by Dan Bruce
“No! I’m not mad,” Sally replied as Dimitri reached her. “I just thought, well, you know... I thought something must have come up. I’m glad you made it though... So, what now?”
Sally hoped for a hug and a kiss in the dark, pushed further into the shadows for some heavy petting, but sadly Dimitri kept his distance.
“The tour,” the policeman said.
“The tour? Tour of what?”
“Of the torture chamber, of course,” Dimitri replied. “For what other reasons did you think I asked you to meet me here?”
Now that was a blow. “Well... I... I thought,” Sally stuttered, thrown once again by this enigmatic man.
Dimitri pouted, mildly annoyed. “Do you not wish to see the torture chamber?” he curtly asked. “Earlier today you said it sounded fascinating and would happily pay to see it along with hoards of other tourists. I am here to give you a private viewing.”
Sally felt stupid. Had she read everything wrong? Surely not – there could be no mistaking that hand on her thigh earlier this afternoon. “Well, that sounds great. It was just...”
“Oh, I see,” said Dimitri sounding hurt. “It’s that poor perception again of the foreign police. I understand.”
“No! Not at all! It was just...”
“Yes I know,” continued Dimitri, defeat to his tone. “You will no doubt have encountered some of my countrymen – scoundrels from the provinces who show no respect – pawing at beautiful young foreigners and treating them like peasant girls.”
“Well yes... there have been a couple of instances,” Sally admitted, electing to be economical with the truth. She didn’t want to scare this charming hunk off by coming across as a total slut.
“But not here in the capital!” huffed Dimitri. “Here there is authority! No one would dare do such a thing.”
“True!” Sally replied, appreciating at last why most of the city men were so reserved – the strong arm of the Law kept them in check. But there was an exception - a shadow of power lurking in the castle that wasn’t afraid to take advantage of a foreign girl gagging for a shag. And there at that moment, the penny dropped. Who would dare to defy the authority of Law, and sit in police headquarters with an armed guard outside – a guard he could squash like a fly? The man at the top had to be the answer – Dimitri’s hero, Chief Karinov himself. An insight Sally decided to keep to herself for fear of causing further offence.
“True! Yes, of course it’s true. Yet still you do not trust me!” Dimitri pressed on, sounding offended. “You think I would act like an animal – some ill-bred lout with no honour.”
Not sure what to say, Sally tried to appease him. “Look, Dimitri. Really - that’s far from what I think. I’d love to see the torture chamber.” Then making a joke to further ease the tension, Sally added with a laugh, “You can even strap me into some of the devices if you like. I’m sure if there is one man in all of Mastrovia I could trust, then it would be you.”
Dimitri beamed a smile that lit up the night, clearly very happy with this outcome.
Sally smiled back, regretting the man’s honour, yet thrilled by it as well. It made him all the more attractive being so decent and hard to get! Just a shame he wasn’t a bit more like the shadow of power who had coached young Julia to her stunning performance – but that was probably for the best.
Sticking close to Dimitri’s side, Sally was escorted into the castle, through some non-descript corridors before they came to a heavy oak door with wrought iron hinges. Dimitri produced a key and opened it. Beyond was a staircase that was heavily worn, lit by flaming torches on the wall.
“We like to keep things authentic,” the policeman reported. “Of course it would be easier if electric lighting was installed, but it wouldn’t be the same – don’t you think.”
Sally wasn’t quite sure. It was thrilling to be here, but much scarier than she’d expected – almost too real. She could taste the suffering wafting through the air, as if fresh and recent, rather than centuries old.
“Erm… yeah. It’s something else!” replied Sally trying to sound as enthusiastic as she could.
When they reached the bottom, they came to a torch lit corridor lined with empty prison cells, at the end of which was another oak door studded with wrought iron nails. Dimitri took a large key which hung on a ring to the side and unlocked the door; it squeaked loudly as he forced it open, sending a shiver down Sally’s spine.
“Come! Look!” encouraged Dimitri.
Sally followed him inside. The lighting was low, more flaming torches on the walls which gave off little in the way of heat. It was summer outside and the evening warm, but down here Sally shivered, a chill running through her bones.
It was a fascinating sight though. Sally gazed around the room in wonderment, her eyes wide open, her mouth agape, her heart pounding as adrenalin flowed. It was an impression she registered first rather than specific items as she scanned the space: the air thick with the smells of leather and wood and burning kerosene; and lurking beneath that there was the scent of human suffering, both ancient and worryingly fresh. Most interesting of all to an intuitive nose was the unmistakable odour of sex. Women had been fucked here, and some of them quite recently - of that Sally Hudson was certain!
The young Australian’s excitement mounted with this realisation. Her whole body tingled. Her pulse was racing with the thrill of adventure and wicked eroticism, as she took in the details of the chamber. It resembled the film set from earlier in the day – the designer obviously had been privy to a viewing. But it seemed so much more... well ‘real’ was the word that sprang to Sally’s mind ... everything scarily functional... the room decidedly ancient... but it hadn’t died... this torture chamber was still alive. Sally could feel it breathing, quietly waiting, like a predator stalking in the grass.
‘And what does that make you?’ a voice of caution asked.
Sally chose to ignore it. She was too intrigued and too horny and too taken with Dimitri to worry about silly voices in her head.
“What do you think?” asked Dimitri, siding close so his arm brushed against Sally’s.
“God, it’s amazing. I didn’t quite know what to expect, but...”
“Most people feel the same. It has a character, don’t you agree. This is why it would be a crime to turn it into a museum, or dismantle and sell the artefacts as some politicians would have. It would be like taking an Egyptian mummy out of the tomb – a sacrilege for the amusement of the masses.”
“Yes, I understand now.”
“Let me show you a few things.”
Dimitri led Sally around. The visitor’s experience enhanced all the more by the policeman casually taking her by the hand – something Sally would normally view as soppy, but here in the chamber if felt so right. They first went to the rack which Sally had seen a replica of, though this one looked far more intimidating – the wood unmistakably stained with blood, sweat and tears – the agony of limbs torn out of joints and confessions torn out of innocence. Next they came to the Judas cradle with its pyramid seat. Sally had earlier looked at the film set replica in awe and wonder, now the original was explained in frightening detail.
“Even more horrible than the poker we saw play acted today,” Dimitri reported. “The victim would be stripped naked, adding humiliation to the pain. And the pain of this torture would last for hours, sometimes days – the victim impaled on the pyramid, anally if he was a man – the vagina for a woman – her feet tied together so any movement was complete agony.”
“Yikes! But what for – just to hurt her for the sake of it?” asked Sally, squeezing Dimitri’s hand as she imagined the horror of such a torment.
“Sometimes!” the policeman answered. “There are men who take pleasure in hurting for the sake of it, even today...” he paused to allow the remark to sink in, returning the squeeze, hinting at his strength, before continuing, “...But normally the cradle was used to obtain a confession or extract information. If the person refused to talk then the torturer cou
ld add weights to the victim’s legs to increase the pain, or perhaps rock the poor wretch back and forth. I think the most efficient way however, was to suspend the blighter using ropes then make the victim fall repeatedly onto the pyramid.”
Sally winced. “Yeah, I should imagine that would work... And they did this to women as well as men!”
“Of course! In Mastrovia it was mainly women who were tortured in the past.”
“You had a lot of witches then!” joked Sally.
“Is that what you call them in Australia?” asked Dimitri rather puzzled... “It’s another new word for my repertoire!”
Having confused Sally with the odd remark, Dimitri led them from the Judas cradle to the Judas chair, a hideous contraption into which the victim could be strapped, with spikes covering the parts that came into body contact.
“Now look at this! You said I could place you into some of the devices,” laughed Dimitri. “Perhaps this one might be of interest. Of course you would have to be naked to appreciate it fully. Are you willing to try it?”
Was that a come on? A poorly judged one if it was - never in Sally’s wildest dreams would she have thought she would decline stripping naked for Dimitri, but here was a situation where she was compelled to say no. “Sorry, it doesn’t look very appealing.” Then looking around she added with a laugh. “I hope you’re not going to hold me to that – everything looks so harmful.”
Dimitri squeezed Sally’s hand again in a gentle crush. “Oh, I’m sure we could find something that wouldn’t be such a torment to get in - this over here for example.”
He led the way to a two holed set of stocks that Dimitri explained was used for foot roasting.
“The victim would be seated as her feet were toasted,” Dimitri said. “It was another very effective way of extracting information, although not a very interesting position to have the victim in...” With a wry chuckle Dimitri released Sally’s hand and gave her ass a teasing pat as he added, “...At least not from a Mastrovian torturer’s point of view, the dirty scoundrels that they were.”
There was the merest fondle, nothing more – Dimitri’s big hand cupping the full round buns before the honourable policeman pulled it away leaving Sally gagging for its return. Then having raised the stakes Dimitri continued with the tour, showing Sally some of the instruments of torture that the chamber was well blessed with: plenty of whips of varying design; implements for stretching, extracting and ripping – fiendish tools for inflicting pain. Dimitri proved to be very knowledgeable about it all, and imparted his wisdom with chilling enthusiasm. He demonstrated a few things, like the Pear of Anguish opening its leaves; allowing Sally to imagine what it might be like if such a device were to be opened inside her mouth... or even inside her cunt – although the language he used was a lot more restrained!
Again Sally winced and Dimitri seized upon the chance to heighten the sexual tension even more.
“What? You would not like something big and bulbous to be placed inside you?” Dimitri asked smirking – the innuendo all too clear. He backed it up by raising his eyebrows and throwing Sally a filthy leer - an action that sent a bolt of pure excitement rushing to Sally’s tingling sex. The Pear of Anguish could definitely be ruled out, but, by God, after all this teasing, Sally needed something stuffed inside her – she needed Dimitri’s cock.
Silence fell. Sally breathed deep. She inhaled the dank air with its undercurrent atmosphere of power and forced sex - scary like the setting, but oh so exciting. Dimitri was contributing to the dizzying mix – musk and testosterone oozing from his pores – the smell of an alpha male blossoming into his prime – the scent of a man who was ready to claim his mate for the night.
Sally stared at Dimitri and became locked in his gaze. Those coal black eyes sparked into fire, so thrillingly familiar, scarily exciting. This man of honour had a mischievous side that was about to come out and play. The Pear of Anguish was put down and a step closer was taken. They eyed each other hungrily.
“So Sally, what shall we do now?”
“I’m sure you know what I’d like to do.”
Dimitri reached round and placed his hand on Sally’s buttock, kneading the flesh as he pulled her close.
“But that might be inappropriate – it would suggest that I had lured you down here to take advantage.”
Sally pressed into him. She could feel Dimitri’s arousal, a solid erection throbbing behind his uniform trousers, wonderfully large, thrilling with its promise.
Pressing into him, squashing her breasts against his manly chest, Sally cooed, “Don’t you want to take advantage of me, officer? I certainly wouldn’t mind. I think it would round the tour off very nicely.”
“What!” Dimitri laughed with a hint of seriousness. “Do you want the full torture chamber experience? Perhaps I should tie you to the rack, stretch you out then rip off your clothes and flay your beautiful tits before fucking your brains out whilst you screamed for mercy.”
“Well, perhaps not take me quite so violently,” Sally laughed in return, sure this was a joke.
“You might like it,” teased Dimitri, giving Sally’s ass a firm slap.
“The fucking part yes – I’m not sure about the rest,” Sally replied as she writhed against the policeman, feeling wonderfully turned on by this assertive side to the guy.
“But you did say I could bind you,” Dimitri persisted as he writhed and groped, using his other hand to squeeze between them and have a feel of Sally’s breasts that were bare beneath her blouse. “And there is something infinitely more interesting than the rack we could use. It’s a bit naughty, but how would anyone find out...”
“Find out what?” asked Sally totally intrigued, desperate for the man.
“That we’d used it. I would get into so much trouble, but this is a chance in a lifetime...What do you say, Sally? Would you not like to try out a piece of historical equipment? Think what an adventure that would be – something to tell your friends when you go back to Sydney – that you were fucked by a policeman – a lieutenant no less, bound in a genuine artefact in an actual torture chamber.”
“Well, yes – it does sound like fun... but do we really need to go that far?”
Dimitri stiffened; a flash of hurt crossed his face. “Hmmph... there it is again – the lack of trust. I am sorry. Forget it. It’s too risky anyway. Let’s go back to my apartment where it is clean and sanitised, just like the sex we would have there – everything safe and forgettable.”
The hurt expression had stabbed Sally like a knife; the words had twisted the blade around. She was being seen as an unadventurous wimp, an amateur at sex, which was not the impression Sally wanted to give out or have of herself. “Dimitri – I doubt if I would forget it very easily,” she protested; then pride in her sexual prowess made her take the bait. “And I do want adventure... that’s why I’m here, with you, and not in Sydney. So... what exactly do you have in mind?”
A smile cracked Dimitri’s face, giving Sally the assurance that was needed. “Come with me and I’ll show you.”
Ignoring again the voice that was screaming caution in her head, Sally allowed herself to be led. She did want adventure, and she definitely wanted the man. And she was feeling so horny after more than a week of celibacy, the setting adding to the sexual tension that frizzled between her and Dimitri.
She was taken by the wrist to the far end of the chamber where a narrow arch led to a small anti-chamber she had not seen before, hidden as it was by the darkness inside. Dimitri took a torch from the outside wall and placed it in a holder on the anti-chamber wall.
“Wow!” said Sally as she looked at the pillory that was the only furnishing in the room.
“We keep it here out of sight because the pillory was never traditionally used in the torture chamber. The pillory was for public punishment, usually placed in the town square or market place where there would be plenty of people to bear witness and torment the criminal.”
“A pillory... you mean like t
he stocks?” Sally asked, running her fingers over the smooth wood of the structure. Set on a raised base, it was about four feet tall and in the shape of a T, with three holes along the crossbar. The top half of the beam could be moved up along rails bolted to either side. “So you want to put me in this and then... well and then fuck me I suppose?” Sally further enquired, totally intrigued by the device.
“Why not?” replied Dimitri coming to Sally’s side, his hand once again feeling up the young Australian’s buttocks. “It used to happen all the time in Mastrovia – a tradition that has sadly been lost.”
“You’re kidding me!”
“No! Not at all! It was an accepted practice if a woman had sinned – to be placed in the pillory and fucked by the whole village if the men felt inclined. For some odd reason, they were always young and pretty – so the chances were, every man would have a turn.”
“Bloody hell!”
“Sadly the practice was banned by the Communists many years ago, and now... well, we are part of the modern world and it would not do to have such things happen in public, so this pillory is hidden away and no longer used. But it has always been my wish...”