When Anton Janacek heard the news that he was being transferred back to Prochody Castle to be interviewed about the historical rape accusation he went berserk. Arianne watched with deep satisfaction as the elite three woman restraint team went in. They were good. Their training in the special techniques of how to overpower violent men meant that all their blows landed in exactly the right places, the heavy leather covered truncheons doing their work quickly and efficiently.
Janacek, a thick set, heavily muscled man was dropped to his knees by the first strike. After that there was only one outcome, whichever way he turned at least one of the women was presented with an easy target. The blows fell hard and fast all across his neck and shoulders. The soft thuds of their impacts covered by his cries ceased within a minute. His wrists were quickly locked into the rigid restraint cuffs behind his back, the features of his face distorted as a laced combat boot forced it against the floor.
“Use a body cage,” said Arianne. The body cages had been banned everywhere outside China where judicial torture techniques were still widely in use. Recently they had been re-introduced by the Ausitanian authorities, a move that Arianne Voric had strongly supported. Without doubt it was a very cruel device but it was entirely consistent with the firm line being taken with violent criminals. It looked like a large rectangular lobster pot, made of heavy gauge galvanised steel wire. A man’s body just fitted inside one with his legs folded up behind him. It was intended to prevent any movement and was especially good when dealing with volatile suspects. Steel handles at either end made it easy to pick up for transport. Two of his assailants forced him roughly inside and locked down the latches.
A few low groans still came from inside the two women picked up the cage and carried it outside before lifting it into the back of Arianne’s waiting silver estate car. She slid the load area cover across to hide the nature of her cargo and slipped into the driver’s seat. On arrival at Prochody she was greeted by a guard accompanied by two male orderlies who removed the body cage from the car and carried it down passed the holding cells and dropped it roughly on the the floor of the newly fitted out subterranean interrogation centre.
Both Arianne and Veronika slowly circled the cage that had been placed in the centre of the dungeon floor, only the regular click of their boot heels on the granite broke the silence. They stood either side of the still locked cage. The truncheons had done their work brutally and efficiently and Janacek’s back and shoulders were deeply bruised by their impact, areas of purplish blue now beginning to discolour his heavily pounded flesh. Arianne placed her boot heel against the cage and applied some pressure, carefully choosing the most heavily bruised part of his back. She wore the knee high laced boots as an extra weapon, the black leather gleaming with the reflected light of the dungeon wall lamps. The tip of her long, tapered spiked heel dug into his flesh and the dungeon resounded to his anguished cry.
“I think that I am going to enjoy this,” she said.
Once removed from the cage Arianne fitted him into her favourite device. It was known as “The Kneeler”. Another product of the Chinese grey market in widely banned torture equipment it consisted of a simple pair of ankle fetters which were connected by a short steel chain to a circular clamp hinged into two parts. Secured around the victim’s testicles the key was then removed locking it firmly into place around the scrotum. The length of the chain was such that it did not allow the wearer to adopt any position other than kneeling or squatting. Within a very short space of time this applied growing pressure to the muscles of the calfs and thighs leading to acute discomfort and often muscle cramps. In addition to this any movement on the part of the wearer tightened the steel chain and pulled his scrotum painfully away from his body.
Arianne had passed many an enjoyable hour as she sat and savoured the restlessness of a prisoner locked into her device, a glass of cool wine in her hand enjoying every futile twist and turn of a hopelessly shackled man. Many a macho type had ended her evening’s entertainment sobbing at her feet as she casually informed him that it was time for her to take to her warm, comfortable bed whilst he looked forward only to a night of agonising torture on the cold floor of a prison cell.
Janacek cursed as Arianne fitted him into the kneeler, his wrists still handcuffed behind his back he was totally at her mercy. They left him marooned in the centre of the dungeon floor and retired to the adjacent office for coffee. Arianne explained. “Leaving them like that serves to increase their isolation. It begins the spiral of despair. You see some respond to pain others to psychological torment. It’s the combination of the two that cracks them eventually. We will leave him an hour or so, then begin to work on him in earnest”.
Veronika poured the coffee. They had gone upstairs past the rows of holding cells to her office. She studied her tutor’s profile as she raised the cup up to her crimson glossed lips. Arianne possessed an unusual beauty that was complemented by the luxuriant gloss of her auburn hair. The police officer found herself pondering her own sexuality briefly before realising that the magnetism of this woman was about much more than sex. For the first time in her life she was in the close company of a woman who was in complete charge of her own destiny, someone who had the confidence and ability to steer her life on the exact course that she chose without the need for any great adjustment, she really was a round peg fitted perfectly into a circular hole.
“So how did you get into this job?”. She found herself wanting to know more about Arianne, she was well aware that this could easily slip into hero worship. Arianne placed the cup on the edge of the desk and leaned back, her long booted legs crossed, the heel that she had pushed into Janacek’s back describing small circles in the air.
” I started off as a medical student, I did a couple of years at university in Vienna before I switched to criminal psychology. That was something that always fascinated me. As a matter of fact I don’t see those first two years as wasted, they provided me with a valuable insight into the physiology. It’s important to know both the body and the mind, it’s surprising how the combination of the two comes in very useful during an interrogation. Good torture is all about getting that blend just right, done correctly there isn’t a man alive I can’t crack”.
“And do you enjoy your work?” Veronika realised as soon as she posed the question that it was totally superfluous.
Arianne threw back her head and let out a brief laugh. “Oh God, do I enjoy it?
I absolutely adore every aspect of it. I suppose a psychologist would have a few things to say about me, but do I give a damn?” A pensive look crossed her features. “They would definitely say that I am a sadist, but it’s more than just that, giving some lowlife the thrashing he deserves is merely the icing on the cake. No, it’s the total experience from the moment I start on the bastards until they put their signature on their confession, it’s a thrill from start to finish”.
They made their way back down to the dungeon. Janacek in his efforts to provide himself with some relief from the torment of the kneeler had fallen over onto his side and now lay helpless on the stone floor, his tortured scrotum encircled by the steel clamp and drawn up into a painful mass of flesh already discoloured by the blood restriction, it had taken on a purplish hue. His plight reminded Veronika of some insect, a cockroach caught inside a trap and helpless to escape.
Arianne handed the steel key to Veronika. “Release him from the kneeler, we will strap him down to the bench and begin the interrogation process”.
Once Jaracek was out of the kneeler Arianne took another key and removed his handcuffs. The freed prisoner now changed in an instant from being completely subdued to a raging bull of a man. He turned on Arianne, advancing menacingly towards her. She adopted a defensive position, long booted legs set apart her body tense now. Once he came within range her right arm came up with a startling ferocity. Her hand described an arc through the air and caught him on the side of his neck with a perfectly placed karate style chop. Her left hand came forward as she folded it into a fist hitting him hard in the throat. Her boot now found the soft flesh of his already tortured testicles and the big man slumped ignominiously to the floor where he lay groaning. She stood over the prone body, gloved hands on her hips like a triumphant big game hunter.
“Help me get him up onto the punishment bench,” she said. The two women lifted his now limp body onto the upholstered platform. Arianne stretched out his arms along the Y shaped projections to the front of the frame and buckled the sturdy leather straps into place around his wrists and upper arms. Once his legs had been similarly restrained to the splayed leg rests Arianne stood back to consider her next move as Veronika secured the heavy leather waist belt around Janacek.
She had laid the long circular brown leather carrying case on the table beneath the wall rack with it’s array of canes and whips. She unzipped the end and drew out her most treasured possession. Veronika recognised the long strip of heavy rhino hide as the antique sjambok whip that Had been used on the prisoner back at the vineyard.
Arianne laid it on the table. The metre long whip was clearly very old, the leather had a patina that comes only with great age. “It dates from late nineteenth century, around the time of the a Boer War, it would have been owned by a Voortrekker, these are very rare now, all the modern ones are made of plastic but the original rhino hide has a unique feel to it, these are truly terrifying weapons”.
She picked the whip up and passed it to Veronika. “Get a feel for the weight of it, that’s the important thing, that and the fact that rhino hide gives it a suppleness that the plastic cannot imitate. The effect is like no other whip, I will give you a proper demonstration of it’s capabilities very soon”. She nodded towards the prisoner’s restrained body, his four limbs spread eagled on the punishment bench awaiting his fate.
Arianne took the file on Janacek and moved across to stand before him. “Let me take you back to March the ninth two thousand and sixteen Mr Janacek”. His body stiffened noticeably as he listened, from his position strapped to the bench he could see only the black leather boots, their laces neatly knotted into bows at the knee.”You picked up Maria Tardelli from the airport, do you recall what happened when you dropped the young Italian tourist at her hotel?” Arianne perceived only the merest hint of a shake of the head. She continued. “Mr. Janacek, Ms.Tardelli says that after offering to carry her suitcase up to her room you then grabbed her and carried out a serious sexual assault”.
“The dirty bitch is a liar,” said Janacek. His accent betrayed his roots. Many rural Ausitanians shared a cultural heritage with a tribe of ancient nomadic gypsies. It was an intensely male dominated group to whom any form of autonomy ceded to their female members was anathema. The womenfolk were expected to defer to their men in every aspect.
“Why does your response not surprise me?” Asked Arianne. Now the sjambok was in her leather gloved hands, the braided lanyard slipped over her wrist as she accustomed herself once more to the unique feel of the heavy whip. She felt the usual thrill welling up from deep down inside her body, it combined with the one inside her mind to create that irresistible urge to see the effect the unbridled sjambok would have on this man’s body.
“You can’t use that thing on me bitch!” Janacek had been animated by the sight of the heavy metre long whip being flexed between her outstretched hands.
Arianne laughed softly, a gentle good natured chuckle that belied the situation completely. “Oh I think that you may have misread the nature of our relationship Mr. Janacek. I have had you brought here exactly because the normal rules of law are suspended. I’m afraid that if you think that there is anything that I can’t do to you then you are sadly mistaken in that view”.
His eyes followed her every move, not realising that this was part of the process. Arianne moved out of his sight now, her footsteps disappearing somewhere behind him. Time seemed to stand still for him, then he felt the gentle touch of the sjambok at the base of his buttocks just
at the point where the crease of his thighs met them. The cool feel of the thick leather whip came again as she adjusted her position, booted feet set wide apart to give her the stability the next move required.
Veronika watched with growing excitement inside her. Arianne really was perfection, her slim, athletic body within the gleaming carapace of tight, black leather, long legs contained within her elegant laced boots as she made minute adjustments to her stance prior to the start of the swing that saw the mighty sjambok descend in a wide, whistling arc as it cut it’s way through the air on it’s journey towards the point where those ranging taps now guided it.
The impact of the heavy shaft of dark brown rhino leather on Janacek’s flesh was dramatic. The swish of the descent of the whip terminated in the loud report as all it’s pent up kinetic energy was dissipated into the bound man’s body. Veronika watched in fascination as the flesh of the buttocks contorted for a moment before returning to it’s original shape. Within a very short period the site of the strike was marked with a wide stripe of vivid red, quickly darkening to an angry deep purple weal. As this was happening Janacek’s scream filled the dungeon, dropping to a series of pathetic sobs as he felt the tip of Arianne’s sjambok once more as she readied herself to strike again.
The two women exchanged smiles briefly. The sjambok rose and fell again, his screams growing louder as the ferocious assault continued. A third stroke followed quickly by a forth and a fifth. Arianne was in a rhythm now each stroke adding to her pleasure as she brought her whip down across the screaming, bucking man’s tortured body. He pulled heavily against the multiple leather straps that held him tight to the punishment bench.
On the impact of the sixth stroke his skin gave way, the sjambok landing in the exact place that two of the previous strokes had made contact was sufficient to cause a fissure. Blood flowed freely now from the ragged crimson edged gash, bright rivulets that coursed diagonally across his thighs, forming pretty, coloured patterns as it coagulated. Arianne applied two more equally harsh strokes, the blood splattering from the impact of the whip.
Janacek’s screaming diminished into a series of ragged sobs. ” I just have a feeling with this one that even the sjambok isn’t going to provide us with the breakthrough that we need, but I have other weapons in my armoury”. She laid the whip down, the tip and part of the shaft now discoloured by his blood, and flicked the catches on a small black leather attaché case. The contents were revealed. A bright stainless steel domed anal plug, a slim steel urethral sound about ten centimetres in length together with coils of electrical wire in red and black, a small black generator box a control that looked the kind of remote blipper that was used to unlock a car.
Arianne plugged one wire into each of the steel probes and smeared lubricant onto each. Janacek’s whole body stiffened as the anal probe slid in until only the red wire protruded from his anus. The steel sound similarly slipped down inside his cock, she plugged both wires into the generator box and switched it on. A small red light gleamed ominously.
Picking up the remote she walked over to Veronika and handed it to her. “It generates a very high voltage, there is no real power there at all, but it’s the voltage that counts, that’s what makes him dance”, she laughed. “The tips of the two probes are only a few centimetres apart from each other but when the current flows between the two it can only pass through his body, the effect can be quite dramatic, as he will soon find out”.
Veronika’s finger hovered briefly over the small red button. “Don’t be scared, it won’t bite you. Although it will him, and very hard.”
Veronika tentatively pressed the button for a fraction of a second. The strapped down prisoner’s body bucked briefly accompanied by a little squeal. She pressed again, this time for slightly longer, watching in fascination as Janacek’s muscles tightened, his body thrashing against the wide leather straps that restrained him so tightly down to the bench. A loud animalistic howl came from deep within him as the current coursed between the two electrodes.
Arianne had taken a leather head harness from the wall rack and inserted a solid leather gag into Janacek’s mouth. She tightened down the straps around his skull, pulling the gag deep inside until he felt it blocking the entrance to his throat. He shook his head as much as he could in a vain attempt to prevent the incursion but it was hopeless.
“I find that when they have been gagged the opportunity to confess to their crimes often comes to them as something of a relief. I inform them that if they don’t admit their crimes and the gag goes back in they may not get the chance again. Sometimes they assume these shocks may kill them. They won’t of course, but they don’t know that.”
Veronika was enjoying her new toy. Every stab of the red button brought another strangled shriek from deep inside the bound man as the current performed it’s cruel and merciless work. “After a good session they feel as if they have run a marathon”, Arianne said, “Every muscle totally worn out from their futile fight against the straps”. Once more a shock ripped through their prisoner, the veins on his forehead standing out like taut cables as the electro torture continued. Eventually Arianne took the control from Veronika and said. “Time to take a little break I think, give him the opportunity to contemplate his future”.
They returned half an hour later. Arianne unbuckled the head harness and removed the gag. “This is your chance to sign the Tardelli confession”, she said.
“Or of course if you refuse then the gag goes back in and we continue with the current turned up”.This was a bluff on her part. The dial was already turned to ten, there was nowhere left for her to go.
“OK, I will sign”. Janacek continued. “On one condition, I’m not sent to the granite quarry”. Arianne smiled at Veronika. He had cracked. “I am sure that I can arrange that”.
She produced the drawn up confession. Once signed by Janacek a mandatory ten year sentence would come into force. He was unstrapped from the bench and led across to a small desk where she placed the confession beside the waiting pen. Janacek’s signature, shaky and scrawly as if a spider had walked across the sheet with ink on it’s legs was inscribed along the dotted line at the bottom. Once he had been dressed in the prison issue jumpsuit and shackled into the metal transport set Arianne phoned for the guards. “Deliver him to Meradka” she said bluntly.
Janacek’s mouth fell open when he heard the name of the quarry. He began to protest loudly. Eventually, realising that he had been tricked he resorted to the foulest of sexist abuse. One of the guards drew her truncheon and hit him hard across the back of the head causing him to stagger and fall. He was dragged back onto his feet and hauled upstairs to the waiting prison van where he was unceremoniously thrown inside the cage and driven off to what was officially called Meradka Stone Recovery Centre. Unofficially it was known as The Death Quarry due to it’s horrendous record of industrial accidents and non existent safety procedures.
Arianne smiled at Veronika. “I do hope you found the morning informative. I am pleased with the outcome. Another of Ausitania’s low lifes removed from circulation. I think we deserve a good lunch, don’t you”.
Copyright DL Media, October 2018
Artwork http://ladycaroleart.com