DarknessMonger
Magistrate
I think what almost broke her was to be at an interrogation center, but to be treated with courtesy and care
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The Nude Nurse and the Master of the Whip.
- Thread starter Praefectus Praetorio
- Start date
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Taking some time writing the next Chapter. It will be a long one - a long night for Eulalia!
cruxlover
Tribune
" The guard attached a chain to her collar and to the ring. It was snug with her standing right at the ring and her heels barely on the floor. 
The men turned to leave. The sergeant said “Sorry, standard overnight position for prisoners,” as the door slammed shut and was locked! "
Matthew Hopkins the Witchfinder General (as he styled himself) was reputed to use a similar method to extract confessions.
Standing in one position for hours, unable to move or even scratch an itch would soon become torture.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Matthew_Hopkins
The men turned to leave. The sergeant said “Sorry, standard overnight position for prisoners,” as the door slammed shut and was locked! "
Matthew Hopkins the Witchfinder General (as he styled himself) was reputed to use a similar method to extract confessions.
Standing in one position for hours, unable to move or even scratch an itch would soon become torture.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Matthew_Hopkins
Jon Smithie
Tribune
Great pic! Illustrates Eulalia's plight rather nicely. I'm a huge fan of stress positions and simple restraints. Leaves few, if any, marks, but relies primarily on the victim's own fear, dread, anxiety, physical discomfort, and all that good stuff to produce results. Matthew Hopkins knew what he was about. Of course he did. Why else would he have been promoted to General? One of my own ancestors of that era, Abaddon Smythie, only made it to Witchfinder Lieutenant." The guard attached a chain to her collar and to the ring. It was snug with her standing right at the ring and her heels barely on the floor.
The men turned to leave. The sergeant said “Sorry, standard overnight position for prisoners,” as the door slammed shut and was locked! "
Matthew Hopkins the Witchfinder General (as he styled himself) was reputed to use a similar method to extract confessions.
Standing in one position for hours, unable to move or even scratch an itch would soon become torture.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Matthew_Hopkins
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Witchfinder Ensign had an interesting job. He would have to pluck out the witch's pubic hair so that the Mark of the Devil could be spotted. All night! One hair yanked out slow or fast! Then another! Very demanding work!
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Her long night begins. First part is reported as the 1974 article continues:
The Nude Nurse and the Master of the Whip.
Número Sexto Sección A March 27, 1974 - The First Day
The men turned to leave. The sergeant said “Sorry, standard overnight position for prisoners” just as the door slammed shut, the lights went out, and the darkness was total!
A sudden, unbearable panic swept into Eulalia’s mind, shattering her complaisance. Nude, handcuffed, hung on the wall, alone in the dark in a military prison cell, the reality of the danger she was in hit her like the kick of a mule. All her mental pep talk and naivete about these people was melting away on a matter of seconds!
The girl’s sudden fear caused her glands to produce an almost instantaneous flood of adrenaline in her blood. All the classic fight or flight response. Her higher reasoning shut totally down, leaving her as only a panicked animal. She had to get free! Like a madwoman, Eul struggled, squirmed, kicked, and twisted. Though naked and cold, her body was immediately covered with a cold sweat. Her arms jerked trying to break the cuffs or pull her wrists free. Flailing around, her motions had little to do with getting free and everything to do with the adrenaline surging through her body.
She leaned hard against the chain to break it. She went up on tiptoes and twisted to somehow free her neck from the horrible collar. The adrenaline caused her pupils to dilate, and the total darkness in her eyes added to her lower brain panic at lack of expected night vision.
As if her hysteria at being bound, naked and helpless wasn’t enough, images of hanging, alone in the dark, crowded her vision!
Eulalia’s wild flailing helped keep her terror elevated, but after several five minutes of useless struggle, her body began to tire. Even as her thoughts still raced, her arms and legs ached with the effort.
Finally, the girl was reduced to standing on tiptoe, her heart still pounding, her breathing coming in hard rapid gasps, her eyes staring wildly out into a dark void.
She felt the collar around her neck like a hangman’s noose. Eulalia did not know that her captors, through long use of this technique, had determined that the true risk is death was tiny. Or that an infrared camera trained on her was monitored continuously.
Ever so slowly, Eulalia came down from the hyper-excited state she experienced after being left, chained up in her cell. Her mind and body simply couldn’t maintain that level of activity forever. Her legs and caves had given way first; she couldn’t stay on tiptoe after about 15 minutes. Slowly she lowered herself to just touch her heels on the floor of the cell. In this position, she had to be rigidly erect with her neck stretched to keep tension off the collar. Even this was not maintainable. Thus, she began a long, slow dance of relaxing a little to ease the cramping muscles in her legs and back and neck, only to have to stretch again in a few minutes to relieve the pressure on her neck and throat of the collar. Little did she know that this was a classic “stress position,” used by torturers to wear down subjects by using their own body and muscles against themselves.
The room was pitch black. The small grimy window provided no light. Eulalia couldn’t remember a time in her life when she had been so totally blind. She had gotten to know the cell pretty well earlier, but now, with no visual stimulation, her mind filled in bizarre alterations. Her total lack of training showed again. This was sensory deprivation. Her body was in pain, but all her senses of hearing and seeing were gone. Another kind of stress with the object of breaking down her will.
She also stopped trying to free her arms. The cuffs were tight and all she managed was to scrape some skin from her wrists. Eul let her arms hang and found that the best position to relieve a little pressure on her neck was to stand directly facing the wall. Her nose, mouth, breasts and hips tight against the rough, cold concrete. Moving up and down an inch in this position was very uncomfortable.
The worst pain was still in her mind. She had calmed down; like her body, her mind had its limits of energy. But her panicked thinking continued. There was no good interpretation of this treatment. While they had been invariably polite and not directly abused her, this was clear and calculated cruelty. “Standard overnight position for prisoners.”!! This was how every prisoner spent their night? How did they sleep? “Sorry,” the Sergeant had said when he left. They were so damned polite! If he was sorry, why did he do this? Why no clothes, why bondage inside a locked secure cell? And why her?? She was innocent! They had treated her so kindly so far. She didn’t deserve this! She couldn’t figure it out.
Of course, Eulalia was not only naive about the prison and interrogation practices of the military, she was tired and not thinking straight – another object of the position. She’d been in custody about 13 hours now, and under stress that entire time. And now, two hours of panicking had exhausted what little was left of her mental strength. No one had bothered to give Eul any training in the mental methods to deal with such treatment. No one had thought she would be a prisoner like this. She didn’t know how calculated these methods were or how they were designed to wear down her spirit and resistance. She just knew she was tired and needed rest.
To be continued to morning
The Nude Nurse and the Master of the Whip.
Número Sexto Sección A March 27, 1974 - The First Day
The men turned to leave. The sergeant said “Sorry, standard overnight position for prisoners” just as the door slammed shut, the lights went out, and the darkness was total!
A sudden, unbearable panic swept into Eulalia’s mind, shattering her complaisance. Nude, handcuffed, hung on the wall, alone in the dark in a military prison cell, the reality of the danger she was in hit her like the kick of a mule. All her mental pep talk and naivete about these people was melting away on a matter of seconds!
The girl’s sudden fear caused her glands to produce an almost instantaneous flood of adrenaline in her blood. All the classic fight or flight response. Her higher reasoning shut totally down, leaving her as only a panicked animal. She had to get free! Like a madwoman, Eul struggled, squirmed, kicked, and twisted. Though naked and cold, her body was immediately covered with a cold sweat. Her arms jerked trying to break the cuffs or pull her wrists free. Flailing around, her motions had little to do with getting free and everything to do with the adrenaline surging through her body.
She leaned hard against the chain to break it. She went up on tiptoes and twisted to somehow free her neck from the horrible collar. The adrenaline caused her pupils to dilate, and the total darkness in her eyes added to her lower brain panic at lack of expected night vision.
As if her hysteria at being bound, naked and helpless wasn’t enough, images of hanging, alone in the dark, crowded her vision!
Eulalia’s wild flailing helped keep her terror elevated, but after several five minutes of useless struggle, her body began to tire. Even as her thoughts still raced, her arms and legs ached with the effort.
Finally, the girl was reduced to standing on tiptoe, her heart still pounding, her breathing coming in hard rapid gasps, her eyes staring wildly out into a dark void.
She felt the collar around her neck like a hangman’s noose. Eulalia did not know that her captors, through long use of this technique, had determined that the true risk is death was tiny. Or that an infrared camera trained on her was monitored continuously.
Ever so slowly, Eulalia came down from the hyper-excited state she experienced after being left, chained up in her cell. Her mind and body simply couldn’t maintain that level of activity forever. Her legs and caves had given way first; she couldn’t stay on tiptoe after about 15 minutes. Slowly she lowered herself to just touch her heels on the floor of the cell. In this position, she had to be rigidly erect with her neck stretched to keep tension off the collar. Even this was not maintainable. Thus, she began a long, slow dance of relaxing a little to ease the cramping muscles in her legs and back and neck, only to have to stretch again in a few minutes to relieve the pressure on her neck and throat of the collar. Little did she know that this was a classic “stress position,” used by torturers to wear down subjects by using their own body and muscles against themselves.
The room was pitch black. The small grimy window provided no light. Eulalia couldn’t remember a time in her life when she had been so totally blind. She had gotten to know the cell pretty well earlier, but now, with no visual stimulation, her mind filled in bizarre alterations. Her total lack of training showed again. This was sensory deprivation. Her body was in pain, but all her senses of hearing and seeing were gone. Another kind of stress with the object of breaking down her will.
She also stopped trying to free her arms. The cuffs were tight and all she managed was to scrape some skin from her wrists. Eul let her arms hang and found that the best position to relieve a little pressure on her neck was to stand directly facing the wall. Her nose, mouth, breasts and hips tight against the rough, cold concrete. Moving up and down an inch in this position was very uncomfortable.
The worst pain was still in her mind. She had calmed down; like her body, her mind had its limits of energy. But her panicked thinking continued. There was no good interpretation of this treatment. While they had been invariably polite and not directly abused her, this was clear and calculated cruelty. “Standard overnight position for prisoners.”!! This was how every prisoner spent their night? How did they sleep? “Sorry,” the Sergeant had said when he left. They were so damned polite! If he was sorry, why did he do this? Why no clothes, why bondage inside a locked secure cell? And why her?? She was innocent! They had treated her so kindly so far. She didn’t deserve this! She couldn’t figure it out.
Of course, Eulalia was not only naive about the prison and interrogation practices of the military, she was tired and not thinking straight – another object of the position. She’d been in custody about 13 hours now, and under stress that entire time. And now, two hours of panicking had exhausted what little was left of her mental strength. No one had bothered to give Eul any training in the mental methods to deal with such treatment. No one had thought she would be a prisoner like this. She didn’t know how calculated these methods were or how they were designed to wear down her spirit and resistance. She just knew she was tired and needed rest.
To be continued to morning
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Thank you!
old slave
FELIS RESPICIENS
I did wonder whether a captive, not as naive as Eulalia, could commit suicide using the collar as a noose------it's so good Eulalia is in the hands of true professionals.
Jon Smithie
Tribune
I found a pic in my collection that I think is apropos:
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Anyone every spend a sleepless night? Eulalia is awake to greet the Second Day of her Captivity:
The Nude Nurse and the Master of the Whip.
Número Sexto Sección B March 28, 1974 - The Second Day
Over the next couple of hours, Eul tried to distract her thoughts to get through the night. At first, she thought of her mother. But that only caused her to cry. So, her mind went to her father. Never Pa, only Father. Her memories of him were limited. He rarely seemed interested in interacting with his daughter, his only child. He was smart. He was brilliant. Everyone said so. The smartest man they ever met. When he was home, he would go to his study and his books. One of Eulalia’s earliest memory is going into the study when her father was reading and pulling down a book to pretend to read with him. He had shouted at her not to damage his precious book and then shooed the crying girl out the door.
Eulalia never seemed able to please her father. When she thought of him, the words she always recalled were, “Oh, Eul!” his expression of frustration and disappointment, especially after her mother’s death. After she went away to school, their communication consisted of her letters saying how hard she was trying and how much she loved him and missed him. His letters never even acknowledged receiving hers. He just wrote instructing her to do better and lamenting this or that shortcoming in her life, academic or otherwise. His letters were typed including, Love, and then signed “Your Father.” In time, Eul stopped believing the valediction.
In the last several years their communication had dropped even further. It had been 25 months, since they had seen each other, Eulalia calculated as she tried to pass the horrid time. “Twenty-five months,” she thought to herself. “If he could see me now.” As soon as the thought appeared, Eulalia was flooded with guilt. The thought of her Father seeing her as a grown woman, nude and in bondage, excited some kind of need deep in her psyche. But it also triggered shame at an unconscionable level. After several minutes of horrible images, Eul finally managed to turn her mind to something else.
As the minutes and hours wore on, Eul more and more frequently dozed off, almost fainting. But within a few minutes of doing so, the abrading of her skin against the wall from slumping down and the tightness on her throat of the collar, brought her back to consciousness. She would panic again as the darkness and the bondage and the pressure on her neck terrified her. It took several minutes for her racing heart and hyperventilating lungs to settle. Her aching muscles made it harder and harder to stand without significant pain. Finally, she would find a slightly less cramping position; she would cry a few tears; then she slowly began to nod off again.
The time passed agonizingly slowly. With no watch or clock or other way to judge time, the next five hours were a slowly simmering cauldron of pain and despair. She went through over a hundred cycles of wake and sleep. The repeated awakening exaggerated the effect of the sleep deprivation.
Eulalia couldn’t tell whether she was asleep or awake when the lights came on and she heard the door unlock and open. The Sergeant and two men came in with a tray of breakfast. The men released her wrists and removed the collar. They gently helped her to sit on the bunk.
“We will give you a little time to eat your breakfast and then you must shower and be clean for your interview with the Colonel.” Saying that, the Sergeant and the two guards stood at ease, in a line across from her and stared at the wall above her.
Eul was incredibly cold. She ate her cold porridge and drank the thin, cold tea as quickly as she could with weak hands and trembling body. She tried to banish thoughts of her mother, but a tear of two fell despite that. When she finished, the tray was taken away and she was taken a short way down the hall to a communal shower. She was the only one there. The Sergeant gave her a bar of coarse soap and waved for her to begin. Eul saw there was only one faucet. The water came out very cold! Growing up in Southwest Scotland, Eulalia was no stranger to cold. But the exhaustion of last night, the long nakedness in the cell and now the ice-cold water chilled her to the bone. She lathered and rinsed as quickly as she could, shivering intensely. When it was over and she had turned off the water, she was colder than she’d ever been in her life.
One of the guards handed her a towel. It was threadbare and closer to a hand than a bath towel. She dried herself as best she could, but was still very damp when they took it away. Walking back to the cell evaporated the moisture on her skin, chilling her further. She tried to tap her nurses’ training to remember the signs of hypothermia.
Back in the cell they handed her the bag of her clothes. As they left, the Sergeant said they’d be back to take her to the Colonel in a few minutes. As she dressed, she saw her shoes were missing. Even with her clothes on, Eulalia was shivering uncontrollably. She was still trembling a minute later when the door opened. The same three came in and cuffed her hands behind her, put a black bag over her head, apologizing as they did so.
They marched her out. They went down corridors, up stairs, down stairs, through doors in a seemingly endless maze. Finally, they stopped and let go of her. She could sense them saluting. There was a long pause and then the Colonel’s calm soft voice. “Remove Miss Burns blindfold, take off her cuffs and get her a chair.”
It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, but then he saw she was in a tastefully furnished office, standing before a maple desk, a few easy chairs at the side, desk and floor lamps and Colonel Rodrigues, politely standing behind the desk. “Please, Miss Burns, have a seat.” And he gestured to a folding chair behind her. Eulalia sat in the metal folding chair offered, facing the desk, still shivering, and rubbing her sore wrists. The Colonel waited until she was in her chair. Then he sat and resumed sipping a cup of tea from a china cup. That steaming, hot tea looked so good!
“Good morning, Miss Burns,” said the Colonel. “You are free to speak. I trust you passed as pleasant a night as possible in our rather spartan military prison?”
The Nude Nurse and the Master of the Whip.
Número Sexto Sección B March 28, 1974 - The Second Day
Over the next couple of hours, Eul tried to distract her thoughts to get through the night. At first, she thought of her mother. But that only caused her to cry. So, her mind went to her father. Never Pa, only Father. Her memories of him were limited. He rarely seemed interested in interacting with his daughter, his only child. He was smart. He was brilliant. Everyone said so. The smartest man they ever met. When he was home, he would go to his study and his books. One of Eulalia’s earliest memory is going into the study when her father was reading and pulling down a book to pretend to read with him. He had shouted at her not to damage his precious book and then shooed the crying girl out the door.
Eulalia never seemed able to please her father. When she thought of him, the words she always recalled were, “Oh, Eul!” his expression of frustration and disappointment, especially after her mother’s death. After she went away to school, their communication consisted of her letters saying how hard she was trying and how much she loved him and missed him. His letters never even acknowledged receiving hers. He just wrote instructing her to do better and lamenting this or that shortcoming in her life, academic or otherwise. His letters were typed including, Love, and then signed “Your Father.” In time, Eul stopped believing the valediction.
In the last several years their communication had dropped even further. It had been 25 months, since they had seen each other, Eulalia calculated as she tried to pass the horrid time. “Twenty-five months,” she thought to herself. “If he could see me now.” As soon as the thought appeared, Eulalia was flooded with guilt. The thought of her Father seeing her as a grown woman, nude and in bondage, excited some kind of need deep in her psyche. But it also triggered shame at an unconscionable level. After several minutes of horrible images, Eul finally managed to turn her mind to something else.
As the minutes and hours wore on, Eul more and more frequently dozed off, almost fainting. But within a few minutes of doing so, the abrading of her skin against the wall from slumping down and the tightness on her throat of the collar, brought her back to consciousness. She would panic again as the darkness and the bondage and the pressure on her neck terrified her. It took several minutes for her racing heart and hyperventilating lungs to settle. Her aching muscles made it harder and harder to stand without significant pain. Finally, she would find a slightly less cramping position; she would cry a few tears; then she slowly began to nod off again.
The time passed agonizingly slowly. With no watch or clock or other way to judge time, the next five hours were a slowly simmering cauldron of pain and despair. She went through over a hundred cycles of wake and sleep. The repeated awakening exaggerated the effect of the sleep deprivation.
Eulalia couldn’t tell whether she was asleep or awake when the lights came on and she heard the door unlock and open. The Sergeant and two men came in with a tray of breakfast. The men released her wrists and removed the collar. They gently helped her to sit on the bunk.
“We will give you a little time to eat your breakfast and then you must shower and be clean for your interview with the Colonel.” Saying that, the Sergeant and the two guards stood at ease, in a line across from her and stared at the wall above her.
Eul was incredibly cold. She ate her cold porridge and drank the thin, cold tea as quickly as she could with weak hands and trembling body. She tried to banish thoughts of her mother, but a tear of two fell despite that. When she finished, the tray was taken away and she was taken a short way down the hall to a communal shower. She was the only one there. The Sergeant gave her a bar of coarse soap and waved for her to begin. Eul saw there was only one faucet. The water came out very cold! Growing up in Southwest Scotland, Eulalia was no stranger to cold. But the exhaustion of last night, the long nakedness in the cell and now the ice-cold water chilled her to the bone. She lathered and rinsed as quickly as she could, shivering intensely. When it was over and she had turned off the water, she was colder than she’d ever been in her life.
One of the guards handed her a towel. It was threadbare and closer to a hand than a bath towel. She dried herself as best she could, but was still very damp when they took it away. Walking back to the cell evaporated the moisture on her skin, chilling her further. She tried to tap her nurses’ training to remember the signs of hypothermia.
Back in the cell they handed her the bag of her clothes. As they left, the Sergeant said they’d be back to take her to the Colonel in a few minutes. As she dressed, she saw her shoes were missing. Even with her clothes on, Eulalia was shivering uncontrollably. She was still trembling a minute later when the door opened. The same three came in and cuffed her hands behind her, put a black bag over her head, apologizing as they did so.
They marched her out. They went down corridors, up stairs, down stairs, through doors in a seemingly endless maze. Finally, they stopped and let go of her. She could sense them saluting. There was a long pause and then the Colonel’s calm soft voice. “Remove Miss Burns blindfold, take off her cuffs and get her a chair.”
It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, but then he saw she was in a tastefully furnished office, standing before a maple desk, a few easy chairs at the side, desk and floor lamps and Colonel Rodrigues, politely standing behind the desk. “Please, Miss Burns, have a seat.” And he gestured to a folding chair behind her. Eulalia sat in the metal folding chair offered, facing the desk, still shivering, and rubbing her sore wrists. The Colonel waited until she was in her chair. Then he sat and resumed sipping a cup of tea from a china cup. That steaming, hot tea looked so good!
“Good morning, Miss Burns,” said the Colonel. “You are free to speak. I trust you passed as pleasant a night as possible in our rather spartan military prison?”
old slave
FELIS RESPICIENS
Dark and light. Soft and hard. Clothed and naked. Doubt and fear. Total confusion.
Give her a cup of tea, Colonel Rodrigues.
She'll be ever so grateful........
Dark and light. Soft and hard. Clothed and naked. Doubt and fear. Totalconfusion.
Give her a cup of tea, Colonel Rodrigues.
She'll be ever so grateful........
Possibly a biscuit or two, would be nice as well?
Jon Smithie
Tribune
Some buttered grits and squirrel gravy? Show her some old fashioned Southern hospitality. I'm sure PrPr knows all about that!
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Well, Eulalia, would you like a hot cuppa and a sweet biscuit?
past any 'like' or even 'want' - on the verge of hypothermia I'm hardly able to think ...
very powerful writing PrPr, you're certainly putting me through it - in unexpected ways,
I don't think we've had techniques of this kind described here before, certainly not so vividly.
very powerful writing PrPr, you're certainly putting me through it - in unexpected ways,
I don't think we've had techniques of this kind described here before, certainly not so vividly.
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Our Colonel Rodrigues has special plans for Eul. More will be revealed in the next Chapter. But it would be impolite to give it in advance.
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
And we don't meet the Master of the Whip until the Chapter after that!
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
But I can promise the gentle, polite treatment won't last forever!