Interruptions

Interruptions

Linda looked at the screen of her laptop. She was a somewhat mousey, somewhat nerdy nineteen year old, with rather thick glasses, and a figure little better than average. She was what might be described as a literary sadist. For the past year or so she had been writing stories under the nom-de-plume Succubus, and sticking them on various internet sites.

She had been into torture ever since her Best Friend Forever had given her a copy of the novel The Story of O by Pauline Reage. It had been the most arousing thing which Linda had ever read. But she had never actually identified with O (which maybe the BFF had hoped for). Linda had no desire to be tortured or dominated. She had identified with the torturers of O. Linda wanted to be the one doing the torturing.

She had tried pain, but not found it to her liking. She had put clothes’ pegs on her nipples, but had taken them off after a few seconds. She hated getting splinters. And stubbing a toe made her swear volubly. No, receiving pain was not for her.

Since then she had checked out videos on the internet. The one which she was watching was one of her favourites. It featured a naked, hooded man, his arms attached to some sort of wooden yoke around his neck. Hie had a large, erect penis, which was being whipped by a woman in a red dress, using a bullwhip. Linda could watch that video over and over again, wishing that it was she with the whip. She liked to see erect cocks being whipped. She liked to see either men or women being tortured, black or white, it didn’t matter. She was an equal opportunities sadist. Needles going into testicles or clits, hot wax dripped on cockheads or into open vaginas, electric shocks to sensitive area, cigarettes on cocks or being put out in open cunts, these were some of her favourite things.

It was probably good that Linda didn’t have a boyfriend or girlfriend, as she would probably have ended up getting arrested.

The thing which she liked even more than the videos was stories, for she could always imagine them with her mind’s eye, and the stories usually went further than the videos. Well, the ones she liked did, anyway. Among her favourites were Recruiting Victoria by Scotchlass; The Torture School by Birch Becker (she had lived for Germany for a year, and spoke it fluently); A Cellar Full of Screams by Susan Karlson; A Session on the Bars, by Cortez; Thursday Night Tough Torture by DolorDelectatio; What If She Wanted… by Polecat; Group XS by Saavik; Mammary Distress by Von Schmiser, and many other similar ones on all the sites she found. Reading those stories always made her cum… and cum good. In each story she imagined herself as the torturer, never the victim.

At the moment she was supposed to be working on her new story, New Nazi Bitch. Her protagonist was a female neo-Nazi who was a professional torturer, employed by evil regimes around the world, used to extract information from enemies of the state. Her protagonist, Helga Schumann, was tall, blonde, and stacked, with massive tits and a big clit: everything which Linda was not. Linda was supposed to be writing. But she was watching porn. It was a way of procrastinating when the words wouldn’t come.

Linda was naked, of course. She was always naked when she wrote, because writing torture stories turned her on. She would write a bit, and then frig her pussy, then go back to the writing. The problem was, though, the more she got turned on, the more extreme and intense the action became, until she was almost writing snuff stories, rather than just BDSM. So she would write a bit, and then sometimes take a break, to try and keep her stories one level beneath the ones flagged up as extreme.

The video ended. Linda sighed, and went back to her story. It hadn’t gotten very far. Helga Schumann was just about to meet her interrogation victim.

Helga marched into the interrogation room. Helga was dressed all in black: tight, black jeans, a black corset, long, black leather gloves, and a black hood open at the eyes and mouth. Helga hoped that her costume would inspire fear.

As usual her large, 38DD breasts were naked, the red swastikas tattooed on the upper slopes clearly on display, as were the rings through the nipples…

Linda was not really attracted by large breasts. But they seemed to be de riguer in torture stories. So any sadistic woman in her stories always had large breasts.

What Linda would have liked was some woman with large breasts tied up to her bed, and her mouth gagged so that the screams would not wake the neighbours. Oh, the things which she could do with a pair of pliers and a cigarette lighter…

There was a knock at Linda’s front door.

“Who the fuck is that?” Linda shouted. She grabbed a dressing gown and ran to the front door. She opened the door. It was the guy from Amazon with the parcel for her. Linda took it from him, and closed the door. She went back into her bedroom and opened the parcel. She knew what it was going to be: the book Rancho Diablo by Michael O’Connor, and published years ago by the Olympia Press. Yes, Linda had almost exhausted the free stories on the internet. She had read a review of Rancho Diablo and had known that she had to have it. She already had tracked down three others by the defunct Olympia Press: Secrets of the Dark Farm by Sam Moss; Breaking Point by Wilson Trezbone; and Torment on Trial, another one by Sam Moss.

She had cum when, in Secrets of the Dark Farm, Lizzie had nailed Melanie’s tits to the table. And the description of women having their legs sawn off in Breaking Point had been Hot. But what got her cumming every time were the final two pages of Torment on Trial, where there was a description of a woman prepared for torture by the Doctor. Forceps, retractors, scalpels, sutures, swabs and clamps… And the final paragraphs: The needle closed on that burning tit, soon to plunge its way through the stiff projection and begin the patient’s agonising treatment and take the doctor to a raging passion.

“As your doctor, I can assure you that this WILL hurt.”

Linda always frigged herself to a wild orgasm as she read those final lines. She imagined herself as the doctor, bent over a helpless victim, a woman who she would slowly take apart, bit by bit, injecting acid or removing unnecessary body parts like nipples or the clitoris, but never doing anything to actually kill her unwilling victim

Linda gasped. She was turned on. She looked in her full length bedroom mirror. Her face was red, flushed with passion. Her cheeks always went red when she was turned on. She wondered whether her face had been so red when she had taken her parcel from the Amazon guy. Fuck, why should she care.

She put the book on her bedside table. She would read it tonight. She resisted the urge to read it before then. She had a story to right. Where was she?

…As usual her large, 38DD breasts were naked, the red swastikas tattooed on the upper slopes clearly on display, as were the rings through the nipples.

Linda continued typing.

Her victim was tied up just the way that Helga liked them: strapped down tightly by leather bands to the torture chair, something which looked similar to the sort of chairs used by gynaecologists. The chair was fully adjustable. Legs could be spread to almost breaking point. At the moment the victim had her legs spread wide enough to allow access to her groin. It had been shaven ready for the torture. Helga moved around to look at the victim.

It was a young woman, probably not yet out of her teens. She had dusky skin, and large breasts with chocolate-coloured areolae and nipples. The nipples stood erect, either with cold or fear. The girl’s eyes were wide. She looked at Helga, and then at a table to the side of the torture chair.

On that table were the devices which Helga would be using on her hapless victim. There was an electric shock machine; needles and skewers; a cigarette lighter; a pack of cigarettes; a soldering iron; and a riding crop.

Linda paused to rub at her labia. She was already wet, just from the little which she had written. She imagined herself about to go to work on the captive. Which area would she torture first?

“No, build up, go slow, or it will be a very short story.” she reminded herself. Dialogue, that was the thing. But she wanted to get to the good part.

“I am going to torture you, Maria, until you tell me who else is in the cell of your democracy movement. Then I am going to torture you some more, because I enjoy torturing people. You can cut short the first part of your torture by giving up the names now. But the second part will continue until I am satisfied that you know nothing more.”

Helga had actually been given carte blanche to do whatever she wanted with Maria, once the regime had the names of the dissidents. They didn’t care what happened to Maria. That meant that Helga had free reign to torture Maria for as long as the Nazi sadist desired. She could even torture Maria to death, for the stupid bitch would only face a firing squad otherwise.

God, this was hot, Linda thought. Even if it wasn’t that original. There were a hundred such interrogation stories on the internet. But she didn’t care about that. This was her fantasies written down.

“Fuck off, you bitch, I’m never giving you any names.” Maria spat out.

Ah, defiance, that was good, Helga thought. She would have fun breaking this one. But Maria had made a cardinal error: she had not protested her innocence, but admitted that she knew names. Nothing could stop the torture now.

“No, you will tell me the names. You will give out everyone, no matter what they mean to you. Everybody has a breaking point, and I will find yours. You will scream and then you will beg. You will offer not just the names, but anything, just to stop what I am going to do to your body. You will beg to eat my shit. You will beg to suck off dogs. But I will still keep on torturing you.”

Linda saw it all in her minds eye. She was looking down on that defenceless coffee-coloured body in bondage. It was she who had a table full of torture instruments to ruin Maria’s beauty with. It was she who was Helga.

The scent of female arousal permeated the room. One touch of a finger to her clit and Linda would cum.

There was a knock at the front door.

“Who the fuck is that now?” Linda asked. She didn’t like torture interruptus. She slung on her dressing gown and ran to the front door. She flung it open.

There were two men standing there, in smart suits, holding books.

“We are f-from the ch-church of the Latter Day Saints.” one of them stammered.

“I’m not interested.” Linda said, shutting the door in their face. It was only after she had shut the door that she realised that her dressing gown had been open in the front. Both men must have seen her nakedness. Worse, still, her clit was clearly peeking out from under its hood.

“Well, good for them.” she muttered. She wondered whether either of them would wank off tonight, thinking about her. She hoped so. But she bet that neither of them had read any of her stories.

Linda had lost her train of thought. She slipped off her dressing gown, and went into the kitchen to make a coffee. She might as well have a coffee break, having been interrupted.

Linda made herself a black coffee, with a couple of spoonfuls of sugar in it. She drank it in the kitchen, sitting in her dressing gown. She feared that if she took it in the bedroom she’s spill it on her laptop. When she had finished she returned to the keyboard, and began tapping away again. Or, rather, she tried to.

… But I will still keep on torturing you.”

That had been the last line. But Linda had entirely forgotten what she had been going to write next. She had to reread all that she had written so far to get back into the groove.

Helga decided to start with the girl’s breasts and nipples. Perhaps seeing the coffee-coloured flesh marred would break the spirit of the girl, and Helga would get the information quickly. Then she would have all the time in the world to play with this one.

Helga lit up a cigarette. She smiled evilly, but did not say anything. She brushed the ash over the side of a full breast, as though accidentally.”

“Oh!” Maria said, and twitched.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I burn you?” Helga asked.

Linda took off her dressing gown, returning to her naked state. She now typed one-handed, her left hand going down between her legs. Linda had a very good imagination, and she was now Helga, standing over the defenceless Maria. Oh, how Linda would love to be in that position, a lit cigarette in her hand.

Helga burnt the outside of a breast, holding the cigarette there as she looked down at Maria.

“No, please don’t!” Maria begged. But Linda was merciless.

“Shit, shit, typo.” Linda said. She corrected it.

“No, please don’t!” Maria begged. But Helga was merciless. She ignored the cries from Maria, and continued to burn her breasts. Little black dot after little black dot appeared to mar the flesh, as Helga worked inwards, slowly making a torturous trail towards Maria’s areolae and nipples.

“No, don’t, I can’t bear it.”

“The only thing which I want to hear from you, bitch, is the names of the others in the movement. Until then I will carry on burning your breasts. Just look at them, with burn marks all over them. No man will ever…”

Linda’s mobile phone began to ring. Linda answered the phone without looking who it was.

“Who the fu-…Oh, hello Mom. No, I’m fine. Doing? Oh, I’m just doing a bit of writing. No, it’s just for me. No, I don’t think that I’ll ever be published. Look, can I phone you tomorrow and we’ll have a chat? Okay, bye.”

Linda turned her mobile off. No more interruptions. She was at least going to get to the end of the scene.

Linda reread, again, what she had written. It turned her on, and her left hand returned to caressing her wet labia. She closed her eyes, and imagined a defenceless pair of breasts, now covered with first degree burns from the careless use of a cigarette.

“Burn that bitch, Helga!” Linda almost shouted. She opened her eyes. Her fingers were now thrusting quickly in and out of her cunt. The aroma of pussy filled her bedroom.

…No man will ever look at your breasts again.”

Helga sensed that the girl was near breaking. She put the cigarette in her cruel lips, and bent down so that the ember at the end of the cigarette was touching the tip of Maria’s nipple. Then, making sure that the glowing end was in contact with the chocolate coloured bud, Helga proceeded to smoke her cigarette. I wasn’t long before she had all the names.

Helga gave the names to the General. Then Helga turned back to Maria.

“Now the torture really begins.” Helga said, laughing maniacally.

End of Part

Linda never got to typing One as, just then, she came to a massive orgasm. She closed her eyes and sighed. That was good.

She closed her laptop down, at least for the moment. She had done with Helga for the day. But that was not all that she was working on at the moment. She also had the tale of Ana In The Inquisition. Maybe she’d carry on with that tonight. If her memory served her Ana was about to feel what it was like to have a red-hot spike thrust up her urethra…

The End: No more interruptions.