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Article 27 of 171
Subject: Undercover Cop (female) Part I Rape, torture.
From: xyz@abc.com (Jym)
Date: 1996/07/21
Message-Id: <31f1858b.50213197@news.sprynet.com>
Organization: None
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
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