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The Nude Nurse and the Master of the Whip.
- Thread starter Praefectus Praetorio
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Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
The Nude Nurse and the Master of the Whip.
Part 34 March 31, 1974 - The Fifth Day, morning,
Dr. Claus Windar
Board Manager for Western Hemisphere Operations
International Red Cross
Geneva, Switzerland
I want to personally thank you for your professional handling of the unfortunate affair of Miss Eulalia Burns. Hopefully, your cable to our government, disavowing any further responsibility for this criminal will move the matter toward the end. It now is up to Miss Moore to fully cooperate at our meeting on Tuesday, April 2 to put an end to it.
As for Miss Burns, we are continuing an investigation into allegations that she has acted as a spy for a foreign government and colluded with terrorists. Either of these offences, if confirmed, would carry the death penalty, executed in whatever manner the Comandante of this service facility decides. Notwithstanding that investigation, your communication established that Miss Burns is now in Chile without proper visa or work card. As such, she is an “illegal immigrant,” which carried a mandatory 20-year sentence of imprisonment at hard labor.
So, as you can see, she will not be returning to bother your organization or that of Dean Hawkins, for a very long time.
Let me also take this opportunity to wish you and yours, a very Happy Easter!
Coronel Juan Manuel Rodríguez
Comandante Villa Grimaldi.
Santiago de Chile
March 31, 1974 - The Fifth Day, morning, Wing D.
As morning approached, Eulalia was praying for the night to end. She had maybe managed two hours of sleep. She had paid for that with six violent electric shock awakenings. Her legs were screaming with pain, her wrists scrapped raw, her mouth sore and her pussy incredibly inflamed from the numerous rapes of the night before. Her body was racked by almost constant shivering form intense cold. Even when she had been awake and able to stand, she wobbled so badly that she feared falling and not being able to stand again and having the shocks just go on for ever and ever.
When the light went on, Eulalia felt relief. But then she realized this was the morning of her whipping. Like most people, Eul had never been whipped and only had a vague notion from movies and TV. They whipped a person on the back and it might cut the skin. That was really all she knew. She could not imagine what a whip feels like...
The guards came and released her. Immediately they left and locked the door. Eul was alone in the tiny cell, naked, cold and hungry. She slid down to the floor to take the strain off her shaky legs. She found that she could only extend her legs fully if she sat diagonally. Despite all the fear of her whipping, she soon fell asleep.
Even as tired as she was, Eulalia’s sleep was restless and troubled. After about an hour she was started awake by the door opening. She had pulled into a fetal position, trying to retain some warmth. She looked up and saw the Sergeant smiling down at her. Eul cowered in the corner away from him.
“Time for your appointment with the whip, puta.” He said as two guards hauled her to her feet. “Get dressed.” He tossed her tattered skirt and panties. Eul looked at him puzzled; she had learned well the consequences of speaking without permission. “That’s all you need for this session, puta. Hurry, your audience awaits.”
Eulalia slipped on the panties and skirt and tried to make the waistband secure. She dreaded it falling down while walking. Then, the usual hood and cuffs and they marched her out naked to the waist and barefoot. A different maze this time and then outside.
As they walked, Eul wondered what those around her saw when they looked at a young woman stripped to the waist. Did they have any idea what she felt inside. She now realized that she had never experienced any love in any of her sexual relationships. But she had always wanted love, had tried for love with those men. And, even with occasional (what now seemed mild) abuse, she had been able to fool herself into believing there was love.
But this time in Villa Grimaldi had changed that like a powerful earthquake. She had been gang-raped twice in the last three days. The only signs others would see might be a few scratches and, if she was naked, red swollen pussy lips. But what these attacks had done inside, to her soul, was so much greater.
Eul had been raped over and over, by men who, at best didn’t give a shit about her, except as a sexy young girl to fuck. And many, she knew, hated her and wanted to hurt her with the sex. She didn’t know why they felt that way, but that thought hurt in itself.
Could the men know how much this had really hurt her? To have her mouth not kissed with affection, but stretched and gagged and used as a receptacle for their cum? To have her most inner, most precious, most intimate space, pounded roughly over and over by faceless, strange men? Her own, personal, focus of feelings of love, abused by over two dozen men, repeatedly, with only emotions of hate.
As Eulalia walked along, stripped to the waist, shivering and shaking, she must appear almost normal, maybe desirable, with no sign of the hurt inside. But, a part of her soul had been murdered.
Part 34 March 31, 1974 - The Fifth Day, morning,
Dr. Claus Windar
Board Manager for Western Hemisphere Operations
International Red Cross
Geneva, Switzerland
I want to personally thank you for your professional handling of the unfortunate affair of Miss Eulalia Burns. Hopefully, your cable to our government, disavowing any further responsibility for this criminal will move the matter toward the end. It now is up to Miss Moore to fully cooperate at our meeting on Tuesday, April 2 to put an end to it.
As for Miss Burns, we are continuing an investigation into allegations that she has acted as a spy for a foreign government and colluded with terrorists. Either of these offences, if confirmed, would carry the death penalty, executed in whatever manner the Comandante of this service facility decides. Notwithstanding that investigation, your communication established that Miss Burns is now in Chile without proper visa or work card. As such, she is an “illegal immigrant,” which carried a mandatory 20-year sentence of imprisonment at hard labor.
So, as you can see, she will not be returning to bother your organization or that of Dean Hawkins, for a very long time.
Let me also take this opportunity to wish you and yours, a very Happy Easter!
Coronel Juan Manuel Rodríguez
Comandante Villa Grimaldi.
Santiago de Chile
March 31, 1974 - The Fifth Day, morning, Wing D.
As morning approached, Eulalia was praying for the night to end. She had maybe managed two hours of sleep. She had paid for that with six violent electric shock awakenings. Her legs were screaming with pain, her wrists scrapped raw, her mouth sore and her pussy incredibly inflamed from the numerous rapes of the night before. Her body was racked by almost constant shivering form intense cold. Even when she had been awake and able to stand, she wobbled so badly that she feared falling and not being able to stand again and having the shocks just go on for ever and ever.
When the light went on, Eulalia felt relief. But then she realized this was the morning of her whipping. Like most people, Eul had never been whipped and only had a vague notion from movies and TV. They whipped a person on the back and it might cut the skin. That was really all she knew. She could not imagine what a whip feels like...
The guards came and released her. Immediately they left and locked the door. Eul was alone in the tiny cell, naked, cold and hungry. She slid down to the floor to take the strain off her shaky legs. She found that she could only extend her legs fully if she sat diagonally. Despite all the fear of her whipping, she soon fell asleep.
Even as tired as she was, Eulalia’s sleep was restless and troubled. After about an hour she was started awake by the door opening. She had pulled into a fetal position, trying to retain some warmth. She looked up and saw the Sergeant smiling down at her. Eul cowered in the corner away from him.
“Time for your appointment with the whip, puta.” He said as two guards hauled her to her feet. “Get dressed.” He tossed her tattered skirt and panties. Eul looked at him puzzled; she had learned well the consequences of speaking without permission. “That’s all you need for this session, puta. Hurry, your audience awaits.”
Eulalia slipped on the panties and skirt and tried to make the waistband secure. She dreaded it falling down while walking. Then, the usual hood and cuffs and they marched her out naked to the waist and barefoot. A different maze this time and then outside.
As they walked, Eul wondered what those around her saw when they looked at a young woman stripped to the waist. Did they have any idea what she felt inside. She now realized that she had never experienced any love in any of her sexual relationships. But she had always wanted love, had tried for love with those men. And, even with occasional (what now seemed mild) abuse, she had been able to fool herself into believing there was love.
But this time in Villa Grimaldi had changed that like a powerful earthquake. She had been gang-raped twice in the last three days. The only signs others would see might be a few scratches and, if she was naked, red swollen pussy lips. But what these attacks had done inside, to her soul, was so much greater.
Eul had been raped over and over, by men who, at best didn’t give a shit about her, except as a sexy young girl to fuck. And many, she knew, hated her and wanted to hurt her with the sex. She didn’t know why they felt that way, but that thought hurt in itself.
Could the men know how much this had really hurt her? To have her mouth not kissed with affection, but stretched and gagged and used as a receptacle for their cum? To have her most inner, most precious, most intimate space, pounded roughly over and over by faceless, strange men? Her own, personal, focus of feelings of love, abused by over two dozen men, repeatedly, with only emotions of hate.
As Eulalia walked along, stripped to the waist, shivering and shaking, she must appear almost normal, maybe desirable, with no sign of the hurt inside. But, a part of her soul had been murdered.
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Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Alone with the Colonel in his prison, what choice will she have?
Things don't look too good for Eulalia either - 20 years! at hard labor! Where is Jewels? Oops, I forgot. This is the morning of fifth day. He doesn't even get to Chile until the seventh day.
Corvid
Executioner
Hmm. She believes they will whip her only upon her back?
That might be the case. Or it might be a dreadfully misguided naiveté...
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
The Nude Nurse and the Master of the Whip.
Part 35 InterContinental Hotel Santiago April 2, 1974 - The Seventh Day
I sat at a table by the windows in the café off the lobby of the InterContinental Santiago. I had arrived this morning after the long flight from DC and I was exhausted. I’m getting too old for red-eyes and adventures! I had come straight to the hotel and not the Embassy. When I had deplaned, I picked up a message that it was urgent that I meet with Dr. Barbara Moore, South American Director of the International Red Cross. They were the sponsoring non-governmental organization who had placed Eulalia in Chile and had raised the initial red flag on her disappearance. Seven days later they must be worried sick about their young volunteer.
I had respect for their concern and the good work they do. But I had no respect for their judgement. To have been used by those low-level stooges at MI6 who had trouble getting out of each other’s way spoke very poorly for the IRC’s expertise in working in a minefield like Chile under the military regime. They must at least know the evil nature of the men in charge here. But South American Director of the International Red Cross was a senior bureaucrat, and I had to at least pretend to listen. And I did care about the nurse.
Thirty minutes late, Dr. Moore leisurely entered like royalty. She was a damn good-looking woman, a few years younger than me, with a truly spectacular body displayed in a tight, short, stretch- fabric, plum-colored dress. I could have studied her ass(ets) all day. But I had a nurse to rescue and I needed to get to it.
[Barb cursed that damn car. They shouldn’t rent a vehicle that was so accident prone – and she having to return it today! She had meant to dress conservatively today, but, somehow, when she tried on things, the conservative ones seemed so – conservative. She ended up with a dress that made her look good. She liked that!]
Dr. Moore came to my table and extended her hand for me to help her to her seat. Honestly! This kind still exists? However, I did get up and help her in. It allowed me to study how her ass insinuated itself in the seat!
[This Jewels is very handsome, she thought. He’s a gentleman, got up to help me to my seat. Nice to meet a man who appreciates your quality.]
We made some small talk. My cover was as Carl Brown, a State Department official helping the British with their concerns over Miss Burns. Of course, given her position with a quasi-medical organization, I had assumed that Dr. Moore was a MD; but she was not. A PhD? She was not. An honorary Doctor of Humane Letters from the University of Caracas! Even a dumb as dirt graduate from Rutgers knew that wasn’t cause to call herself Dr. Nevertheless, she acted like the most important person in all of South America.
[Unfortunately, Barb thought, though he’s good looking, he’s a bit ignorant. I had to explain my degrees to him twice. I guess he never even went to college so he doesn’t understand advanced degrees like mine]
She shared what little information they had on the nurse’s disappearance. Moore reported that she had spoken with “senior” persons in the military who had assured her that they had no idea of her whereabouts.
Without revealing sources, I indicated that the US had reason to believe Eulalia was indeed in the hands of the security arm, DINA. Dr. Moore vehemently insisted that was a lie and that the IRC would be unhappy if I followed it up. I was quite surprised at her position and her defense of it.
[Yipes! This stupid man could cause some real trouble, for me, thought Moore. I’ve explained why he should just drop that slut Eulalia’s case, but he seems to slow to understand.]
I reminded her that this young girl could be in great danger and may be exposed to torture or death. Barb dismissed the idea completely. She seemed unconcerned about the fate of her own volunteer. She made flip remarks about Miss Burns being of questionable character, that she was a lesbian and, “the slut had gotten herself in this mess, and she could get herself out of it.” Dr. Moore seemed mostly concerned about possible embarrassment for the IRC due to Miss Burn’s promiscuous behavior. Though I had learned to hide my emotions, I was shocked!
[Geeze, what a dope! I told him, in no uncertain terms, that the Lesbian bitch had compromised the IRC’s reputation and it was better for all that she remain quiet and out of sight.]
Something is very wrong here, I thought. There was more that she wasn’t telling. Despite her imperious manner, I could see that she was deeply afraid of something. I did not trust her at all, and made a mental note to have her investigated by my team.
When she got up to leave, she looked her watch and panicked. “Oh my God! I have to be somewhere across town in 10 minutes, and can’t use my car.”
[God, I don’t want to be late for the Colonel, Barb panicked. He seems dangerous enough when he’s not angry. Damn that defective car! Now it’ll have to be towed back to the rental. Dr. Windar won’t like that charge!]
“Why not?”
“I had a teensy-weensy little accident pulling into the parking space.” She gestured out the window and I saw a rather large sedan half pulled into a parallel parking spot, with the front up in the curb and the radiator partially wrapped around a light pole.
[I have to get to Grimaldi on time. Maybe I can use my tight little body little to get this Neanderthal to give me a lift!]
“Is there any chance you could give me a lift, Mr. Brown?” She leaned forward to display some more cleavage and looked with sad eyes at me. I would have agreed anyway, but this made me suspicious enough that I really wanted to drive her.
She declined to say where we were going and gave me confused directions (I was glad she wasn’t driving) that went zig-zagging around town. I knew these streets like the back of my hand and soon had a good idea where we were going. She finally had me stop and let her out. She started walking as I drove away. A moment later I stopped before the corner so that I could watch her (no, not just her lovely ass – although that was moving nicely in the tight dress). As I expected, she walked down a block and turned in at a barred gate which was opened for her. I knew the place as Villa Grimaldi.
[Leaving the car, Barb glanced at her watch. She was relieved to see she was arriving right on time. Now she just had to handle the Colonel as well as she had that idiot Brown.]
Part 35 InterContinental Hotel Santiago April 2, 1974 - The Seventh Day
I sat at a table by the windows in the café off the lobby of the InterContinental Santiago. I had arrived this morning after the long flight from DC and I was exhausted. I’m getting too old for red-eyes and adventures! I had come straight to the hotel and not the Embassy. When I had deplaned, I picked up a message that it was urgent that I meet with Dr. Barbara Moore, South American Director of the International Red Cross. They were the sponsoring non-governmental organization who had placed Eulalia in Chile and had raised the initial red flag on her disappearance. Seven days later they must be worried sick about their young volunteer.
I had respect for their concern and the good work they do. But I had no respect for their judgement. To have been used by those low-level stooges at MI6 who had trouble getting out of each other’s way spoke very poorly for the IRC’s expertise in working in a minefield like Chile under the military regime. They must at least know the evil nature of the men in charge here. But South American Director of the International Red Cross was a senior bureaucrat, and I had to at least pretend to listen. And I did care about the nurse.
Thirty minutes late, Dr. Moore leisurely entered like royalty. She was a damn good-looking woman, a few years younger than me, with a truly spectacular body displayed in a tight, short, stretch- fabric, plum-colored dress. I could have studied her ass(ets) all day. But I had a nurse to rescue and I needed to get to it.
[Barb cursed that damn car. They shouldn’t rent a vehicle that was so accident prone – and she having to return it today! She had meant to dress conservatively today, but, somehow, when she tried on things, the conservative ones seemed so – conservative. She ended up with a dress that made her look good. She liked that!]
Dr. Moore came to my table and extended her hand for me to help her to her seat. Honestly! This kind still exists? However, I did get up and help her in. It allowed me to study how her ass insinuated itself in the seat!
[This Jewels is very handsome, she thought. He’s a gentleman, got up to help me to my seat. Nice to meet a man who appreciates your quality.]
We made some small talk. My cover was as Carl Brown, a State Department official helping the British with their concerns over Miss Burns. Of course, given her position with a quasi-medical organization, I had assumed that Dr. Moore was a MD; but she was not. A PhD? She was not. An honorary Doctor of Humane Letters from the University of Caracas! Even a dumb as dirt graduate from Rutgers knew that wasn’t cause to call herself Dr. Nevertheless, she acted like the most important person in all of South America.
[Unfortunately, Barb thought, though he’s good looking, he’s a bit ignorant. I had to explain my degrees to him twice. I guess he never even went to college so he doesn’t understand advanced degrees like mine]
She shared what little information they had on the nurse’s disappearance. Moore reported that she had spoken with “senior” persons in the military who had assured her that they had no idea of her whereabouts.
Without revealing sources, I indicated that the US had reason to believe Eulalia was indeed in the hands of the security arm, DINA. Dr. Moore vehemently insisted that was a lie and that the IRC would be unhappy if I followed it up. I was quite surprised at her position and her defense of it.
[Yipes! This stupid man could cause some real trouble, for me, thought Moore. I’ve explained why he should just drop that slut Eulalia’s case, but he seems to slow to understand.]
I reminded her that this young girl could be in great danger and may be exposed to torture or death. Barb dismissed the idea completely. She seemed unconcerned about the fate of her own volunteer. She made flip remarks about Miss Burns being of questionable character, that she was a lesbian and, “the slut had gotten herself in this mess, and she could get herself out of it.” Dr. Moore seemed mostly concerned about possible embarrassment for the IRC due to Miss Burn’s promiscuous behavior. Though I had learned to hide my emotions, I was shocked!
[Geeze, what a dope! I told him, in no uncertain terms, that the Lesbian bitch had compromised the IRC’s reputation and it was better for all that she remain quiet and out of sight.]
Something is very wrong here, I thought. There was more that she wasn’t telling. Despite her imperious manner, I could see that she was deeply afraid of something. I did not trust her at all, and made a mental note to have her investigated by my team.
When she got up to leave, she looked her watch and panicked. “Oh my God! I have to be somewhere across town in 10 minutes, and can’t use my car.”
[God, I don’t want to be late for the Colonel, Barb panicked. He seems dangerous enough when he’s not angry. Damn that defective car! Now it’ll have to be towed back to the rental. Dr. Windar won’t like that charge!]
“Why not?”
“I had a teensy-weensy little accident pulling into the parking space.” She gestured out the window and I saw a rather large sedan half pulled into a parallel parking spot, with the front up in the curb and the radiator partially wrapped around a light pole.
[I have to get to Grimaldi on time. Maybe I can use my tight little body little to get this Neanderthal to give me a lift!]
“Is there any chance you could give me a lift, Mr. Brown?” She leaned forward to display some more cleavage and looked with sad eyes at me. I would have agreed anyway, but this made me suspicious enough that I really wanted to drive her.
She declined to say where we were going and gave me confused directions (I was glad she wasn’t driving) that went zig-zagging around town. I knew these streets like the back of my hand and soon had a good idea where we were going. She finally had me stop and let her out. She started walking as I drove away. A moment later I stopped before the corner so that I could watch her (no, not just her lovely ass – although that was moving nicely in the tight dress). As I expected, she walked down a block and turned in at a barred gate which was opened for her. I knew the place as Villa Grimaldi.
[Leaving the car, Barb glanced at her watch. She was relieved to see she was arriving right on time. Now she just had to handle the Colonel as well as she had that idiot Brown.]
connoisseurs
Senator
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
The last several posts illustrate how, despite her driving record, Barb manages to get men to lend her their car.
I think that should be ”acting”
It was a tight little space
Usually works ...
Yep ....
Ha, what a sly one I am ...
Now a high quality German car!
Those high quality German models crash just as well as American junky models
The last several posts illustrate how, despite her driving record, Barb manages to get men to lend her their car.
Tree is such an easy mark
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
The Nude Nurse and the Master of the Whip.
Part 36 March 31, 1974 - The Fifth Day, morning, Inner Courtyard.
The morning air was exceptional cold and the girl shivered in her nakedness. The Sergeant must have noticed because he reached over and pinched a cold-stiffened nipple. “El Capitán will warm you up soon enough, cerdo!”
The guards walked her across a yard and then up two steps and removed her cuffs. She was forced to kneel on a hard wood surface and then her arms were raised on each side. Straps were wound around her wrists fastening them tightly to something she couldn’t see. She was left.
Denied even the small comfort of wrapping her arms around herself, Eul was extremely cold and shivering violently. The shaking, however, was as much from fear as frost. She didn’t think she had ever been so frightened in her life. She kept imagining a whip striking her exposed torso.
She heard more and more men talking and laughing. There was a crowd gathering to stare at her naked breasts and back and belly. And then to watch her punishment. They were amused by the pain she would suffer.
Then they grew quieter and she heard footsteps close behind her. A hand grabbed her hood and tightened it until it was difficult to breathe except through the thick fabric. Ummmph! She felt a face right at her left ear, a pleasant whiff of cologne. Old Spice, her favorite.
“So, my dear Eulalia, it’s you and I together for a little show.” Trueno’s voice. “I will demonstrate why I like a whip so much, and you will demonstrate how much you like pain. Remember, though. This is just a little appetizer. I’ll just warm you up some. This afternoon, we have another interrogation. It will be so different than the last!”
He pulled off her hood and Eul saw she was at the center of a small courtyard she hadn’t seen before. Maybe 30 guards were gathered around with officers and official-looking men in suits. They stood in a semicircle around her front about twenty feet away. She was on a low platform with two posts about five feet high and four feet apart to which her wrists were attached.
Her body gave a strong shiver of cold or fear or both. The onlookers chuckled at how it made her modest breasts shake. One said, “You’ll shake them a lot more for us in a moment, slut!” The rest laughed.
Trueno went down the steps and went out of sight behind her.
Eul looked around, but she didn’t see the Colonel anywhere. Why wasn’t he here? Was he OK?
March 31, 1974 - The Fifth Day, morning, Rodríguez office.
The Colonel took his morning cup of tea and walked over to the window overlooking the inner courtyard, the punishment yard, as it was known. There was a cold snap this morning. Despite that, a nice little crowd had gathered to see Eulalia’s punishment. He watched the guards take her, blindfolded, to the posts. It was the first time he had a clear view of her upper torso. She was a handsome woman, well built and in good shape. That was good. She would last longer.
Miss Burn’s rather modest breasts were very nicely shaped with nipples hard from the cold. Her waist small and her belly flat. The Colonel’s mind wandered to the destruction they would apply to that sweet body over the next few days. He felt a stirring in his pants. He wished that he was closer to see better, but the play required him not to be seen. Twenty-Four more hours and the charade would end with a denouement that should crush her spirit.
Part 36 March 31, 1974 - The Fifth Day, morning, Inner Courtyard.
The morning air was exceptional cold and the girl shivered in her nakedness. The Sergeant must have noticed because he reached over and pinched a cold-stiffened nipple. “El Capitán will warm you up soon enough, cerdo!”
The guards walked her across a yard and then up two steps and removed her cuffs. She was forced to kneel on a hard wood surface and then her arms were raised on each side. Straps were wound around her wrists fastening them tightly to something she couldn’t see. She was left.
Denied even the small comfort of wrapping her arms around herself, Eul was extremely cold and shivering violently. The shaking, however, was as much from fear as frost. She didn’t think she had ever been so frightened in her life. She kept imagining a whip striking her exposed torso.
She heard more and more men talking and laughing. There was a crowd gathering to stare at her naked breasts and back and belly. And then to watch her punishment. They were amused by the pain she would suffer.
Then they grew quieter and she heard footsteps close behind her. A hand grabbed her hood and tightened it until it was difficult to breathe except through the thick fabric. Ummmph! She felt a face right at her left ear, a pleasant whiff of cologne. Old Spice, her favorite.
“So, my dear Eulalia, it’s you and I together for a little show.” Trueno’s voice. “I will demonstrate why I like a whip so much, and you will demonstrate how much you like pain. Remember, though. This is just a little appetizer. I’ll just warm you up some. This afternoon, we have another interrogation. It will be so different than the last!”
He pulled off her hood and Eul saw she was at the center of a small courtyard she hadn’t seen before. Maybe 30 guards were gathered around with officers and official-looking men in suits. They stood in a semicircle around her front about twenty feet away. She was on a low platform with two posts about five feet high and four feet apart to which her wrists were attached.
Her body gave a strong shiver of cold or fear or both. The onlookers chuckled at how it made her modest breasts shake. One said, “You’ll shake them a lot more for us in a moment, slut!” The rest laughed.
Trueno went down the steps and went out of sight behind her.
Eul looked around, but she didn’t see the Colonel anywhere. Why wasn’t he here? Was he OK?
March 31, 1974 - The Fifth Day, morning, Rodríguez office.
The Colonel took his morning cup of tea and walked over to the window overlooking the inner courtyard, the punishment yard, as it was known. There was a cold snap this morning. Despite that, a nice little crowd had gathered to see Eulalia’s punishment. He watched the guards take her, blindfolded, to the posts. It was the first time he had a clear view of her upper torso. She was a handsome woman, well built and in good shape. That was good. She would last longer.
Miss Burn’s rather modest breasts were very nicely shaped with nipples hard from the cold. Her waist small and her belly flat. The Colonel’s mind wandered to the destruction they would apply to that sweet body over the next few days. He felt a stirring in his pants. He wished that he was closer to see better, but the play required him not to be seen. Twenty-Four more hours and the charade would end with a denouement that should crush her spirit.
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Those who have followed this thread know that I have tried to be positive throughout. But even I am being to worry that Eulalia might get whipped before she gets rescued. 
Another piece of bad news for our girl is that tomorrow's post will bring back a nemesis.
Another piece of bad news for our girl is that tomorrow's post will bring back a nemesis.
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Those who have followed this thread know that I have tried to be positive throughout. But even I am being to worry that Eulalia might get whipped before she gets rescued.
While it's either that or an elaborate charade to scare the shit out of me - but always look on the bright side of life
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Wouldn't put that past the Colonel, would we?
cruxlover
Tribune
Of course if it was you, and not some girl who just happens to have your name, you would be scared that you were not about to be whipped.While it's either that or an elaborate charade to scare the shit out of me - but always look on the bright side of life
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
The Nude Nurse and the Master of the Whip.
Part 37 March 31, 1974 - The Fifth Day, Midday, Coronel Rodríguez Office
Coronel Rodríguez was catching up on some paperwork before going to observe Eulalia’s interrogation. Capitán Matías Ayara knocked on the door and entered.
“Yes, Capitán?”
“I’d like to speak to you about the Sanchez couple.”
“Ah, yes, Ramon and Gabriela. You have been the lead interrogator with them. What do you think?”
“Well, Mi Coronel, we have gotten everything from Ramon that he has. After we had him and Gabriela together on La Parrilla, he was desperate to tell everything he knew. He gave us Elena Montoya who will be very useful. In the end he is a low-level dissident who wasn’t very active.”
“and your recommendation?”
“He’s been here nine days; its surprising he’s still alive. I don’t see a need to kill him. I would recommend we transfer him to the State Penitentiary for a 10-year term.”
“Which he may very well not survive.”
“True, but one less death for us to cover up.”
“Yes. I agree, Capitán. Have him transferred today. And Gabriela?”
“Less involved than Ramon. All she knows she learned from him. It was very useful having her here to put pressure on Ramon, but otherwise she is unimportant. She’s been here 5 days and is reaching her limit, mentally as well as physically. I’d just release her.”
“She may be useful in another way. She has a young child to worry about?”
“Yes, a 15-month-old boy. She is very worried about him.”
“If we were to offer to release her and reunite her with her child, would she be willing to help us?”
“She’d sell her soul to the devil for that!”
“Good. Move her to B Wing and cease all abuse. Tell her we may have a way for her to see her son. Take her to the infirmary if necessary. I want her stronger in a couple of days.”
“Si, mi Colonel!”
March 31, 1974 - The Fifth Day, British Airways flight 666 Heathrow to Santiago
Dean Robert Hawkins looked at his boarding Pass. “British Airways.” As of today, BOAC and BEA were merged by Act of Parliament to form British Airways. It would take a while to stop using the familiar old initials.
Service hadn’t changed he thought, stretching out in his leather upholstered first-class seat. The Outreach Program (directed by himself) spared no expense for his quick trip to review “progress” in Chile. Leaving Heathrow at 9:00 PM, he had been served a late supper of Chateaubriand and mashed potatoes with French truffle butter.
A bottomless glass of 1965 Domaine de la Romanée-Conti La Tâche provided lovely class to the meal.
It was one of Robert’s favorites. He and his friends Bob and James have visited the vineyard a couple of years ago on a beautiful autumn day.
The vineyard received its current name, which means "task", when the de Croonembourg family bought it from the Abbey Saint-Vivant in 1631.
After the meal, a lovely young stewardess in a tight-fitting uniform had tucked him in for the night. He’d given her bottom a pinch when she’d poured him his last glass of wine. As she finished tucking him in, he gave her another, firmer pinch, eliciting a cute little squeal, and a polite (if not quite as enthusiastic as he expected) “Thank You, Sir.” He considered for a moment reporting the slut for lack of courtesy, but lost the thought as he drifted off to a well-deserved sleep.
After seven hours of sound sleep, Hawkins awoke to some rich coffee from the same sexy stewardess. His morning pinch on both her cheeks was accepted with better grace than the night before, but she still didn’t really seem to enjoy it. Damn frigid young women these days, he thought.
April 1, 1974 - The Sixth Day, British Airways flight 666 Heathrow to Santiago de Chile
He enjoyed the classic English breakfast served and went out of his way to give the cheeky (he laughed at his own pun) stewardess several more pinches. If she wouldn’t act appreciative, no reason she should be able to sit comfortably for a while. The airline needed to train these girls better. He determined he’d write them a letter on the subject - and complain about her personally - Kathy, he'd remember that.
Touching down at 8:35 AM at the seven-year-old Aeropuerto Internacional de Pudahuel, Dean Hawkins looked out on a beautiful, but chilly, early fall (he had to remember the reversal of season down here) morning. He felt a slight stirring in his loins as his thoughts drifted to the real reason for his “fact-gathering” trip. Observing the interrogation of Miss Eulalia Burns.
A military driver greeted him with a brisk salute at the baggage claim and escorted him to a waiting limousine. Well, he thought, these people know the respect I deserve.
Part 37 March 31, 1974 - The Fifth Day, Midday, Coronel Rodríguez Office
Coronel Rodríguez was catching up on some paperwork before going to observe Eulalia’s interrogation. Capitán Matías Ayara knocked on the door and entered.
“Yes, Capitán?”
“I’d like to speak to you about the Sanchez couple.”
“Ah, yes, Ramon and Gabriela. You have been the lead interrogator with them. What do you think?”
“Well, Mi Coronel, we have gotten everything from Ramon that he has. After we had him and Gabriela together on La Parrilla, he was desperate to tell everything he knew. He gave us Elena Montoya who will be very useful. In the end he is a low-level dissident who wasn’t very active.”
“and your recommendation?”
“He’s been here nine days; its surprising he’s still alive. I don’t see a need to kill him. I would recommend we transfer him to the State Penitentiary for a 10-year term.”
“Which he may very well not survive.”
“True, but one less death for us to cover up.”
“Yes. I agree, Capitán. Have him transferred today. And Gabriela?”
“Less involved than Ramon. All she knows she learned from him. It was very useful having her here to put pressure on Ramon, but otherwise she is unimportant. She’s been here 5 days and is reaching her limit, mentally as well as physically. I’d just release her.”
“She may be useful in another way. She has a young child to worry about?”
“Yes, a 15-month-old boy. She is very worried about him.”
“If we were to offer to release her and reunite her with her child, would she be willing to help us?”
“She’d sell her soul to the devil for that!”
“Good. Move her to B Wing and cease all abuse. Tell her we may have a way for her to see her son. Take her to the infirmary if necessary. I want her stronger in a couple of days.”
“Si, mi Colonel!”
March 31, 1974 - The Fifth Day, British Airways flight 666 Heathrow to Santiago
Dean Robert Hawkins looked at his boarding Pass. “British Airways.” As of today, BOAC and BEA were merged by Act of Parliament to form British Airways. It would take a while to stop using the familiar old initials.
Service hadn’t changed he thought, stretching out in his leather upholstered first-class seat. The Outreach Program (directed by himself) spared no expense for his quick trip to review “progress” in Chile. Leaving Heathrow at 9:00 PM, he had been served a late supper of Chateaubriand and mashed potatoes with French truffle butter.
A bottomless glass of 1965 Domaine de la Romanée-Conti La Tâche provided lovely class to the meal.
It was one of Robert’s favorites. He and his friends Bob and James have visited the vineyard a couple of years ago on a beautiful autumn day.
The vineyard received its current name, which means "task", when the de Croonembourg family bought it from the Abbey Saint-Vivant in 1631.
After the meal, a lovely young stewardess in a tight-fitting uniform had tucked him in for the night. He’d given her bottom a pinch when she’d poured him his last glass of wine. As she finished tucking him in, he gave her another, firmer pinch, eliciting a cute little squeal, and a polite (if not quite as enthusiastic as he expected) “Thank You, Sir.” He considered for a moment reporting the slut for lack of courtesy, but lost the thought as he drifted off to a well-deserved sleep.
After seven hours of sound sleep, Hawkins awoke to some rich coffee from the same sexy stewardess. His morning pinch on both her cheeks was accepted with better grace than the night before, but she still didn’t really seem to enjoy it. Damn frigid young women these days, he thought.
April 1, 1974 - The Sixth Day, British Airways flight 666 Heathrow to Santiago de Chile
He enjoyed the classic English breakfast served and went out of his way to give the cheeky (he laughed at his own pun) stewardess several more pinches. If she wouldn’t act appreciative, no reason she should be able to sit comfortably for a while. The airline needed to train these girls better. He determined he’d write them a letter on the subject - and complain about her personally - Kathy, he'd remember that.
Touching down at 8:35 AM at the seven-year-old Aeropuerto Internacional de Pudahuel, Dean Hawkins looked out on a beautiful, but chilly, early fall (he had to remember the reversal of season down here) morning. He felt a slight stirring in his loins as his thoughts drifted to the real reason for his “fact-gathering” trip. Observing the interrogation of Miss Eulalia Burns.
A military driver greeted him with a brisk salute at the baggage claim and escorted him to a waiting limousine. Well, he thought, these people know the respect I deserve.
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