I never thought I would end up suffering for a crime in which I was neither the victim nor the perpetrator. It was all my close mate's fault, for getting involved in something he couldn't handle. Namely the stealing of thousands of pounds worth of drugs from a vicious criminal organisation, and then skipping the country. For the next few months, I was completely oblivious to the fact that you, the leader of this organisation, had been watching me very carefully this whole time. But you were always there, waiting for the opportunity to take what you wanted from me. Not that I would ever give it to you, not even when you had two of your henchmen snatch me off the street late one night, tying me up and bundling me into the back of a van, to take me to a secret location where I would eventually meet your acquaintance. So here I am... I am now in a darkened room, where I have been kept overnight. Twice you have come in and asked me if I'm prepared to reveal my friend's whereabouts, but I am not going to risk his getting hurt by doing the dirty on him. I am standing in the middle of the room. My wrists are chained up and pulled high above my head, so high that I am forced up onto my toes. My mouth is taped shut to keep me quiet, and I am fully clothed. You enter the room and switch on the light, startling me as in your absence I am being kept in total darkness. You are wearing a dark suit and tie and tight black leather gloves, and you have a bag with you, which I instinctively know contains equipment with which to torture me. Setting the bag aside, you approach me, peel the tape from my mouth and ask if I'm ready to talk yet. I inform you that I will never tell you what you want to know. You tell me that you admire my loyalty to my friend, and also my bravery at refusing to do what you want. You then tell me that I am a very stupid girl, and that the last shred of your patience with me has just run out. I know, without needing to be told, that this was my last chance, and that now you will start putting more pressure on me to make me talk. From your bag, you take a large ball gag and strap it tightly into my mouth, telling me with a cruel laugh that I will be grateful for it when the time comes. Then you take a step back and just study me for a moment, surveying my body in silence. Your eyes linger on my breasts, then drift down between my legs, and despite my fear and hatred of you, I feel myself starting to get warm and damp. Holding my gaze, you slowly unbutton my shirt to bare my chest and stomach. You take my breasts out of my bra, arranging them on top of the bra cups in order to push them up enticingly. I watch as your hands roam over my breasts, teasing my nipples into hard points, unable to resist admiring the contrast between fingers clad in soft black leather against pale, creamy flesh. You tell me that I have lovely breasts, and that it's such a shame that you have to hurt them. I panic when I see you produce a pair of wooden clothes pegs. Seeing the manic delight in your eyes, I try to scream, but my efforts are wasted. I twist around and struggle against my chains, but you grip me firmly and hold me in place, giving each nipple in turn a savage twist before applying the pegs. They sting like nothing I've ever imagined, and the weight of the pegs drags them down, making the pain even more unbearable. I am blinded by tears of agony, unable to watch as you unfasten my jeans and pull them, and my underwear, down around my knees. The scent of my arousal fills the room, arousal made even more prominent by the pegs on my nipples, which I am angry and humiliated to discover. A small trickle of juice begins to slide slowly down the inside of one leg. When I see what you take from the bag next, I nearly scream again. The vibrator is huge, thick, and covered with spikes. Not metal spikes, thank fuck, but tiny rubber ones. I have never taken anything like this inside me before and am afraid. What I don't realise, however, is where you plan on putting it. You ignore my hungry pussy and move to stand behind me. I feel your hands roaming over my arse cheeks and flinch, fearing a spanking, but this doesn't happen. You pull my cheeks apart and line the vibrator up with my tight hole. I struggle again as I feel you applying more pressure, not wanting that thing inside my arse, but my attempts are futile. Slowly, to torment me further, you push it inside me, inch by inch, until the entire length is buried deep inside my arse. The process hurts, because of the spikes and the lack of lubrication, and I howl in my misery and fear. Then you switch the device on and immediately set it to full power. Having the spikes vibrating inside me hurts like hell, but it is also having a very positive effect on me and, despite everything, I begin to moan and squirm helplessly. Ignoring my distressed state, you pull my undies and jeans back up and fasten them, making me look (almost) presentable once more. Then you grip my head tightly and force me to look into your eyes, not allowing me to look away. I can feel my face burning with shame. In a cold voice, you inform me that I will be left like this until the vibrator has gone through three batteries. When the third has died completely, you will give me another chance to confess. And if I don't, more pain, more intense pain, will follow. You give no indication of what form this pain will take, but I can guess at one or two possibilities. You laugh again at the fear in my eyes, then with a farewell pat on the head, you leave the room, switching the light off and plunging me back into total darkness. I have no concept of time, but figure I must have been in this position for several hours now. The vibrator is still buzzing away inside me, making me squirm restlessly. I am very horny now and want to come, but I doubt you will be so kind as to oblige me. I suspect that you would if I confessed, but you know that I can never do that. It's cold in this room and I am shivering, despite the heat of my excitement. The pegs are pinching my nipples tightly and it's starting to become unbearable. Tears of agony and humiliation streak my face, and the ball gag is making me drool, thin streaks of saliva dribbling down, which I can't wipe away. I don't know how much longer I can cope with this. I have no idea if you are still in the building, or if you have gone out. A bloodcurdling scream coming from within the building increases my fear and makes me panic again. Should I just confess, to end this misery? But if I do, my friend will be hurt...and yet if I don't, who knows how long you will keep me here, torturing me by the most perverse means imaginable? Will I let you break me? Only time will tell.