The Purest Love

The journey from my hotel room had lasted about an hour and I had spent the time concentrating on not being sick. It was essential that I wasn’t sick because my mouth was stuffed and taped and the idea of breathing vomit into my lungs terrified me enough to lose control of my bladder. I felt the warm liquid grow cold in my clothes and soak into the sheets and towels with which I shared the laundry basket that they had thrown me in.
I had crawled back to my room, exhausted from a day of translating political rhetoric, or to translate it into my own language, bullshit. Unable to face the walk back down to the restaurant, I ordered room service and kicking off my shoes, succumbed to the lure of the mini bar. I was on my second small bottle of Pinot Grigio when there was a knock at the door.
I padded over in my stockinged feet and opened it in hungry anticipation. Two men in uniforms wheeled in a laundry basket and my heart sank at the idea that this wasn’t luxurious sustenance. I had no time to wonder why they were there before one of them had circled his arms around my waist and my neck, pinning my arms beneath steel muscles. I could feel his erection against my buttocks as he whispered harshly in my ear.
‘You make a sound and you’ll spend the next ten minutes dying in agony’
The other raised a syringe in front of my face and smiled as he plunged it into my arm. I felt tears welling in my eyes as I fought the urge to scream, my legs shook uncontrollably.
‘Don’t worry you’re not going to die here, its just a muscle relaxant to make you more… compliant’ He spoke very slowly, enunciating each letter menacingly. My legs started to buckle, unable to support my weight and my head started to loll forward, my lips parting and saliva running down onto my blouse.
I was quickly bound with plastic cable ties and gagged with a rubber ball, which was held in place with copious amounts of silver tape. A laundry bag was slipped over my upper body and taped at my waist my breasts, my neck and around where my mouth and eyes would have been. I was like a floppy rag doll as they lifted me into the basket and covered me with linen. Strangely, all I could think about was how hungry I was.
On arrival at wherever we had arrived, I was lifted out of the basket and placed on my feet, they were still unable to support my weight and two sets of strong arms walked me, while my feet dragged behind, down an echoey corridor.
I heard a heavy metal door open before us and then clang shut behind, I peed myself again.
My escorts sat me on some sort of chair and then I heard them walk away, I sat in my darkness and the deafening quiet and waited…
As I sat in the dark I thought I heard breathing, I listened intently for maybe an hour and then suddenly the unmistakable noise of a chair scraping the floor. It sounded as though it came from around ten metres away and was followed by footsteps and the squeak of leather shoes. I made a sound into the many layers of my gag.
Hands closed around me and I was lifted gently down onto the floor. A metallic sound and then I felt the tapes around my body being cut away, the pressure was eased and I could almost breathe. After a couple of minutes of concentrated cutting the sack was completely removed and the air was cold against my skin and sweat soaked clothing.
I blinked into the gloom of a large industrial room, the floor was dusty and stuck to my wet body, a shadow moved around me slicing through the vicious cable ties that had cut into my flesh. He kneeled down and lifted my head onto his lap as I lay limp and helpless. His voice was quiet, like American chocolate to my ears, it resonated soothingly on my brain, comforting and kind. He gently stroked the damp lank hair from my face as he explained the sensuous relationship between victim and torturer. I looked into his face, lean and handsome, a neatly trimmed goatee, strong chin and sparkling intelligent eyes.
He lay my head back down on the floor and undressed me.
I lay like a naked floppy rag doll on the dirty floor, my arms and legs useless. I looked into his face for some sign of desire as he pushed my urine soaked clothing into a rubbish sack. He lifted me with ease onto the chair once more and I noticed that it had no seat and beneath it was an open drain.
As he fastened me to the chair with the horrid cable ties, he explained in his soft lovely voice, what he was going to do to me. I wanted to ask him questions, but my voice didn’t work and my mouth couldn’t form the words. My head was only kept upright because of the tie that attached my hair to a point at the top of the chair back. He came so close to me to whisper the horror in my ear, I wanted to turn my head, brush my lips across his cheek, smell his breath…
He brought up his chair and sat to one side of me, I looked at the clean dark suit and open necked white shirt, the strong neck that gave way to a broad muscular chest; my mouth lolled open and dribbled on my breasts. He looked at his handiwork, I was bound in a sitting position, my ankles, knees and thighs were bound to the front legs of the chair, my neck, chest and belly to the back and my wrists and elbows to the arms. My hands were face down on the widest part of the arms and my fingers were splayed and attached to the wood by U-shaped nails that were hammered in over the last joint of each.
He showed me pictures of arms and hands that he had dissected and explained how he would approach mine and that he usually took around eight hours to get from first incision to completely exposing the bones.
I cried like a baby and wanted him to touch me…
He showed me pictures of breasts that he had removed and the exposed ribs beneath. Part of me wanted him to tell me that he needed information that I may have gleaned during my work, that I could tell him and then he would let me go and I could have my dinner and go to sleep in my warm hotel bedroom; part of me wanted him to hurt me. He showed me a picture of a head without ears, nose, eyelids, lips… I wanted his long strong slender fingers in my cunt.
He left me alone in the dark and I cried.
Next morning he was back I could smell his aftershave and the shampoo on his hair. He sat down and asked me if I would like to go home now. I nodded as best I could and he said ‘Too bad’
He took off his jacket and used a hose to wash away the piss and shit from under the chair, then he hosed me down. I wanted the jet of water on my clitoris, but I didn’t get it.
I managed to make my mouth work a little, I asked him why?
He said ‘I am a torturer, you are a victim. It’s the natural order of things, we are made for each other’
I wanted him to touch me, I wanted him to run his long fingers up the inside of my thighs, open my wet hole and finger me hard and bruising. I wanted him to lean in and kiss my mouth, push his velvet tongue into me and feel his lips and rough cheek on my face… he put the scalpel against my little finger… he looked into my eyes and smiled… a wonderful joyous gleeful loving smile…
I smiled back…