Extreme Pleasures

It is probably impossible to identify the exact point at which Tara tipped over from habit, to obsession and then into madness. Perhaps the things which she experienced at the hands of the nuns at her convent school and her demanding relationship with Daddy meant that what followed was pre programmed and could not have been prevented.

What is certain is that adrenaline is a drug. Tara used to get her "buzz" from a successful deal in the Dealing Room at the bank but by this point that had faded into dull routine. She used the money from her successful career to fund her visits to The Factory where the paid tormentors fed her deep need for pain and humiliation but she knew that her abuse at The Factory was only play acting. The tormentors would only hurt her up to the limits which she had set so there was no real risk involved. She was paying them so she was in ultimate control and she yearned for a real loss of control.

Over a period of weeks a plan began to seep into her mind. What remained of her rational side told her that it was self destructive and she could not possibly do it but deep within her being she knew that she would. One of the things which had brought Tara to her high position in the bank was her incredible mind for detail and that came into play now. As she concentrated on each detail of her plan in turn she was able to block out the fact of the ultimate result of what she was doing.

In the circles in which Tara moved obtaining those little bags of cocaine was easy, for many of her peers the white powder was the accepted means of coping with the pressure of the world in which they did their deals and paid for their sports cars. Tara never used the drugs which she bought; the purpose of the drug deals was to get herself known to the dealers so that in time she was able to mention that she might be in the market for serious quantities of harder drugs. Tara felt deep contempt for people who felt the need to put poison into their own bodies and it is interesting to note that she probably never considered that she had an addiction in her own way.

"I'm thinking of retiring and if I could shift say a couple of kilos a year that should fund a very nice lifestyle."

They needed to know that she was serious but little by little she moved towards that night when she pulled her car into a bay in a multi storey carpark beside another car. Windows were lowered and she handed over the plastic bag pull of bank notes, in return she received one bag of the white powder. She had purchased a kilo of heroin.

Anyone found with that quantity of hard drugs is far beyond claiming that it is for personal use and the law would treat them as a dealer so that they would face very severe jail time but Britain has laws about the abuse of prisoners so simply being imprisoned as a drug dealer would not give Tara the loss of control which she craved.

The next stage in her plan was booking an air ticket to the small West African republic of Umbongo. On the morning of the flight she telephoned an anonymous tip to the Umbongo High Commission in London warning them to be looking out for an Englishwoman travelling alone with one pale blue suitcase. She could not keep the emotion out of her voice as she pronounced one last sentence before cutting off the call.

"Make sure that she is thoroughly searched."

Tara was remarkably cool as she sat in the terminal building waiting to board the aircraft. She had checked in her one suitcase containing its forbidden cargo and she knew that once she boarded the aeroplane she had no way out. The flight would take her straight to Umbongo and the suitcase, bearing its card with her name on it, was certain to be searched.

It was a very long flight and for most of it her pussy muscles were very tense. At times she had to shift her position in the seat in an attempt to relieve the tingling down there and she hoped that the man in the seat next to her could not smell the scent of hot girl.

The moment that the cabin door was opened the passengers were hit by the almost solid force of the African heat and they were kept in their seats while the hold was emptied onto the tarmac. There were no conveyor belts or luggage carousels here. When the passengers disembarked they each had to find their own bags from the heap beside the plane and then carry them into the single storey wooden airport shed.

Tara wondered if there were always this many armed soldiers lounging around the airport. She felt very vulnerable carrying her pale blue case towards the building but, in a strange way, not frightened. In England she would have been approached by a uniformed customs official with a request to "Please come with me Miss," but that did not happen here. She saw the two huge soldiers walking straight towards her and their intent was obvious. Without a word each man put his arm under her arm and she was lifted off her feet; one of the soldiers picked up the case which she had dropped.

They marched swiftly into the noisy terminal building where people pointedly ignored them; she was carried down a corridor and into a very small, square room where the case was placed onto a table in front of a man who was obviously an officer and the soldiers took up station just inside the door.

Tara's clothing was creased and soaked in perspiration as she stood before the table and the man spoke to her in perfect Oxford English.

"Give me your passport."

She was aware of the soldiers who it seemed were only about a foot behind her and she handed over the precious document at which he took a quick look before putting it into his breast pocket. He then demanded the key to the case which she handed over. The officer slowly opened the case and removed the contents taking special care over the underwear which he laid out on the desk. She noticed that he continued to handle her lingerie even after he had uncovered the clear plastic bag containing the drug. He gave a command to the soldiers in his own tongue and one of them pushed the table against the wall then drew his bayonet which caused Tara to draw a sharp intake of breath as she thought that they were going to administer swift and final justice here and now.

The soldier handed his bayonet to the officer who quietly and menacingly told Tara to hand him her left shoe; she did not even think of refusing and she silently obeyed. As soon as he had the Gucci sandal the officer viciously attacked it with the bayonet so that the heel came off and the sole was split open. Tara could not suppress her shout of outrage.

"That's mine, what do you think you're doing?"

A hand from behind her grabbed her hair and yanked her head right back while the soldier's other hand sank its fingers into her left breast causing her to cry out in pain.

The officer spoke in clear, calm tones.

"Your name has been removed from the passenger list so there is no record that you ever entered out country. I have your passport which will not be returned to you. There is no British Consul here and you have now completely disappeared. You are a criminal who came here to destroy the lives of our sons with your filthy drug and if you do not co operate with me I will leave the room until my soldiers have done everything which they want to do to you. Please give me your other shoe."

The soldier released her and she meekly handed over the other shoe then watched while the officer destroyed it before issuing his next curt command.

"Now the dress."

She was very aware of three pairs of eyes following her every move and of the men behind her straining at the leash for another excuse to hurt her. As she removed the thin cotton dress they were drinking in the sight of her body clad just in Janet Reger bra and blue silk French Knickers while she stood barefoot on the concrete floor.

The officer was staring her down as he ran his fingers over every seam in the dress then, gripping it between his hands, he tore it down the middle and cast it to the floor. He ordered her to remove her bra and she stood with her hands covering her white breasts as he reduced the expensive garment to ribbons on the floor. Of course her one remaining garment had to follow and she was very conscious of her breasts jiggling as he bent to pull her last remaining item of scant protection over her feet.

The officer gave another command to the soldiery and her hands were twisted behind her back and handcuffed in place then, to her distress, another pair of handcuffs was snapped in place just below her elbows. They were too tight to slip down her arms so she had to stand upright with her shoulders back and her nipples pointing straight at the officer as she worried about the blood circulation in her arms being cut off. Rough black hands forced her backwards over the desk so that her feet came off the floor and she screamed at the pain in her arms and shoulders.

The officer advanced on her with an undisguised grin and forced his hands between her legs probing in her moist depths and making her whine. When he had enjoyed himself at her cunt his hand under her nose made her open her mouth and she gagged as he reached down her throat and explored her mouth with his fingers tasting salty from her own pussy juices.

At another command to the soldiers she was turned over and a wooden rod was pushed between her buttocks and then moved around forcing her anus painfully wide. The officer then used her hair as a handle to pull her upright and face her towards the door whereupon the soldiers pushed her out into the corridor with the officer following. He had drawn his automatic pistol and it was pointed at her back.

The naked and defeated woman was marched out into the crowded airport concourse where many black faces watched her progress out to the waiting black motor car. It was just like one of those nightmares where one finds oneself naked in a public place. The car was long and the officer rode in the front with his captive in the back flanked by the two soldiers whose sweaty smell cut into her nostrils.

They drove through the busy city and came to a pair of high iron gates which were opened for them as guards saluted. Once inside the gates Tara beheld the grim brick building which she knew from her researches in far away England to be the dreaded Matingi Prison.

Guards dragged her from the car and into the building where the stench of caged humanity hit the back of her throat and almost made her vomit. The officer did not accompany her. Orders were barked at her in a language which she did not understand and when she failed to obey long canes were brought down on her unprotected back and buttocks. Mercifully the handcuffs at her elbows were removed but heavy shackles were applied to her ankles as she was pushed down onto a wooden chair in a large dark room and a man who was naked to the waist hacked off her hair with shears while other guards lounged against the wall making comments which were incomprehensible but obviously obscene. The shearing took only a few moments and she saw large hanks of her hair on the floor before a steel collar bearing a tin numbered tag was locked around her neck.

Then, with lots more shouting she was made to stumble helplessly through iron grilles and along passageways to a large cage which was unlocked for her to be thrown inside with a large number of naked black women.

Filthy hands clawed at her flesh as the prisoners cackled and laughed like children at being given a white woman to play with. The noise level was permanently at ear splitting level and she was allowed no rest at all. There were no beds, the inmates slept on the floor if they did sleep and the latrine was a drain in the floor with a hole large enough for solid waste although plenty of the excrement remained on the floor around the hole. A trough ran along the inside of the cage and at intervals buckets of runny porridge were poured in through the bars. This was sufficiently liquid to fulfil the functions of both food and drink but the other prisoners enjoyed the game of keeping the white woman away from the trough and she rarely had any sustenance at all. She would have died of thirst if prisoners had not urinated into her mouth.

Tara was probably tormented in the cage for a period of several days although it is impossible to be more precise as her mind had ceased recording anything very much. This period ended when two soldiers entered the cage and thrashed about them with staves to make a way through the flesh to where Tara lay rocking on the floor. They picked her up under her arms and pulled her down the corridor with her feet dragging on the floor behind her. She was taken out into an enclosed yard where she was dropped into the dust and a hose was played across her body. There was more shouting and gestures which indicated that she should stand up which eventually she managed then, still shackled, collared and handcuffed, she was thrown like a sack of potatoes into the back of a military truck.

It was a short drive then another enclosed yard and another corridor leading to another cavernous room. This room was divided into many small cages with iron bars and Tara was locked into one cage on her own. As far as she could tell hers was the only white body in any of the cages which made her feel very isolated. In contrast to Matingi this place was very quiet apart from a little whimpering from one of the cells and the odd whispered conversation.

After what may have been an hour or so two soldiers came for her and led her along a corridor and up some stairs into what proved to be a perfect copy of an English courtroom. It was a surreal experience to be standing naked in the dock surrounded by so much wood panelling and, of course, many well dressed people staring at her with obvious contempt on their faces.

There did not seem to be a defence counsel. The officer from the airport stood behind a desk with his papers before him and addressed a man who had to be the judge. The judge did not wear legal robes but a blue uniform with so much gold braid that he looked like a cross between an admiral and a theatre commissionaire. The trial, if it could be called that, seemed to be over before it had begun. The officer made a speech which involved much waving at the naked and chained woman in the dock accompanied by jeers and shouts from the assembled company. Then the judge made a speech which contained much raising of the voice until it became a squeak and caused the audience to clap and whistle and then he banged his gavel upon his desk and strong arms from behind Tara pulled her back down the steps to her cage where she remained alone for some time wondering what her sentence was. Her own imagination tortured her with all the possible answers.

Various prisoners came and went and eventually a fat black woman arrived pushing a trolley and accompanied by a soldier with his automatic weapon held at the ready. The trolley stopped at each cage and delivered a bowl of vaguely meat flavoured soup which was almost cold. Tara had to lap it up with her hands still cuffed behind her back. They left her in the cage all night and next morning two grinning soldiers came for her. As they took her from the cage they made full use of their access to her naked body and her buttocks, breasts and pussy were very thoroughly groped. The men were laughing and making gestures at her throat. One of them put his face very close to hers and breathed one word into her face.

"Hang."

As they approached the back door to the court building Tara could hear the shouts of a large crowd and it was almost deafening when the doors were opened to lead her out into the yard. A small jeep-like vehicle was parked in the yard and, to Tara's surprise, her handcuffs were removed but this was only so that her hands could be cuffed in front and then her ankles were unshackled leaving tender purple rings around her legs. Then a chain was brought from the jeep and her handcuffs were chained to the back of the vehicle. Just to make clear what was happening a rope noose was placed around her neck and the rope was left to hang down her back. As the gates to the street were opened and the jeep started up with a great revving of the engine Tara had a clear vision of the Mother Superior of her convent school speaking the words which she had spoken years before.

"You will come to a very bad end my girl."

A soldier who was to walk behind her brought his long shambuk cane down across her shoulders causing her to gasp and almost fall forward as the pain cut deep into her flesh then the chain from the jeep yanked on her handcuffs and she stumbled forward into the street. It seemed that their whole route was lined with jeering, spitting people who threw stones and rotten fruit so that the captive was constantly dodging but mostly failing to evade the hail. Her body was bruised, cut and smeared as half naked street children ran forward to smear mud and dust on her body and to slap her sore buttocks. The soldier following her kept up periodic swats with his cane ensuring that vivid red wheals crossed her back, buttocks and legs.

This was very nearly the ultimate humiliation but the beaten woman knew that in a very short time she would face the total humiliation of being choked to death while the crowd jeered at her. It seemed that they processed around the entire city under the searing hot sun but eventually they stopped in front of a wooden scaffold and soldiers again cuffed her wrists behind her then a broad leather strap was buckled tightly around her body binding her hands to her sides and she was pushed up the steps as the crowd still called for even more entertainment. The soldiers kept pulling on the rope dangling behind her causing her to choke and almost fall backwards and her face was brutally slapped as she was obliged to stand for her ankles to be strapped together. Now she was completely helpless and the mock noose was removed to be replaced with a real noose which hung from the overhead beam.

They say that death concentrates the mind and Tara had never felt so alive. Every sense was working at 200% and she was aware of every hate filled face in the crowd and every sensation on her body. Between her legs she was a millimetre away from an indescribable orgasm and she saw one of the soldiers begin to haul on a rope which ran over a pulley and down to her slender and bleeding neck. There was no hangman's drop here; she would be slowly hauled off her feet by the brute strength of one man until the last vestige of life was drained from her tortured lungs.

She felt her bare feet lose contact with the timber floor and the rough hemp rope cut deeper into her neck. Instinctively she kicked her bound legs seeking something to take her weight but she was swinging a foot above the scaffold. The muscles around her lungs were pumping in a desperate effort to find some air, her ears were thumping and a red mist kept covering her eyes. As her brain was starved of oxygen it entered a dreamlike state as voices from the past chased themselves across her remaining consciousness.

"You know what happens to bad girls..Tara will have to pay a forfeit..fetch your handcuffs young lady...Naughty girls aren't allowed to keep their clothes on...You'll just have to have everyone laughing at you...Open your legs for me now."

And then the timber rose up and hit her bruising her knees, her head and her elbows. She smelt the scent of the timber which was puddled with the urine which had leaked from her bladder and she was lying on her side with the howls of the crowd filling the entire world.

Looking up towards the merciless, blinding sun she saw a soldier standing over her with his bayonet held high and she saw the severed rope on the planks beside her. He had cut the rope and she had fallen.

What happened next is something of a blur of unreality but Tara slowly became aware that she was on a metal military bed in a darkened room which had a narrow barred window at ceiling height and there was even a metal wash basin with a tap on the wall beside her. Her collar was gone and so were her handcuffs. She lay still for a long time trying to make sense of what was going on and she heard a key turn in the lock to admit a large African woman in a khaki skirt and top. The door was locked behind the woman by some unseen hand outside and the woman sat on the narrow bed beside her.