Disclaimer: The following is fiction. The story’s content does not represent the writer’s beliefs, opinions, or attitudes. This story is intended for adult entertainment only. The characters and events depicted in this work are fictional. The author does not condone or promote unlawful activity as the story describes. By continuing to read this work, you acknowledge that you are an adult who wishes to read works of fantasy and fiction for the purpose only of fantasy. All the characters in this story are adults. They may play different ages for the fictional character they are depicting, but they remain at all times adults.
Feature Writer: Anon / Re-written by Regis
Feature Title: UNDERCOVER COP
Published: 27.11.2024
Story Codes: Abuse, Bondage, Non-Consensual, Snuff
Synopsis: Samantha was a good cop, and was highly dedicated, which was why the chief had chosen her to go undercover, to find out who was supplying the chain of college kids with their drugs. The boys and girls involved were moving tons of hash and heroin, but there was no indication of who was doing it. Her best way in was through a sorority, and she began the operation in the fall, which was rush time, when second-year students applied and did the rounds of parties. Sam loved that part, but better than the rounds of rapes was the feeling she was getting somewhere. And then she wasn’t. It was incredible, like nothing the gorgeous redhead detective had experienced before.
Undercover Cop
When she volunteered for the tough assignment, Sam had never envisioned it ending like this, in the cold basement of an empty warehouse. Someone had given her up and betrayed her, but she had racked her brain without coming up with a single name. Who could possibly benefit from having her removed? Who in the world could have done it?
The question haunted her. She wasn’t popular with the other squad members — she was too pushy, abrasive, or good a cop. And she wasn’t pretty enough to have them overlook her other traits. Now, with a brief respite from the torture she’d endured, she thought back to the beginning.
The captain had summoned her into his office and told her that they needed a female undercover officer to penetrate a drug operation at the university. One of her assets was that, even though she was an experienced officer with six years on the force, she could still pass for a college girl.
She knew that it was her long red hair that she kept curled, her freckles, and big green eyes that made her look years younger than her actual age of twenty-eight. That and her lean, rangy physique which always looked frail when she dressed in baggy sweatshirts and loose-fitting jeans.
”Shit, how could I have been so stupid?” she closed her eyes and muttered.
She was still smarting at the ease with which they’d taken her right off the street. And in broad daylight! A van had pulled up to the curb a few feet in front of her just as a young male voice called to her from behind.
“Hey, miss, you dropped your wallet. Hey! Red ….”
She turned, slapping her jacket pocket at the same time, realizing that her wallet was indeed missing. The van door had slid open, and two men jumped out. One slapped her expertly behind the ear and the other caught her as she sagged.
Only two short steps and she was heaved into the van. Nobody paid the slightest attention. She’d regained consciousness within minutes and discovered that her wrists were bound tightly behind her back with electrical wire. Her ankles were bound too. And she had been gagged with duct tape.
She was helpless, but she tried anyway and heard her captors chuckle as they watched her struggles. After her futile attempt to free herself, she relaxed and tried to figure out where they were going. Again, a futile effort. After many turns, many starts and stops, the van pulled into an enclosed parking area and stopped.
Her captors had picked her up and carried her from the van to a flight of stairs that led down into the basement of the empty warehouse. She had been dumped on the floor in the middle of a large room — about twenty by twenty-five feet — and her captors had turned and left, locking the door behind them.
They left the lights on, or she would have been in total darkness because there were no windows in the room. No source of light other than the six bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling. The room was cold. It was February, and apparently, the building’s owner wasn’t going to waste money on heat without a paying tenant.
She was left alone for what seemed like hours, but probably wasn’t more than forty-five minutes. Then the door opened and she craned her neck to see who it was. Three men and a woman entered the room and closed the door behind them. She heard the lock click, so she knew there was at least one more person outside the room.
The three men were older — in their late forties and early fifties, typical middle-echelon thugs — hard men who’d done it all and survived. The woman was different — she was in her thirties, with blonde hair and was very attractive, but not the flashy type men like this usually had hanging around them.
But then, they wouldn’t bring a flashy cunt into a situation like this. One of the older men, clearly the man in charge, jerked his head at her.
“Get her ready and be quick about it,”
The other two men hurried over and each took one of her arms, dragging her to her feet, ignoring her grunt of pain.
Meanwhile, the blonde woman set the big leather briefcase she was carrying down on the floor and opened it. She produced some short leather straps with sturdy buckles and tossed them toward the bound, quivering captive girl. One of the men holding her arms picked one up.
“Why are we using these? What’s wrong with just tying the rope to her wrists and ankles?”
The blonde woman glanced at the boss and then answered.
“Because we don’t want to mark her now. Just in case.”
The men seemed to accept that. One of them punched her in the belly to ensure she wouldn’t struggle. Then they removed the electrical cord and quickly attached the straps to her wrists and ankles. In the meantime, the blonde had produced some lengths of chain — two fairly long and two shorter lengths.
The boss walked over to the door and banged on it. When it opened, he leaned through momentarily and spoke to the person outside. A minute later another man entered with a ladder. It all happened quickly after that. Two of the long chains the blonde had produced were attached to her wrist straps.
One of the men had seized her around the waist and held her in the air while the other got up on the ladder and secured first one and then the second chain attached to her wrists to hooks set in the rafters. When the second was secure the man holding her let go and she grunted with pain.
She dropped only a few inches, and then was left hanging by her wrists, her feet a couple of feet above the concrete floor. Then the shorter chains were attached to the straps around her ankles, her feet were pulled apart and these chains were secured to large ringbolts set in the floor.
So far, she hadn’t spoken a word. She knew it wouldn’t do any good. She stared at them in silence. The three men gathered near the door and watched as the blonde woman approached the helpless suspended redhead. They all had expectant looks on their faces, and she felt the first traces of fear.
The blonde reached into the pocket of her leather jacket and produced a switchblade knife, which she used to carefully cut off every stitch of the redhead’s clothing. Her jacket came first. Then her denim work shirt, followed by her jeans, leaving only her bra and panties.
The blonde stepped back for a moment to let the men have a good look at the redhead, now wearing only her plain cotton underwear. Next, to tease the watchers, she removed the redhead’s cheap sneakers. Finally, she cut off the redhead’s bra and panties, leaving her hanging there with nothing on but her white sweatsocks.
“Well, she’s a real redhead!”
This statement came from one of the goons standing by the door, observing the neatly trimmed patch of pubic hair. The blonde glanced at her, shrugged and raised an eyebrow as if to say, “What can you do? Good help is impossible to find.”
The boss rapped on the door and snapped his fingers when it opened.
“Come on, let’s go.”
The two goons filed out, followed by the blonde. The door closed and the boss walked over and stared at her for a minute.
“We’re going to leave you to think for a while. It could be time well spent. If you tell us what we want to know it will be better for you.”
Then he turned and left.
“…. better for you.”
The words echoed in her head. She knew what they meant. Talk and we’ll make it quick. Two bullets in the back of the head. Maybe they’d rape her first, but there wouldn’t be any torture. No reason for it. If she talked. But she wanted to live. So she couldn’t talk.
She could only hope that someone had seen something. That a miracle would happen and the squad would find her and … And pigs would fly. There was about the same chance for either event. A shiver ran down her suspended form, and not just from the cold air on her nude body.
666
Her shoulders were beginning to ache when the door opened and the boss came in, closely followed by the slender blonde. He was smoking an unfiltered cigarette, and she had the insane impulse to ask him if he knew what he was risking. He circled her and came to a stop facing her.
He stared at her for a moment and asked if she was ready to talk. To tell them the name of the informant who’d alerted them to the drug operation in the first place. She shook her head. So far she had not spoken a word.
“What’s your name?”
Her only response was another shake of her head.
He sighed and reached out to run the tip of his finger over her right nipple.
“It’s too bad. Such a beautiful girl. Such a lovely body.”
“Well,” she thought to herself, “He’s no judge of beauty.”
But she had to concede he was right about her body. She’d always been proud of it and worked hard to keep it in shape.
Now, he took a long drag on his cigarette and she watched in horror as he reached out and pushed it into her navel. She arched her back and screamed in agony as he ground the cigarette out on her soft flesh. He watched impassively, his eyes devoid of emotion. This was business, just business.
“Ready to talk now?”
She stifled a sob and shook her head. He sighed and turned to the blonde.
“It’s up to you. How long do you need?”
The blonde shrugged.
“I don’t know. Normally I’d say I could break a woman in twenty minutes. But this little bitch seems tough. Maybe an hour. Maybe two. It would be quicker if I didn’t have to worry about doing visible damage.”
The redhead shuddered as she listened to them talk about torturing her in the same tones they’d use when talking about the weather. The boss shook his head.
“Those are the instructions for now. Do the best you can. I’ll let you know if the situation changes.”
He turned and left.
When the door closed behind him, the blonde turned.
“Just you and me now, honey. You can call me Cindy.”
She walked over to her briefcase and brought it back, setting it down behind the redhead. Then she walked over to the door and rapped on it.
When it was opened she spoke to the person outside and then waited at the door until a wooden box was brought in. She placed it on the floor in front of the redhead and climbed up onto it. It got her high enough to allow her to look the suspended redhead bitch directly right in the eye.
Satisfied with the added height the box afforded her, she began by examining the redhead’s body. She did this by running her hands over the girl’s body, stroking, probing, poking, and watching carefully for any reaction from her victim. There wasn’t any that she could detect.
The naked redhead girl just hung there, staring at the far wall, her face a blank mask. There wasn’t even a reaction when the blonde spread her labia and probed her cunt with her fingernails. Nor when she spread her buttocks and thrust a finger deep into the redhead’s anus.
What Cindy didn’t know, and wouldn’t (couldn’t) have believed, was that the redhead, whose name was Samantha, didn’t know the identity of the informant, so she couldn’t tell them anything if she wanted to. Sam knew that if she told them she didn’t know they wouldn’t believe her.
She was also certain they would torture her until they were convinced she was telling the truth. And if they did believe her, they’d just kill her immediately. It was better, far better, not to speak a word and hope that somehow, as unlikely as it was, someone came to rescue her.
Cindy concluded her physical examination and looked up at the slender redhead. She decided to show the girl that she was capable of inflicting pain and didn’t mind doing so. In fact, she enjoyed it. Enjoyed it a lot. She decided to start off slow. A good whipping with a stiff leather quirt.
She took the short quirt with a pair of tightly woven tips out of her briefcase and showed it to the redhead. No reaction other than a slight widening of her marvelous green eyes. Cindy felt almost sorry for her. But she whipped her anyway, beginning in back, working her way up from the girl’s slender thighs, over her round ass, and up her back.
She gave her fifty strokes. Exactly fifty, so it was clear she was counting. The girl started to scream on the fifth or sixth stroke, and screamed with each stroke until around twenty. Then she screamed continually – long, gut wrenching sobs interspersed with high-pitched shrieks as each stroke landed.
Cindy gave the poor bitch a five-minute break after the first fifty. Then she asked her if she was ready to talk. The foolish girl shook her head. Cindy started another fifty on the front of the girl’s thighs. Fifteen there. Then fifteen across her flat, firm belly, and ten across her firm round tits.
Next, she gave her ten upward strokes, harder than the others, up between her legs, stinging her cunt so that the generous organ opened under the assault. When it was over the girl hung there sobbing and whimpering. Despite the cold, her body was drenched with sweat.
Her head hung forward as she sobbed. Then her head jerked up and a long scream issued from her gaping mouth as she felt the handle of the quirt being rammed into her ass.
“Noooooooooooo. Oh, God! Please, nooooo!”
She bit her lip and sobbed as Cindy raped her with the quirt’s leather-wrapped handle, driving it deep into her virgin asshole.
After a few dozen strokes Cindy drove the handle deep into Sam’s ass and left it, leaving the leather punishment weapon hanging from between her buttocks like a tail. She lit a cigarette and relaxed for a few minutes while the redhead stared at the floor, sobbing.
666
Cindy finished her cigarette and decided that it was time to get serious with the cunt. She took a dozen long pins out of her briefcase. In the old days they would have been called ‘hatpins’. Each was three inches long, very sharp, and with a flat head. Things were indeed about to get serious.
Sam began to whimper as soon as she saw them. The blonde’s fingers again went to the redhead’s cunt, this time spreading the hood and elevating her clitoris.
“What’s your fucking name, bitch?”
Instead of waiting for an answer, she thrust a pin directly into the end of Sam’s clit. The scream was the loudest she had produced during this session.
“Samantha!” she shouted, needing the pain in her cunt to go away.
“Okay, I’m just going to call you, Sam. Fucking Sam is all.”
Cindy pulled a leather glove on to protect her right hand as she placed the pins. She teased Sam’s left nipple erect and then drove the pin through it. Sam screamed in agony as the pin penetrated her nipple, going straight into it.
This was a nipple that was still sore and ultrasensitive from the whipping it had so recently received. Another pin went through her right nipple, accompanied by more shrill screams of pure, unadulterated agony. Sam felt Cindy’s fingers spreading her labia.
“No, please noooooo,” she whimpered.
Then her head went back and she let out a long piercing scream as a pin was thrust through her clit, this one across it. Cindy felt that Sam’s reaction made it worth another and she thrust a third pin through the girl’s clit. She had found the sweet spot that most girls had, where she could produce maximum pain.
Then, pinching Sam’s labia, Cindy thrust several pins through from side-to-side, closing Sam’s cunt by pinning her labia together. By now the redhead’s vocal cords were strained and her screams were deep and wrenching. The young cunt had a delightfully sensitive groin.
Cindy spread Sam’s buttocks and drove five of the pins into the sensitive flesh around her anus. She put each in about halfway, a good inch and a half. As each went in, Sam’s body arched and her mouth opened in a hoarse scream of pure agony. Still, she refused to talk. Cindy was cautious, and so far no permanent damage had been done.
Just then the door opened and the boss stepped in, stopping just inside the door.
“You don’t have to be careful anymore. Do what you have to, regardless, but break her fast.”
Cindy nodded and she watched the boss as he stepped back to leave through the door.
“Did you hear that? Are you ready to talk?”
Sam shook her head.
“You stupid bitch! Talk now, and save yourself a lot of pain.”
Another head shake. Cindy shrugged and took out her lighter. It didn’t matter to her. It was a cheap propane lighter with an adjustable flame. She turned the flame up and held it under the end of the pin that pierced Sam’s left nipple. As the pin heated up Sam began to scream and blubber.
When she didn’t break, Cindy passed the flame slowly across her nipple. Sam screamed and fainted. Cindy revived her by using an ammonia capsule. Then she repeated the torture on the girl’s right nipple. Then her on her pin-filled clit. Sam broke as the needles in her clit turned red hot.
“Pleaaaaassssse! Stooopppp! I’ll talk. Oh God! Please don’t hurt me any more.”
Cindy left the flame there for another thirty seconds as Sam screamed and begged. Finally, satisfied that the redhead was truly broken, she stepped back and walked to the door. When the boss entered in response to her knock, she told him that the naked cunt was ready to talk.
He walked over and looked up at the sobbing girl.
“Who?”
“Cindy, the bitch standing behind you,” she lifted her chin and whispered.
Of course, it was a lie, but the boss didn’t know that, and Cindy had told him herself that the bitch had broken. Of course, she could just be naming the blonde in revenge. That was probably it. But why take a chance?
When he turned to confront the blonde he had his gun out. She went pale and protested her innocence, but she knew from the look in his eye that it was useless. He forced her to remove her clothes and kneel. She did as she was told, knowing there was no point in refusing.
When the blonde cunt Cindy was naked and kneeling, he stepped up behind her, put the gun behind her, and shot the cunt in the back of her head. She pitched forward. Being abundantly cautious, he stooped put the muzzle of his gun against her temple and pulled the trigger again.
The redhead was staring at him in horror when he straightened up and turned toward her. He was calm, but the bulge in the front of his pants stated his excitement.
“No! Please! Oh god no! Please don’t kill me.”
She was still begging and pleading for her life when he pushed the muzzle of the gun deep into her open screaming mouth and pulled the trigger. She slumped, her head dropping. He shot her once more in the temple, to make sure of the kill, and then turned and left, without looking back. A damp growing patch of cum spread on the front of his pants. His brief, involuntary ejaculation was a small reward for a job well done. This was nothing unusual for him.
The naked carcasses of the blonde and redheaded women went into the bay that night, floating at first, and then gradually sinking, dropping descend into the depths to feed the fish. The chief had brilliantly taken care of another snoopy detective who was getting too fucking close.
THE END