing in the house behind drawn curtains; by contrast the next door building had scarcely a glimmer of light showing, blinds drawn tightly in front of it's small barred windows.

The light from a set of headlamps passed briefly across the front of the larger building, for a moment reminiscent of a search light exploring the darkness of a prison camp, before focusing on the neighbouring house. The lights on the car dimmed suddenly as the engine was switched off.

A tall man in a business suit climbed out of the driver's side and a young woman, in a short skirt and blouse, the passenger's door.

Both strode purposefully up the steps of the house and, as they approached the top step, the front door opened and light spilled across them both, highlighting the man's strong features and grey hair and the woman's soft face and cascading locks of blonde hair. They might have been father and daughter or even husband and trophy wife, it was difficult to tell. What was obvious was that they walked with a unity of purpose inside without a second glance at the maid who opened the door.

A passer by might have noticed that the maid moved very stiffly, that she didn't greet their arrival and that her uniform, whilst capturing the spirit of the French maid, fell far short in terms of decency. But the house and its neighbour were set well away from the gaze of passing strangers, their perimeter guarded by a high brick wall, so no one saw the couple arrive.

Some minutes later the same man strode down the stairs of the house, his business suit gone and, in its place, a black Major's uniform from the 1940's. The man was now dressed as a Sturmbannführer from the hated Gestapo!

He waited patiently for the woman to come down, his eyes falling on the maid who now knelt patiently beside the door, her hands behind her neck and her face pressed to the floor as if in supplication. She braced herself, feeling the man's brooding presence behind her. She could feel his eyes taking in the spectacle of her well rounded rump displayed so wantonly before him as it strained through the fabric of the horrendous panties she was forced to wear.

His cock leapt with eager anticipation as he focused on the strap which cleaved her buttocks and buried itself deep within the folds of her cunt, conscious that the strap had a sinister purpose – it held the huge dildos which filled both the girl's ass and cunt in place; it had the added value of ensuring the little spikes which peppered the inside of the gusset of her panties were continually pressed deep and uncomfortably into the tender folds of her pussy and the puckered rosebud of her ass.

The man's hand strayed between the maid's legs and he felt her stiffen as he explored the deep crevice, his strong fingers kneading the imprisoned flesh underneath and enjoying the pain they created as they compressed the short spikes under the satin fabric more deeply into her tortured body.

“Are you Jewish?” He asked the maid.

The maid shook her head in vehement denial, her taped lips unable to answer the simple question. The man's right hand grabbed the maid's hair and he viciously pulled her upright, at the same time and in the same motion, turning her round so he could look into her face, as he did so the chain around her right ankle which tethered her to her station near the door rattled excitedly on the wooden floor. He saw fear in her eyes and savoured the moment.

“We'll see when we've finished talking to your friend downstairs.” He said, his hand gently stroking the flesh-coloured tape which had been wound time and again around her face. From where he stood it was easy to see the obscene bulges in her cheeks which suggested that her mouth had not only been packed with cloth… it had been cruelly stuffed. He guessed, rightly as it turned out, that the maid probably had two, or even three, pairs of her Mistress' soiled panties crammed inside her mouth and he wondered briefly what it tasted like to have the sweet flavour of another woman's sex mixed with the salty pungent taste of her urine, in which the panties would have been soaked, permeating her taste buds.

“If she tells us otherwise, you know we'll have to punish you, don't you?” He said with a leering smile of anticipation. “Because we have some very special ways of punishing Jews here.” He continued, his right hand suddenly striking her hard across the face. “Especially Jews who lie to us!”

The girl knew all about the ways they had here to punish girls; she had experienced many of them. Her fear at experiencing more showed in her eyes, and the man was about to comment on her fear when he heard the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. He turned to see the woman he had arrived with stepping carefully down the stairs in her spiked heels.

“What do you think?” She said proudly waving her hand over the black uniform she too wore, a uniform made from shining black rubber which hugged every generous curve of her youthful body.

“You look stunning Frau Obersturmführer!” The man said, turning his back on the maid and joining the uniformed woman as they made their way across the hall and to a door under the stairs.

“Let's go and talk to this one's friend… perhaps she'll tell us whether this girl is being truthful when she denies she is a Jew!” He said pointedly before the pair made their way through the door and down the flight of stairs behind which led to a series of underground rooms and corridors.

They halted in front of a door with a large Swastika painted on the outside and the man swung the door opened stepped back allowing the woman to enter first, “After you Frau Obersturmführer.” he said.

Inside the room their senses were immediately assailed by the sights, sound and smell of fear and pain. The room was large and had several doors leading from it. To their left as they entered a naked girl was spread out in an “X” from a wooden frame, her back, ass and thighs purple and red with a mass of interconnecting welts and wheals,

Further in, but still on their left, a girl stood blind and mute, her head encased in a heavy leather helmet, her hands tucked safely out of harms way in a single sleeve behind her back, struggling to stand upright to take the strain off her tits which had been drawn almost vertically upright by two hooks attached to the ceiling and embedded in the meat of her breasts.

The evil Gestapo pair halted in their stride to admire the sight of a girl astride a wooden saw horse… she was held in place by the wire nails hammered through her pussy lips into the horse!

As they walked through the dungeon to a door at the back, they also passed a girl crammed into an impossibly small cage, and two more who were motionless, hanging from their wrists.

But the pair's interest did not lie in this room, even though they might later have some fun with one of these girls. Their interest lay through a door marked “Interrogation Room 2”.

Inside, the room was smaller than the one they had just passed through and relatively spartan. In fact the room had little in it apart from a pair of what looked like gymnastic parallel bars, two metal lockers, two chairs – one an odd looking armchair with no seat - a stool, a gleaming metal trolley and a glass-fronted cabinet with an array of sinister implements on display. Aside from the door through which they had entered, there was another door on the far side of the room which had a small black sign on it bearing the legend “ Prisoner holding cells and solitary confinement .”

The man made his way to the first of the metal cabinets and fiddled with the heavy lock. As he swung the door open he said “Ahh! Fraulein Meyer, how delightful to see you again!”

A girl stood inside the metal locker squeezed impossibly tight on all four sides. Had she been able to move inside the locker the yards of thin cord encircling her body and embedded deep in her flesh would have prevented any but the smallest movement. Not that she would have wanted to move very far because the four walls of the locker bristled with tiny pin pricks.

The only parts of her body which were shielded in any way from the pins were her head, which was encased in a featureless leather hood with the word “Juden” picked out in white lettering across the forehead; her tits which were in a constricting white bra which had a black triangle with a blue Star of David on each cup, arranged so her nipples protruded through the centre of each star; her nether regions which were encased in a ridiculously tight panty girdle which had a matching emblem over the cunt and, should she have been able to turn around, her ass. On her feet she wore ‘ballet boots' which held her feet in an agonising enpointe position. There were garters coming from the panties which held up her stockings, but these afforded her little or no protection, and a strap drawn between her legs which held the massive dildos inside her.

As the door opened on her, Becky Meyer was unable to see who stood behind it. She was hot, frightened, in incredible discomfort from the torture she had so far endured allied to the pins and the cramps associated with her predicament. As she heard the voice she knew her torturers had returned and she felt a stream of her own warm piss run down her stockinged thighs as her subconscious mind reacted.

.

Becky had no idea how long she had been here, it felt like a week but had, in fact, only been 2 days; 2 days in which her solitary confinement had been broken just 4 times when unseen hands had forced water inside her through a tube they pushed up her nose.

The man laughed as he saw the stream of piss run out of Becky. “Look!” He said to the woman who accompanied him, “She's so pleased to see us she's wet herself with the excitement!” Roughly he pulled Becky out of the locker, noting as he did so the puddle of stale piss at her feet and thinking “She'll have to be punished for that!” as he did so.

It was a massive relief to Becky's tortured and cramped body to be free of the confines of the locker, a relief which spread through her body as the tight ropes were removed. A glimmer of hope sprang in her heart. Perhaps they were here to release her! That glimmer faded and died as she was man-handled to one side of the parallel bars and bent over one of the bars. Two pairs of hands quickly secured her wrists and ankles wide apart so she was not only bent double but made available to them both. Becky cried to herself inside the hood. She knew what was to come from the last time… and the time before that.

She felt one of the pair, it was in fact the woman, unfasten the strap between her legs and work the two dildos from out of inside her through the devilish holes in her panties. She felt familiar fingers, she knew immediately they belonged to the woman, start to gently tease her clitoris, drawing the bud out from inside its shroud as her body, despite the pain with which it was wracked, started to respond to her ministrations. She knew what this woman was capable of. She had felt those fingers before, drawing her near to climax only to let her fall into painful oblivion. On other occasions when they had been torturing her, the fingers, and even the hand, had worked her into a climactic frenzy and let her come. They had made her come time and again; not for Becky's pleasure, but rather to make the tortures which followed, the clamps, the probes and the electricity hurt her even more.

“You see!” The woman said, her voice muffled by the leather encasing Becky's head, “I told you she was a horny bitch! Her pussy's beginning to get wet!” The fingers continued their rhythmical work. Kneading and pulling; stroking and teasing. Despite her determination not to respond, Beck's body betrayed her and her hips began to move as she responded to the fingers.

The woman looked at the man and smiled. “She wants to come I think!” She said. “But I don't think we want to let her, do we?”

They were playing a game with Becky. “No. We shouldn't let her come.” The man replied. “She's just proving just how dirty a slut she is. She knows she is a dirty Jewish whore… and she knows what we do with dirty Jewish whores…”

While he had been speaking the man had opened the glass-fronted cabinet and taken from it a length of rubber hose made all the heavier by the sand with which it was packed. A favourite instrument of the Gestapo he hefted it and waited while the woman teasing Becky moved out of the way.

“We punish them!” He said, punctuating his sentence with a massive blow from the hose across Becky's ass cheeks.

Becky felt the sickening weight of the blow which might have moved her and the frame to which she was attached had it not been firmly bolted to the floor. She felt the blow and immediately felt a sense of relief that it had not hurt as badly as the impact suggested. But sadly Becky's body was once again betraying her; just as she had betrayed her friends under torture.

After a moments relief Becky felt a gathering cloud of pain as it formed throughout her whole body. But this was no rain cloud; it was a dark hurricane of a storm cloud, and the pain hit her as she had struck her with lightening. Inside her hood Becky let loose a scream which would have been heard over a storm… had she not been hooded and gagged. The muffled “Aaaaaarrrrggghhhh!!!!” which did escape was music to the man's ears and he landed another blow with enthusiastic gusto.

It took a little less time for Becky to feel this blow and again her scream erupted into the brief silence which followed the dull “Thuddd!” of the hose's impact. Again she felt the wave of pain course through her body, but this time it was as if the wave was built on top of the previous one – far from being less intense the pain built to a new crescendo.

“Aaaaaarrrrggghhhh!!!!” Went up the muffled cry.

“Thudd!!!” went the hose.

Again the wave of pain seemed to build on the first, rolling over Becky like some massive breaker crashing on the shore.

“Aaaaaarrrrggghhhh!!!!”

Like a coiled snake the hose struck again with lightening speed and with equally devastating impact.

“Aaaaaarrrrggghhhh!!!!”

The woman watched the onslaught from the comfort of one of the chairs and allowed her practised hand to slide under her short rubber skirt and toy with her own clitoris through the thin latex gusset of her panties. She didn't let herself come – she would save that for much later – but her eyes took on a dream-like quality as she enjoyed the sensation and listened to the music of pain being unleashed in front of her.

When the man eventually finished the woman continued her gentle pleasuring; there was no need to move just yet – she knew what would come next.

Becky might have prayed for unconscious oblivion, but sadly her wish was not granted. She felt every shattering blow from the hose. She felt every sick black wave of pain as it ran through her tortured body. When he finished, she hung over the rail like a limp rag-doll, her limbs still pulled taut by the ropes. It was an effort to breathe now, the pain in her body was so great, and it wasn't until he stroked her ass where the blows had landed that Becky was capable of any reaction.

The gentle touch, the caress of an artist admiring his work, the touch of a lover was all it took to bring back the pain as if she had been struck again.

“Poor baby!” the man said. “Does it hurt?” Mimicking a concerned parent before unleashing a series of staccato spanks all over the bruised and battered ass.

The pain came back with vengeance and Becky was hardly aware when the man ceased his spanking and positioned himself directly behind her. If she heard the sound of him unbuckling the belt of his trousers it didn't register. She couldn't hear the gentle sound of him greasing up his engorged cock as he eyed the centre of the Star of David which covered her ass.

The first Becky was aware that she was about to receive more pain, more humiliation and more degradation was as he slid his rock-hard bulbous and veiny cock through the seat of her panties and into her ass. For a brief moment her sphincter resisted the challenge posed by his cock. And then the puckered bud blossomed, opening wide like a sunflower as he drove his cock home. He deliberately drove his cock fully home, making sure his weight pressed against her tortured ass and ensuring the little spikes, from which she had been relieved when the strap was removed, once again bit into the ring of her anus.

Once he was fully home, the man remained where he was, enjoying the sensation of Becky's anus trying to close around the massive intruder, trying to expel it and expanding and contracting in little flutters of wasted energy. To the man it felt like Becky was gently masturbating his cock; to Becky it felt like he had inserted an over-sized rod of steel into her ass!

Once the first wave of resistance from Becky's ass began to wane, the man began to rhythmically pump in and out of her delicate hole. He particularly enjoyed the pain she felt when he drove into her battered backside and made every effort to thrust harder and harder against her tortured flesh. He thought of what was to come, both for Becky and the unfortunate girl who was to follow her, and felt his cock become even more hard. Becky felt it too and let out a muffled wail of hopeless agony as the already engorged cock swelled to even greater proportions.

Becky would have wailed from fear of what was to come had she been able to see the images of probes and electricity which were coursing through the man's evil mind at that particular moment.

While the man kept up his relentless assault on Becky, the woman shuddered to a minor orgasm. Satisfied, at least for the present, her sadistic mind immediately turned to the next part of Becky's torture. She rose to her feet and went to the glass-fronted cabinet and began to assemble an array of instruments on the metal trolley.

There was a sinister black box with a number of dials and switches on it and two displays – one marked “Amps”, the other “Volts”; there was a collection of clamps on the end of coiled wire leads; there were several metal probes of varying sizes, again on coiled wire leads, the smallest the size of a knitting needle, the largest shaped like a massive metal dildo; there were two pairs of rubber gloves, one plain rubber, the other covered with short metal bristles, again with more of the coiled leads attached; there was a collection of little glass bottles and tiny paint brushes; there was a wire brush the size and shape of a toothbrush; finally, there was a shiny stainless steel scalpel!

The woman glanced over the contents she had lain out on the trolley and rubbed her crotch involuntarily as she anticipated her role in what was to follow, before rolling the trolley over towards where Becky was being anally raped by the man. She then waited patiently for him to finish. With remarkable control he kept battering away at Becky's ass for a further 10 minutes before eventually coming to a shuddering climax.

Most men would have been satisfied to have fucked the ass off a bound and beaten girl: but not the grey-haired man. As he felt himself coming a wave of pleasure swept over him and he thrust as deep as he could, trying with one last effort to inflict still more pain before slowly withdrawing his cock. As he pulled his cock from the hole in Becky's panties a large spittle of his semen attached itself to her panties and slowly ran down to her inner thigh. The man paid no attention to this, instead turning to the woman with the trolley, a broad, satisfied, grin spreading across his face. He was not grinning because of what he had just done; he was grinning because his sadistic thirst still needed to be quenched by what was to follow.

“Now the real fun can begin!” He said as he stuffed his still almost fully engorged cock awkwardly back in his trousers. “Shall I set her up on the bars?”

Without waiting for the woman to agree, the man began to release Becky's bonds and hauled her upright. He unbuckled the straps around her hood and carefully slackened the lacing at the back before removing it. The integral leather pear gag needed to be worked out of her mouth and eventually came free with a small “Plop!”

Becky found herself blinking in the unfamiliar bright light, and for a moment stood dazed and unfocused as she tried to come to terms with the flood of sense which had been freed with the removal of the hood.

When at last her eyes allowed her to see her surroundings they fell first on the man who had just raped her and then on the woman who stood smirking behind him. As they fell on the trolley which stood between her Gestapo tormenters, Becky tried to scream. “Oh God!!! Please no!!! Not again!!! Haven't you done enough already?” Her vocal chords, having been silenced for so long, only managed to make this come out as a pitiful rasping whisper.

If she had hoped for her plea to be recognised, Becky was sadly disappointed as the man forced her to remove her painful clothing and climb naked onto the parallel bars. When they had tortured her previously, Becky had been strapped to the seat-less chair, so now she was unsure how to perch on the bars.

“Not like that!” the man said in an exasperated tone as Becky tried to drape her legs over the sides of the bars. “Come right to the front and kneel on top of the bars!” He instructed.

Becky could have tried to resist, but she was locked in a room with two other people, her reserves of energy were low and she had no option but to comply – even though she knew with absolute certainty she was about to experience more of the shattering pain she had received just two days before. Once she was in place atop the bars, so her lower legs ran along the top, the man began to strap her legs firmly in place.

Becky was already aware how exposed her cunt and ass were, and as each strap was tightened to the fullest any hope of closing her legs vanished. The man paused in his work to admire her ass, which now bore the bruises and deep red lines he had inflicted with the rubber hose.

When at last she was melded immovably to the top of the bars, the man stepped round between the bars behind her and told her to put her arms together behind her back. He then began to work a single sleeve up her arms, patiently tightening the straps and lacing until her breasts thrust forward invitingly and her elbows were touching behind her. As he did this, Becky could feel a growing pain in her shoulders as they were forced into the unfamiliar position and she became aware of how difficult it was to keep her balance atop the bars unless she allowed herself to fall right back on her haunches.

He walked round in front of her and took a ball which hung from a length of steel wire against the wall in front of her and brought it towards her, lifting it up to her mouth and saying “Open wide!” Becky reluctantly took the enormous metal ball into her mouth and immediately found herself gagging as she bit down on the cold, unyielding steel ball. There was still some slack in the cable, but the man didn't seem in the least perturbed… but then he knew what was to come. He smiled a sly sadistic grin at Becky and said “You're going to want to make sure you keep that in place!”

He then moved back around Becky and pulled a cable from behind her and affixed one end to a “D” ring at the end of her single sleeve. Patiently he began turning a ratchet handle on the wall behind her and the cable attached to her sleeve, which ran over a pulley set in the ceiling behind her, slowly started to move upwards.

As he turned the handle Becky felt her arms lift up behind her and fought to stay balanced as she was pulled first backwards and then forced to bend forward as her arms twisted in their sockets. She was relieved when he stopped turning the handle. Although her arms hurt Becky knew he could have been much more severe in tightening the cable.

The man then whispered to Becky “Better brace yourself for the next bit!” Before kicking a pedal underneath the bars.

Becky had scarcely taken his whisper onboard before the two parallel bars swung outwards and she dropped fully 6”. At the same time her arms were pulled with frightening force upwards behind her and she felt a searing pain in her shoulders. Simultaneously her head jerked forward as the cable attached to the ball in her mouth snapped taut.

Becky let loose another scream, “Aaaaarrrggghhhhh!”

She found herself struggling for breath as pain shot through all her limbs. Her thigh muscles fought an unequal battle against her own body weight to stop her falling further, and as she sank another 1” or so, it was only the combination of the impossibility of opening her legs wider allied to the upwards pull on her shoulders and the strength of her neck muscles which prevented her from falling further.

The man stepped back beside the woman and for a few moments they both admired his handiwork. “Now doesn't that look inviting?” the woman purred as she looked at Becky's cunt which was gaping open with the strain of her position. The woman moved behind Becky where her ass was sticking out invitingly behind her, Becky having adopted a half-crouch atop the bars, and said “Oh look! She's even offering her cute rosebud for us!” the woman examined Becky's ass closely and tenderly wiped a small dribble of semen away from it with her finger before licking her finger clean with a look of rapture on her face.

The man moved over to the one comfortable chair in the room and drew it near to Becky, so he would have a ringside seat, while the woman fetched the stool and settled herself between Becky's wide-stretched legs. “Now then Becky. We can play our games now.” She said, reaching for a bottle which contained lubricant. As she lathered her hands with the lubricant the woman purred like at cat which had got the cream. “You know,” she said, “you admitted to us you were a dirty whore when we had our little chat the other day. I want to see if you are as dirty as you say. I want to see if you get horny having another woman play tender love games with you… because if you are as horny and dirty as you say, I think you'll want to come and come again.”

Becky refused to believe the woman could do anything to arouse her. All she could feel was the pain of straining muscles and stretched tendons, a pain which consumed her whole body and, she felt sure, would shut out any stimulation the woman could give.

For her part the woman knew different. She was well practised in the art of tormenting other girls and she knew the female body, no matter what the level of pain, could be stimulated to reach an orgasm. Her goal, however, wasn't to give Becky a single orgasm… oh no! Her goal was to give Becky as many orgasms as she could stand… and then a few more. The delight of this was that Becky's clitoris, her pussy and her tits would all become so much more sensitive for the torture which was to follow. The woman knew that Becky would fight her taking control of her body; that Becky would her torturer taking control of her sex and her orgasms with her last vestige of spirit. She also knew that Becky would lose the battle, that Becky would feel utterly humiliated to be betrayed by her own body by it responding to another woman. She also knew it would break her spirit far more than any forced anal rape.

But then that was what the grey-haired man and the woman wanted. They wanted to strip away every vestige of Becky's spirit so they could savour her torture the more when the time came for the electricity and the other delights they had in store for Becky. They also knew that by the end Becky would be only too willing to betray her friends and family to be spared more torture.

Sadly for Becky there would be no end to the torture. Once she had betrayed any secrets the pair wanted they would torture her for their own amusement. Once she was so battered and broken that the tortures didn't give them the same pleasure, they would take a sadistic delight in seeing her suffer unbearable humiliations and degradation. They would delight in locking her in the coldest, darkest, most cramped cell they could find and seeing her beg to be fed scraps of food and small quantities of water. They would delight in letting her watch as they laced her food and drink with piss and shit; knowing full well that she would have no alternative save to eat and drink what was offered.

You see Becky had already admitted to them that she was a Jew; she had already admitted she was a dirty, cheap, whore; she had already admitted she was a lesbian… Whether she was or not didn't matter. Whether she had admitted under torture didn't matter. By her own admissions Becky had given the pair cart blanch to do with her anything they wanted. And what they wanted now was for her to betray others - even if she knew them or not. It didn't matter: it was part of their game.

Disclaimer: This story is a fantasy which contains graphic descriptions of sex, violence, rape, non-consensual imprisonment, scatology and torture. It is definitely NOT for anyone under 21 or anyone who is offended by such material. This story is fictional and any resemblance to anyone dead or alive is purely coincidental.

The story is long and I will happily add further chapters if people let me know they are interested in more - I welcome comments and suggestions from readers but all flames will be ignored.

drsaavik@hotmail.com

Group XS

By "Dr Saavik"

Chapter 3

Date Monday 18th October 21.20

Catherine was by now standing, as best she could, underneath the beam in the living room bent forward at the waist, her arms drawn up behind her in a single sleeve tied to the beam. As promised, she was the one this time dressed as the kinky schoolgirl, the short black rubber box-pleat skirt she wore doing nothing to preserve her modesty, just as it had done nothing to hide Lynne's four years before.

Under the skirt, which was so short it had ridden up to her back in her bent over position, Catherine wore a bizarre black panty-girdle which had been part of Group XS' school uniform. She and Lynne had chosen it because it was the least painful of the Group's school underwear and this one was at least in a reasonable size; the Group seemed to revel in squeezing girls into impossibly tight lingerie. The girdle was a fabulous design of leather, rubber and stretch satin and fitted very snugly. This one, at least, didn't have the plethora of spikes which many of the other ones had, instead having a split crotch with just a few spikes on the inside.

Catherine and Lynne had reasoned that this pair were designed to have some kind of double dildo strap worn with them but, for their purposes, were risqué enough as they were. The spikes added a certain thrill without too much pain. Both girls had decided that they enjoyed some of the feelings of helplessness, enjoyed the vulnerability it evoked, but really didn't enjoy the pain with which Group XS was associated.

With black seamed stockings hanging from the garters on the girdle, Catherine looked every bit the naughty schoolgirl. She certainly couldn't argue with Lynne as she now wore the hood, thank God without any re-breathing device! Inside the stifling leather prison Catherine was able to imagine what it must have been like for the captives of Group XS. She and Lynne had realised that reliving their experiences, experiences they had both shared during the court case, added a certain frissons to their “kinky” sex life provided they didn't try any of the more extreme methods employed by Group XS.

After the case was over, Catherine had brought back to her apartment much of what she thought was the softer equipment from the trial evidence for she and Lynne to experiment with. They had quickly learned that much of the bondage equipment was OK as, unlike Group XS, they didn't use it for very long. For Catherine now, fifteen minutes in the hood would be bearable but scary… the girls found at Group XS' farm had told tales of wearing the hoods for days at a time – even with the re-breather attached!

As Catherine felt Lynne start to probe her with the strap-on, she wondered what it would have been like for the girls to have been probed with the massive dildos Mistress XS and the other women, Dr Zorhof included, had used in Group XS. A quick foray through the available dildos from the evidence box had sent Catherine and Lynne scurrying to their local sex store for something a little more manageable and comfortable!

As Lynne buried herself deeply inside her, Catherine felt the few pricklers on the girdle rub against her swollen labia, not an wholly unpleasant sensation when caused by your lover, but the girls in the trial would have felt the sensation magnified a hundred times over as they were raped and sodomised by the Group members. As Catherine worked back and forth against Lynne's thrusting loins, images of the girls came into her mind, innocent young girls who had probably been raped whilst wearing this very hood, these very panties and even this very skirt.

The faces of Beth, Emily, Hannah and Katie flashed through Catherine's mind and she felt herself lurching toward orgasm. In her mind she was all of those girls, helpless torture victims of the wicked Mistress who was fucking her while she was bound.

Of course Catherine realised the reality for those four was far from her fantasy. The reality was that they probably had nightmares each and every day of their lives. Kidnapped by Group XS for their perverted sexual pleasure the four had been subjected to every conceivable torture, humiliation and degradation ahead of their dramatic rescue. Truth be known, they were the lucky ones. Catherine had no idea how many girls passed through the dreadful farmhouse only to be spat out a few months later as beaten and broken bodies, no longer of any interest to the Group who would replace them with fresher, more exciting meat.

Catherine had never found out, despite endless questioning of Dr Zorhof and Dr Saavik and extensive searches of the farmhouse how many girls had gone before the four they rescued; neither had she found out what had happened to those who had gone before. The nearest they ever got to finding out was a threat made by Dr Saavik to one of the girls, that she might soon find herself travelling South of the border in a packing case to “El Casa del Dolor”, literally “The House of Pain”. He had told her that “El Casa del Dolor” was a place from which she would not return and could expect to live out a brief existence fulfilling the fantasies of sick sadists who paid would pay for her services. Catherine had never been able to see how this varied from being a victim of Group XS, but reckoned there must be a difference in the mind of Dr Saavik, the sick, perverted sadist.

As Catherine felt herself being pushed over the edge, her whole being caught up in the overpowering orgasm which swept over her, she had a fleeting image of Dr Zorhof standing behind her and fucking her trussed and obscenely displayed body. This image tipped Catherine over the edge and she tried to scream her passion into the over-sized gag which invaded her mouth.

Slumping against her bonds, Catherine didn't have to communicate to Lynne that she needed to be released now. They both knew that the prospect of staying bound in the hood, or any of the other bondage gear for that matter, for any second longer than was necessary to bring the fantasy play to fruition was more than they wished to bear. Lynne quickly released Catherine, focusing first on the heavy, hot and stifling hood.

As the hood fell to the ground, the leather now showing dark stains on the inside from Catherine's sweat, stains on the inside which mingled with older stains from unseen wearers and stains on the outside which told of people having most probably spilled semen and urine over the hood in different guises of sadistic passion.

Released from her bonds, Catherine lay in Lynne's arms and held her close. “Oh God! That was fantastic!” She whispered. “It scares the shit out of me to be so helpless, but knowing it's you doing those things to me just makes it perfect… God forbid we should ever find ourselves in the hands of a real Group XS!”

Lynne agreed with her and held Catherine more close, revelling in the smell of sex, the perspiration and the warmth of her lover. Very soon they were both asleep, dreaming of sunshine and perverted sex…

Disclaimer: This story is a fantasy which contains graphic descriptions of sex, violence, rape, non-consensual imprisonment, scatology and torture. It is definitely NOT for anyone under 21 or anyone who is offended by such material. This story is fictional and any resemblance to anyone dead or alive is purely coincidental.

The story is long and I will happily add further chapters if people let me know they are interested in more - I welcome comments and suggestions from readers but all flames will be ignored.

drsaavik@hotmail.com

Group XS

By "Dr Saavik"

Chapter 4

Date Monday 18 th October 22.10

While Catherine had been whispering “Oh God!” to Lynne, Becky Meyer had been screaming it in tortured rapture, the words muffled by the steel ball she held firmly between her teeth. Between her lags as she knelt astride the parallel bars, the woman was gently teasing and stroking her clitoris, her practised and lubricated fingers slithering effortlessly over the engorged nub. She had already made Becky come three times. Three times Becky had come to a shuddering and wailing orgasm. She had begged and pleaded for the woman not to do the same, but with relentless, and callous certainty, the woman had begun to tease and probe, stroke and tweak Becky's breasts and pussy until the girl once again found herself becoming aroused.

“Do you want to come?” The woman said softly. “Pleeeeaaaaffff! Yeff! Yeff!” Becky cried around her gag, her body wholly betraying her. The woman thrust her right hand deep into Becky's gaping pussy and worked her fingers on the inside, searching for the spot up behind the clitoris which would send the girl over the edge once more. As she did so, the woman used her left hand to squeeze Becky's clitoris steadily as the girl panted and moaned in rising ecstasy.

“Yeff… yefffff… yeffffff!” Becky began to say, chanting the words like a garbled mantra as she felt the wave of pleasure sweep over her. Like a huge wave crashing on the beach, Becky felt the breaker wash over her and gently subside as the wave of pleasure receded. As the last of the orgasm shuddered through her body, she was suddenly assailed with a new feeling.

Pain.

Becky's clitoris, her nipples, her labia and the inside of her cunt which had all a few moments before been craving attention now sent an over-riding message to her brain telling her they hurt and wanted no more.

“Please no more. It hurts too much!” was Becky's garbled plea to her torturers.

Sadly for Becky, these were words the man and woman had heard before – if not usually as distorted - words they revelled in and words which would only spur them on to greater excesses with the captive female body. The woman heard the words and said “No more? But we've only just started! And you seemed to be having so much fun!” The woman turned to the man and winked as she said to Becky, “What would you like then my dear, another orgasm or to answer a few questions?”

Becky shook her head as best she could and said “No more. Anffer queftons!” around her gag.

Getting to his feet the man said “Very good.” He produced from his beautifully tailored jacket a small sheaf of photographs, one set of the girl in the cells a few feet away from Becky and another of the maid who had opened the door. The man was sure Becky knew neither of them, they had both been guests in this place for several weeks, two young college students who had mysteriously packed their bags and disappeared one dark night.

The first pictures in each set showed the girls in the Holding Cell area as they arrived and looked rather like the pictures taken by the police of prisoners.

Each girl stood in front of a wall with markings on to show her height, a placard with her name and the date on hanging round her neck. Unlike the traditional police shots, however, the girls were stark naked and had heavy chains locked around their wrists behind their backs, their ankles and connected to a steel collar. Other pictures showed the girls from the side, from behind and even bent over.

The man held the first picture in front of Becky. “This is a girl called Alison Wells, do you know her?” Becky shook her head. “No, neffer feen her.” She garbled.

Again the man held another picture up in front of Becky. This time it was of the maid who had opened the door. “This picture is of a girl called Tracy Burns, do you know her?” Again Becky shook her head and said “No, neffer feen her.”

The man turned to the woman poised between Becky's legs and said, “I can see she hasn't learned her lesson. We'll just have to see if we can jog her memory with a little persuasion.” Becky screamed as best she could around the steel ball. “Noooooo!!!” was her plaintive wail.

Her cries fell on deaf ears. The man pulled his chair a little closer and beckoned to the woman to proceed. A look of rapture on her face, the woman went to work on Becky.

She plugged the sinister black box with the dials and numbers on it into a socket in the floor and there was immediately a low and ominous hum. She then went over to the wall where the chain from Becky's mouth was fixed and flicked a switch underneath it. Immediately Becky let out a small cry as she felt a gentle tingling sensation through her sensitive mouth lining and tongue where they came into contact with the evil ball.

Returning to her stool, the woman plugged a metal butt plug into the back of the box and greased the plug liberally before inserting it into Becky's anus. Becky might have been forgiven for thinking the grease was there to make it slide in more easily; but she would have been wrong – the grease was there to make sure the electrical contact worked more effectively! And then the woman connected the clamps on the end of leads to Becky's nipples before, finally, connecting the thin knitting needle like attachment. The woman then donned the heavy rubber gloves, all the while Becky whimpering and pleading behind her gag.

Now, as the woman flicked a switch on the black box and the needles on the displays sprang into action, the pleading changed to one ear-piercing scream! The woman ignored this and picked up the knitting needle and greased this before she gently touched the tip to Becky's clitoris.

Becky jerked in her bonds as the sharp pain shot through her body, the electricity coursing through her clitoris and making a circuit with the ball in her mouth! The cables attached to her nipples and ass added to the electric frenzy, providing a background of intense pain augmented by an excruciating pain centred on her sex. As the woman teased her clitoris and then slid the needle down into the slit of her cunt, Becky experienced new sensations and agony. If she had wanted to release the ball – the consequences of which would have been dire as she fell back and down – she could not because her muscles had gone into spasm and she was literally biting down on the ball.

“Such a shame,” The woman said “You didn't answer the questions! We could have saved you a lot of pain, you know.” The woman moved one of the dials in a practised and expert way. The needle on the ammeter surged to the right and Becky became more rigid, if that were possible. Then the woman gently teased Becky's labia apart and used the needle-like probe inside her cunt, pushing it deeper inside and enjoying the jerking spasms she invoked in Becky.

Sweat was breaking out all over Becky's body and the woman watched carefully to see when the time was right. She nodded to the man who killed the current just before Becky might have passed out. Becky ceased to strain and be rigid and the man said “Do you recognise the girls now?” Becky didn't. Her mind still reeling with the pain she answered the question honestly and shook her head.

The woman had been watching for her answer and was poised, the needle now hovering just below the opening to Becky's urethra and deftly she pushed the needle in the narrow tube as the man flicked the switch again. If Becky had felt pain before, it was as nothing to the current now coursing from inside her. She bucked and screamed as the woman slowly slid the needle deeper inside. It was as if the woman was conducting an orchestra. Her eyes half closed she listened to the intensity of the screams as if they were the music she was conducting. Pushing the probe like it were her conductor's baton, she made Becky's scream rise and fall with intensity. Her left hand using the probe and her right adjusting the controls, she had Becky playing a sonata of pain for her.

As the probe virtually disappeared inside Becky it entered her bladder and made contact with the liquid inside. Suddenly the liquid too was conducting the electricity and, as if the woman's sonata had reached it's conclusion, Becky screamed one last burst in a rising crescendo as the man flicked off the switch.

A small stream of urine escaped from Becky as she relaxed in her bonds and the woman had to move backwards for fear of getting her Gestapo uniform soiled.

“Now,” said the man in a patient, almost fatherly voice, “do you know these girls or not?”

Becky now knew she had to lie to escape more torture. She nodded her head to say “Yes!”

“Good!” The man said. “Perhaps we can now get somewhere.” He stood up and pulled the parallel bars together so that Becky was raised up and the strain taken off her body. As the bars became vertical there was an audible “Click!” and they locked in place. The man then pulled the steel ball from Becky's mouth and let her relax for a moment before continuing with his questioning.

Becky herself felt a wave of relief sweep over her as the power was killed and the strain taken off her body. She could taste blood in her mouth where she had bitten down on the ball so hard and had to swallow several times and take deep breathes to stop the bile inside her from rising.

“So you know both of these girls, do you?” The man asked. “Yes I do.” Becky answered.

“And you know them to be opposed to the Nazi party?”

Becky wasn't sure how she should answer. She knew no such thing.

“You do, don't you?” The man said in an effort to lead Becky.

Becky nodded in agreement.

The questioning went on and, by the end of it, the man had established from Becky that both Alison Wells and Tracy Burns were, indeed, Jewish; they were lesbian lovers and were only too keen to sell their bodies in prostitution; and he had also “learned” that they were ardently anti-Nazi and were members of the resistance movement.

“Good!” He said when Becky had answered all his questions. “You see, it wasn't so difficult to answer the questions was it? You could have saved yourself all that pain if you had only answered them correctly at the outset. Anyway, I think you are now free to go…”

He waited a long time before continuing. He waited while Becky's hopes rose that she would be set free from the parallel bars and, who knows, set free from this dreadful place. He waited while her hopes rose so that he could have the sadistic pleasure of dashing them when he completed the sentence.

“… once you have been punished for telling lies!” Becky said “No, please! I didn't lie! Please don't hurt me more!”

The man and the woman both laughed and it was the woman who said “But Becky, you did lie and you have already confessed to being a Jewish whore amongst other things. You will be punished now for the lying and then you will be punished even more for the confessions you have made, you have to realise this. You will be punished for the rest of your miserable life.”

Joining in with the statement the man said, “And when we've punished you now for lying, you'll have to be punished for despoiling Nazi property by pissing in your cell!”

The woman picked up one of the glass bottles and the small paint brush as the man placed the metal ball back into Becky's mouth. The woman waited for the man to kick the pedal which sent Becky crashing back down and splay her legs invitingly. The woman dipped the brush in the bottle and gently stroked it over Becky's tortured clitoris and labia. Suddenly the woman looked like an artist at work, a view some of her associates held to be true, as she worked the liquid into the sensitive flesh.

Becky felt the wetness of the liquid first. She had no idea what it was and, at first, felt soothed by it. It felt cool against her sweaty skin and as the air passed across it seemed to get colder.

The woman was in no hurry and took her time removing the clamps from Becky's nipples and gently brushing Becky's nipples and her surrounding areola with the liquid. As Becky felt the coldness strike her nipples, she became aware firstly that her nipples were becoming proudly erect, and secondly that the coldness which had enveloped her clitoris and pussy was now changing. Her pussy and clitoris were getting warm, in fact, they were getting hot.

Whether it was the woman's words to her or a sudden realisation was not clear. Either way, as the woman said to Becky, “You'll feel it in a moment, it just takes a little time for the acid to work.” Becky suddenly felt not gentle coolness but burning heat as the liquid etched itself into her skin.

Then the woman picked up the tiny wire brush and said to Becky, “I'm just going to take off a couple of layers of skin, just enough to make you really raw and sensitive… then we can play some more with the electricity!”

The woman pressed herself close to Becky's cunt as she worked the brush over the burning skin. Using short strokes, she teased the skin away from Becky in small strips. Once she had completed her work between Becky's legs she repeated the process on her nipples and surrounding flesh.

For Becky the pain was indescribable. The pain from the electricity had been bad but, somehow, this was far worse as she felt small pieces of her body being removed and the rising sensitivity. Becky bucked and cried with pain. The woman soothed and stroked the skin and kept up a commentary as she worked. “There!” She said. “Your clitoris looks like a tiny red apple now, just ripe for plucking… or should I say fucking? Oh and look how red your pussy lips are… I bet if I blow on them…” She bent close and blew across Becky's red-raw cunt, “… you'll find them quite sensitive!”

Becky screamed some more in answer as the simple act of breathing on her pussy sent shockwave after shockwave through her body. Sadly, for Becky, the woman was far from finished.

Once her skin had been removed, the woman even using the scalpel to tease the skin away in larger strips, managing to pull it on her breasts even where the acid had not been, the black box was once again turned on. This time, however, the woman slipped on the other pair of rubber gloves, the ones covered in short wire bristles! The gloves had leads which were plugged into the machine and Becky was soon dancing and bucking on the bars for all she was worth as the woman stroked her sensitised skin with electrified wire bristles.

It was a masterpiece of torture. The woman caressed Becky like a lover, all the time shocking and scoring her already raw flesh. She teased her nipples, squeezed her clitoris and used her fingers to fuck Becky's cunt.

The pain for Becky was unbearable. Bound as she was she had no option but to let the woman inflict wave after wave of pain on her. The pain built in layers until Becky was wholly unaware of her surroundings; she knew no sensation, no feeling other than pain. Pain which just continued to build.

But the woman was very adept at her art. She kept up her relentless torture, telling the man when to adjust the dials up or down, sending more power through Becky's anus one minute, and then her urethra the next. It was either a mark of the woman's skill, or perhaps her experience of torturing woman, that she was able to see the signs before Becky began to feel them. As the intensity of the pain increased, as the pain moved to different parts of her body, Becky found herself focusing not only on the pain, the pain which had hitherto blacked out all other feeling, but also on a sense of warmth emanating from her cunt.

The woman worked her fingers carefully up and down the over-sensitised clitoris and rubbed one hand across tortured nipples. As she did so she felt Becky's pain and knew the bewildering pleasure that was burgeoning inside. Becky herself was by now aware that the woman was making her aroused and knew she was trying to torture her to orgasm – if such a thing were possible.

Indeed it was, as the woman knew only too well. Create enough blackness with pain and then a little pleasure will shine through the darkness with dramatic consequences. She could hear Becky's breathing become less ragged, could feel Becky fighting a loosing battle to try and stop another orgasm; an orgasm induced entirely by pain. Becky began to mouth her mantra again. “Pleaff!! Pleaff!”

Just as she was about to crest that impossible wave, just as her body was about to do the impossible and deride pleasure from intense pain the woman nodded to the man who flicked one last switch on the black box. Simultaneously both needles shot to the maximum level and more voltage, more current, than Becky had hitherto endured shot through every orifice. It was as if Becky had fallen from her surfboard as she reached the crest of that magnificent wave. Instead of riding it for all she was worth she fell into an inky blackness, being tossed and turned by the pain crashing around her. She screamed long and hard, a scream borne of frustration and borne of pain. As she screamed she opened her mouth wide and let go of the metal ball.

As she let go of the ball, Becky fell backwards, her legs splaying even further and her arms being wrenched behind her back. Only her body's inner strength stopped her from dislocating her shoulders or her hips as she was dashed against the rocks by the wave that had promised so much and fell into unconsciousness.

The man and the woman smiled at each other with a look of supreme satisfaction on their faces. There was noting better than a piece of torture which ended so satisfyingly, the victim unconscious through the pain of her ordeal; the victim sexually drained and, at the same time, sexually frustrated; and, of course, the victim left with enduring pain in limbs and tendons! “That's made me very horny!” The woman said. The man smiled and showed her the erection bulging inside his Gestapo uniform.

They gave each other a knowing look, and the man said, “I think it's the least she could do after all you've done for her. I mean you gave her, what five or six orgasms – well almost with the last one!” Between them they removed the unconscious Becky from the bars and let her slump to the floor where they removed the probes and plugs from her before tidying away their torture equipment. As Becky began to stir they pulled her onto all fours.

The woman then sat her stool in front of Becky and lifted her skirt to reveal a pair of shiny black satin panties, complete with a swastika on the crotch, which she pulled down below her knees. Sitting on the stool she splayed her legs while the man grabbed Becky's hair and pulled her face into the woman's soaking crotch.

While the woman held Becky's head hard into her crotch and urged the dazed, beaten and tortured girl to service her with her tongue, the man knelt down behind Becky and forced himself into her anus again. Once again he slid his rock-hard bulbous and veiny cock inside Becky, again enjoying the brief resistance from her sphincter and the sensation of Becky's anus trying to close around him.

As he rhythmically fucked Becky from behind, the woman used the rhythm to work herself towards orgasm, forcing Becky's nose to press against her clitoris while Becky's tongue lapped inside her. Whether it was because the man was coming or a sheer coincidence of timing, the woman let out a moan of pleasure as the man began to rut for all he was worth before shuddering to a climax.

Their sexual drive spent, for the moment at least, the pair let Becky drop to the floor where she curled into a foetal ball and began to sob for all she was worth. Neither of the Gestapo officers paid her any attention as they re-dressed themselves, only turning to Becky once they were fully clothed.

“OK. Back in your cell.” The man said. Becky begged, she pleaded, she offered them her body for sex, anything but to be put back in the hot, confined space to stand and wait for more torture. This didn't stop the pair from making her dress in the spiked lingerie again, the lingerie which declared Becky to be a Jewish prostitute, and to make her put the ballet boots back on. As they approached the locker, the man pointed to the puddle on the floor and said “We told you you would have to be punished for despoiling Nazi property!”

The hood was replaced in all it's stringent glory and then the woman found the two plugs for Becky together with the strap which held them in place. She also found another bottle and the paintbrush she had used to such effect a few minutes before. Now she painted the two plugs with a sticky liquid from another bottle in the glass-fronted cabinet before bending down to liberally daub Becky's cunt and clitoris with the stuff.

“Chilli oil in a sticky grease!” She said loudly so Becky could hear through the padded hood. Not that Becky needed to be told. The fire alight from the chilli's was burning bright in her sensitised pussy, even before the two dildos were replaced. Just before they secured her back inside the locker, the woman added two daubs to Becky's nipples, where the red raw skin protruded from the sinister Star of David.

Shutting the door on the horribly tortured girl the woman said, “I don't know about you, but I could do with a drink before we talk to Alison Wells?” The man agreed and, as they left the room, the woman could be heard saying, “What do you want to do with Alison? Do you want to start with the chair or shall we make her ride the horse?”

Disclaimer: This story is a fantasy which contains graphic descriptions of sex, violence, rape, non-consensual imprisonment, scatology and torture. It is definitely NOT for anyone under 21 or anyone who is offended by such material. This story is fictional and any resemblance to anyone dead or alive is purely coincidental.

The story is long and I will happily add further chapters if people let me know they are interested in more - I welcome comments and suggestions from readers but all flames will be ignored.

drsaavik@hotmail.com

Group XS

By "Dr Saavik"

Chapter 5

Date Tuesday 19 th October 07.10

Catherine was the first to stir and glance dreamily at the clock. Lynne was breathing softly beside her and at some time during the night they had somehow managed to pull the covers over their spent bodies.

Catherine knew with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, that she had no time to linger in bed, that she had to shower, have breakfast and leave in 50 minutes in order to be at work in time to prepare for her scheduled appearance as the prosecution lawyer in the case of some hooker. She also knew that Lynne would have to be getting ready to go to the airport for her holiday… and that she wouldn't be seeing her for 2 whole weeks!

If Catherine remembered right Lynne's limo, oh yes, she even had a limo to the airport on this ‘holiday of a lifetime', was picking her sister up first and then would be at the apartment at 8.30. She knew Lynne was packed, she'd been packed for days and Catherine had damn near tripped over the case in the dark hallway just before Lynne's appearance in the role of Mistress XS, but even so she knew she had to awaken the sleeping beauty. Kissing her gently on the cheek and stroking the back of her hair, Catherine gradually brought the love of her life to consciousness.

Never good in the morning, Lynne surprised Catherine by waking full of life, recounting how wonderful the night before had been and telling her she must get going – she had her hair to do, her make-up to put on and her last minute packing to get sorted.

Lynne's enthusiasm for her holiday only served to send Catherine back into the black depression she had felt on her journey home the night before. By the time Catherine was dressed in her sober business suit and had had her breakfast, Lynne was sitting in front of the mirror looking resplendent in nothing but pink satin bra, panties and garter belt. The sight struck home to Catherine, the lingerie was her favourite and had been a present last Christmas from her to Lynne; she didn't resent Lynne wearing them on her special trip… she just wished she were wearing them for them to go away together.

It felt strange to be saying goodbye, and the two girls held each other for a long hug. “I'll call you as soon as I get there!” Lynne promised as they parted. “Just you make sure you do! And keep your eyes off any of the girls down there… I don't want you falling for some dark and sultry maiden behind my back!” Catherine said as she picked up her briefcase and headed for the door. She hesitated for a moment as she got outside the door and returned to pick up her coat. She wasn't going to be caught like that for a second time!

“Bye!” She managed as she left. “Have a great time!”

Date Tuesday 19 th October 08.40

 The sleek black limo pulled up outside the apartment with an excited Charlotte already onboard. Lynne had been waiting in the lobby, trying to make conversation to the doorman for the past 15 minutes while, as it transpired, they limo had been returning to Charlotte 's student flat so she could pick up her forgotten passport!

Lynne couldn't really be cross with her; for Charlotte this was her first ever big holiday and she was allowed to be excited. In fact as she babbled to Lynne in the back of the limo, pointing out the leather seats, drinks cabinet, stereo and TV, Lynne found her girlish enthusiasm infectious and couldn't help but join in the excitement. Forgetting Catherine for the moment, Lynne was soon giggling excitedly with her sister.

At about the same time, Catherine was clearing her case papers from her desk into her briefcase and preparing for the short walk to the Court. She didn't share Lynne's enthusiasm for life, especially when she saw the three new cases sitting in her in-tray. She'd be lucky to clear one today by the time the hearing was over, and there were another three waiting for her and, presumably, another three tomorrow as well.

As Catherine made her weary way up the steps of the Courthouse, Lynne and Charlotte's limo was turning off the highway into what appeared to be an industrial estate. Neither Lynne nor Charlotte noticed through the blackened glass, besides, they were watching the “Morning Show” and had managed to prize the cork out of the champagne and were grandly sipping this as they watched the TV.

It was only as the car drew to a halt in front of a steel shuttered door that Lynne was aware that anything was amiss. “This isn't right!” She said almost to herself as much as her sister and moved forward to tap on the glass screen between her and the driver.

“Excuse me!” She said loudly. “We're supposed to be going to the airport. We have a plane to catch!” By now the shutter was up and the car was drawing into the empty warehouse where a plain black van waited.

Realising by now that something was wrong, Lynne fished her mobile phone from her bag and speed-dialled Catherine's number. Just as Catherine's phone started to ring, the car drew to a halt and the shutter began to close behind them. Three figures emerged from the van and moved towards the car as Lynne heard the metallic voice on the end of the line tell her that “If you would like to leave a message…”

She didn't have a chance to say anything before the door swung open and a leather gloved hand reached into the car and took her mobile from her. “I'll have that.” The woman said.

Lynne found herself staring up at a woman wearing a rubber catsuit not unlike the one she had worn the evening before, and a mask which was to all intents and purposes identical – in fact Lynne might have been seeing a reflection of herself from last night in the mirror. There was one major difference from the image she saw now and that which she had seen the night before; the eyes which stared back at her now were not soft and blue – these were a cold, calculating and unforgiving grey!

“How nice to meet you Lynne and this must be your sister Charlotte. I'm afraid to say there's been a slight change of plan. You're not going on the holiday of a lifetime to the Caribbean anymore; instead you're going on a lifetime's holiday!” At these words Lynne tried to run. She scrambled out of the seat towards Mistress XS and went to barge her out of the way.

Unfortunately for Lynne, Mistress XS was well prepared. As Lynne made her move, Mistress XS' right hand pushed the small black Tazer against Lynne. Lynne felt the pinprick of the two prongs as they pierced through the left shoulder of her blouse a fraction before the button was pressed.

A Tazer is an innocuous thing; it has just three small batteries and one would think shouldn't be able to produce much of a shock. Lynne would have disagreed with this view as the 100,000 volt discharge hit her. The current coursed through her body and sent her flying backwards, turning everything into a night time sea of black and stars for Lynne as it did so. She fell to the floor in a heap, her legs instinctively curling her up into a ball, and could feel her legs and arms twitching uncontrollably as she emerged from the inky blackness. There was tightness across her chest, she was struggling to draw even breaths and it felt like her tits had been hit by a sledgehammer.

As her mind cleared, Lynne became aware that Mistress XS was now sitting in the car with her and Charlotte was nowhere to be seen, presumably outside with the other two figures she had seen and, Lynne presumed, the driver. Lynne was alone with Mistress XS… the real Mistress XS!

A silky voice said to Lynne, “Now, we can do this the easy way… or the nasty way: it's your choice!” As Mistress XS said this, Lynne felt a hand under her skirt and two sharp prongs press into the crevice of her ass through the shiny pink silk of her panties!

Lynne's instinct was to roll away, but she neither had the control in her limbs to do so, nor the desire to receive another blast from the Tazer. “The easy way. Please don't use that again!” Lynne said after a long silence, during which Mistress XS kept an even pressure on the Tazer and her finger poised on the trigger.

“Good!” Mistress XS said, feeling a slight disappointment that she wasn't going to get to use the Tazer again on Lynne's ass; well, not for the time being anyway. “You don't need me to introduce myself, I'm sure, especially after your antics last night,” Mistress XS said. Lynne, whose mind was beginning to clear in the aftermath of the awesome shock, couldn't believe what she was hearing. How on earth could Mistress XS know about last night?

As if she knew what Lynne was thinking, Mistress XS said, “Didn't you know? All those little alarm sensors in the corners of the rooms – they're cameras which send remarkably good pictures back to us of your and Catherine's antics. We thoroughly enjoyed your little game last night, even if it was a bit tame, especially as we knew you'd be paying us a visit today!”

Lynne was still trying to cope with the thought that her and Catherine's every move since the alarm was fitted – what six months ago – was capable of being watched.

“Yes, it's been very useful in our grander scheme, but you'll have to wait to find out what that is, and also useful, as it turns out, in telling us your likes and dislikes. We've been particularly interested in your dislikes. Now, if you please, move down the car and take your clothes off.” The tone of voice Mistress XS used told Lynne this wasn't a request: it was an order.

As she shuffled further up the open space on the floor of the limo, Lynne was able to glance out of the window to the open warehouse and the van parked nearby. It appeared Charlotte was faring no better than she. Charlotte was bending down behind the van, her back towards Lynne, and pulling her silky red panties down. Around her stood a group of three people, including a woman dressed in a Police uniform!

Mistress XS obviously caught Lynne's gaze, because she said, “I'd worry about yourself, not Charlotte. She's in very capable hands and you'll be able to see her before we go. Now, those clothes please.”

Lynne removed her skirt blouse and shoes first and was soon sitting in her favourite pink satin lingerie. “Look at you, wearing the nice underwear your lover bought you!” Mistress XS said. “Now take it off. We'll save it for a command performance for your sweetheart, I'm sure she'd like that.”

Soon Lynne was naked on the floor of the car. Mistress XS wound down the window nearest the group by the van and called, “Could I have the sack please?” and in a few moments the liveried driver was thrusting a mass of folded leather through the window. Mistress XS wound the window back up before throwing the bundle of leather down to Lynne. “Put that on!” She said. “I'm sure you can work out how to do that.”

Lynne looked at the bundle of leather and knew immediately it was a bondage bag – a kind of leather sleeping bag from which there was no escape. Ironically she and Catherine had only been talking about the undesirability of being in one of these the night before, and her she was, less than 12 hours later, being placed in one by the woman she most feared! Lynne unfurled the well worn leather until it lay like a sleeping bag beside her. She could see how sturdily it was constructed and that it had something like 12 straps which encircled it from ankle to neck. There was lacing too running up the front of the thing, although much of this was undone to allow her access.

She stared briefly at the unyielding eyes behind the mask at the far end of the limo and knew she had no choice but to do as she was told. Lynne opened the slit down the front a prepared to climb in. What she saw inside made her hesitate.

There were two sleeves, obviously intended for her arms, but the whole inside of the bag was shimmering in the soft light inside the car. Lynne brushed her fingers against the shimmering inside and felt the touch of a hundred tiny pin-pricks back! “Haven't you seen one of those?” Mistress XS said. “I thought you might have seen one with the things you stole from me, you now the things you play your little games with? It's called a pin bag, the pins won't actually pierce your skin, well, not in too many places anyway, but I am told it hurts rather a lot; in fact I'm told it's very painful indeed. But then, of course, that's why I want you to put it on isn't it?” Mistress XS laughed. “And when we get to your new home, you'll be able to tell me just how nice it was to wear, won't you?”

Disclaimer: This story is a fantasy which contains graphic descriptions of sex, violence, rape, non-consensual imprisonment, scatology and torture. It is definitely NOT for anyone under 21 or anyone who is offended by such material. This story is fictional and any resemblance to anyone dead or alive is purely coincidental.

The story is long and I will happily add further chapters if people let me know they are interested in more - I welcome comments and suggestions from readers but all flames will be ignored.

drsaavik@hotmail.com

Group XS

By "Dr Saavik"

Chapter 6

Date Tuesday 19th October 09.35

Even as Lynne was climbing gingerly into the pin sack, Catherine was sitting in Court waiting for the Judge to arrive. She was sitting behind a table on the left of the Court, just in front of the witness box, and had her papers spread out in front of her.

For Catherine this was a relatively easy case. The girl she was prosecuting had a history of being picked up for prostitution and, even by the tender age of 19, had already served time in a young offender's institute and three months in prison. Catherine's job was to try and convince the Judge that Kelly Brown deserved another custodial sentence and that if 3 months hadn't been long enough the last time, then she ought to be put away for longer.

The fact that Kelly had been picked up in an undercover operation only served to make her job easier. The only fly in ointment, as far as Catherine was concerned, was that Kelly had Lisa Shaw, a dynamic young lawyer from Prendergast & Summerfield, one of the better practices in town, defending her. Catherine cast a glance over to the woman seated behind the table on her right and had to admit to herself she looked impressive.

Still only about 30 years old, Lisa had a figure which looked like it came from Baywatch! Her ample breasts were proudly displayed as they strained against her thin white blouse which was open just enough to show her cleavage. Her powder blue suit made Catherine's grey one look both dowdy and cheap, and Catherine could tell at a glance that the shoes on the end of her slender stockinged legs probably cost more than she earned in a month!

As Catherine studied the woman's fine features in profile and her beautifully coiffured auburn hair, Catherine felt a pang of jealousy. She might be no bad looker herself, she thought, but Miss bloody Shaw was an absolute stunner. Just as she thought this, Lisa Shaw turned and caught Catherine's look. Her superficial smile didn't fool Catherine and Catherine found herself looking quickly away and back down to her papers.

‘Please God may it be a woman Judge', Catherine thought to herself, just as the Officer of the Court said, “The Court will rise! Judge Kellerman presiding.”

Catherine's heart sank as she watched the tall, grey haired Judge enter the Court. The Judge had a reputation as a womaniser and Catherine had never found him easy to deal with; she realised with a sense of irony that it was Judge Kellerman who had sold the ticket to Lynne and given her paid leave of absence.

When the defendant was brought in, Catherine's jaw dropped in surprise. She was tall and slender with a figure which would not have been out of place on the catwalk! But it was not that which had surprised Catherine, it was her choice of outfit for a Court appearance. She was wearing a tight black rubber dress which hugged every inch of her figure! The dress showed off her well-rounded rump to perfection and, Catherine could see at a glance, was so smooth and shiny she was obviously not wearing anything underneath!

From Catherine's experience with rubber, Kelly Brown must have spent a few minutes ahead of being called buffing the dress with silicone spray to get it looking so good!

Just as Catherine was staring at the gleaming rubber clad rump of Miss Brown, Lynne was staring at the rubber clad rump of Mistress XS.

Lynne had eventually worked her way into the bag, finding that there were two legs inside as well as the two sleeves and that not a single inch of the inside was designed to give her respite from the pins. Lynne had had to work her legs into the bag and squeeze her feet into the single pointed foot part, which forced her feet into a ballet-style enpointe position and tighten the lacing over her feet before she was able to get further into the suit. This had not been easy in itself, the fit of the legs and the friction caused by the pins, meant it had felt to Lynne, even before anything was tightened, like she was trying to slip on a pair of pantyhose made from sandpaper!

Only once Lynne had fastened the lowest strap around her ankles and lain back in the suit, inserting her arms down the internal sleeves which ran straight down her sides in the process, did Mistress XS move from her seat. It wasn't that she was scared of Catherine, she had no need with her accomplices around and the Tazer in her hand, but she was simply relaxing, sipping champagne and enjoying the spectacle. Putting her glass down she approached Lynne and patiently tightened the zip up the front in one swift move, effectively imprisoning Lynne, before starting on the lacing. Working up the criss-cross of laces several times, Mistress XS eventually tied them off before starting with the straps.

Lynne felt like she was in a straightjacket, a very prickly and uncomfortable one at that, which fitted her from head to toe. As Mistress XS tightened first the lacing and then the straps, she realised that she could hardly move her body at all. Her toes were held in an unyielding pointed position, her arms were held rigid by the leather and their proximity to her sides, in fact all she could do was flex her knees a little!

As the straps were buckled, and Mistress pulled with all her might to get each strap one further notch tighter, Lynne appreciated the difference between the bondage she had enjoyed with Catherine and that which she was about to endure with Mistress XS. Nothing Mistress XS was doing was intended for Lynne's pleasure. The pins, the ballet-style point to her feet, the tightness of the lacing and now the tightness of the straps were all intended to make her hurt. Even the strategic placement of the straps was designed to cause maximum discomfort. Lynne was sure it was no accident that there were two straps much broader than the rest, one which was manfully flattening her breasts and another which held her midriff in a pincer-like grip and was preventing her from drawing anything more than the shallowest of breaths.

Once she was fully encased in the bag, Mistress XS worked down the straps on Lynne and clicked a small padlock through each buckle. Lynne knew the padlocks were unnecessary, she had no chance of escape; Mistress XS knew they were unnecessary to prevent escape. What Mistress XS knew, and Lynne was already feeling, that they dealt a heavy psychological blow. There was a permanence about being zipped, laced, strapped and locked inside something so devilishly cruel which surpassed any bondage Lynne had hitherto fore enjoyed in her sex-play with Catherine.

“How long are you going to keep me like this?” Lynne managed to ask. She didn't expect the hard slap across her face for reply. “They call me Mistress XS!” Came the verbal reply. “And you'll learn that our slaves are not permitted to speak without permission – under any circumstances!”

“But I suppose it would be nice for you to know. You're staying like this; well sort of, you'll se in a minute, for as long as I choose. You're going to be my special guest, in my personal suite, for as long as I choose. While you are in my care, you will be my personal slave in every and any way I choose. I'm going to hurt you, I'm going to beat you, I'm going to torture you for my own pleasure. Then, if I choose, I'm going to turn you over to others who will do the same. You see,” Mistress XS continued, “your lover tried to make our life misery and, in exchange, we intend to do the same for her kith and kin. But don't worry; Catherine didn't succeed in breaking Group XS, she made us far bigger and far stronger – as you will shortly see.”

With that Mistress XS left Lynne sobbing quietly to herself on the floor of the limo, the same car in which she had so triumphantly left home an hour or so before. A while later Mistress XS returned with the driver and said “Come, you might like to see how your sister is doing.” Between them, Mistress XS and the driver began to haul Lynne out of the car.

Once they had her out and in the warehouse, her virtually rigid body was easy to manhandle to the open back of the van where they sat her on the metal floor, her feet dangling down and almost touching the floor. Lynne could see the van was purpose built on the inside. Along one side there were several small cages, along the other a wooden bench. Although she peered into the darkness of the van as they manoeuvred her, Lynne couldn't see Charlotte , not even in one of the cages, and presumed she was out of sight round the far side of the empty van.

As they sat her down, Lynne was startled by the impact of the pins in her ass, all pressing firmly where her weight rested, and aware of a cold feeling around her pussy. It took her a few moments to realise that the coldness was caused by a slit in the suit, something she hadn't seen in the relative darkness of the limo. There had been a slit on the suit Catherine had brought home… the suit Hannah had been encased in whilst sitting in the box with the wooden “V” shape on the bottom. Lynne stared across the floor in front of her and looked at the two wooden crates, both similar – if not a little smaller - to the one Catherine had brought home and she had found claustrophobic after 10 minutes.

Lynne sat and stared at the boxes and prayed she was wrong.

“Let me introduce you to Charlotte .” Mistress XS said, breaking Lynne's silent reverie. From around the side of van the woman dressed as a Police officer appeared towing Charlotte behind her.

Lynne may have expected her do be in a similar predicament. She did not expect her to be dressed as a fabulous fetish schoolgirl!

“After hearing you refer to those ‘horrible schoolgirl outfits' last night, we thought you might like to see your sister in one!” Mistress XS said to Lynne.

Lynne didn't reply, partly because she had heeded the warning about not speaking, but mainly because she was dumbstruck by her baby sister's appearance. Charlotte was not dressed as she had Catherine last night, that had been a very mild version of some of the Group XS outfits, she recognised that. No, Charlotte was wearing the full-blown, fuck-off serious kind of outfit of which she knew Group XS were capable, but had never seen in use before.

Charlotte was covered in rubber or leather from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, and it was immediately apparent that she was neither comfortable nor unrestricted by what she wore. They'd put a hood on her, not too dissimilar to the hood Lynne and Catherine had at home, except this one had holes either side through which Charlotte's blonde tresses had been drawn like pigtails. Atop the leather discipline helmet, which inevitably had no eye holes, was a little leather and rubber caricature of a school hat with the legend ‘XS School' in large letters on the hatband and, written just beneath the School motto, “Maximus Excruscio ” (or ‘the most extreme pain') in smaller letters.

The scary part of the hood, or at least to Lynne, was a large rubber re-breather bag hanging from her nose on a rubber pipe, the kind of thing they use during anaesthesia in hospitals, slowly inflating and deflating with each slow and painful breath.

Her upper torso was held in what looked like a schoolgirl's pinafore dress, except this one was made of rubber and had an integral leather corset which had reduced her already slender waist dramatically. Worst of all, her breasts stood proud and independent from the dress, bound in two sacks of rubber which had thin little straps encircling them, making her tits look like two taut and stretched pieces of meat on a butcher's slab, a thin strap embedded in the meat every half inch or so!

The dress didn't have any sleeves; instead her arms were folded behind her inside the dress and secured immovably by whatever lay beneath. The dress stopped short of her crotch. In fact the pleated skirt, if you can call it that, was about 5” of rubber which started at her waist, ensuring that her ‘school knickers' were permanently on display. These were, of course, no ordinary school knickers; except maybe in the XS School!

Her knickers were black, high-waisted, control panties made from heavy rubber with inset leather panels with a thin strap running between her legs. The strap had been drawn so tight it was only visible where it ran over the leather control panel at the front before it delved into a deep crevice between Charlotte 's legs, only to emerge on the other side at the top of her buttocks, just below the hem of her skirt!

Lynne could see, as the Police officer lady brought Charlotte round from the side of the van, that the was a band of leather running up the centre of the panties at the back which had been drawn into the cleft of Charlotte's buttocks by the strap, and that either side of this the rubber was much thinner where it was stretched across Charlotte's ass-cheeks. It was obvious to Lynne that this design was meant so Charlotte , or whoever wore the panties, would have little protection on her ass cheeks from a spanking or, even worse, a caning.

The legs of Charlotte 's panties were fairly square-cut, and there was a belt, secured with a padlock, around each. The belt was buried deeply into her thigh flesh and, to judge by the way the skin bulged beneath the leg opening; the entire panty arrangement was far from the relatively comfortable size Lynne had used on Catherine the night before. If Catherine and Lynne's ‘school panty', taken from the Saavik and Zorhof trial evidence, were a medium-large size, poor Charlotte was wearing extra small!

From the legs hung four suspenders, not in total, but on each side, holding up Charlotte 's rubber stockings, wonderful see through imitations of real stockings with a seam running down the back and darker bands round the tops. On her feet, Charlotte wore her school shoes. Highly glossed, black patent stilettos which had a 7” heel and were locked in place with a padlock attached through the ankle strap.

“We thought you'd like to see Charlotte as a proper schoolgirl, rather than the poor imitation you managed last night!” Mistress XS said. “But how remiss of me,” She continued, “I haven't introduced my colleagues. This is Mistress Spite, as you will know her,” she said indicating the woman in what Lynne now saw was in fact a Sheriff's uniform, “she looks after our little ‘bondage suite' where Charlotte is going to spend a little time over the coming days, in excruciating bondage if I know Mistress Spite…”

The Sheriff smiled and said “Absolutely! We've got plenty planned for Charlotte; she's certainly going to know the meaning of the words ‘tight' and ‘painful' by the time she's finished!” Mistress XS laughed and said “Excellent!”

Turning to Lynne, Mistress XS confided, “Mistress Spite is never happier than when she had a girl trussed like a chicken and crammed into an impossibly tight cage, or hanging in a mailbag! She's currently got one girl who has been in the same little hole in the ground for what is it?” She looked to Mistress Spite for a figure. “26 days.” Came the reply. “Yes, 26 days, for a little ‘attitude adjustment!' Don't worry, she gets plenty to eat and drink in there… as long as everyone remembers to flush the toilet!” Mistress XS continued.

“And this is Helga, Mistress Helga to you,” Mistress XS said introducing a thick-set young woman with short brown hair, wearing a black leather skirt and jacket. Helga takes very good care of our prisoners, don't you Helga?” Helga nodded. “Yes, she has adopted best working practices from her previous employers… the Stasi!” Turning to the driver of the limo, Mistress XS said, “And this is Master V. A gentleman who spends much more time torturing and raping girls in our Leather Dungeon, than he does driving Limousines, I can assure you! You'll be seeing something of Lynne and Charlotte over the coming weeks, won't you?” She said to the muscular looking man.

“I hope so!” He said in a deep voice, Lynne suddenly seeing the power of the man. “I can't wait to get a piece of your lesbian tail, Lynne, and to see you wearing some of our special creations for leather slaves! As for Charlotte , I'm sure she'll soon learn to associate the smell of leather with the crack of the whip!”

“But now, I imagine you can't wait to get on your way to your holiday destination, can you?” Mistress XS said, enjoying the look of pale fear across Lynne's face. “As I said, the travel arrangements have changed somewhat. For ‘First Class' you now need to read ‘Baggage Class', in fact, the very baggage you see in front of you.” Mistress XS said. It was no surprise to Lynne, she knew when she had seen the packing cases what they were likely to be used for; nevertheless, it was still a shock to realise that these people intended for her to be held in one against her will.