WARNING:  The following is a story of crime and horror.  It is
nonconsensual, and as such has nothing in common with BDSM
practice.  It involves abduction and torture, and unless you wish
to read of such things, read no further.


They dragged the gagged and blindfolded young woman into the vacant
factory, taking her deep enough into the unused structure that no screams
would reach the outside, not that in this desolate stretch of closed
factories and empty warehouses there was anyone to hear any screams, or who
would care if they did.  They reached a small room, and entered, looking
the door behind them.  They ripped her lacy white blouse open and pulled it
off her, so that it's remnants hung from her handcuffed wrists.

"Take your skirt off", one of them ordered her, shoving her as he spoke so
she could not pretend to doubt that the command was for her.  She shook her
head "no" while some indistinct sound came through the gag, then a knife
sliced a shallow notch in the top of her right ear, and she shrieked into
the gag.  The command was repeated, and this time her slender fingers
reached down and found the zipper to her short black skirt and pulled it
down, then shoved the skirt down her slim hips.  It didn't slip very far,
but other hands seized it and pulled it down, then prodded her forwards.
She took a few uncertain steps before she was stopped and spun around.  Her
bra straps were cut and her bra unhooked and pulled off, leaving her in her
dark pantyhose and black high heels, before she was pushed into a metal
chair which was bolted into the floor.

Quickly a chain encircled her narrow waist and was locked in place.  One
dangling end of the chain went across her abdomen, between her breasts,
over her shoulder and then down across her back and behind the back of the
steel chair, while the other end followed the reverse path, and when they
were both locked in place the woman was held tightly against the chair by
bandoliers of chain.  Then her left foot was seized and rope looped around
her left ankle and the leg of the chair in such a way that she could raise
her leg about six inches but could not otherwise move it.  Her right foot
was then taken and wired to the leg of the chair in such a way that it
could not be moved at all.

"Take her blindfold off", a voice commanded, and soon she saw a small,
spartan room, with two tables, on which a telephone and a computer sat,
the other with what looked like medical supplies, and three chairs, two
occupied by a man wearing a mask.  Another masked man stood by her, then
squatted and sprayed some kind of liquid below her left foot.  He then lit
a match and dropped it into the liquid, which turned to flame and the
prisoner twisted in her chains, pulled her foot up as far as she could lift
it, and screamed into her gag as her uncomprehending eyes implored her
captors for mercy. The flame quickly burned out, without having done any
lasting damage to her foot, though her shoe was badly seared.

"Remove her gag", one of the seated men ordered, and the man alongside her
pulled the thick gag from her mouth.  The seated man then addressed her.
"Hello, Maryann.  I regret inconveniencing you so, but I don't have the
time to employ more civil measures.  In two hours an investment firm in
Hong Kong will close; over the weekend, a draft will clear moving several
hundred million dollars from one of your employer's accounts.  Before the
firm closes, I intend to transfer the funds from that account to an account
I control.  This will require a password known to your employer, and for
both our sakes, I hope also known to you.  By Monday, the money will have
passed through a number of accounts, and be quite untraceable, and we will
be able to let the paramedics know where you are so they can get you out of
here.  I really hope that all you will require from them is their help in
getting out of here.  I would not wish to leave you here in need of medical
assistance, especially knowing that it will be two days before such
assistance will arrive.  But please believe me, with such sums at stake I
will do whatever is necessary to get the information.  I wish we had time
for truth drugs and careful interrogation, they're both more civil and more
reliable than the crude tortures we have planned, but there just isn't
time.  You must talk in less than two hours or the window of opportunity
will close, so I must be more brutal than I would like.  By the way, please
don't bother giving false passwords, we are already in touch with the bank
via computer, and will know in seconds if the password is false.  Now, will
you please tell me the password ?"

"I DON'T KNOW the passwords for his offshore accounts.  I can't help you,
now please let me go".

"Oh, dear.  I do hope that you are lying, and that you are not very brave.
You're such a lovely woman, and it pains me to think how little of your
beauty will be left in two hours if you can't provide a password that will
halt the torture.  It's a good thing you already have a husband, for no man
will ever look at you again without revulsion, unless you can provide a
password.  I trust your husband is the sort of man who loves you for your
mind and soul, and wouldn't leave you just because the beautiful woman he
married so recently is now a hideous creature unable to take care of
herself, and certainly unable to raise any children - not that he could ever
conceive of conceiving children with something so dreadful.  His continued
devotion will doubtless be the one comfort in your life, if we are still
here with you in two hours.  <sigh> Well, sir, douse her right foot".

At this, the man alongside Maryann spayed the same liquid he had previously
sprayed on the ground underneath her left foot liberally over her right foot
and the area around and beneath it.  He then tied a cord around the heel
of her shoe, and rolled the cord across the room, where he cut it and left
one end laying on the floor before him.

"Light it", came the command, and the cord was lighted.

"This is a fuse, my dear lady.  It's a rather slow burning fuse, but it
will still reach your foot in a few minutes.  When it does, your foot will
be burned to a crisp.  If you're still alive when the paramedics arrive on
Monday, your foot will definitely need to be amputated.  Given the rather
unsterile environment in here, there'll probably be an infection that will
require the amputation of that beautiful leg.  Of course, if you don't
talk, we will have to do the same to the other foot - after wiring it down,
of course.  Such a pity, such beautiful legs gone.  Even so, it won't be a
complete disaster, a health young woman like you can learn to walk on
artificial legs - if you talk then.  I don't know how well you will be able
to dance - you were going dancing tonight, weren't you ?  What rotten
timing, if you'd gone last night you would have had one last chance to
boogie.  But he kept you late to type some silly reports.  Is time and a
half worth the last chance to dance ?  I think not, not for what you make.
You aren't paid to take these risks, Maryann, why don't you tell me the
password ?"

"I DON'T KNOW THE PASSWORD", Maryann screamed and sobbed. "PLEASE BELIEVE

"I need the password", he said.  The cord was halfway to her foot, which
was moving very slightly, blood staining her hose by her right ankle,
while her left foot pounded futilely on the cement floor and the rest of
her twisted frantically in the chair, without lossening the chains.  Her
hands twisted and turned in the handcuffs between frequent and futile
efforts to test the cuffs, as if she expected any moment to somehow obtain
the strength to burst the handcuffs.

YOU BELIEVE ME <trailing off> I DON'T KNOW <sob> please I don't know",
Maryann said, then her words ceased as she sat crying.

"I don't believe you, Maryann, because there's no benefit to me in
believing you.  If I proceed on the assumption you are lying, and I'm
right, I may end up rich, or I may end up with you a barely living shell
of a person.  If I accept that you are telling the truth, I won't get rich,
but you won't get hurt.  I'm much more interested in getting rich than in
you not getting hurt, so I'm going to proceed on the assumption that you
are lying.  But I WOULD prefer not to hurt you, so I hope you'll give me
the password in the next" <peering at the fuse> "oh, about two minutes".

Maryann, her composure partly recovered, thought quickly.  His local Email
password.  "Incorrect", the computer replied.  His birthday.  No.  His
daughter's birthday.  No.  The fuse was inches from where it would ignite
the liquid on the ground.  The company name. No.  What could it be, she
thought, her eyes locked on the approaching fire.

"We've tried all the obvious one's, Maryann.  If you're faking cooperation
in the hopes we'll say, 'she obviously doesn't know, let's have pity on
her, stop it.  I do pity you if you don't know the password, but there
will be no mercy. Talk, or burn".

"I can't tell you, I don't know", she said.  The fuse was nearly there.
"Please, I'll find it out for you, please, I promise, I can get him to
tell me. PLEASE !".

"If he hasn't yet, he won't now", her tormentor replied, as the fuse
touched the fluid and Maryann's foot was encased in flame as her screams
reverberated in the small room, so horrible that the two other men covered
their ears to try to block them out and turned their heads away so they
didn't have to see her pretty face now twisted into a demon's mask by the
unimaginable agony.  The chair shook with her struggles, as she threw
herself into the struggles with such force that something had to give,
but bone being softer than steel, it was her wrists and collarbones that
broke in the struggle.  Her left foot pounded the floor and broke the heel
of her shoe but came no closer to freedom.  The interrogator, who watched
her struggles and cries impassively, observed that the right foot moved
freely within the flame, the pain of burning obviously making her oblivious
to how deeply the wire was cutting into her ankle.  The nylon on her calf
melted in the heat, searing the bare flesh beneath it, though it could
hardly register with Maryann, the pain already being more than she could
comprehend, and she passed out.

"It's OK, you can uncover your ears now", the interrogator said, as her
screams stopped resounding from the walls, and they turned to look to
see her still and silent, her head, bathed in sweat, slumped forward
towards her chest.  A couple bits of flame still burned on her charred foot.

"Wake her up; give her a local in the knee so she isn't so blinded by pain
she can't think", he ordered, and smelling salts and an assortment of
syringes were brought.  After a little while, Maryann was awake again.

"I'm sorry you made me do that.  Maybe now that you now how bad it is,
you'll be more reasonable", the interrogator said.  Maryann looked back
at him with a slightly glassy stare.  He opened her eyelids for a better
look.  A couple minutes more minutes and some more smelling salts and
she'd be ready.

"Wire her left ankle", he ordered.  He saw that register in her eyes; she
knew what was happening.

"You want it doused ?", he was asked.  He though a bit.  "No, put a squirt
on her pubic hair, and tape a fuse - a short one - to the chair beneath
it", he said.  Her head rose a bit and the glassy look was being replaced
by a curious mixture of panic and pleading.  He pushed some smelling salts
under her nose and she turned her head away.  He grabbed her willowy auburn
hair and pulled her head back, and brought his face close to hers, staring
into her frightened eyes.

"I want the password", he said.

Through trembling lips, a weak, hoarse voice replied, "I don't know it.  I
can't bear this pain, I'd tell if I knew, <whimpering> but I don't know,
I swear I don't know".

Tossing her head forewards with an attitude of disgust, he stepped away
from her. "Well, we have some time left. Light the fuse", and the fuse,
hanging a few inches below the chair, was lit and quickly rose, and Maryann
began to scream again.