Sadistickler1
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Disclaimer"Fictional story, references to anyone is purely coincidental, etc."
Breaking Down The Spy
By
Sadistickler
I was in kind of a foul mood on this hot august day. My name is Jake Maxwell. I’m an interrogator for the CIA. I was in my office doing endless amounts of paperwork. Report after report. It never ends. Then there was a knock at my door and Jeff Asher walks in and says,” We got a live one for you Boss. She was brought in an hour ago and she has knowledge of the “Gideon Operation”. You said, if ever we find someone with anything about that to let you know.”
“Take her to interrogation room 3 and tie her to a chair with her arms above her head chained to the ceiling. Strip her of her blouse as well.” I said casually. ”Ok Boss.” Said Jeff and walked out the door closing it behind him. I finished one more report and stretched in my chair, and crossed my legs at the ankle, putting my arms behind my head and contemplated the ceiling for another 10 or 15 minutes and then got up and walked to the door.
I walked down several corridors, down 3 flights of steps and then down a long dimly lit hallway to interrogation room 3. I stood outside the door and listened for a few moments. I heard voices talking excitedly from within the room. I heard two males, Jeff and another operative, Alexander Scudder. And then I heard a female voice, heavily accented yelling back at them. I listened for a while, and determined the woman was Middle Eastern. Israeli, maybe? I opened the door and walked into the dimly lit room with the single bulb hanging down from the ceiling, closing it loudly behind me .I looked at the woman tied to the chair. I was right. Definitely Mediterranean. Long, raven black hair, very tan, smooth looking skin, an ample bosom, tight stomach, toned arms and legs, she was a real beauty. She sat there in the chair wearing a short, black leather skirt, and black calfskin high-heeled boots. Her bra was black silk, almost see through. I watched her eyes. They were defiant, and determined.
“ Mr. Maxwell, She won’t tell us anything. We found out she was trained as Mossad, but they claim they’ve never heard of her.” Said Jeff. A typical political bluff to keep us off guard. The Israelis would sacrifice a pawn to stay in the game.
I circled her slowly, watching her as I walked about the room. I told everyone to leave except for Jeff and one guard.
“ What is your name?” I asked. Jeff started to tell me her name was Hanna Zemeck, But I stopped him with a wave of my hand and a shake of my head. I repeated the question in a soft but determined voice. ”What is your name?”
“Hanna. Hanna Zemeck. Now untie me and release me! Under the Geneva code, this is an improper interrogation. You have no evidence that I’ve done anything wrong. Release me this instant!” She demanded.
“My dear, the Geneva code is only legal during wartime. Right now we are not at war. What do you know about the Gideon Operation?” I questioned.
“I’ve never heard of it. I don’t know anything your talking about, and I demand you release me. I will not answer any more of your questions.” She said defiantly.
I continued pacing in front of her slowly, watching her. I noticed her twitch slightly in her cheeks, and she stared straight ahead, as if zoning out. Willing her mind to be somewhere else completely. After about 10 minutes of this silence and behavior,
I knew I would have to resort to subtle methods of torture with this woman. She was considered a dissident when captured. So I couldn’t use the standard methods of torture like, beating, or needles under her fingernails, or pliers mashing her toes. I can’t leave marks. Hmmm, boiling hot water up her rectum? No, to much pain. She’d pass out. Slow roast her nipples with a lighter? No, leaves marks. Drill into her teeth without anesthesia? No. Pull her pubic hair out slowly, one at a time? No. Takes to long. Hmmm. What to do. AHA! I thought to myself, I have the perfect way to break her. And it will be slow, and very excruciating. I’m going to enjoy this I thought to myself with a slight smirk. I finally spoke up.
“ Well then, Have it your way. If we must resort to more drastic ways, then, so be it. You brought it on yourself. Jeff? Bring me in another chair, and some more rope. Oh, and a shoelace.” Jeff looked at me funny, and said, “Ok, Boss.” And left the room. I continued watching her face. I noticed she very briefly glanced up at me when I told Jeff what to get. But it was very subtle. Someone not trained might have completely missed it. I also noticed her armpits were starting to perspire slightly, despite the air-conditioned room. I removed my sport coat, and took off my tie and carefully folded them neatly and placed them on the floor by the door. I turned around and just kept staring at Hanna. Neither one of us showed any emotion whatsoever.
Jeff returned shortly with the items I requested. “ Remove her boots, one at a time. And be sure she doesn’t kick you.” The guard and Jeff untied her left leg from the chair and the guard held her leg firmly while Jeff unzipped the boot. He then slowly tugged at the heel until the boot came off in his hands. Then they did the same to the other leg. She put her feet down firmly on the concrete floor and looked up at me with just the slightest hint of wonder. I told them to tie her ankles together. As they finished, I kicked out swiftly and with force at the chair Jeff brought in. My foot broke out the center two wooden slats in the chair. Jeff, the guard, and even Hanna herself startled. I pushed the chair over in front of Hanna, with the back of the chair facing her. I lifted her legs swiftly off the ground and shoved them in between the broken slats, and shoved the chair all the way up to touch the chair she was sitting in. I took the other rope and started tying her ankles tightly to the front rungs of the broken chair. When I was finished, I stood up and told Jeff and the guard to leave me and not to disturb me under any circumstances. They both left, and I securely locked the door behind them. Turning around I looked deeply into Hanna’s eyes. I could see a slight hint of fear and trepidation. Obviously being trained, Mossad, she’s been through torture before, but it still makes one a little fearful. The fear of the unknown can sometimes be as bad as the torture itself.
I walked around her slowly; I looked down at her bare feet, tied in the chair. She had beautiful pampered feet. Buttery soft looking soles, symmetrical toes, painted toenails a brownish red. The tops of her feet were tan like the rest of her, while her soles were pale.
I stood behind her for a long time, quietly. I could tell by her breathing that it was intimidating her. After about 10 minutes, I slowly raised my hands up and very lightly grazed the inside of her biceps, running a finger down them slowly. She twitched and shuddered as if surprised. I kept contact with my fingers, slowly gliding them down towards her armpits. She wiggled slightly as if adjusting herself in the chair. I stopped only centimeters from her bare armpits and walked around in front of her. She looked up at me with defiance again. But her eyes, the windows to the soul gave her away. I saw fear in her eyes. She masked it well, but I still saw it. I straddled her thighs and hips sitting down on them gently, bringing myself face to face with Hanna. I stared intently into her eyes and asked ”Hanna, are you TICKLISH?”
She tightened her lips and looked away from me quickly. I had the answer I needed.
“Now before I begin, I’ll ask you again. What do you know about the Gideon Operation?” I asked. Silence. She looked to her left at the wall.
“Ok then.” I said. I reached up slowly with both hands and gently started scratching in her armpits. She started biting her lip and I could feel her arms tighten. I could hear the chains from the ceiling swaying gently. I scratched very lightly, barely grazing the skin. A subtle technique, but I’ve found it quite effective. The longer I did this, the more she squirmed and wiggled. I studied her face intently. At first was defiance, determination, and control. But now, as the veins on her neck and forehead throbbed, I could see her slowly losing that self-control. She closed her eyes tightly and tossed her head back and forth slowly. I stopped tickling her armpits. I climbed off of her and walked behind her. I quickly reached out and goosed her in the ribs on both sides with my fingers. She squeaked and held her breath. I did it again and she flinched but made no noise. I dug into her ribs hard with both hands and she wiggled helplessly but still didn’t make any noise. I stopped and walked around in front of her again. And stared at her face.
“ The sooner you give me the information I want about the Gideon Operation, the sooner we can stop this little game. “ I said.
“I’ll tell you NOTHING!“ She spit at me. She looked me straight in the eye with that open act of pure defiance. I could see the hatred for me emanating from her.
I kneeled down by her legs and started claw pinching just above her kneecaps viciously. She cried out and shook, trying to hold it in. I kept it up, claw pinching up and down both legs. She was fighting hard to not breakdown, shaking and wiggling, but she kept biting her lip and tossing her head back and forth. I stopped and decided of the best approach to break her down.
I walked to the door and unlocked it and left. Out in the hallway I called Jeff on my cell and told him to gather a few items and meet me at the interrogation room.
After about 15 minutes, Jeff met me with a large box and two of our guard dogs on leashes. I told him to tie the dogs up, and leave. I entered the room again, alone, carrying the box. I set it down on the floor in front of her feet. I looked up at her with indifference on my face. She was still glaring with determination and hatred. Good, I thought It makes this part of my job that much more enjoyable. There’s nothing more satisfying to me than breaking down a female prisoner in the worst possible way. The humiliation, and total loss of control of your situation. These agents always thrive on their own ability to maintain control under any and all circumstances. Take that away, and they’re putty in your hands. You can almost make them do anything you desire once they’re broken down completely. I reached into the box and pulled out a long, stiff black feather. Twirling it in my fingers, I looked into Hanna’s face and smiled as I saw a hint of fear cross it. I slowly reached the feather up to her feet, securely tied there, and started slowly dragging the tip up and down her soles. First the right one, then the left. Her toes twitched and her feet wiggled slightly, but still Hanna showed no signs of breaking. I continued the feather treatment, varying my techniques. Twirl it in the arch; slide it under the toes, then sliding it back and forth between the toes. There! That got a reaction! Between her toes. She opened her mouth with a big grin and silently laughed. Not a big laugh, but I knew then that it was a matter of minutes when the floodgates of laughter would open and she would begin the first part of being totally broken. I reached into the box and brought out a second stiff feather. I dragged both of them between each and every one of her toes. She started to giggle slightly and I continued. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, holding it, and shook her head back and forth quickly, trying to shake off the sensations. I set the feathers down and started lightly tickling her soft soles with my fingers.
That did it. She started laughing for real. I scratched up and down her lovely soles in earnest now. She started laughing wildly and I assume cussing me in her native tongue. I kept up the tickle torture of her feet for about 10 minutes, and then stopped.
“Now, are you going to talk?” I asked her. She was gasping for breath and said NO! Then she started cussing me again.
“Ok, have it your way. I grabbed a dinner fork from the box and started gliding it up and down her silky soles vigorously. She started laughing hysterically and screaming. She yanked and jerked on her bonds, trying to break free, but she was tied to tightly. Her toes scrunched up and she tried hard to cover one foot with the other as she shrieked in laughter. I soon stopped again and asked her the question one more time.
“Ready to tell me about Gideon?”
“NO! I won’t say ANYTHING! So just give it up!” She said defiantly again.
I took the shoe string and quickly tied her big toes together, and with the loose end, pulled her toes back, arching her soles at a seriously taut angle and tied the end to one of the slats in the chair. Now she couldn’t scrunch her toes, or even flex her feet in any fashion. Nor could she cover one foot with the other. I looked up into her face as I finished, and smiled. She looked at her tied toes, and then at me with fear etched on her face.
I reached into the box and pulled out a weird looking folding stand and set it up in front of her feet. Then I pulled out an extension cord and plugged it into the wall outlet by the door. I uncoiled the rest of it and left the other end on the floor by the stand. Then I pulled out a blow dryer for hair, and plugged it in. Setting it carefully on the stand, pointed towards her feet, I opened a jar and flipped out a gob of creamy substance. I started smearing it all over her feet, coating every inch of her soles and toes being careful to get an even coat. I made sure to get plenty between each of her toes as well. After adjusting the hair dryer at the right distance from Hanna’s bare, sensitive, vulnerable feet, then adjusted it to a low setting, I turned it on and walked out the door.
I walked into the room next door. I watched several monitors along one wall broadcasting from several hidden cameras and mics in Hanna’s interrogation room. After several minutes, I saw Hanna start to squirm. Soon she started shaking her head back and forth. Then she started to squeal, and scream. I turned up the sound.
“OOOH!! STOP IT!! IT ITCHES! AND BURNS! IT’S TOOO HOT!!! OOOOHHH!!! PLEASE!!! IT ITCHES!!! OOOH! OOOH! OOOH! PLEEEEASE!!! TURN IT OFF!!!” She screeched in utter torment.
What was go9ing on was her feet were being slow roasted by the hair dryer. The gel I used on her feet was a mixture of lotion, a thin petroleum base and a generous portion of an industrial strength itching powder. The powder was heat and moisture activated. So, the hotter it got, the more it itched. Right now Hanna was in sheer agony from the torture of the heat and itching.
“ OOOH MY GOOOOD!! STOOOOP IT!! I CAN’T TAKE ANYMORE!! STOOOOP IT!! TURN IT OFF, TURN IT OFF, TURNIT OFFFF!!! SCRATCH MY FEET!!! PLEEEEASE!!!” She shrieked in agonizing panic. I watched as she struggled, pulling with her arms and legs, throwing her body around as much as she could in her restraints.
After another 10 minutes of this treatment, I noticed her soles were turned a bright red and slick looking. I flipped a switch, cutting the power to the outlet and the hair dryer went off. I continued watching as she sat there, her chest heaving up and down as she tried to catch her breathe from the torment. A few minutes later, she started squirming again as she realized the itching had intensified. Not really, but since the stimulus of the intense heat had stopped, her mind was concentrating on only the incessant itching. If you’ve ever had a big itch that you couldn’t reach, you understand how she was feeling. Only this form of itching was very intense. The powder I used wasn’t the kind found in prank and joke stores. This was the real thing. Made from ingredients that guaranteed intense displeasure.
I watched her for another 15 minutes as she shrieked both in her native tongue as well as English at the agony her feet were going through. I finally decided to re-enter the interrogation room. As soon as I did, she lit into me with a tormented panic.
“ OHHH! STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT!!! STOP THE ITCHING! IT’S TOO MUCH! OOOH!!! OOOOOOH!! PLEEEEASE! SCRATCH MY FEET! SCRATCH MY FEEEEET!!! I BEG YOU!!!! SCRATCH MY FEEET!!!” Hanna screamed in sheer, tormented agony.
I sat down in the chair facing her feet and slowly started scratching up and down her soles. She began screaming in laughter again.
“NOOO!!! AHAHAHAHAHA! NOT THAT!! IT TICKLES!!! ITS NOAAAHAHAHAT HELPIIIING!!! HAHAHAH STOP!!! STOP!!! NOOO AHHEEEEEEEHEHE!!!” She squealed. I continued scratching her soles, faster and digging my nails in slightly.
“OOOH GOOOOD NOOOO!!! IT TICKLES TOOO MUCH!!! OOOH!!! AHAHAHAHA NO MORE!!! NO MORE!!! NO MORE!!! PLEEEASE! STOOOOP!!!” She screamed in agony from the torture on her feet. I finally stopped and looked at her.
She stopped laughing and just squealed in frustration from the itching. As she continued begging for me to stop the itching, I asked her about the Gideon operation again. She didn’t respond. So I left again. Leaving her in her agonizing state from the nonstop itching of her bare feet.
I walked upstairs and got some fresh coffee, went to my office and did some paperwork for about an hour and then returned down to the interrogation room.
Hanna was a mess. She had been crying profusely from the torture and her mascara was streaked all over her face. She looked truly pitiful. I sat down in the chair, and picked up a spray bottle of liquid and started squirting it all over her bare feet. I saw her face relax from the contorted expression as she sighed with relief. The spray was an anti-agent. Neutralizing the itching powder. I toweled off her now wet feet. Then I turned on the hair dryer for a few minutes again.
“WHAT are you DOING!? Not the heat AGAIN!!! NOOOO!!” She started screaming. I picked up a thin slat of wood, similar to a ruler and started slapping the soles of her feet hard with it.
“OOOOWW!!! STOP IT!!! OOOOWWW NOOO!!! STOP!!! OWWW!!! OOW!!! OWWW! NO MORE! IT HURTS!!! OOOOWWW!” She screamed at me in pain. After about 10 minutes of repeated slaps and the heat, I stopped.
“You ready to tell me about the Gideon Operation yet?” I calmly asked her. She looked up at me, and lowered her head and shook it, no.
I reached into the box and removed again another jar and slathered on its contents, carefully getting plenty between her toes, and covered her entire foot, front to back, top to bottom, even up her ankles a little.
I walked out and got the two tied up Guard dogs and returned with them. Holding their leashes, I let them get the scent. Once they started barking and lunging forward, I took one last look at Hanna’s face as I released the dogs. What I saw was a mixture, of fear, panic, curiosity, and hopelessness. Once the dogs were let go, they immediately ran to Hanna’s bare feet and immediately began to lick her feet and toes with vigor.
The sudden licking of her feet started tickling her. She quickly escalated into hysterics as the rough long tongues caressed her entire feet. Up and down the soles, in between the toes, the heels, the tops, and the ankles. Hanna was thrown into the most intense tickle torture she could ever have been exposed too. It was having an effect. Hanna was shaking all over and shrieked so loud in laughter, it became silent as she struggled for breath. I walked out again, and went to the monitoring room and watched.
Now I can tell you, watching this form of punishment was definitely a major turn on. Her was a gorgeous woman, tied tightly, and being subjected to the ruthless tickling torture of two Rottweilers tongue tickling her beautiful sensitive, tender feet as she shrieked and laughed in sheer hysterics. I watched with intensity as I slowly rubbed my member through my trousers. This treatment went on for about 25 minutes. Then the dogs started wandering around the room.
I walked back into the room and just stood there by the door, arms folded, leaning on the closed door and watched Hanna. She was heaving, and panting, sweating profusely from the ordeal.
“Ready to talk?” I asked, simply. I gathered up the dogs and secured them at the other side of the room, as I waited for Hanna to answer.
“I can’t. I’m sorry, but I really can’t talk about anything.” Hanna announced with resignation as her head slumped forward towards her heaving chest.
I grabbed up the jar, and after carefully slopping on a generous amount of the gel on her bare, vulnerable armpits, I walked over and released the dogs again. Hanna snapped her head up and shook it violently side to side in utter shock and dismay as the dogs quickly approached her helplessly tied armpits. Eying each dog in turn she started to scream before they reached her sensitive armpits with their tongues.
“NOOOOO!!! NOOOO!!! NOOO!!! OH GOD!!! NOT THERE!!! PLEASE!!! STOP THEM!!! AAAAHAHAHAHAAA!!! O OH GOD!!! OH GOD!!! OOOHH! AHAHAHAHAHAHAA!!! I CAN’T! AHAHAHAHA TAKE IT!!! NO MORE!!! NO MORE!!!” She screamed in tormented panic.
I quickly took a seat at her feet and donned a pair of Isotoner type gloves with fake nails glued to the tips of each finger and started scratching my fingers up and down her now totally tenderized, bare sensitive soles. Scratching up and down, back and forth across the balls of her feet, digging in just under her toes, I varied my techniques quickly and aggressively.
“ OOOOHHH NO!!! NOT MY FEET!!! NOT MY FEEEET!!! THE DOGS!! TOO MUCH!!! AHAHAHAHA!!! OH GOD!!! HELP ME!!! CAN’T TAKE AHAHAHAHAIT!!! OOOOH PLEEEEASE!! STAAAAHAHAHAAAP!!! NOOOO!!! MY FEET!!! OH NOOOO!!! AAHAHAHAHAAAA!!! HEEEEHEEEE HEEEEEEEEE!!!!!” She shrieked with all her might.
I watched as she struggled, flipping her head around whipping her long black hair all around, shaking trembling, and just contorting her face into hysterical images of absolutely berserk panic. The dogs eagerly licked and slurped at both of her tender armpits lavishing every drop of the gel from this oh so super sensitive area of Hanna’s body, now wracked with sheer tortured panic. I scratched at her soles with renewed vigor, harder and faster with the nails, making poor Hanna’s laughter reach a higher vocal range than ever before, almost to the silent laughter again. Then it came.
“ OK!!! OK!!! HAHAHAHAHAA PLEEEEEASE!!! STOOOOP IT!!! STOOOOP IT!!! I’LL TALK!!! I’LL TALK!!! OOOOOOHHHH STOOOOP IT”S AAAAAHAHAHAHA KILLING MEEEEEE!!!! “ Hanna screeched.
I stopped tickling her feet and slowly removed the gloves as she looked at me through tear filled squinted eyes, begging me to call the dogs off. I slowly stood up, and walked around behind her and grabbed the collars of both dogs, and issued a German command to cease and pulled them away. The dogs reluctantly obeyed, licking their chins and face eagerly as they were led away and retied to the other end of the room.
After a few minutes, Hanna calmed down long enough to talk and I retrieved a recorder from the other room and recorded everything she had to say about the Gideon Operation. All the information would provide very useful.
I picked up a large ball gag from the box and a pair of scissors. After strapping the ball gag firmly and tightly into Hanna’s mouth, I flipped up her short skirt, cut her panties off with the scissors and proceeded to dump half the jar of the gel into her crotch. Then walking to her feet, I smeared the rest of the jars contents carefully all over her soles and toes. I gathered up everything, and placed it all back into the box, and just before exiting the room, I unleashed the dogs again and glanced longingly at Hanna. Her eyes told me everything I needed to know. They pleaded with me as she shook her head in denial and panic, the fear. It was always the fear that betrayed her. Now she would pay dearly. If she had confessed earlier, this wouldn’t have been necessary. But its what she gets for pissing me off on a day that I wasn’t happy with anyway.
I closed the door and walked next door and turned on the video recorder to catch all the action of Hanna’s final moments. Though they would be many hours, I’m sure it was going to be entertaining watching at home. Already on the monitors I could tell that the dog slurping and licking at her crotch was having a devastating effect.
Breaking Down The Spy
By
Sadistickler
I was in kind of a foul mood on this hot august day. My name is Jake Maxwell. I’m an interrogator for the CIA. I was in my office doing endless amounts of paperwork. Report after report. It never ends. Then there was a knock at my door and Jeff Asher walks in and says,” We got a live one for you Boss. She was brought in an hour ago and she has knowledge of the “Gideon Operation”. You said, if ever we find someone with anything about that to let you know.”
“Take her to interrogation room 3 and tie her to a chair with her arms above her head chained to the ceiling. Strip her of her blouse as well.” I said casually. ”Ok Boss.” Said Jeff and walked out the door closing it behind him. I finished one more report and stretched in my chair, and crossed my legs at the ankle, putting my arms behind my head and contemplated the ceiling for another 10 or 15 minutes and then got up and walked to the door.
I walked down several corridors, down 3 flights of steps and then down a long dimly lit hallway to interrogation room 3. I stood outside the door and listened for a few moments. I heard voices talking excitedly from within the room. I heard two males, Jeff and another operative, Alexander Scudder. And then I heard a female voice, heavily accented yelling back at them. I listened for a while, and determined the woman was Middle Eastern. Israeli, maybe? I opened the door and walked into the dimly lit room with the single bulb hanging down from the ceiling, closing it loudly behind me .I looked at the woman tied to the chair. I was right. Definitely Mediterranean. Long, raven black hair, very tan, smooth looking skin, an ample bosom, tight stomach, toned arms and legs, she was a real beauty. She sat there in the chair wearing a short, black leather skirt, and black calfskin high-heeled boots. Her bra was black silk, almost see through. I watched her eyes. They were defiant, and determined.
“ Mr. Maxwell, She won’t tell us anything. We found out she was trained as Mossad, but they claim they’ve never heard of her.” Said Jeff. A typical political bluff to keep us off guard. The Israelis would sacrifice a pawn to stay in the game.
I circled her slowly, watching her as I walked about the room. I told everyone to leave except for Jeff and one guard.
“ What is your name?” I asked. Jeff started to tell me her name was Hanna Zemeck, But I stopped him with a wave of my hand and a shake of my head. I repeated the question in a soft but determined voice. ”What is your name?”
“Hanna. Hanna Zemeck. Now untie me and release me! Under the Geneva code, this is an improper interrogation. You have no evidence that I’ve done anything wrong. Release me this instant!” She demanded.
“My dear, the Geneva code is only legal during wartime. Right now we are not at war. What do you know about the Gideon Operation?” I questioned.
“I’ve never heard of it. I don’t know anything your talking about, and I demand you release me. I will not answer any more of your questions.” She said defiantly.
I continued pacing in front of her slowly, watching her. I noticed her twitch slightly in her cheeks, and she stared straight ahead, as if zoning out. Willing her mind to be somewhere else completely. After about 10 minutes of this silence and behavior,
I knew I would have to resort to subtle methods of torture with this woman. She was considered a dissident when captured. So I couldn’t use the standard methods of torture like, beating, or needles under her fingernails, or pliers mashing her toes. I can’t leave marks. Hmmm, boiling hot water up her rectum? No, to much pain. She’d pass out. Slow roast her nipples with a lighter? No, leaves marks. Drill into her teeth without anesthesia? No. Pull her pubic hair out slowly, one at a time? No. Takes to long. Hmmm. What to do. AHA! I thought to myself, I have the perfect way to break her. And it will be slow, and very excruciating. I’m going to enjoy this I thought to myself with a slight smirk. I finally spoke up.
“ Well then, Have it your way. If we must resort to more drastic ways, then, so be it. You brought it on yourself. Jeff? Bring me in another chair, and some more rope. Oh, and a shoelace.” Jeff looked at me funny, and said, “Ok, Boss.” And left the room. I continued watching her face. I noticed she very briefly glanced up at me when I told Jeff what to get. But it was very subtle. Someone not trained might have completely missed it. I also noticed her armpits were starting to perspire slightly, despite the air-conditioned room. I removed my sport coat, and took off my tie and carefully folded them neatly and placed them on the floor by the door. I turned around and just kept staring at Hanna. Neither one of us showed any emotion whatsoever.
Jeff returned shortly with the items I requested. “ Remove her boots, one at a time. And be sure she doesn’t kick you.” The guard and Jeff untied her left leg from the chair and the guard held her leg firmly while Jeff unzipped the boot. He then slowly tugged at the heel until the boot came off in his hands. Then they did the same to the other leg. She put her feet down firmly on the concrete floor and looked up at me with just the slightest hint of wonder. I told them to tie her ankles together. As they finished, I kicked out swiftly and with force at the chair Jeff brought in. My foot broke out the center two wooden slats in the chair. Jeff, the guard, and even Hanna herself startled. I pushed the chair over in front of Hanna, with the back of the chair facing her. I lifted her legs swiftly off the ground and shoved them in between the broken slats, and shoved the chair all the way up to touch the chair she was sitting in. I took the other rope and started tying her ankles tightly to the front rungs of the broken chair. When I was finished, I stood up and told Jeff and the guard to leave me and not to disturb me under any circumstances. They both left, and I securely locked the door behind them. Turning around I looked deeply into Hanna’s eyes. I could see a slight hint of fear and trepidation. Obviously being trained, Mossad, she’s been through torture before, but it still makes one a little fearful. The fear of the unknown can sometimes be as bad as the torture itself.
I walked around her slowly; I looked down at her bare feet, tied in the chair. She had beautiful pampered feet. Buttery soft looking soles, symmetrical toes, painted toenails a brownish red. The tops of her feet were tan like the rest of her, while her soles were pale.
I stood behind her for a long time, quietly. I could tell by her breathing that it was intimidating her. After about 10 minutes, I slowly raised my hands up and very lightly grazed the inside of her biceps, running a finger down them slowly. She twitched and shuddered as if surprised. I kept contact with my fingers, slowly gliding them down towards her armpits. She wiggled slightly as if adjusting herself in the chair. I stopped only centimeters from her bare armpits and walked around in front of her. She looked up at me with defiance again. But her eyes, the windows to the soul gave her away. I saw fear in her eyes. She masked it well, but I still saw it. I straddled her thighs and hips sitting down on them gently, bringing myself face to face with Hanna. I stared intently into her eyes and asked ”Hanna, are you TICKLISH?”
She tightened her lips and looked away from me quickly. I had the answer I needed.
“Now before I begin, I’ll ask you again. What do you know about the Gideon Operation?” I asked. Silence. She looked to her left at the wall.
“Ok then.” I said. I reached up slowly with both hands and gently started scratching in her armpits. She started biting her lip and I could feel her arms tighten. I could hear the chains from the ceiling swaying gently. I scratched very lightly, barely grazing the skin. A subtle technique, but I’ve found it quite effective. The longer I did this, the more she squirmed and wiggled. I studied her face intently. At first was defiance, determination, and control. But now, as the veins on her neck and forehead throbbed, I could see her slowly losing that self-control. She closed her eyes tightly and tossed her head back and forth slowly. I stopped tickling her armpits. I climbed off of her and walked behind her. I quickly reached out and goosed her in the ribs on both sides with my fingers. She squeaked and held her breath. I did it again and she flinched but made no noise. I dug into her ribs hard with both hands and she wiggled helplessly but still didn’t make any noise. I stopped and walked around in front of her again. And stared at her face.
“ The sooner you give me the information I want about the Gideon Operation, the sooner we can stop this little game. “ I said.
“I’ll tell you NOTHING!“ She spit at me. She looked me straight in the eye with that open act of pure defiance. I could see the hatred for me emanating from her.
I kneeled down by her legs and started claw pinching just above her kneecaps viciously. She cried out and shook, trying to hold it in. I kept it up, claw pinching up and down both legs. She was fighting hard to not breakdown, shaking and wiggling, but she kept biting her lip and tossing her head back and forth. I stopped and decided of the best approach to break her down.
I walked to the door and unlocked it and left. Out in the hallway I called Jeff on my cell and told him to gather a few items and meet me at the interrogation room.
After about 15 minutes, Jeff met me with a large box and two of our guard dogs on leashes. I told him to tie the dogs up, and leave. I entered the room again, alone, carrying the box. I set it down on the floor in front of her feet. I looked up at her with indifference on my face. She was still glaring with determination and hatred. Good, I thought It makes this part of my job that much more enjoyable. There’s nothing more satisfying to me than breaking down a female prisoner in the worst possible way. The humiliation, and total loss of control of your situation. These agents always thrive on their own ability to maintain control under any and all circumstances. Take that away, and they’re putty in your hands. You can almost make them do anything you desire once they’re broken down completely. I reached into the box and pulled out a long, stiff black feather. Twirling it in my fingers, I looked into Hanna’s face and smiled as I saw a hint of fear cross it. I slowly reached the feather up to her feet, securely tied there, and started slowly dragging the tip up and down her soles. First the right one, then the left. Her toes twitched and her feet wiggled slightly, but still Hanna showed no signs of breaking. I continued the feather treatment, varying my techniques. Twirl it in the arch; slide it under the toes, then sliding it back and forth between the toes. There! That got a reaction! Between her toes. She opened her mouth with a big grin and silently laughed. Not a big laugh, but I knew then that it was a matter of minutes when the floodgates of laughter would open and she would begin the first part of being totally broken. I reached into the box and brought out a second stiff feather. I dragged both of them between each and every one of her toes. She started to giggle slightly and I continued. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, holding it, and shook her head back and forth quickly, trying to shake off the sensations. I set the feathers down and started lightly tickling her soft soles with my fingers.
That did it. She started laughing for real. I scratched up and down her lovely soles in earnest now. She started laughing wildly and I assume cussing me in her native tongue. I kept up the tickle torture of her feet for about 10 minutes, and then stopped.
“Now, are you going to talk?” I asked her. She was gasping for breath and said NO! Then she started cussing me again.
“Ok, have it your way. I grabbed a dinner fork from the box and started gliding it up and down her silky soles vigorously. She started laughing hysterically and screaming. She yanked and jerked on her bonds, trying to break free, but she was tied to tightly. Her toes scrunched up and she tried hard to cover one foot with the other as she shrieked in laughter. I soon stopped again and asked her the question one more time.
“Ready to tell me about Gideon?”
“NO! I won’t say ANYTHING! So just give it up!” She said defiantly again.
I took the shoe string and quickly tied her big toes together, and with the loose end, pulled her toes back, arching her soles at a seriously taut angle and tied the end to one of the slats in the chair. Now she couldn’t scrunch her toes, or even flex her feet in any fashion. Nor could she cover one foot with the other. I looked up into her face as I finished, and smiled. She looked at her tied toes, and then at me with fear etched on her face.
I reached into the box and pulled out a weird looking folding stand and set it up in front of her feet. Then I pulled out an extension cord and plugged it into the wall outlet by the door. I uncoiled the rest of it and left the other end on the floor by the stand. Then I pulled out a blow dryer for hair, and plugged it in. Setting it carefully on the stand, pointed towards her feet, I opened a jar and flipped out a gob of creamy substance. I started smearing it all over her feet, coating every inch of her soles and toes being careful to get an even coat. I made sure to get plenty between each of her toes as well. After adjusting the hair dryer at the right distance from Hanna’s bare, sensitive, vulnerable feet, then adjusted it to a low setting, I turned it on and walked out the door.
I walked into the room next door. I watched several monitors along one wall broadcasting from several hidden cameras and mics in Hanna’s interrogation room. After several minutes, I saw Hanna start to squirm. Soon she started shaking her head back and forth. Then she started to squeal, and scream. I turned up the sound.
“OOOH!! STOP IT!! IT ITCHES! AND BURNS! IT’S TOOO HOT!!! OOOOHHH!!! PLEASE!!! IT ITCHES!!! OOOH! OOOH! OOOH! PLEEEEASE!!! TURN IT OFF!!!” She screeched in utter torment.
What was go9ing on was her feet were being slow roasted by the hair dryer. The gel I used on her feet was a mixture of lotion, a thin petroleum base and a generous portion of an industrial strength itching powder. The powder was heat and moisture activated. So, the hotter it got, the more it itched. Right now Hanna was in sheer agony from the torture of the heat and itching.
“ OOOH MY GOOOOD!! STOOOOP IT!! I CAN’T TAKE ANYMORE!! STOOOOP IT!! TURN IT OFF, TURN IT OFF, TURNIT OFFFF!!! SCRATCH MY FEET!!! PLEEEEASE!!!” She shrieked in agonizing panic. I watched as she struggled, pulling with her arms and legs, throwing her body around as much as she could in her restraints.
After another 10 minutes of this treatment, I noticed her soles were turned a bright red and slick looking. I flipped a switch, cutting the power to the outlet and the hair dryer went off. I continued watching as she sat there, her chest heaving up and down as she tried to catch her breathe from the torment. A few minutes later, she started squirming again as she realized the itching had intensified. Not really, but since the stimulus of the intense heat had stopped, her mind was concentrating on only the incessant itching. If you’ve ever had a big itch that you couldn’t reach, you understand how she was feeling. Only this form of itching was very intense. The powder I used wasn’t the kind found in prank and joke stores. This was the real thing. Made from ingredients that guaranteed intense displeasure.
I watched her for another 15 minutes as she shrieked both in her native tongue as well as English at the agony her feet were going through. I finally decided to re-enter the interrogation room. As soon as I did, she lit into me with a tormented panic.
“ OHHH! STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT!!! STOP THE ITCHING! IT’S TOO MUCH! OOOH!!! OOOOOOH!! PLEEEEASE! SCRATCH MY FEET! SCRATCH MY FEEEEET!!! I BEG YOU!!!! SCRATCH MY FEEET!!!” Hanna screamed in sheer, tormented agony.
I sat down in the chair facing her feet and slowly started scratching up and down her soles. She began screaming in laughter again.
“NOOO!!! AHAHAHAHAHA! NOT THAT!! IT TICKLES!!! ITS NOAAAHAHAHAT HELPIIIING!!! HAHAHAH STOP!!! STOP!!! NOOO AHHEEEEEEEHEHE!!!” She squealed. I continued scratching her soles, faster and digging my nails in slightly.
“OOOH GOOOOD NOOOO!!! IT TICKLES TOOO MUCH!!! OOOH!!! AHAHAHAHA NO MORE!!! NO MORE!!! NO MORE!!! PLEEEASE! STOOOOP!!!” She screamed in agony from the torture on her feet. I finally stopped and looked at her.
She stopped laughing and just squealed in frustration from the itching. As she continued begging for me to stop the itching, I asked her about the Gideon operation again. She didn’t respond. So I left again. Leaving her in her agonizing state from the nonstop itching of her bare feet.
I walked upstairs and got some fresh coffee, went to my office and did some paperwork for about an hour and then returned down to the interrogation room.
Hanna was a mess. She had been crying profusely from the torture and her mascara was streaked all over her face. She looked truly pitiful. I sat down in the chair, and picked up a spray bottle of liquid and started squirting it all over her bare feet. I saw her face relax from the contorted expression as she sighed with relief. The spray was an anti-agent. Neutralizing the itching powder. I toweled off her now wet feet. Then I turned on the hair dryer for a few minutes again.
“WHAT are you DOING!? Not the heat AGAIN!!! NOOOO!!” She started screaming. I picked up a thin slat of wood, similar to a ruler and started slapping the soles of her feet hard with it.
“OOOOWW!!! STOP IT!!! OOOOWWW NOOO!!! STOP!!! OWWW!!! OOW!!! OWWW! NO MORE! IT HURTS!!! OOOOWWW!” She screamed at me in pain. After about 10 minutes of repeated slaps and the heat, I stopped.
“You ready to tell me about the Gideon Operation yet?” I calmly asked her. She looked up at me, and lowered her head and shook it, no.
I reached into the box and removed again another jar and slathered on its contents, carefully getting plenty between her toes, and covered her entire foot, front to back, top to bottom, even up her ankles a little.
I walked out and got the two tied up Guard dogs and returned with them. Holding their leashes, I let them get the scent. Once they started barking and lunging forward, I took one last look at Hanna’s face as I released the dogs. What I saw was a mixture, of fear, panic, curiosity, and hopelessness. Once the dogs were let go, they immediately ran to Hanna’s bare feet and immediately began to lick her feet and toes with vigor.
The sudden licking of her feet started tickling her. She quickly escalated into hysterics as the rough long tongues caressed her entire feet. Up and down the soles, in between the toes, the heels, the tops, and the ankles. Hanna was thrown into the most intense tickle torture she could ever have been exposed too. It was having an effect. Hanna was shaking all over and shrieked so loud in laughter, it became silent as she struggled for breath. I walked out again, and went to the monitoring room and watched.
Now I can tell you, watching this form of punishment was definitely a major turn on. Her was a gorgeous woman, tied tightly, and being subjected to the ruthless tickling torture of two Rottweilers tongue tickling her beautiful sensitive, tender feet as she shrieked and laughed in sheer hysterics. I watched with intensity as I slowly rubbed my member through my trousers. This treatment went on for about 25 minutes. Then the dogs started wandering around the room.
I walked back into the room and just stood there by the door, arms folded, leaning on the closed door and watched Hanna. She was heaving, and panting, sweating profusely from the ordeal.
“Ready to talk?” I asked, simply. I gathered up the dogs and secured them at the other side of the room, as I waited for Hanna to answer.
“I can’t. I’m sorry, but I really can’t talk about anything.” Hanna announced with resignation as her head slumped forward towards her heaving chest.
I grabbed up the jar, and after carefully slopping on a generous amount of the gel on her bare, vulnerable armpits, I walked over and released the dogs again. Hanna snapped her head up and shook it violently side to side in utter shock and dismay as the dogs quickly approached her helplessly tied armpits. Eying each dog in turn she started to scream before they reached her sensitive armpits with their tongues.
“NOOOOO!!! NOOOO!!! NOOO!!! OH GOD!!! NOT THERE!!! PLEASE!!! STOP THEM!!! AAAAHAHAHAHAAA!!! O OH GOD!!! OH GOD!!! OOOHH! AHAHAHAHAHAHAA!!! I CAN’T! AHAHAHAHA TAKE IT!!! NO MORE!!! NO MORE!!!” She screamed in tormented panic.
I quickly took a seat at her feet and donned a pair of Isotoner type gloves with fake nails glued to the tips of each finger and started scratching my fingers up and down her now totally tenderized, bare sensitive soles. Scratching up and down, back and forth across the balls of her feet, digging in just under her toes, I varied my techniques quickly and aggressively.
“ OOOOHHH NO!!! NOT MY FEET!!! NOT MY FEEEET!!! THE DOGS!! TOO MUCH!!! AHAHAHAHA!!! OH GOD!!! HELP ME!!! CAN’T TAKE AHAHAHAHAIT!!! OOOOH PLEEEEASE!! STAAAAHAHAHAAAP!!! NOOOO!!! MY FEET!!! OH NOOOO!!! AAHAHAHAHAAAA!!! HEEEEHEEEE HEEEEEEEEE!!!!!” She shrieked with all her might.
I watched as she struggled, flipping her head around whipping her long black hair all around, shaking trembling, and just contorting her face into hysterical images of absolutely berserk panic. The dogs eagerly licked and slurped at both of her tender armpits lavishing every drop of the gel from this oh so super sensitive area of Hanna’s body, now wracked with sheer tortured panic. I scratched at her soles with renewed vigor, harder and faster with the nails, making poor Hanna’s laughter reach a higher vocal range than ever before, almost to the silent laughter again. Then it came.
“ OK!!! OK!!! HAHAHAHAHAA PLEEEEEASE!!! STOOOOP IT!!! STOOOOP IT!!! I’LL TALK!!! I’LL TALK!!! OOOOOOHHHH STOOOOP IT”S AAAAAHAHAHAHA KILLING MEEEEEE!!!! “ Hanna screeched.
I stopped tickling her feet and slowly removed the gloves as she looked at me through tear filled squinted eyes, begging me to call the dogs off. I slowly stood up, and walked around behind her and grabbed the collars of both dogs, and issued a German command to cease and pulled them away. The dogs reluctantly obeyed, licking their chins and face eagerly as they were led away and retied to the other end of the room.
After a few minutes, Hanna calmed down long enough to talk and I retrieved a recorder from the other room and recorded everything she had to say about the Gideon Operation. All the information would provide very useful.
I picked up a large ball gag from the box and a pair of scissors. After strapping the ball gag firmly and tightly into Hanna’s mouth, I flipped up her short skirt, cut her panties off with the scissors and proceeded to dump half the jar of the gel into her crotch. Then walking to her feet, I smeared the rest of the jars contents carefully all over her soles and toes. I gathered up everything, and placed it all back into the box, and just before exiting the room, I unleashed the dogs again and glanced longingly at Hanna. Her eyes told me everything I needed to know. They pleaded with me as she shook her head in denial and panic, the fear. It was always the fear that betrayed her. Now she would pay dearly. If she had confessed earlier, this wouldn’t have been necessary. But its what she gets for pissing me off on a day that I wasn’t happy with anyway.
I closed the door and walked next door and turned on the video recorder to catch all the action of Hanna’s final moments. Though they would be many hours, I’m sure it was going to be entertaining watching at home. Already on the monitors I could tell that the dog slurping and licking at her crotch was having a devastating effect.
Hey, Sultry, you know, your avatar kind of looks like the girl I had in mind when I wrote the story. Hmmmm. (Imagination starts running WILD!) Thank you everyone for such positive feedback and your support. Makes me feel sooo LOVED! 
If anyone has a scenerio they'd like a story about, or a story FEATURING them, let me know and I'll try to write it.Take care, everyone.
