## Archive-name: undercover_cop1-2

From: xyz@abc.com (Jym)

Subject: Undercover Cop (female) Part I Rape, torture.

Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories

Here's the standard disclaimer - if you are under 18 or if it is 21 where you live or if it is illegal for you to read this then don't - Go away. If you are offended by explicit sex, good sex, bad sex, B/d, S/m, lesbianism, paganism, nudism, (or any other -ism) then go away. Otherwise, enjoy.

If you want more, comments to Jym: GJ@SPRYNET.COM Copyright 1996 by the author.

Undercover Cop

When she volunteered for the assigment she'd never envisioned it ending like this, in the cold basement of an empty warehouse. Someone had given her up, betrayed her, but she had racked her brain without coming up with a single name. Who'd benefit from having her removed? Who? The question haunted her. She wasn't popular with the other members of the squad - she was too pushy, too abrasive, too good a cop. And she wasn't pretty enough to have them overlook her other traits.

Now, with a brief respite from the torture she'd endured, she thought back to the beginning. The captain had summoned her into his office and told her that they needed a female undercover officer to penetrate a drug operation at the university. One of her assets was that even though she was an experienced officer with six years on the force, she could still pass for a college girl. She knew that it was her red hair, freckles, and big green eyes that made her look years younger than her actual age of 28. That and her lean, rangy physique which looked frail when she dressed in baggy sweatshirts and loose-fitting jeans.

She closed her eyes and muttered, "Shit, how could I have been so stupid?" She was still smarting at the ease with which they'd taken her right off the street. And in broad daylight! A van had pulled up to the curb a few feet in front of her just as a young male voice called to her from behind. "Hey, miss, you dropped your wallet. Hey! Red...." She turned, slapping her jacket pocket at the same time, realizing that her wallet was indeed missing. The van door had slid open, two men jumped out. One sapped her expertly behind the ear and the other caught her as she sagged. Two steps and she was heaved into the van. Nobody paid the slightest attention.

She'd regained consiousness within minutes and discovered that her wrists were bound tightly behind her back with electrical wire. Her ankles were bound too. And she had been gagged with duct tape. She was helpless but she tried anyway and heard her captors chuckle as they watched her struggles. After her futile attempt to free herself she relaxed and tried to figure out where they were going. Again, a futile effort. After many turns, many starts and stops, the van pulled into an enclosed parking area and stopped. Her captors had picked her up and carried her from the van to a flight of stairs that led down into the basement of the empty warehouse. She had been dumped on the floor in the middle of a large room - about 20x25' - and her captors had turned and left, locking the door behind them. They left the lights on or she would have been in total darkness because there were no windows in the room. No source of light other than the six bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling.

The room was cold. It was February after all and apparently the owner of the building wasn't going to waste money on heat without a paying tenant. She was left alone for what seemed like hours but probably wasn't more that 30-45 minutes. Then the door opened and she craned her neck to see who it was. Three men and a woman entered the room and closed the door behind them. She heard the lock click, so there was at least one more person outside the room. The three men were older - in their late 40s and early 50s, typical middle echelon thugs - hard men who'd done it all and survived. The woman was different - she was in her 30s, blonde and attractive, but not the flashy type men like this usually had hanging around them. But then they wouldn't bring one of them into a situation like this. One of the older men, clearly the man in charge, jerked his head at her and said, "Get her ready and be quick about it."

The other two men hurried over and each took one of her arms, dragging her to her feet, ignoring her grunt of pain. Meanwhile, the woman set the big leather briefcase she was carrying down on the floor and opened it. She produced some short leather straps with sturdy buckles and tossed them toward her. One of the men holding her arms picked one up. "Why are we using these? What's wrong with just tying the rope to her wrists and ankles?"

The woman glanced at the boss and then answered. "Because we don't want to mark her now. Just in case."

The men seemed to accept that. One of them punched her in the belly to ensure she wouldn't struggle. Then they removed the electrical cord and quickly attached the straps to her wrists and ankles. In the meantime the woman had produced some lengths of chain - 2 fairly long and 2 shorter lengths. The boss walked over to the door and banged on it. When it opened he leaned through and spoke to the person outside. A minute later another men entered with a ladder. It all happened quickly after that. Two of the long chains were attached to her wrist straps. One of the men had seized her around the waist and held her in the air while the other got up on the ladder and secured first one and then the second chair to hooks set in the rafters. When the second was secure the man holding her let go and she grunted with pain as she dropped a few inches and then was left hanging by her wrists, her feet several inches above the concrete floor. Then the shorter chains were attached to the straps around her ankles and her feet were pulled apart and the chains secured to ringbolts set in the floor.

So far she hadn't spoken a word. She knew it wouldn't do any good. She stared at them in silence. The three men gathered near the door and watched as the blonde woman approached the helpless redhead. They all had expectant looks on their faces and she felt the first traces of fear. The blonde reached into the pocket of her leather jacket and produced a switchblade knife which she used to cut carefully cut off every stitch of the redhead's clothing. Her jacket first. Then her denim workshirt followed by her jeans. She stepped back for a moment to let the men have a good look at the redhead in her plain cotton underwear. Next, to tease the watchers, she removed the redhead's cheap sneakers. Finally, she cut off the redheads bra and panties, leaving her hanging there with nothing on but her white sweat socks.

"Well, she's a real redhead!" This from one of the goons by the door. The blonde glanced at her, shrugged and raised an eyebrow as if to say, "What can you do? Good help is impossible to find."

The boss snapped rapped on the door and snapped his fingers when it opened. "Come on, lets go." The two goons filed out, followed by the blonde. The door closed and the boss walked over and stared at her for a minute. "We're going to leave you to think for a while. If you tell us what we want to know it will be better for you." Then he turned and left.

"....better for you." The words echoed in her head. She knew what they meant. Talk and we'll make it quick. Two bullets in the back of the head. Maybe they'd rape her first but there wouldn't be any torture. No reason for it. If she talked. But she wanted to live. So she couldn't talk. She could only hope that someone had seen something. That a miracle would happen and the squad would find her and....

And pigs would fly. There was about the same chance for either event. She shivered and not just from the cold air on her nude body.

End of Chapter I

Path: bull.hkstar.net!imci3!imci4!newsfeed.internetmci.com!news.sprintlink.net!new-news.sprintlink.net!news.interserv.net!news1.sprynet.com!news From: xyz@abc.com (Jym) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Subject: UnderCover Cop - II Rape & Torture Date: Sun, 21 Jul 1996 19:33:44 GMT Organization: None Lines: 103 Message-ID: <31f285be.26643817@news.sprynet.com> NNTP-Posting-Host: ad14-002.compuserve.com X-Newsreader: Forte Agent .99c/16.141

Here's the standard disclaimer - if you are under 18 or if it is 21 where you live or if it is illegal for you to read this then don't - Go away. If you are offended by explicit sex, good sex, bad sex, B/d, S/m, lesbianism, paganism, nudism, (or any other -ism) then go away. Otherwise, enjoy.

If you want more, comments to Jym: GJ@SPRYNET.COM Copyright 1996 by the author.

Undercover Cop - II

Her shoulders were beginning to ache when the door opened and the boss came in, closely followed by the slender blonde. He was smoking an unfiltered cigarette and she had the insane impulse to ask him if he knew what he was risking. He circled around her and came to a stop facing her. He stared at her for a moment and asked if she was ready to talk. To tell them the name of the informant who'd alerted them to the drug operation in the first place. She shook her head. So far she had not spoken a word. "What's your name?" Her only response was another shake of her head. He sighed and reached out to run the tip of his finger over her right nipple. "It's too bad. Such a beautiful girl. Such a lovely body."

"Well," she thought to herself, "He's no judge of beauty." But she had to concede he was right about her body. She'd always been proud of it and worked hard to keep it in shape. Now.....

He took a long drag on his cigarette and she watched in horror as he reached out and pushed it into her navel. She arched her back and screamed in agony as he ground the cigarette out on her soft flesh. He watched impassively, his eyes devoid of emotion. This was business. Just business. "Ready to talk now?"

She stifled a sob and shook her head. He sighed and turned to the blonde. "It's up to you. How long do you need?"

The blonde shrugged. "I don't know. Normally I'd say I could break a woman in 30 minutes. But this little bitch seems tough. Maybe an hour. Maybe two. It would be quicked if I didn't have to worry about visibile damage." The redhead shuddered as she listened to them talk about torturing her in the same tones they'd use talking about the weather. The boss shook his head. "Those are the instructions for now. Do the best you can. I'll let you know if the situation changes." He turned and left.

When the door closed behind him the blonde turned and said, "Just you and me now, honey. You can call me Cindy." She walked over to her briefcase and brought it back, setting in down behind the redhead. Then she walked over to the door and rapped on it. When it was opened she spoke to the person outside and then waited at the door until a wooden box was brought in. She placed in on the floor in front of the redhead and climbed up onto it. It got her high enough to allow her to look the redhead right in the eye. Satisified with the added height the box afforded her she began by examining the redhead's body. She did this by running her hands over the girl's body, stroking, probing, poking, and watching carefully any reaction from her victim. There wasn't any that she could detect. The girl just hung there, staring at the far wall, her face a blank mask. There wasn't even a reaction when she spread the girl's labia and probed her cunt. Nor when she spread her buttocks and thrust a finger deep into the redhead's ass.

What Cindy didn't know, and wouldn'd (couldn't) have believed, was that the redhead, whose name was Samantha, didn't know the identify of the informant so she couldn't tell them if she wanted to. Sam knew that if she told them she didn't know they wouldn't believe her and would torture her until they were convinced she was telling the truth. And if they did believe her they'd just kill her immediately. It was better, far better, not to speak a word and hope that someone rescued her.

Cindy concluded her examination and looked up at the slender redhead. She decided to show the girl that she was capable of inflicting pain and didn't mind doing so. In fact, she enjoyed it. A lot. She decided to start off slow. A good whipping with a leather quirt. She took the quirt out of her briefcase and showed it to the redhead. No reaction other than a slight widening of her marvelous green eyes. Cindy felt almost sorry for her. But she whipped her anyway, beginning in back, working her way up from the girl's slender thighs, over her ass, and up her back. She gave her 50 strokes. Exactly 50. The girl started to scream on the 5th or 6th stroke and screamed with each stroke until around 20. Then she screamed continually - long, gut wrenching sobs interspersed with high-pitched screams as each stroke landed.

Cindy gave the poor bitch a five minute break after the first 50. Then she asked her if she was ready to talk. The foolish girl shook her head. Cindy started another fifty on the front of the girl's thighs. Fifteen there. Then fifteen across her flat, firm belly. And twenty across her firm round tits. When it was over the girl hung there sobbing and whimpering. In spite of the cold, her body was drenched with sweat. Her head hung forward as she sobbed. Then it jerked up and a long scream issued from her as she felt the handle of the quirt being rammed into her ass. "Noooooooooooo. Oh, god, please nooooo!" She bit her lip and sobbed as Cindy raped her with the quirt's leather-wrapped handle, driving it deep into her virgin asshole. After a few dozen strokes Cindy drove the handle deep into Sam's ass and left it. She lit a cigarette and relaxed for a few minutes while the redhead stared at the floor, sobbing.

End of Chapter II

Last modified (12/24/96 14:16:28) by Eli-the-Bearded.

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