Page 8 of Call Sign: Thunder
"But..."
"Now or never. I will not wait to claim her. Experiment if you must, but she comes with me when I leave in the morning."
She knew the whimper had to come from her. Her crying was drowned out by the sound of men dragging something heavy across the concrete floor of the warehouse. She kept her eyes squeezed closed as several pairs of hands grabbed her by her biceps and ankles and lifted her from the table.
Her eyes flew open of their own accord. She felt as if she would free-fall to the floor as she hung between the unethical soldiers. She wanted to beg them to help her. Perhaps they were husbands, or fathers. Could she appeal to their compassion?
Only the fear of being struck again held her tongue. She was uprighted only long enough to be shoved into the chair that reminded her of her dentist office with a few modifications.
The metal of the chair felt cool on her bare skin, yet the contact with her punished ass was torture. The men were anything but gentle as they attempted to free her hands from the ropes binding her wrists. Losing patience, the soldier closest to her that smelled of stale sweat pulled a lethal knife with a long blade from a sheath on his belt.
"No mueva o tendrá que ser cortado."
She didn't speak, but she wanted to tell him she wasn't stupid enough to move.
The relief she felt as the constricting ropes fell away was short lived. She didn't even have time to rub the rope burned skin before calloused hands were raking at the tattered remnants of her sundress and bra. They had the final threads of fabric stripped away in seconds before pulling her arms above her head.
She had missed the manacles that were part of this evil chair. She found herself missing the relatively soft rope when her wrists were secured slightly above and wider than her ears. She pulled to test the locks and regretted it immediately. The metal was unforgiving, cutting into her already raw skin.
Panic overtook Allison and she fought like a madwoman against the men overpowering her. She kicked her legs, flailing and connecting with random body parts of her captors. Her struggles succeeding in only one thing–pissing the men off more.
Reinforcement soldiers rushed forward to subdue her. Dirty hands appeared from behind the chair to wrap around her torso, holding the top half of her body still while two other large hands belonging to a body she could not see pulled a thick leather strap across her tummy. She heard the rattle of a buckle behind the chair as the strap was pulled so tight it constricted her breathing. That was not the most unfortunate consequence of the restraint. It was pressing down on her bladder and a whole new fear struck Allison. It took all her self-control to maintain control over her own bodily fluids between the pressure and fear gripping her.
From there, the men had an easy job of completing their task. Her bare legs were pulled apart, spread wide to fit into the foot-long U-shaped cups. The men adjusted the placement so the metal cupped her calves perfectly. She tried not to think about how she must be shorter than the last unfortunate woman to occupy this diabolical chair.
As if her current position wasn't humiliating enough, the elder brother who had been watching from the sidelines stepped forward, some type of electronic device in his hands. Within seconds, she understood he held a remote that controlled the restraining chair.
He reclined her slightly, thankfully making it harder for her to look around the room. That wasn't too bad.
It was when her legs started to spread wider while simultaneously moving her knees up and in that she could no longer hold in the scream. The asshole was spreading her body open as if it were a smorgasbord for the men present to feast on.
She let loose a bloodcurdling scream that filled the open space. She fought her restraints in vain, unable to do more than bring more pain to the places on her body that came in contact with the unforgiving metal.
Through her frustrated tears she saw the taller brother, Ricardo, sitting comfortably only ten feet away. He smoked his cigar and sipped on a cup of coffee like he was watching the morning news. Only the perverted excitement in his eyes betrayed him as the sadist he clearly was.
Ricardo grinned as he spoke. "Lucky for you I enjoy your screams, although you waste your energy. There is no one here who will help you. Scream all you like. It only makes me harder for you."
Hatred consumed her. If she got out of this alive, she would beg her father to use all of the power at his disposal to be sure to wipe that fucking smile off his damn face.
Allison had been focused only on Ricardo so the pinprick in the crook of her secured arm surprised her. She looked to her left to see the older brother, Carlos, now in a white lab coat, syringe in hand, held against her skin. He may pretend to be a doctor of sorts, but she saw him for exactly what he was. A fucking asshole.
He drew several vials of blood. She wondered why they would need her blood, but decided it wasn't important enough to care about.
He stepped away from her and a full-body shiver raced through her from head to toes. The evening was warm, the warehouse oppressively hot with no air conditioning, yet the adrenaline filled humiliation was messing with her internal body thermometer.
Allison closed her eyes, trying to shut out what was happening to her. She forced herself to breath the deep calming breaths she used when she did yoga. In the quiet of her mind, she thought of her dad and friends and prayed she'd see them again. She remembered how silly she'd been to go anywhere alone and prayed her friends Kathy and Ken would alert the authorities to her predicament. Surely they would be able to rescue her.
The pinch of another needle in her wrist had her eyes flying open. She couldn't see her wrist, but she knew Carlos was pressing the plunger, injecting her with a drug she wanted no part of experiencing. The chemicals burned as they hit her blood stream and her left wrist was on fire. She cried out in pain.
"Tell me, cariño, does it hurt?"
He could keep his damn term of endearment to himself. She bit her tongue, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing it hurt like a bitch. "You are privileged to be the first to test direct injection into the blood stream. My other test subjects ingested the drug orally." He turned to a studious looking man next to him, carrying a clipboard. "Mark the time. I begin."
Carlos crouched down between her legs, his face only inches from her spread pussy. He spoke clinically, his assistant scratching his words on the clipboard.
"Wetness level is low at a two." He took a small measuring stick out and held it against the hood of her clit. "Observance of pleasure nub shows no swelling at this time." The damn ruler brushed her skin as he pulled it away and a zing of something she didn't want to think about surged through her private parts.
She felt the finger at the entrance to her pussy before it was inserted. "No resistance to vaginal digital entry." He moved his long finger in a circular motion. "No evidence of hymen found. Subject is not a virgin."
