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Not Torture

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Chuckbruder

Assistant executioner
Not Torture

The terrorists had captured Rachel, a young Israeli military intelligence officer. They took her to a hidden destination, a warehouse, for questioning.

Rachel Loefler was 24, an attractive brunette with long black hair in a ponytail. She was tall and slender with an athletic tight bottom and rather small breasts. She resembled a younger Sarah Silverman.

She was wearing fatigue pants and a military green tee shirt. Her face showed defiance, not fear, as they led her over to a sturdy tripod, made of heavy wood beams, and with a padded waist-high bolster. She was moved up and against it. The men tied her wrists up high to the peak of the tripod. They pulled her slacks down over her boots and off, and put them on a desk nearby. Her ankles were then affixed to the lower legs. She still had on her tee shirt and bra, which they left in place. Her white cotton bikini panties fit her cute bottom, outlining her lovely buttocks. She looked like a school girl about to be punished.

The leader of the men, Raheem, was a big tall man with a full black beard. He came over and scolded her. He said, “We may have a few questions for you. You will answer them promptly and accurately, or….” He held up a heavy riding crop. He then pulled down her panties to her knees and tucked the tail of the tee shirt under her bra strap. “You will feel this across your backside.”

Rachel snorted, “You can’t torture me. It is forbidden by the Geneva Convention.”

He laughed and replied, “We are not going to torture you. This will be punishment for the harm you have done. I am going to punish you by lashing your bottom with this crop and that.” He pointed to a heavy leather prison strap with wood handle, hanging on the wall.

“You will suffer for your wrongdoing, lieutenant. And will we continue for quite some time. But when we feel you have suffered enough, we will release you.”

Rachel just stared at him with hate. In spite of herself her pussy began to tingle, puff up, and ooze. She had gone to a strict private school in her early teens, where she had received severe corporal punishment spankings by a sadist headmaster. The experience of those punishments had created a powerful erotic imprint on her psyche, an enduring one.

At the moment, she did not equate his threat of what he was about to do to her experience at school and her fetish. This was different. She vowed to resist and tell him nothing, no matter how painful it would become. She would try not to cry out. She would try not to give him any satisfaction that he was hurting her.

As she waited, and in spite of her resolve, the painful memory of her school spankings in the specially equipped punishment room came back to her—hard paddle swats on her tender young buttocks, while she was bound firmly to a trestle and with her skirt gathered up and underpants down. And then there was the realization at the time that the headmaster enjoyed beating her, when she saw the tall erect bulge in his trousers. She hated him to this day for what he was and what he did to her. She resented him for the guilt she felt over her spanking fetish.

Raheem was a dedicated fighter, but he also enjoyed acting out his spanking fetish on Jewish women and teens, when the opportunity to do so came. He came up close to her and put his hand on her buttock. He squeezed it firmly and said, “Oh yes. You have been such a bad girl.”

He told the other men in the room to leave. The door was latched shut. He rolled up his right sleeve high, revealing a powerful muscular arm. He positioned himself to Rachel’s left and raised the crop up and back.
 
Not Torture

The terrorists had captured Rachel, a young Israeli military intelligence officer. They took her to a hidden destination, a warehouse, for questioning.

Rachel Loefler was 24, an attractive brunette with long black hair in a ponytail. She was tall and slender with an athletic tight bottom and rather small breasts. She resembled a younger Sarah Silverman.

She was wearing fatigue pants and a military green tee shirt. Her face showed defiance, not fear, as they led her over to a sturdy tripod, made of heavy wood beams, and with a padded waist-high bolster. She was moved up and against it. The men tied her wrists up high to the peak of the tripod. They pulled her slacks down over her boots and off, and put them on a desk nearby. Her ankles were then affixed to the lower legs. She still had on her tee shirt and bra, which they left in place. Her white cotton bikini panties fit her cute bottom, outlining her lovely buttocks. She looked like a school girl about to be punished.

The leader of the men, Raheem, was a big tall man with a full black beard. He came over and scolded her. He said, “We may have a few questions for you. You will answer them promptly and accurately, or….” He held up a heavy riding crop. He then pulled down her panties to her knees and tucked the tail of the tee shirt under her bra strap. “You will feel this across your backside.”

Rachel snorted, “You can’t torture me. It is forbidden by the Geneva Convention.”

He laughed and replied, “We are not going to torture you. This will be punishment for the harm you have done. I am going to punish you by lashing your bottom with this crop and that.” He pointed to a heavy leather prison strap with wood handle, hanging on the wall.

“You will suffer for your wrongdoing, lieutenant. And will we continue for quite some time. But when we feel you have suffered enough, we will release you.”

Rachel just stared at him with hate. In spite of herself her pussy began to tingle, puff up, and ooze. She had gone to a strict private school in her early teens, where she had received severe corporal punishment spankings by a sadist headmaster. The experience of those punishments had created a powerful erotic imprint on her psyche, an enduring one.

At the moment, she did not equate his threat of what he was about to do to her experience at school and her fetish. This was different. She vowed to resist and tell him nothing, no matter how painful it would become. She would try not to cry out. She would try not to give him any satisfaction that he was hurting her.

As she waited, and in spite of her resolve, the painful memory of her school spankings in the specially equipped punishment room came back to her—hard paddle swats on her tender young buttocks, while she was bound firmly to a trestle and with her skirt gathered up and underpants down. And then there was the realization at the time that the headmaster enjoyed beating her, when she saw the tall erect bulge in his trousers. She hated him to this day for what he was and what he did to her. She resented him for the guilt she felt over her spanking fetish.

Raheem was a dedicated fighter, but he also enjoyed acting out his spanking fetish on Jewish women and teens, when the opportunity to do so came. He came up close to her and put his hand on her buttock. He squeezed it firmly and said, “Oh yes. You have been such a bad girl.”

He told the other men in the room to leave. The door was latched shut. He rolled up his right sleeve high, revealing a powerful muscular arm. He positioned himself to Rachel’s left and raised the crop up and back.
Great start @Chuckbruder ! :clapclap:
 
Not Torture

The terrorists had captured Rachel, a young Israeli military intelligence officer. They took her to a hidden destination, a warehouse, for questioning.

Rachel Loefler was 24, an attractive brunette with long black hair in a ponytail. She was tall and slender with an athletic tight bottom and rather small breasts. She resembled a younger Sarah Silverman.

She was wearing fatigue pants and a military green tee shirt. Her face showed defiance, not fear, as they led her over to a sturdy tripod, made of heavy wood beams, and with a padded waist-high bolster. She was moved up and against it. The men tied her wrists up high to the peak of the tripod. They pulled her slacks down over her boots and off, and put them on a desk nearby. Her ankles were then affixed to the lower legs. She still had on her tee shirt and bra, which they left in place. Her white cotton bikini panties fit her cute bottom, outlining her lovely buttocks. She looked like a school girl about to be punished.

The leader of the men, Raheem, was a big tall man with a full black beard. He came over and scolded her. He said, “We may have a few questions for you. You will answer them promptly and accurately, or….” He held up a heavy riding crop. He then pulled down her panties to her knees and tucked the tail of the tee shirt under her bra strap. “You will feel this across your backside.”

Rachel snorted, “You can’t torture me. It is forbidden by the Geneva Convention.”

He laughed and replied, “We are not going to torture you. This will be punishment for the harm you have done. I am going to punish you by lashing your bottom with this crop and that.” He pointed to a heavy leather prison strap with wood handle, hanging on the wall.

“You will suffer for your wrongdoing, lieutenant. And will we continue for quite some time. But when we feel you have suffered enough, we will release you.”

Rachel just stared at him with hate. In spite of herself her pussy began to tingle, puff up, and ooze. She had gone to a strict private school in her early teens, where she had received severe corporal punishment spankings by a sadist headmaster. The experience of those punishments had created a powerful erotic imprint on her psyche, an enduring one.

At the moment, she did not equate his threat of what he was about to do to her experience at school and her fetish. This was different. She vowed to resist and tell him nothing, no matter how painful it would become. She would try not to cry out. She would try not to give him any satisfaction that he was hurting her.

As she waited, and in spite of her resolve, the painful memory of her school spankings in the specially equipped punishment room came back to her—hard paddle swats on her tender young buttocks, while she was bound firmly to a trestle and with her skirt gathered up and underpants down. And then there was the realization at the time that the headmaster enjoyed beating her, when she saw the tall erect bulge in his trousers. She hated him to this day for what he was and what he did to her. She resented him for the guilt she felt over her spanking fetish.

Raheem was a dedicated fighter, but he also enjoyed acting out his spanking fetish on Jewish women and teens, when the opportunity to do so came. He came up close to her and put his hand on her buttock. He squeezed it firmly and said, “Oh yes. You have been such a bad girl.”

He told the other men in the room to leave. The door was latched shut. He rolled up his right sleeve high, revealing a powerful muscular arm. He positioned himself to Rachel’s left and raised the crop up and back.
Looking forward to further parts.
 
Not Torture - part 2

Raheem was fascinated by the beauty he had bound to the tripod. How lovely she was. He was turned on by the fact that he would be beating her bottom--long and hard—with a thick heavy riding crop. And how sexy it was going to be to watch her reactions during her harsh “spanking” ordeal.

He knew how to make a woman suffer, as the local Imam had used him for a decade to do the same for women, who had violated Sharia Law. Convictions for adultery, blaspheme, drug or alcohol use, prostitution, or other violations would be handled differently than elsewhere in the Sharia World with respect to corporal punishment of women and older teens. Sessions would be in private, not public. Only the bare buttocks would be flogged, not the back. The sentence could entail up to 500 swats or lashes. Only a thick riding crop would be used, so as not to cut the skin with a cane.

As Raheem started his career doing this in his late teens, the task had molded his sexuality in creating a “spanking fetish.” As indicated, he had many opportunities to act out his fetish. Rachel was now in his power and would be yet another victim of his lust for spanking females. He started with the first lash, then another, and on and on, swatting that lovely bottom.

As he beat her buttocks with even, parallel strokes of the thick crop, he watched as her creamy rear checks welted, red then purple. Hard no mercy punishment for this woman. He watched as she clinched her bottom--as if that would lessen the pain. He watched as she pushed herself against the bolster. It seemed that her pussy may have been flush against it.

Rachel gritted her teeth, tried to blank her mind and senses to the onslaught of blows that never seemed to end. And in spite of the context for her ordeal, she could not stop the fact that her pussy was turned on. That bastard, she thought. Her bottom hurt so bad, but her pussy was puffy, her labia parted, and her clitoris swollen.

Her buttocks had turned a deep purple color—well punished. Raheem noticed the thick fluid stream, dropping from her vulva. He smiled. He knew what was going on in her mind. He liked seeing her face distort with the pain. The agony she was feeling was palpable. Her lips were drawn back and mouth open. It was “not torture” but close to it. She deserved to suffer.

Rachel resisted crying out. But did moan now and then. The pain seemed to become intense to the point that she started to whimper, but she would not beg. In time the whimper became a wail. Her eyes filled with tears. She looked around at him, as if to ask for mercy. But he showed none.

When he stopped, he had the men return. She was taken from the tripod to a room with a cot. Ice packs were applied to her bottom. When the men left, she reached down and began to diddle herself. As she started to cum, she wept. What had this man done?
 
Not Torture - part 2

Raheem was fascinated by the beauty he had bound to the tripod. How lovely she was. He was turned on by the fact that he would be beating her bottom--long and hard—with a thick heavy riding crop. And how sexy it was going to be to watch her reactions during her harsh “spanking” ordeal.

He knew how to make a woman suffer, as the local Imam had used him for a decade to do the same for women, who had violated Sharia Law. Convictions for adultery, blaspheme, drug or alcohol use, prostitution, or other violations would be handled differently than elsewhere in the Sharia World with respect to corporal punishment of women and older teens. Sessions would be in private, not public. Only the bare buttocks would be flogged, not the back. The sentence could entail up to 500 swats or lashes. Only a thick riding crop would be used, so as not to cut the skin with a cane.

As Raheem started his career doing this in his late teens, the task had molded his sexuality in creating a “spanking fetish.” As indicated, he had many opportunities to act out his fetish. Rachel was now in his power and would be yet another victim of his lust for spanking females. He started with the first lash, then another, and on and on, swatting that lovely bottom.

As he beat her buttocks with even, parallel strokes of the thick crop, he watched as her creamy rear checks welted, red then purple. Hard no mercy punishment for this woman. He watched as she clinched her bottom--as if that would lessen the pain. He watched as she pushed herself against the bolster. It seemed that her pussy may have been flush against it.

Rachel gritted her teeth, tried to blank her mind and senses to the onslaught of blows that never seemed to end. And in spite of the context for her ordeal, she could not stop the fact that her pussy was turned on. That bastard, she thought. Her bottom hurt so bad, but her pussy was puffy, her labia parted, and her clitoris swollen.

Her buttocks had turned a deep purple color—well punished. Raheem noticed the thick fluid stream, dropping from her vulva. He smiled. He knew what was going on in her mind. He liked seeing her face distort with the pain. The agony she was feeling was palpable. Her lips were drawn back and mouth open. It was “not torture” but close to it. She deserved to suffer.

Rachel resisted crying out. But did moan now and then. The pain seemed to become intense to the point that she started to whimper, but she would not beg. In time the whimper became a wail. Her eyes filled with tears. She looked around at him, as if to ask for mercy. But he showed none.

When he stopped, he had the men return. She was taken from the tripod to a room with a cot. Ice packs were applied to her bottom. When the men left, she reached down and began to diddle herself. As she started to cum, she wept. What had this man done?
What a career Raheem has!
 
Not torture - part 3

As to Rachel’s release from Raheem’s custody, she was taken that night while still blindfolded to the neighborhood where she lived. The men ordered her not to make a sound, then let her out. They cut the zip tie on her wrists, and then roared off down the street.

Rachel managed to limp up the stairway to her apartment. Her bottom was so very sore. She rubbed it all the way up. Inside she stood in front of a full-length mirror and lowered her fatigue pants and panties to survey her badly damaged buttocks. Her bottom was welted, swollen and terribly bruised. She wondered how long it would be until she could sit down again. She took some pain pills and went to bed.

Next morning, Rachel called her military unit and requested to be on sick leave for a few days. She needed to recover from her ordeal with Raheem, but gave them a different reason. Next, she called Dr. Sarah Cohen, her psychological counselor, to make an appointment. She needed to talk about what had happened.

Rachel had been in counseling for several years—for among other things having an obsessive preoccupation with spanking pornography. While having this fixation, she had never shared her interest in spanking with any of her boyfriends or colleagues. She had never asked her lovers to spank her, although she would fantasize about spanking during sex. She had never gone to a spanking party, or communicated with like-minded people on social media. She had kept her fetish to herself.

In her spare time Rachel had spent hours looking and downloading pictures, videos and stories of women and older female teens being spanked. She especially liked material where authority figures punished their victims very harshly—to include judicial, school, religious, and other scenarios. She liked it when the woman was bound or tied to a bench, post, stool, or other furniture for the spanking. She was “not into torture” otherwise. She would masturbate while viewing the material. She was often plagued by guilty afterwards, even knowing from what Dr. Cohen said that she would never be able to change her psycho-sexual obsession.

Rachel had never desired being punished, as shown in the material she liked, until now. Being spanked by Raheem seemed to have altered her fetish now to having a desire to be spanked by someone. In spite of the pain, she was turned on sexually in a way that was highly exhilarating. Her orgasm right after being beaten was one of the most powerful she had ever had. The whole thing was very troubling in several ways. Maybe the doctor could help her understand the change and how to manage that?

At the appointment, she started first by telling Dr. Cohen the details of why and how she was captured. Her intelligence work had entailed investigating a terror cell associated with the Iman from that region. She had learned about Raheem, who had been a terrorist for years, but then learned that he was not engaged in terror work anymore. She filed that report with her superiors, but on her own time she continued to look more closely at what Raheem had been doing.

Rachel learned of Raheem’s role as “he who administered corporal punishment to women” who had violated Sharia Law. Details on how he punished the women fascinated her. She needed to learn more. Among other things, she wanted to install a hidden camera to watch him at work.

But like they say, “curiosity killed the cat.” She got caught trying to break into Raheem’s office by friends, who were still in the terror business. They turned her over to him.

The doctor found the discussion of Rachel’s experience of being spanked so brutally and how it was impacting her psyche a fascinating one. What more would Rachel have to say? What would the doctor ask her? And what feedback could she offer in response? And what would Rachel do with that knowledge?
 
Not Torture - Part 4

So … what came out of Rachel’s counseling session?

After considerable discussion about what Rachel felt and needed, Dr. Cohen suggested that it might be healthy for her to find a willing partner, who would be able to satisfy her growing desire to be spanked. Rachel agreed totally. But then said, “I want to arrange a meeting with Raheem.”

The doctor was shocked and advised her, “that would be dangerous. He has killed Jews before, if I am not mistaken. Do you want to be spanked by him like before?”

Rachel nodded and said, “Perhaps…. I am willing to believe that he will agree to discipline me. I am fascinated with him. I feel like I need to be punished by him. He is a hunk, and he spanks hard. I think I have a plan that might work. Maybe it will work. Worth a try.”

After further discussion, Dr. Cohen wrote a note for Rachel.

It read: “I am Ms. Loefler’s psychologist. I am recommending that she requires significant behavior modification therapy treatments. You come highly recommended, as you follow the dictates of Sharia Law. She has an addiction to pornography that warrants rigorous corporal punishment sessions—specifically, hard spanking of her posterior. She will discuss her situation with you, but, if you agree to help her with her problem, you should decide how best to administer any therapy.”

It had been two weeks since Rachel had been punished by Raheem, and her bottom showed only slight evidence of the beating it had received. She was keen to see him and emailed the Iman’s Mosque with a request to meet with Raheem. He replied personally, asking why she needed to see him. She replied that her “shrink” had written a prescription suggesting that she be counseled by him about her “severe and just punishment.” That she bore no resentment, because she had wrongly been spying on him. Would he meet with her at his office?

Raheem was intrigued. He had found the Jewess very attractive. He had enjoyed punishing her, like he did. He had pleasured himself several times subsequently, while recalling details of the event. Yes, he would meet with her.

Two days later, Rachel appeared at the office entrance. She wore a scarf over her head and cape and blue jeans. She was escorted to Raheem’s office. He greeted her, not without some suspicion and the question in his mind about what was she up to?

She started by repeating that she truly deserved the punishment that he had administered. That she was sorry for having spied on him in her personal capacity. That her psychologist had been told about the occurrence, which gave her the idea that what he did at the mosque, in administering corporal punishment to women, might be the basis for addressing Rachel’s addiction to pornography.

Raheem read the note from the doctor then looked over at lovely Rachel. He pondered how to respond. He eventually said, “This region is under Sharia Law. Jewish women who live here are subject to it too. I have punished many sinful Jewish women for violations of our law. Addiction to pornography is prohibited under our law. While you are here, I can rightfully punish you for that crime. That a doctor has recommended that I take a different role here, as a therapist, which is not far afield from my main role. Let me ask you: you know what punishment by me is like, how is it that you are willing to come here to me in order to submit to more of the same?”

Rachel blushed as she replied, “I feel tremendous guilt. I feel that I must be punished severely to help me deal with the guilt and lessen my dependence on porn.”

Raheem pondered further, then said. “I am familiar with behavior modification, as therapy. I was a psychology major in college. I think I might enjoy taking you on to help you with your problem. Any therapy would have to take place at my home in the security zone. The treatment sessions would be intense. You will likely need to stay there until the next day in order to recover. Is that clear?”

Rachel nodded, “You must be very strict with me, Raheem. You must punish me for my sin.”
 
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Not Torture - Part 5

Raheem told Rachel that he would now take her to the building where the Sharia punishments of women were conducted. That her therapy would take place there, rather than at his house. He would then take her to his home where she could recover in a guest room.

Rachel thought he’d take her to the warehouse, where she was beaten before. Instead, they came to a prison building with high walls and razor wire at the top. The gate opened, and they drove into a courtyard. Upon entering the building past two guards, he escorted her to a stairwell that went down into the basement. And then down a long dark hallway.

Raheem unlocked the heavy wooden door at the end of the hall and pushed Rachel inside. He turned on the lights and relocked the door.

Rachel gasped when she saw what looked like a torture chamber. The room contained several heavy pieces of furniture with straps for binding the women, who were to be punished—a bench with hump in the middle, a trestle, a whipping post, and a tripod. Along the wall were several dozen spanking punishment implements on hooks—paddles with holes, thick heavy straps, crops, cat-o-nine tails, and canes.

Rachel felt fear, but also was turned on. Her pussy became aroused. It felt so full and sexy. “What was she doing here?” She wondered.

“Put your pack over there,” Raheem pointed to a bench. “We will talk about what is going to happen and why first. Take off your scarf, cape, blouse and jeans. Leave your bra and panties on.”

Rachel obeyed. She was down to her red bikini panties and bra.

He continued, “Now come over to this trestle. You will be bound over it for a severe spanking. I will be lecturing and scolding you for your sinful enjoyment of pornography. I will ask you questions and expect honest answers during your punishment. The pain you will feel will be intense. You may cry out, as you like. If you ask or beg me to stop, I will ignore that. Your therapy has no room for mercy.”

“Oh no,” she replied and then tried to run to the door. He was faster and stepped in front of her. He had her two wrists firmly in hand. She struggled to get free, but to no avail. He was so strong. She had to surrender.

Raheem said, “Your sin requires severe punishment, Rachel. Now move over to the trestle and let’s get started.”

Rachel stopped resisting and did as he ordered. He bent her over and secured the heavy middle strap up over her back, then her wrists to the front leg straps, and lastly her knees by straps to the outside of the rear legs.

Raheem selected a heavy thick paddle from the wall and came over to her. He lowered her panties. He squeezed each buttock in turn and said, “Rachel, do you acknowledge that surfing for porn and downloading it is a sin?”

She hesitated the blurted out, “Yes. Yes, sir.” Her face felt flushed, as well as her pussy.

“Do you masturbate and climax to the material you find?”

“Yes.”

“What is the nature of the material?”

She didn’t answer.

Raheem took the paddle and swatted her bottom. She cried out. It hurt so.

“Again, what is the nature of the material?”

“Oh, sir. I am so embarrassed. Must I tell you?”

He swatted her bottom again, hard. She cried out again.

The pain was like she had experienced in the headmaster’s punishment room. The memory came back to her, loud and clear. How she had suffered—four dozen hard swats with a paddle.

Raheem swatted her bottom again. “Answer me.”

He liked her butt and the redness that had appeared. He liked that he could see her pussy and anus. What a lovely woman she was. He would spank that bottom hard and long. He would watch her clinch her bottom, as many of the ladies he disciplined would do. He would hear her cry out, moan and sob. He would see her face distort in pain with each swat.

He swatted her again. “Talk.”

She finally answered, “Okay. Okay. I will confess… I read stories, download and watch pictures and videos that show women and teens being punished … spanked hard. Okay?”

Raheem was taken aback. “You got to be kidding me…. You are saying that you have a spanking porn fetish?.... Oh my God…. What do I do about that?”

“Sir… I told my counselor about you. About my punishment. I had never been spanked like that, except for school ten years ago. You were so cruel to me, and I hated you for it. But …. I enjoyed the pain. I enjoyed how you spanked me. It was better than any porn I had seen. I masturbated in the recovery room. It was wonderful. Really wonderful. The pain was really delicious and so were my orgasms.”

Raheem pulled a chair around to face Rachel and sat. “I am at a loss. Punishing you will reinforce your fetish, not lessen it.”

“But Raheem, instead of looking at porn, I will now enjoy being punished, maybe, maybe, it can be as part of having sex. You know, getting spanked hard, as foreplay. Is that a sin?”

“I don’t know.”

She then said, “Maybe, just maybe, it would help if you played with me, down there, while you spank me. Having an orgasm would help imprint that experience for me.”

Raheem paused to think further on the matter, then said, “I have a confession too…. I enjoy punishing women. I like being able to beat a woman’s bare buttocks. I always end up masturbating afterwards.”

“Okay. Okay. Play with me. Make me cum. And …. If you want to fuck me while I am bound here, …. you can. But first you have to spank me hard while you do that.”

So it was that Raheem paddled Rachel’s bottom until it was bruised purple and she was crying like a little girl. He also stopped long enough to massage her pussy from behind. He knew exactly what to do. She climaxed several times. Then spanked her some more, but then stopped. Her bottom was very damaged.

“I think that is enough for today, Rachel. I think we made some progress.”

She asked, “You made me cum. What about you? Do you need to cum?”

“Okay, yes. Fact is that I am very erect and horny. You still okay, if I entered you from behind?... Otherwise, I will just masturbate. Like I said, spanking women is a turn on for me that must be satisfied.”

She looked back at him into his eyes and said, “I would love to have you enter me, to put your penis inside me. Fuck me hard. Cum inside me.”

----------

What would be next for them or her? You figure that out.

See the picture of her after Raheem. She ran afoul of the law in her home village. They had learned of her involvement with an Arab. She would be punished for that. Not once, but twice. And then, she cut her hair and went back to Raheem.

END
 

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Not Torture - part 2

Raheem was fascinated by the beauty he had bound to the tripod. How lovely she was. He was turned on by the fact that he would be beating her bottom--long and hard—with a thick heavy riding crop. And how sexy it was going to be to watch her reactions during her harsh “spanking” ordeal.

He knew how to make a woman suffer, as the local Imam had used him for a decade to do the same for women, who had violated Sharia Law. Convictions for adultery, blaspheme, drug or alcohol use, prostitution, or other violations would be handled differently than elsewhere in the Sharia World with respect to corporal punishment of women and older teens. Sessions would be in private, not public. Only the bare buttocks would be flogged, not the back. The sentence could entail up to 500 swats or lashes. Only a thick riding crop would be used, so as not to cut the skin with a cane.

As Raheem started his career doing this in his late teens, the task had molded his sexuality in creating a “spanking fetish.” As indicated, he had many opportunities to act out his fetish. Rachel was now in his power and would be yet another victim of his lust for spanking females. He started with the first lash, then another, and on and on, swatting that lovely bottom.

As he beat her buttocks with even, parallel strokes of the thick crop, he watched as her creamy rear checks welted, red then purple. Hard no mercy punishment for this woman. He watched as she clinched her bottom--as if that would lessen the pain. He watched as she pushed herself against the bolster. It seemed that her pussy may have been flush against it.

Rachel gritted her teeth, tried to blank her mind and senses to the onslaught of blows that never seemed to end. And in spite of the context for her ordeal, she could not stop the fact that her pussy was turned on. That bastard, she thought. Her bottom hurt so bad, but her pussy was puffy, her labia parted, and her clitoris swollen.

Her buttocks had turned a deep purple color—well punished. Raheem noticed the thick fluid stream, dropping from her vulva. He smiled. He knew what was going on in her mind. He liked seeing her face distort with the pain. The agony she was feeling was palpable. Her lips were drawn back and mouth open. It was “not torture” but close to it. She deserved to suffer.

Rachel resisted crying out. But did moan now and then. The pain seemed to become intense to the point that she started to whimper, but she would not beg. In time the whimper became a wail. Her eyes filled with tears. She looked around at him, as if to ask for mercy. But he showed none.

When he stopped, he had the men return. She was taken from the tripod to a room with a cot. Ice packs were applied to her bottom. When the men left, she reached down and began to diddle herself. As she started to cum, she wept. What had this man done?
Wild story

Jewish girl gets tortured by muslims
 
Rachel snorted, “You can’t torture me. It is forbidden by the Geneva Convention.”

I'm honestly not trying to put this story down, I actually rather enjoy it. I do have to make one tiny comment though:

As an Israeli who served for three years in the military, I can promise you that the reaction of an Islamist terrorist being told that line would be raucous laughter. In fact, everyone in the room would split their sides from laughing so hard. Rachel's best bet would be to tell him that in the hope that everyone would literally laugh themselves sick and die on the spot.
 
I'm honestly not trying to put this story down, I actually rather enjoy it. I do have to make one tiny comment though:

As an Israeli who served for three years in the military, I can promise you that the reaction of an Islamist terrorist being told that line would be raucous laughter. In fact, everyone in the room would split their sides from laughing so hard. Rachel's best bet would be to tell him that in the hope that everyone would literally laugh themselves sick and die on the spot.
Great point. Thanks. The notion of a lovely Israeli woman being spanked like that is very sexy to me.
 
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