Halima
Halima features in four stories by Cortez: Leila’s Interrogation; Making Yasmin Talk; Rania’s Agony; and Special Treatment.
Halima
It was another hot day in a certain petro-state. The sun beat down on skyscrapers built with oil dollars, on a country once an insignificant part of the Arabian peninsula. This place was no bidding democracy, but an autocracy ruled with an iron fist, that did not need to be covered in velvet. It was a place of gross human rights violations. But, as long as the oil kept flowing, the world kept looking the other way, ignoring the worst excesses of Internal Security.
For more than twenty years, now, Halima had worked for Internal Security, mainly as a torturer – and a very effective one. But days ago she had suffered a promotion, to head of Internal Security, following the assassination of the venerable Major Katabi. Halima had been tasked with finding the conspirators, and no agony was to be spared in so doing. It had been made clear to Halima that failure would not be allowed. Either she found out the conspirators, or it would be her head on the block – and literally, not figuratively. Per capita more people were executed in this desert realm than anywhere else in the world, and all of those executions were public. Justice needed to be seen to be done.
Halima got up that morning looking forward to the day ahead, despite the pressure on her to be successful. She did not hurry to the Internal Security headquarters, but had a breakfast of fruit and black coffee. She enjoyed her life. Perhaps, one day, the regime would be overthrown, and she would get her comeuppance. But, until then, she was determined to enjoy her life.
After she had broken her fast she made sure that she looked prim and proper, with a black scarf covering her black hair, and her still-beautiful body covered up in an amorphous black thing. She was not particularly devout. As Muslims went, she was not a good person. But there were those who paid attention to such things, and it was wise to fit in, at least on the surface. Halima walked to work, just one more woman in a crowd. It was easier than taking her car, and checking underneath for a car bomb. There were many who would like to see her join Katabi in the next world.
The Internal Security Headquarters was a much feared place. It was an ugly, squat, concrete building, with no windows. It was a product of the worst excesses of the Brutalist school of architecture, if the word architecture could be applied to the ugly thing. Half of the building extended down into the ground. That was where interrogations took place. No sound could escape to the outside world from those subterranean chambers. But the rooms were not sound-proofed. That meant that people waiting to be interrogated could hear the screams of those undergoing torture. The psychology – the terror – of torture was as important as the pain, in breaking a person.
Halima loved her work. Just the other week she had tortured a man suspected of being an Israeli spy. And he had admitted to being one, in the end. He had been taken out and guillotined, his death shown to the public. But anybody could break under torture, if you knew what you were doing. Halima, in breaking this man, had performed a very slow, and very painful, vivisection of his genitalia. She had had it all filmed. It would be something to show to other male suspects before their interrogation. It would help break them.
Halima had noted that many of the male guards did not like handling male genitalia. They were happy to rape and brutalise female suspects. But they did not like touching the penises and testicles of other males. Halima had no such distaste. She was happy to torture either sex. But at least, in using a scalpel to cut away that man’s penis slice by slice, she had inspired fear in those guards under her. After seeing that – and the film showcasing it – none of them would ever dare get on the wrong side of their new boss.
Today Halima had two suspects to interrogate. They were a pair of British nuns who had been picked up at the airport, purportedly trying to flee the country. According to initial reports the nuns had been trying to spread Christianity, converting Muslims. That, in itself, was against both the Qu’ran and the statutes of this petro-state. But they had also, allegedly, been seeking to foster democracy. That made them dangerous revolutionaries.
At least they weren’t Americans. It might have been problematic had they been American nuns. But Britain was weak. They would complain about what would be done to these two nuns. But they would not stop buying the oil, despite all of their government’s claims about going green.
Halima had given strict instructions on how the nuns were to be treated. The nuns were not to be assaulted or raped – not yet, at least. No, they were to be strung up in Interrogation Room 9, still in their habits. They were to hang by manacles around their wrists, with their toes not quite reaching the floor. They were to be given water but no food. The water was necessary as Halima had ordered that he heating in the room be turned up to maximum, and the nuns would need water to replace the liquids which they would sweat out.
The lights were to be on maximum all night, and Interrogation Room 9 had been equipped with the brightest lights. And a white sound generator was to be taken into the room, the sound cranked up to maximum. The result would be that the nuns would get no rest that night. They would be disoriented and in agony from their arms. They would be a lot easier to break. They would be tortured until they admitted to being connected to the plot to kill Katabi. And they would be tortured until they gave out the names of their co-conspirators.
Today Halima would be assisted by one of the few female guards, a young woman called Ayesha. Halima suspected that Ayesha, given time, could be a very effective interrogator. Unlike the other guards, when she had been shown the video of Halima slowly, ever so slowly, cutting away that man’s genitalia she had not looked away in disgust. In fact she had moved closer to the screen, so that she would not miss anything when Halima cut open the man’s scrotum and began working on his unprotected testicles. She was Halima’s kind of woman.
There was an antechamber to Interrogation Room 9. Halima could get changed in there without any of the other guards seeing anything. The room was equipped with everything necessary for relaxation, between bouts of torturing enemies of the state. In a locker in the room was the clothing which Halima often liked to wear when she could.
She changed into this apparel, taking off the clothes which she had warn on the way to the headquarters. Her only items, now, was a pair of pumps, and a diaphanous robe which covered Halima’s body, but left very little to the imagination. It was almost sheer, and Halima’s nipples could clearly be seen as they dented the fine fabric. Halima was already aroused, at the thoughts of the torture which she was going to inflict on those two stupid nuns. Halima was very effective in torturing men. But she much preferred to cause agony to attractive young women – especially if they were Westerners.
Halima pressed the intercom in the antechamber. She summoned Ayesha up to the antechamber. Halima hoped that the rumours which she had heard about Ayesha’s sexuality were true.
A few minutes later Ayesha entered the antechamber. Her eyes showed surprise in seeing her commanding officer wearing next to nothing. But she said nothing.
Ayesha was wearing the drab, olive green uniform of the security services. There were scarlet patches on her shoulders. The uniform was completed by an olive green beret.
“I am going to start working on those two nuns.” Halima said, with a smile. “I need somebody to assist me, and I have chosen you. But the heating in the room is on maximum, to make those nuns sweat. I suggest that you remove your uniform, unless you want it spoiled by sweat. I assure you that this session will not be recorded, and that no one will ever know what we will do in the chamber next door. I intend to enjoy myself, and I hope that I have not misjudged you, and that you are like me.”
Ayesha thought for a few seconds, perhaps wondering whether this was some sort of test. But desire overcame any caution. She took off not only her uniform, but her underwear as well, revealing the fact that Ayesha shaved completely. The guard had a lithe yet muscular body, one which Halima found more than a little arousing. There was part of Halima which lusted to get her tongue between Ayesha’s shaven cunt lips, savouring the sweet juices within. But, first, there was a job to do.
Halima opened the door to the interrogation room. The white noise could be heard with the door closed, but it was deafening once the door was open. Halima could see the two nuns hanging just as she had ordered.
The nuns looked exhausted, and the interrogation had not yet begun. Leather manacles had been put around their wrists, and the nuns then raised up so that their feet could not make contact with the concrete floor of the torture chamber. The nuns were still wearing their habits – ones now much stained by sweat, as the heating in the room was at maximum. A couple of space heaters had been added to the room, facing the nuns. The nuns’ faces were red.
Halima gestured at the white noise generator. Ayesha went over to the machine on a wooden desk and turned it off. Now the only sound in the room was the belaboured breathing of the nuns and the sound of the space heaters. Halima could now speak and be heard.
“Move the heaters out of the way, but do not turn them off.” Halima said. “We need room to work on these blasphemers.”
Ayesha dragged the two heaters out of the way. At least they had warmed the concrete floor, so that it was not cold beneath her bare feet.
“There is a knife on the desk. Cut away their clothes. These Christians will not need clothes again.”
Halima sat in the comfortable chair behind the desk, so that she could watch Ayesha work. Once the chair had been Major Katabi’s. Now it was hers. Halima wanted to see if Ayesha would be a suitable protégé.
There was a very sharp combat knife on the desk. Ayesha picked it up and tested the edge of the blade. It was so sharp that she didn’t feel anything. But a small line of red appeared on Ayesha’s thumb. Ayesha smiled. It was a good knife.
Ayesha worked quickly and effectively, cutting away the clothing on the nuns.
“Please, don’t…” one of the nuns, Sister Barbara begged. But Ayesha ignored the nun, and carried on working. She did not stop until the nuns’ habits were ruined scraps of cloth on the concrete floor. Ayesha kicked the bits of cloth into a corner of the room.
One of the nuns, the older nun, Sister Barbara, was a brunette. She had a thick bush of pubic hair. The other, younger nun, Sister Amanda, was a natural blonde, judging by her much smaller patch of pubic hair. Sister Amanda was, according to her seized passport, only eighteen years old, and with her womanly hips and perfect breasts, the most attractive victim who Halima had had to play with in a long time.
“Please, we haven’t done anything.” Sister Barbara said.
“All I want is for you to admit your crimes, and there will be time for that later.” Halima said. “You will beg to plead guilty. And you will give out all of the other names of your would-be revolutionaries. But, for now, I want you to shut up. Ayesha, gag them, for now.”
There were a couple of ball-gags on the wooden desk.
Ayesha forced them into the mouths of the two captives, buckling them tight. The nun’s eyes were wide, almost begging. But neither of these Arab women had any mercy.
Working with the knife, and being in this hot chamber, Ayesha had begun to sweat. Her body was now covered by a thin sheen of sweat, making her look even sexier, as far as Halima was concerned.
“They stink of sweat.” Ayesha said. The nuns, after all, had been sweating all night.
“I would use a fire hose on them, but these English bitches might find the cold water too refreshing.” Halima said. She had killed one woman with a dire hose, once, by stuffing the end into the woman’s cunt, and turning the water one, but making it just a thin but powerful burst. It had cut through the innards of the woman, penetrating cunt and womb. The woman had died, slowly, of her internal injuries. That had been a good day. “Shave their smelly Western cunts. We want to see what we are working on.”
Halima passed shaving foam and a safety razor to Ayesha. The nun’s face went an even darker shade, of red, if that was possible. They were clearly not used to the intimate touch of another woman. They had a lot to learn.
It did not take Ayesha long to shave the two women’s cunts. Amanda looked more attractive, if that was possible. Right then Halima decided that she wanted to keep this Amanda as her broken sex slave. It would be awkward to manage, but not impossible – not the breaking of this young nun, but the physicality of getting her to Halima’s penthouse apartment. Ayesha would have to help her. The nun could be smuggled out in a coffin. But she would have to “die” first. Yes, she would have to – officially, at least – die during the interrogation. As long as she gave up the names first, that would be all that mattered, as far as Halima’s superiors were concerned. It would save them having to execute the stupid bitch. Accidents did happen, after all, and these soft Brits were not as hardy as Arab women. Yes, it could be done.
“Now we sensitise these miscreants.” Halima said, getting up from behind the desk. “We will show them that we control their sexuality, and that we can make them cum whenever we want. I should imagine that, for a nun, being made to cum at the hands of a woman will be very humiliating. I will work on the younger one…”
“And I will work on the older one.” Ayesha said, eagerly. Good, Halima thought, this guard was open to Sapphic desire.
Halima crouched between the legs of the young nun, and began to lap away on the nun’s slit with her tongue, while Ayesha did the same to the older nun. Both Arab women were very skilled in this most un-Islamic activity. Halima knew just where to flicker with her tongue to bring the greatest pleasure – pleasure that could not be resisted. It did not take long before both nuns were shrieking an orgasm around their ball-gags, despite themselves.
But Halima was not satisfied with one orgasm. Any slut could deal with cumming once. No, for hours she and Ayesha worked on the nuns, forcing orgasm after orgasm out of the reluctant women. It went beyond the point of pleasure, to where the orgasms became a form of torment. The women’s pussies were swollen as were the clits – big, and red, and sore
“I think that they are ready. Halima said, finally, bringing an end to the activities. “The area is sensitised. Now we apply pain. Help me get the older slut onto the bars.”
A pulley lowered Sister Barbara to the floor, where the nun collapsed, too exhausted to do anything to resist. Her arms, by now, were next to useless. Halima and Ayesha dragged the nun over to what looked like parallel metal bars, some three feet in height, set into the concrete of the floor. With some difficulty the nun was placed up on the metal bars, so that her calves could be bound to the bars, opening her legs widely. Then Barbara was forced back down, lying so that her body was horizontal, her arms bound to the sturdy metal bars. The bars were wide enough apart that the nun’s bound legs were spread widely, and her cunt was entirely defenceless. There was nothing that the nun could do.
Halima produced a device from a drawer in her desk, and plugged it in. The device was based upon a soldering iron. But, instead of the normal end, it had been sped into a long needle. The needle had a heating element inside. When it was turned on the needle would soon get very hot. Unlike the traditional soldering iron, it could be used not just to touch a surface area, but also to penetrate into soft flesh.
“Use this on the slut. I want to see your ingenuity.” Halima said. “Take this bitch into the depths of Hell. When you are finished, we will see if she will give us any names.”
Ayesha’s eyes glowed with arousal. This was what she had been looking to do – to cause unbearable pain to the sensitive flesh of these women. Ayesha almost came as she took the hot needle device.
Ayesha started out on the breasts of the nun. With Barbara being horizontal the nun’s breasts had flattened out. But they were just as defenceless as the nun’s cunt. Ayesha pricked all over those mounds with the hot needle, not really penetrating, yet, just causing pain. Then she used the needle on its side, to burn marks into each areola, creating a pretty pattern around each nipple. With each touch of the hot metal Barbara jerked and screamed around her gag. But the metal – and Ayesha – was only just getting warmed up.
Ayesha noticed a temperature control on the handle of the device.
“May I?” she asked.
“Carry on.” Halima said. All that matters is that this slut is able to give us names when I removed the gag.”
The setting had been on one, a dull grey that was still very hot. Ayesha turned it up to 5, the maximum setting. She waited. Soon the needle was glowing red.
It was only then, when Ayesha was sure that it could get no hotter, that she applied the device again. Holding Barbara’s left tit in one hand, bunching it up, Ayesha pressed the glowing needle point to the little dimple at the very centre of the nipple, and pushed. The red hot needle sank down into the depths of Barbara’s breast, burning the inside. It seared the lactiferous gland, as the red hot metal seared the breast flesh, destroying where it touched.
The noises Barbara made were incredible, the sound of a woman in utter agony. Somehow she did not faint from the pain. Halima, as she watched the young Arab woman work, could not help rubbing her pussy through her diaphanous robe. Covered in sweat, as Ayesha was, she looked divine.
Ayesha slowly removed the glowing needle, only to force it down deep through the other nipple.
“Mmmmph!”
But Ayesha only laughed at the agonies suffered by the English woman’s torture. She liked to see this slut suffer. She hated Christians. And who could be more Christian than a nun.
Ayesha removed the red hot needle out of Barbara’s breast. The young Arab torture went between Barbara’s wide spread legs. The clit, still red and sore from its previous pleasurable torments, was still standing out from its hood. Ayesha had intended to build up to it, burning the labia and inside the vagina. But she could not resist such an inviting target. She slowly slid the red hot needle deep into Barbara’s clitoris, not just burning the visible area, but deep into its hidden area, until the entire glowing needle was buried in the clit. Barbara shrieked and fainted, just as Halima rubbed herself to a mind-shattering orgasm.
“I think that, when we bring her back to consciousness, we will see if this Christian slut is ready to talk.” Halima said, when she had calmed down from her orgasm. Barbara was slapped back to consciousness. The gag was removed.
“So, are you ready to give me the names of the other conspirators?” Halima asked.
“No, as God is my witness, I will not betray anybody.” Barbara gasped.
“This is your last chance before the torture recommences.” Halima said. But Barbara refused to speak. The gag was replaced.
In one aspect Halima was disappointed. But in another she was pleased. It meant that the torture would continue. And these nuns would break. Everybody broke, in the end.
“We will leave Sister Barbara for the moment – not out of any sense of mercy, but because, if we carried on at the moment, she would most likely faint.” Halima said. “I think that it is time that I worked on Sister Amanda.”
Yes, Halima wanted to cause pain to the blonde teenager. But, conversely, Halima did not yet want to do anything that would cause permanent damage to this nun. No, that could come later, when Amanda was a nameless slave in Halima’s apartment.
The answer was electricity. Halima had long been a fan of electricity. It had been used many times by her and the late major, on women like Yasmin, who had ended up more than willing to talk.
The transformer was on the desk. It was a relatively new one, which was supposed to be less likely to accidentally kill the person being interrogated, while not reducing any of the pain. It was of Chinese manufacture, of course, and had been extensively trialled in places like Tibet.
Halima plugged in a bulbous metal probe. A red wire led to the machine. The black wire led to a thin metal probe. Halima got out some conductive gel, and smothered the bulb with it. She walked over to Amanda, still hanging by her arms. The gag was still in her mouth, and she had watched the torture of her fellow nun.
Halima paused, studying the young blonde. She could still kick about where she was.
“Ayesha, get some chains and chain her legs as wide as possible. Attach the chains to the rings set in the floor.”
Ayesha did as instructed, so that the teenager was stretched out sexily. Halima wondered what she would look like stretched out on a rack. Even sexier, probably.
Halima went around Amanda’s back, and forced the metal bulb into the blonde’s tight anus. Even with the gel acting as lubrication it was hard to get it up her arsehole. It was clear that Amanda had never had anything up there before. Well, with time, Halima would change that: Amanda would have all manner of strap-ons go up there, Halima’s fist, maybe even a dildo shaped like a donkey’s dick. But, for now, it would just be this metal bulb.
Halima knelt between Amanda’s widespread thighs. Ayesha had pulled Amanda’s legs so wide that the tendons in her thighs stood out. The slut couldn’t move.
“You can turn the dials.” Halima said. “Start on 5. Keep the electricity on constant.”
Ayesha did as instructed. She watched as, with one bulb in the English nun’s arsehole, held tight, Halima touched the thin probe high up on Amanda’s thigh. Amanda yelped into the gag, as the circuit was made, and the volts course through her, from thigh to inside her arse.
Ayesha removed the probe. Amanda sagged in her bonds. Then the probe was touched to Amanda’s thigh again, a little further up, only for a second or so. Thus began a slow trek up Amanda’s though, each point of contact a little closer to Amanda’s cunt. Amanda could do nothing but stare down, the eyes on the probe, as it got near to her most sensitive flesh.
Then, finally, came a touch to her pubic mound. Amanda squealed again. Her eyes suggested that she would have done anything to stop the pain. If Halima had asked her to deep-throat one of the torturer’s turds, then the nun would have done so, just to stop the pain.
“Turn it up to 6.”Halima said. Ayesha was sitting in the chair behind the desk, her legs draped over the arms of the chair, as she watched Halima torture Amanda. She was openly masturbating, to fingers buried inside her hot, wet cunt. This was the sexist thing she had ever seen. She adjusted the knob with her other hand.
Halima touched the end of the probe, again and again, to the crinkled labia of the nun, sending cruel shocks through the cuntlips. Halima spread those lips and touched the metal to the pink inner flesh of Amanda’s cunt. With each shock Amanda jumped as best she could. The electricity was a pain which did not lessen.
And then Halima touched the probe to the end of Amanda’s urethra, and the nun knew a new, even worse pain…
This was like a nightmare for Amanda, one from which she could not awaken. She was a nun. Things like this were not supposed to happen. She and Barbara had been sent here on a mission of mercy, to try and foster democracy and women’s rights, and spread the gospel of Christ. And it had gone well. Everybody had been nice to them – at least until they had gone to the airport for the plane home. That was when the security services had picked them up, on what they had considered to be ridiculous and spurious charges. They had asked to see the British consul. But the security police had only laughed at them, and brought them to this place of hell, where they had been strung up from the ceiling in this terrible room. Amanda’s arms were in agony, and she could hardly move the fingers in her hands. She doubted whether, after hanging all night like this, her arms would ever recover. And this woman in the gauzy dress was horrible.
“Turn it up to ten.” that selfsame horrible woman said. Ayesha was happy to comply. She wanted to see this stupid English nun suffer in the most horrible ways. Ayesha hoped that Halima would keep picking her to assist in interrogations. It was the most fun she had had in ages.
Halima touched the metal probe to the very end of Amanda’s clitoris, and kept it there until Sister Amanda fainted.
Sister Barbara was groaning. She had recovered consciousness. So Halima left Sister Barbara hanging by her arms and went back to the other victim. She would break, even if it killed her in the process. There were many things which Halima could do to the nun, in the way she had been bound. There were all manner of devices still waiting to be used: thumbscrews (which Halima had liberated from a museum); pruning shears; acid; and the ever-reliable blowtorch. But all of those were very destructive. They could come later, if this English bitch insisted on being stubborn. For now, Halima felt, a whipping was in order.
She got a pair of crocodile clips, each which had a chain attached, with a heavy lead weight at the end. She clipped one onto the nun’s left cuntlip, draped the chain over Sister Barbara’s thigh, and let the weight fall. The shriek from Barbara, around the gag, was very satisfying to Halima. She attached the other weight to the other cuntlip, and let that one fall. There was a second very satisfying shriek of pain. With the weights pulling on the clips, and the clips pulling on the labia, the cunt lips spread out so wide that they appeared to be on the verge of tearing. It opened up the cunt wide.
Halima had intended to whip this bitch next. But with her cunt now a pink hole Halima decided to denigrate this nun even more. Halima got some lubrication and lubricated her right hand, all of the way down to the wrist. Then the Arab torturess formed her hand into a fist, and forced it into the cunt.
“Use a vibrator on her button.” Halima said to Ayesha. “The most powerful one. I want this slut to cum again. It will make her very sensitive to what will come next.”
Ayesha picked up a vibrator with a rounded end, that could produce industrial-strength vibrations. She turned it on, and held it to Barbara’s clit, as Halima began a slow fisting of the tight cunt. Halima twisted her fist as she worked it in and out. In and out, in and out, stretching the cunt, Halima forcing her fist inside until her knuckles hit Barbara’s cervix. Halima wondered whether she could somehow open that up with her fingers, to get her whole arm into Barbara…
Barbara was only saved by that attempt by the fact that, despite the pain, she could not resist the vibrations. She came, with another woman’s hand deep in her cunt. Halima felt Barbara spasm around her hand, another unwilling orgasm forced on this supposedly chaste nun.
Halima withdrew her hand. She could hear her victim moaning around the gag. Halima picked up a riding crop. That was all that she needed.
WHIIIIIP. The riding crop slashed down, the sound of the leather cutting through the air the only warning. The steel-cored whip hit Sister Barbara’s left inner labium.
“Mmmmph.”
WHIIIIIP. The riding crop slashed down again, this time hitting the right inner labium. Halima was very accurate with the crop. After all, she had had years of practice.
Halima took her time, allowing the nun to savour each cruel stroke. Halima whipped all around the open cunt, causing red marks to appear all over those soft, red lips. Halima never struck the same point twice. She was even able to flick the end of the crop inside the cunt to hot the flesh just inside the vaginal walls. And then Halima began to slowly crop Barbara’s red, burned, tormented clip. Each hit caused Barbara to shake in her bonds. She must have felt that her clit was being whipped away. But Halima was too good to accidentally destroy something. All that she was doing was torturing that most tiny organ, causing it to bruise and swell even more.
“Mmmmph.” That sound had not come from Barbara, but from Amanda. The younger nun had recovered consciousness. The nearly-naked Arab woman sauntered over to the tortured blonde.
“Oh, are you jealous?” Halima asked, taunting Amanda. “Do you want a taste of my crop on your English cunt? Don’t worry, there will be plenty of time for that in the future.”
Halima removed the gag from Amanda’s mouth.
“Don’t hurt her, please, she’s suffered enough.” Amanda begged. Halima thought. These nuns were tougher than they looked. They seemed willing to put up with almost any amount of pain themselves. But they had the weakness of compassion. Perhaps Halima could get the names she desired from Amanda by threatening her friend.
“The slut has only suffered a fraction of what I could do to her.” Halima said. “But her life is in your hands. I am going to keep torturing her until you give me the names I desire. Only then will I stop torturing her. It is all up to you. Well, are you ready to name names yet?”
“No, please, I can’t!” Amanda sobbed. But she didn’t say that she didn’t know any names. Halima smiled, as she considered what to do to Barbara that would break Amanda’s resolve. Perhaps it was time to get mediaeval on the older nun. Halima only needed one of them to talk. It didn’t have to be Barbara.
Amanda didn’t give in when Halima broke the bones in Barbara’s fingers with the thumbscrew, slowly, one by one. Amanda only begged for Halima to be merciful when Halima snipped off Barbara’s nipples with the shears. But, when Halima threatened to do the same to Barbara’s clit, Amanda finally broke. Amanda gave a dozen names of women she and Barbara had spoken with. The women were old and young, mothers and daughters, sisters and aunts. All of them would be interrogated by Halima, in the future, in search of whoever had been responsible for the murder of Major Katabi. No mercy would be shown. All twelve women would be tortured – and anyone’s who admitted their guilt would be executed.
Once Halima had the names, and Sister Amanda had confirmed the guilt of her and Barbara, Halima snipped off Barbara’s clit, anyway. No mercy was to be shown, and the condemned needed no more orgasms. The male guards – who would rape Barbara’s three holes that night – would not care whether the English woman had a clitoris or not.
The next day a naked, sperm-stained Sister Barbara was led out to the guillotine. The crowd jeered at her, and cheered when the shiny blade lopped off her head. As to Sister Amanda, there was paperwork which said that she had died under interrogation.
That was almost true. She would die of torture – eventually. But, at that moment in time, the eighteen year old blonde nun had been smuggled into Halima’s soundproofed apartment. Amanda would spend many months suffering exotic tortures, forced to cum – and forced to bring Halima to orgasm – before she would finally succumb to the indignities visited on her naked body. And, by the time that the tortured nun did die, it would be a merciful release.
The End.