{"loaderData":{"4":{"story":{"id":"997ae97f-d6db-47ac-b33f-33ca12b2d93d","seriesId":null,"seriesName":null,"currentUserId":"00000000-0000-0000-0000-000000000000","added":"2022-11-23T12:29:11.189Z","title":"Joanne","slug":"joanne","shortId":"KgHBHDXI","authorNote":null,"disclaimer":null,"type":"Short","paidUrl":null,"synopsis":"A young woman falls foul of the Burmese authorities. They interrogate her (no sex).","partCount":1,"parts":[{"partId":"bed1b7e4-f1c8-4d9e-a587-9484ecdd77ce","title":null,"summary":"\nI wrote this for a girl, who\nwanted to feature in an interrogation scene. Her name, by the way, is\n","wordCount":2683,"readTime":13,"number":1,"state":"Published"}],"currentPart":1,"contentTitle":"Chapter 1","content":"

\nI wrote this for a girl, who\nwanted to feature in an interrogation scene. Her name, by the way, is\nnot Joanne. It has been changed to protect the innocent.

\n\n

Joanne

\n\n

\nJoanne was picked up in a\nsweep of protesters by the notorious and much feared secret police of\nMyanmar. Not that Joanne had been protesting against the regime,\nhowever unjust it might be. No, she had been working as a nurse in\nthe country, helping to provide medical services to the wounded, no\nmatter what side they had been on. But the fact that Joanne had only\nbeen trying to help people didn’t matter to the ruthless secret\npolice. Even providing health care was something for which a person\ncould be arrested – or worse.

\n Joanne was grabbed and,\ndespite her voluble protests, a black hood was put over her head, and\ntightened around her neck. She then had her hands cuffed behind her\nback. Then she was forced into the back of a police van.

\n The van drove out of Yangon\ninto the country. It took Joanne to one of the country’s black\nsites, a place only built for the express purpose of interrogating\nundesirables. It was a place not even marked on any official maps.

\n
\n\n

\nThe van pulled up at the\nentrance to the place. It was a squat, large and very ugly concrete\nbuilding. The van doors opened.

\n “Please, I’m a nurse, I\ndidn’t do anything.” she said. But she was ignored. Two Burmese\nsecret police thugs dragged her out of the back of the van. They\ndidn’t say anything. They each took an arm, and dragged the\nresisting Joanne through the open doors of the concrete compound. She\nwas dragged down the bare corridor to a room with a metal door. The\ndoor was open. She was taken inside.

\n The room was spartan. There\nwas a metal chair in the centre of the room. There was some sort of\nmachine or console on a rough wooden table pushed against a side\nwall. Also on that table were manacles, chains, a leather riding\ncrop, and other items designed to inflict pain on people.

\n Joanne was forced down into\nthe metal chair. Her handcuffs were briefly unlocked, so that they\ncould be put through a bar at the back of the chair. Then they were\nreattached to her wrists.

\n “Please, there has been a\nmistake.” Joanne said, her voice muffled by the black hood. But her\npleas were ignored.

\n The two secret policemen\nleft the room, clanging the metal door shut. Joanne was left alone,\nthe black hood still over her head.

\n
\n\n

\nWith the hood over her head it\nwas very hard to judge the passage of time. Instead she was left to\nimagine all of the terrible things which might happen to her. She had\nheard rumours, of course, of all of the things which the secret\npolice and army did. She had heard tales of torture and summary\nexecutions. But she had never thought that such things might happen\nto her. You don’t, do you? In the news such things always seem to\nhappen to other people. But it was happening to her. It was really\nhappening to her.

\n It was hot in the room.\nJoanne was sweating beneath the heavy hood. The sweat was already\nrunning down her face, stinging her eyes. Soon her short dark hair\nwould be drenched.

\n It was then that she heard\nthe screams. They were the screams of a woman in unutterable agony.\nThey went on and on for a long time, somebody screaming as loudly as\nshe could. Then, just as suddenly, the screams were cut off. Silence\ndescended.

\n Longer, still, Joanne had\nto wait. She had treated some of the victims of the regime, who had\nbeen released after being arrested. Some of them had had cigarette\nburns on their bodies. Others had suffered electrical torture. Still\nothers had had the evidence of severe beatings from whips or sticks.\nJoanne could hardly imagine receiving that sort of punishment. \n

\n
\n\n

\nEventually the metal door\nopened. Joanne heard the sound. By that time the entirety of her\nRubenesque body was soaked by sweat.

\n “Who’s there?” she\ncalled out. “Please release me. I haven’t done anything. I’m\njust a nurse.”

\n “I know you are, Joanne.”\na cruel voice said. “My people have been watching you for some\ntime. We know that you have been providing medical aid to terrorists.\nWhat we do not know is the names of all of the terrorists who you\nhave been treating. Tell me all of those names and I will have you\nput straight on a plane back to England. But, if you refuse to\nprovide us with the names, then it will prove to be very painful for\nyou.”

\n It was then that Joanne\nbegan to panic. She didn’t know any names, and she didn’t know\nany terrorists. There was no way to avoid what was going to happen to\nher. \n

\n A Christian, she had always\nwondered what it was like to suffer like some of the victims of cruel\nregimes had suffered, such as women in the French Resistance being\ntortured for information by the Nazis. In her deepest, darkest\nfantasies she had wondered what sort of a person could hold out\nagainst such horrible tortures. What did it take for a person to\nresist. She had always wondered whether she would be able to hold\nout, or whether she would be broken, and give up the information.

\n Now she looked destined to\nfind out just what torture was like.

\n “Please, I don’t know\nanything. I don’t know any names.” Joanne said. There was no\nreply from her unseen interrogator. Instead she felt hands on her\nfeet. Her shoes were removed.

\n Then she felt hands on her\nwaist. The button and zip on her slacks were undone. Her slacks were\npulled down as far as they would go, stopped by the manacles around\nher ankles. Joanne was very much aware that her lacy black knickers\nwere now on display. She blushed inside her hood.

\n Her left manacle was\nundone, and the left leg of her slacks pulled off her foot. Her ankle\nwas re-manacled. Then the process was repeated with the right ankle.\nHer trousers were now entirely off.

\n “Please, don’t.”\nJoanne gasped. Of course she was ignored.

\n Joanne’s hands were\nunmanacled.

\n “Remove your shirt. Do\nnot remove the hood. If you try to resist I will have your fingers\nbroken.”

\n Joanne decided not to\nresist. Perhaps if she played along they might realise that she\nhadn’t done anything, and release her. She took her shirt off,\nrevealing her large breasts encased in her lacy black brassiere.

\n Her hands were, once again,\nhandcuffed to the chair. she felt a lot more vulnerable, sitting in\nher underwear, her body covered with sweat.

\n She felt the side of her\nbrassiere pulled out to the side. There were some snipping sounds,\nand her bra came free, cut away from her body, her large,\npink-nippled breasts now on display. Joanne sighed. She tried to\nraise her hands to cover her nakedness. But it was impossible. The\nhandcuffs stopped her.

\n The side of her knickers\nwas pulled away from her skin. Another snip, and then one more. Her\nlacy black knickers were pulled away from her. She was completely\nnaked, apart from the black hood which still covered her head.

\n She knew that the\ninterrogator as staring at her, despite not being able to see him.\nShe blushed again under her black hood, feeling incredibly\nself-conscious. But nudity was the least of her worries. Besides,\ndespite being a little overweight she was still attractive. Artists\nlike Rubens and Titian would have painted her in rosy pink.

\n “Give me the names.”\nthe unseen interrogator demanded. “Give me the names and you can\ngo. I’m sure that you must realise how vulnerable you are at the\nmoment. Give me the names.”

\n “I don’t know any\nnames. You’ve got the wrong person.”

\n Joanne heard his footsteps\ngo across the concrete floor. There was the sound of a couple of\nswishes as something was swung through the air. Joanne jumped a\nlittle with each sound.

\n There was a pause. Joanne\nmoved her head from side to side, although she couldn’t see a\nthing.

\n Then she felt one of the\nworst pains she had ever felt as a leather riding crop slashed down\nonto her left breast. Joanne screamed in pain.

\n The crop slashed down a\nsecond time onto the same breast. Joanne screamed again. She was sure\nthat she must have been cut.

\n Two more slashes, this time\nto her right breast. Two more screams. Joanne began to hyperventilate\nin the featureless black hood, finding it hard to draw air through\nthe cloth.

\n “GIVE ME THE NAMES!”\nthe man shouted. Joanne shook her head, not in resistance, but in\ndenial of the possibility that she had any names to give.

\n The man waited until she\ngot her breath back. Then he resumed the cropping of her breasts. And\nthere was nothing she could do to stop it.

\n “GIVE ME THE NAMES!”

\n Another pause. Joanne heard\nher torturer walk around the chair.

\n Another swish of the crop.\nThis time it struck the top of her left thigh. Another swish. Her\nright thigh.

\n Alternating from leg to leg\nthe torturer whipped her from her hips to her knees. Joanne gasped\nwith each strike.

\n “Give me the names.” He\nwas no longer shouting. “It will save you a lot of pain. I haven’t\neven started on you.”

\n Joanne whimpered.

\n The footsteps went across\nthe concrete floor again. Joanne listened as best she could. She\nheard a match strike. The footsteps came back over towards her. was\nthat cigarette smoke she could small? She wasn’t sure.

\n “Give me the names.”

\n Joanne felt something like\na wasp sting on her left nipple. it had just been the merest touch of\nhot ash from a cigarette. But it had hurt.

\n The cigarette stung again,\njust briefly brushed across her right nipple. It was enough to cause\npain, but not to leave a mark. The torturer had done this before.

\n “Give me the names.”

\n No reply. What would have\nbeen the point?

\n The burning cigarette was\ndrawn along the underside of Joanne’s milky-white left breast. She\ngasped, thinking that she had just been scarred for life. But there\nwas no mark to be seen. The contact had been too fleeting.

\n The glowing cigarette end\nwas swirled along the underside of Joanne’s right breast. She\nstiffened in pain. Who would want her now, with cigarette burns all\nover her breasts? But there were no disfiguring marks – yet.

\n The cigarette’s ember was\ntouched all over the upper slopes of Joanne’s breasts. It made\nbrief contact with her shaven armpits – which was a lot more\npainful than Joanne had thought that it would be.

\n “Give me the names.”

\n But there were still no\nnames to give.

\n The cigarette was stamped\nout on the floor. It seemed that Joanne was made of sterner stuff. It\nwas time to get serious.

\n The torturer’s footsteps\nwent across the room away from Joanne. There was the flick of a\nswitch, then a low hum. The footsteps approached the front of the\nchair. Joanne listened, fearing what the next torture might be. \n

\n “Ouch!” Joanne\ndeclared, when she felt a crocodile clamp bite into her left outer\nlabia, low down. Another crocodile clamp was attached to her right\nouter labia, but high up, so that the metal clamps did not touch each\nother. The biting clamps, although severe, were not the torture. They\nwere only a means to an end.

\n The footsteps of the\ntorturer went back across the concrete floor.

\n Then the current hit her.\nJoanne screamed in agony, lifting off the chair as much as she could.

\n The torturer stopped\nsending power into Joanne’s genitals, at least for the moment. \n

\n “That was the lowest\nlevel.” the torturer said. “That was only one. It goes up to\nten.”

\n Joanne shook her head. She\nknew what the demand would be. But she had no names to give him.

\n “Level two.”

\n The pain was intense. It\nwas the worst pain which Joanne had ever endured. And all that it\ntook was the press of a button. But it could get a lot worse yet. She\nshook her head.

\n “Level three.”

\n Joanne spasmed in the\nchair. It felt as though she had gone to hell. She was sure that the\nfew seconds for which the electric shock lasted must have done her\npermanent damage.

\n “I must commend you on\nyour resistance.” the interrogator said. “Most people break about\nnow. But you will break. Everybody does. I think that it is time to\nmake you really suffer.”

\n The button was not pressed\nagain, though. Instead Joanne heard the footsteps approaching her.\nShe had come to dread those footsteps.

\n She felt something cold,\nand hard, at the lips of her vulva. It had some kind of lubricant on\nit. Joanne had no way of knowing that it was conductive gel.

\n The metal device was\nmanoeuvred into Joanne. The way that her legs were spread she could\nnot prevent it slowly being forced up inside her. The dildo-shaped\nprobe was metal for nearly its entire length. Only the base, which\nnow rested on the chair, was rubber.

\n The interrogator made sure\nthat it could not fall out, by using medical tape on the rubber end\nof the big, steel probe. \n

\n Then the interrogator moved\nthe hood of Joanne’s clit away from that oh so sensitive organ. Her\nclitoris was perhaps larger than average. But that meant that there\nwere more nerves to torture.

\n A crocodile-toothed clip\nwas released on Joanne’s clit. She screamed, and jerked around as\nbest as she could in her bondage.

\n The torturer waited until\nJoanne had stopped jerking around before he walked back over to the\nelectrical torture device.

\n “The next time that I\npress the button the shock will be at level ten, the maximum safe\nlevel. It is many times more painful than you have experienced so\nfar. But I need to prepare you to endure it.”

\n The footsteps came back\nacross the room. Joanne felt a needle inserted into her arm. Fluid\nentered her bloodstream.

\n “Wha… what was that?”\nJoanne asked. Had he just poisoned her?

\n “Nothing much. Nothing\nwhich will kill you. It is merely a cocktail of chemicals which will\nprevent you from fainting.

\n The interrogator walked\nback over to the torture shock device. But he did not press the\nbutton yet. He waited for the drugs to take effect.

\n Then, when Joanne was\nready, he pressed the button, only for a second. Joanne’s body\nbecame a solid muscle, as the powerful electricity flowed into her.\nHer scream did not sound human, but that of some tormented soul on\nthe lowest level of Hell.

\n She gasped when the\nelectricity stopped, and began to hyperventilate.

\n “Breathe.” her\ntormentor said. She managed to get her breath back under control.

\n More shocks came, each time\nJoanne’s tormentor held down the button for a longer and longer\nperiod. Each time Joanne convulsed and screamed. But she didn’t\ngive out any names, because she didn’t have any names to give.

\n
\n\n

\n“I believe you.” the\ninterrogator said, eventually.

\n “What?” Joanne asked.\nShe was unsure if she had heard him correctly. He did not bother\nanswering. Instead he took that terrible clip off her clit, and eased\nout the metal dildo. The electrical hum ended when he turned off the\nconsole. Then Joanne heard her torturer leave the room. The door\nclanged shut. Joanne was left alone. She did not know how long for.\nShe had lost all sense of time. She had lost most of her sense of\nself. There was only the darkness and the memory of pain. Her mind\nfelt strange. The pain had taken her out of herself, in some way that\nshe did not realise.

\n Then two men marched into\nthe room. They released her from the chair. She did not resist when\nthey dragged her out of the room.

\n The hood was not removed.\nShe was dragged outside of the building, to an open yard at the back.\nShe could feel a light breeze on her sweaty skin.

\n She was forced to stand\nwith her back to a wooden stake. Her hands were then handcuffed\naround the back of the post, so that she could not move away.

\n She heard several men walk\ninto the yard. She heard the sound of rifles being cocked. They were\ngoing to execute her! She had heard about such extra-judicial\nkillings.

\n “Ready.”

\n There was nothing she could\ndo.

\n “Aim.”

\n There was no point in\npleading for mercy.

\n “Fire.”

\n Joanne fainted when she\nheard the sound of the guns.

\n
\n\n

\nThe thing is, if you hear the\nsound of the guns, then you are still alive. The guns had been armed\nwith blanks. Joanne woke up to find herself in the back of a van. The\nhood had been removed. Her outer clothes had been chucked on the\nfloor of the van beside her, next to a passport. There was a one-way\nair ticket from Yangon to London. There were even her possessions\nfrom the flat where she had been staying.

\n She got dressed as quickly\nas she could. Not long after that the van came to a stop, and the\ndoors at the back opened. She got out to find herself at Yangon\nairport.

\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n

\n Joanne took the hint. She\ngot on a plane and left Myanmar and her interrogation behind.

","authorName":"Crowley","authorUserId":"24246195-559a-461c-a6d3-e12d9a6af0eb","rating":5,"ratingCount":2,"reviewCount":2,"quoteCount":0,"storyCodes":["Heavy","Real Life","Pain","Sadism","Non-Consensual"],"language":"English","readTime":13,"recommendations":[{"id":"101e8056-3a4a-4610-ae27-79db75285fb7","title":"GYNARCHY","slug":"gynarchy","shortId":"qkSftqga","synopsis":"A country where women rule and all forms of sexuality are welcome. Women are allowed to house two-time rape offenders in their homes and treat them pretty much as they pleased. This story is about one such woman and her prisoner.","rating":5},{"id":"e5563f1e-76fb-4369-9004-6494263d106e","title":"Clit Torture 101","slug":"clit-torture-101","shortId":"TQsnh4pi","synopsis":"A tale of an exhibition of extreme clit torture ends up even nastier than the submissive expected.","rating":5},{"id":"e76fece7-4ee0-4bda-81f0-e49fc105f08c","title":"The Bound Knight Ch. 2","slug":"the-bound-knight-ch-2","shortId":"PGMQ0yXO","synopsis":"Eve watches a slave get punished and is given an impossible task.","rating":5}]}}},"actionData":null,"errors":null}