South American Torture, Part 1

(by Somers, 06 September 2004)

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South American Torture
Part One
By Somers and Fleming

It was incredibly hot. Insects buzzed around my head and I was foot-sore and 
dirty all over. We were waiting for another detachment of rebels to join us. 
The tortillas I had for lunch were weighing a ton in my stomach. I drank 
some stale water from my water bottle. It was stale and tasting like piss. I 
never seem to get enough water to kill my thirst. Then I heard some muffled 
noises, announcing the arrival of the other band of self-proclaimed freedom 
fighters. The two commandants hugged each other in a warm welcome and than 
whispered for a while. The newcomer then shouted an order to one of his men. 
The soldier disappeared and returned with a woman. Her clothes were in rags 
and she was just as dirty as all of us. Her face was smeared with dirt and 
traces of tears. She stood there passive with hanging shoulders.

"Hey gringo!" my commandant shouted to me, "We've brought you a gringa for a
mate." They all laughed like crazy.

"We need to tame her a little, then you can have her as pet," he went on.

"She's a spy and we need to make her talk. After she tells us all, you can
take care of her," like he could read my mind, he added:

"Don't worry, Colonel Xavier knows ways to break people, especially women, 
without violence. She'll have all her bones in place when he's finished with
her. She will sing like a bird. Oh yes, she will." he laughed again, 
together with the others.

I had already spent several weeks with the "Army of the People," as they 
called them. I had been taken for a sucker by the Agency. I needed the money 
badly, so I accepted their offer to help deliver some weapons to a troop of 
rebels somewhere in South America. When we arrived there the transfer turned 
into a disaster. As a result I was stranded with those rebels. The radio 
equipment had been destroyed in an ambush, so I couldn't make contact with 
my masters at the Agency. Besides, they sure weren't keen on investing 
anything in the likes of me. I was the dispensable sucker. Being American, 
the rebels treated me with some respect, but all they could do is take me 
with them and help me stay alive. They shared their food and water with me 
and they would have certainly have shared their chicas too, but I wasn't 
interested in them. I mean, they were young and reasonably attractive, but I 
feared conflicts, so I stayed away from the girls in the troop, even though 
I was the only one to stay chaste. Except at times when they feared 
discovery by the Federale forces, I could hear every night the typical 
noises from some of the tents and not always from the same ones. There was 
another reason I wasn't particularly keen on one of those girls, but there 
was one who wasn't quite like the others, who arrived as a prisoner, with 
some other guerrillas as a force of guards.

After the newcomers had rested a bit, they left, leaving only the prisoner 
behind. Commandant Perez, the guy leading our little troop, made us prepare
for a march, and we followed a narrow trail downhill. I watched as the 
woman, in chains, marched silently and with a look of determination on her 
face along with the rest of us. She had dark skin, though it seemed to be 
the darkness brought about by sun exposure; she didn't look Spanish at all. 
Her features were perhaps French or German, or maybe she was even British or 
American, but definitely Caucasian.

After two hours, we reached a swell, where I could make out a number of 
barracks between the trees. The treetops where shading them and hiding them 
from the eyes of surveillance airplanes. Perez took the prisoner by her arm 
and motioning me to follow, entered one of the barracks. To my surprise, the 
inside looked quite civilized and even had electric light. A tall man in a 
sort of uniform expected us. He was of heavy built, had a well-groomed 
mustache and may have been around sixty. What was showing from his hair was 
almost white. Perez saluted and the other guy, doubtless colonel Xavier, 
returned the salute. Then he extended his hand towards me and shook mine 
quite cordially.

"You must be the American. Welcome to my humble quarters, Mr. Dutch, or may
I call you Jake? You can call me Jose of course." he said this in a quick 
military tone, but not without warmth. Unlike the rebels I had met till 
then, he spoke without a noticeable accent. He chose to ignore the woman, 
who was standing there with her eyes to the ground. Then he invited us 
inside, into a sort of living room, with a table and a number of chairs 
around it. It was pleasantly cool inside and it smelled of wood and cigar 
smoke. A soldier was there sitting in one of the chairs and he snapped an 
order to the guy, who took the woman and left with her, probably to a cell 
or whatever they had to keep her locked away.

"Thank you, lieutenant Hector. Now that we've disposed of her, Jake, why 
don't you go take a bath? You will find we have all the commodities a man 
needs. Not very sophisticated, but enough to make life bearable. Behind hat 
door you will find all you need. There's a uniform there and also clean 
underwear and toilet articles too. Use what you want and take your time. We 
won't need you here for the next couple of hours."

I took up his offer gladly, although I kept wondering what he and lieutenant 
Hector had done with the woman. Behind the door he showed me, I found a 
bathroom with all the comforts. A big tub invited me to a relaxing bath. 
After an hour spent in a tub full of lukewarm water I felt human again. I 
returned to the generalissimo.

"Ah, here you are! Hope you found all to your satisfaction?" he asked 

"Yes, thank you very much. I have missed this for quite a while."

"Good, good. Now let's turn to business. Till your American friends decide
to send for you, I have a task for you. That woman we captured is a foreign 
spy. She pretends to be American and may even be one, but we know she works 
for the federal forces who want to keep up the status quo in our country. We 
need to get all the information we can from her. I am certain she is well 
trained and wouldn't give away anything even when threatened with death. We 
have to find a sort of treatment that in the end will break her will. I have 
done this before quite successfully and I will do it again. Your job will be 
to play the good cop, while my aides and I will play the bad cops. Now how 
about it? Do you want to help?" He said all this while Hector sat there 

Did I have an alternative? Till the moment when and if the Agency may decide 
to take me out, I was at their hands.

"Certainly, General."

"Please, Jake, no need to be formal. Call me Jose. Fine then. Today, after 
you've had something to eat, you just rest. We will start tomorrow." I 
thought I caught a glimpse of Hector sneering at me, but when I looked at 
him, he was just sitting there with his beady eyes unmoving in their 

They had a canteen in one of the barracks and they gave me a bedroom in 
another barrack. To sleep in a real bed, actually a quite comfortable one, 
was heaven after two weeks in the jungle. Next day I woke refreshed and full
of energy. I was curious how they wanted to break the will of that spy 
woman. The generalissimo lectured me at length of what they were planning. 
They didn't want to use brute force and he just said I would see what they 
were actually to do with her. My job was to play the friendly guard, a 
captive myself.

We went to the prisoner's barrack, where the show was supposed to begin. The 
lieutenant, Hector, was there looking as grim as usual and there was another 
guard there by the name of Jorge. He was the one always staring at the 
ceiling and smiling through teeth that looked like kernels of yellow corn.

When they brought her in, she looked a lot better the day before. She was 
dressed in a plain dress of indefinite color, but it was clean and she 
obviously had been allowed to take shower. I noticed that she was reasonably 
pretty, in her late twenties, tall and well shaped. They pushed her down on 
a chair in front of the generalissimo's desk. He started to interrogate her.

"Young lady! We know who you are and whom you work for. We want you to tell 
us who your contacts are and who is helping you on our side."

She didn't say anything but looked at him defiantly.

"Very well. You choose to remain silent. What is going to happen to you now 
is of your own making. One day you will beg to tell us all, but then maybe 
we will not need to find out anything any more. Now I want you to listen 
carefully. I am no friend of physical punishment, but I will not hesitate to 
use force, if I need to."

He rummaged in a drawer and took out a piece of plastic with some straps 

"Today you will smoke a cigar."

"I don't smoke and I hate cigars." she interrupted him in a low but resolute

"Oh, I know that my dear, but you will smoke a cigar nevertheless. I will 
fix this gag on your mouth. Through this whole I will place a lit cigar. It 
has a ring on it close to one end. As soon as the ring falls off, you are 
finished for today and can return to your cell. Just let me make one thing 
clear to you. Cigars don't burn by themselves. You have to drag on them. If 
you let the cigar go out or if you try to blow into it instead of dragging, 
we may think of holding your nose, till you have to breath in through the 
cigar. That can be extremely unpleasant. If you just puff on it, all that
will happen is that you may become a bit dizzy. Jake here will take care of 
the details. Don't fight it. My men can be very brutal if you provoke them." 
Jorge smiled through his ugly yellow teeth.

Smoking! Of all things it had to be smoking! Now I feared it was to be more 
of a torture for me than it was for this lovely woman, because smoking women 
have always seemed alluring to me. Not women forced to smoke, as this one 
was, but women that chose to smoke. There seemed a certain amount of hidden 
naughtiness about them, and a certain relationship between them and their 
instruments of nicotine satisfaction, their little lovers whom they kissed 
each day. One had to wonder exactly where their allegiance was, to the men 
who supported them, or to those cute, little burning darlings which they 
continued to wrap their lips around so frequently and so sensually. I 
nervously watched as the generalissimo continued.

He gave the cigar, matches and the plastic contraption to Jorge. It was a 
sort of mask, in fact more a gag, with a hole in it to take up the cigar 
that extended to the inside into a short tube. He went to the woman and 
tried to fix it on her mouth. She drew back her head. Immediately, he took 
her head between his palms and by pressing his thumbs under her ears on the 
joints of her jaws, forced her to open her mouth. He placed the gag over her 
mouth and fixed the straps on the back of her head. Then he took the cigar 
and lit it with a match. He puffed away till it had nice uniform glow, then 
pushed it into the gag, and then he smiled with those picket-fence teeth. 
She looked quite scared at that moment. Obviously, she was no smoker. I 
decided to improvise a little and whispered in her other ear:

"Try not to drag too much, but more frequent. You cannot release the smoke 
through your mouth. If you don't want to choke on the smoke, the best way is 
to drag a little, then breath in through your nose and breath out again. 
Don't try to avoid breathing in. It won't help. If you do it like I told 
you, you will get dizzy and you may experience nausea, but it will pass and 
you can do away with it. If you don't, they will get nasty."

At first she didn't do anything except cough, but the generalissimo didn't
let her get away with it.

"Look, woman, if you don't drag, we will make you do it. Jorge, go and hold 
her nose."

I watched her closely and when I saw her breast fall from exhaling, Jorge 
took her nose between his fingers, holding it closed tightly. At first she 
tried not to breathe in, but no one can stop himself from breathing in for 
long. As soon as Jorge saw that she dragged on the cigar by the glow of it, 
he smiled, and took his hand away from her nose. She inhaled deeply through 
her nose, taking in also a bit from the smoke in her mouth. She exhaled 
quickly and I could see the smoke on her exhale. She now looked a bit 
surprised. She had expected much worse and now found that breathing in a bit 
of cigar smoke wasn't the horrible experience she had been expecting.

For a time she tried again not to do anything. He reached out to close her 
nostrils again, showing her those decrepit teeth of his, but this time she 
had learned the lesson. She dragged on the cigar, inhaled through the nose 
and exhaled again. Now she seemed to have gotten the message. She puffed 
away for a while, coughing occasionally. I could see that she turned a bit 
pale and was sweating hard and shaking all over, a consequence of the 
affluence of nicotine her body wasn't used to. She fought to keep her 
balance and managed to smoke down the cigar to about half of it. The 
generalissimo then allowed him to free her of the cigar.

"Now for today we will spare you, but tomorrow you will have to smoke an 
entire cigar. Of course you can always end this all by telling us all you 
know. You may go back to your cell. Jake here will see that you get what you 

I removed the gag and she immediately breathed in and out a couple of times, 
to air her lungs. She wavered when she stood up, obviously fighting nausea. 
She coughed a lot. I took her arm and helped her out through the back where 
her cell was. It was more a room then a cell and it even had a tiny bathroom 
with a shower. I escorted her inside and she almost plunged for the 
bathroom. I could hear her throw up and then she let the water run for quite 
while. She came back with her face dripping, but she seemed to feel better 

"How do you feel?" I asked her.

"Oh, I don't know. It was very bad at the end, but now I feel a little 
better. Actually, it isn't as bad as I had expected. My throat hurts a bit, 
but not very bad. I'm still dizzy and shaky. You know, back there, when I 
had to breath in the smoke, something unexpected happened to me. For a 
moment it felt real good. I had expected it to be horrible, I've always 
hated the smell even of cigarettes, but now I must confess it wasn't all 
that bad. I guess I'm beginning to understand why people smoke."

"Well, I don't know much about smoking, but I do understand that it can be a 
rewarding experience. You will get used to it in time and won't feel sick 
anymore. You may actually enjoy it. I tell you what. If you are determined 
not to give away anything, you will have to endure the forced smoking for a 
while. If they see they can't get at you with smoking, they will probably 
drop it and then you can forget about that and never smoke again in your 
life. Of course they will find something else to get at you, but at least it 
buys you time. Just keep pretending you hate it."

"Wow, what a prospect. In order to survive, I have to kill myself with 

"Oh, c'mon, it's not that bad. I mean you will smoke a cigar each day for 
some time. That won't kill you if you stop as soon as they loose interest. I 
know that long time smoking can kill you, but that applies to people who 
smoke all their lives. I've read that quitting smoking, even after twenty 
years of chain-smoking dramatically reduces the health risks to practically 
the level of a nonsmoker. A couple of days or weeks won't do you any harm. 
Besides, as far as I know, cigars aren't as hazardous as cigarettes because 
they don't contain chemicals like cigarettes and also the nicotine content 
in cigars is lower then in cigarettes."

"If you say so." she gave me a doubtful look, but I could see my words did 
work on her. Of course, I saw a little sparkle in her eyes, which should 
have told me something, but I dismissed it.

"Now best you take a nap and you will feel much better afterwards. They 
won't allow me to stay with you all day, but I'm afraid we will see each 
other tomorrow."

"You're not like the others. Just who are you?" She asked, suspiciously.

I told her the brief story of how I came to be here, and I apologized for 
her treatment. But, with so many of them, there was little I could do 
without the radio equipment.

"You wouldn't believe what they have done to me," she hung her head, and 
seemed to sob, apparently relieved that there was someone whom she could 
talk to.

"Oh, I know, Miss, and I am so sorry that they hurt you. But all will be 
better once we are out of here," I tried to console her.

"They think that they will break me, but I'll outlast them. I don't care 
what they do, make me smoke or even kill me, but I won't tell them anything, 
especially after what they've done. I'll burn in hell, but they'll never 
know," a look of grim determination struck a hold of her tear-stained face.

I could have kissed her then, but instead, I told her that that I had to go.
She smiled and thanked me for being so kind to her.

The next day we found ourselves again in the treatment room. She was 
compelled to drag with more force on her cigar through the gag they had 
arranged for her. The sight of the smoke curling out of her nostrils raised 
the old feelings again in me. I had always found the sight of a woman 
smoking away on a cigarette quite sexy. There were times when I tried to 
fight this "perversion", as I thought of it. I had always avoided dating 
smokers. I craved to feel and act like a "normal" male. Now I know that this 
hadn't done my sex life any good, but back then I wasn't really aware of it. 
Seeing the smoke coming out of this woman's nostrils started to work on me. 
It took me a huge amount of concentration to hide my feelings from the 
others. Especially when it was a part of knowing her, and how she felt 
during these sessions.

This time she managed to smoke down the cigar till the ring fell of it, 
coughing violently as she did, and the act of the ring falling off meant she 
had smoked three quarters of it. It took me more and more self-control to 
just stand there emotionless, after watching the smoke flowing from her 
nose. I felt a strong urge to touch her. But she certainly wasn't in a mood 
for endearments. After all, I was cooperating with her captors. She seemed 
to accept my presence and kept looking at me with sickened and wanting eyes.

I freed her from the smoking gag. She was again pale and sweating and also 
shivering, but not quite as bad as the other day. The generalissimo 
dismissed us and again I escorted her back to her cell. She threw up just 
like the day before and spent a while in the bathroom.

"How was it?" I asked her.

"Oh, I feel awful, I'm still sick, but it's not that bad. In fact I'm 
feeling better already. I hate to say this, but I did enjoy it some. Even 
now I feel strange. I mean, I'm sick from it but on the other hand if feel 
elated too," her eyes burned with the remains of the cigar.

"Looks like you start to get the hang of it."

"I hope not. But then I may choose to enjoy it. Why not spoil their 
pleasure?" She smiled slyly.

"Just take care they don't find out about that. If you can cope with smoking 
a cigar, it's no torture any more, so they may turn to worse methods," I 

"Guess you're right. I have to be careful. By the way, you can help me," She 
said, accepting my offer of fresh, clean water, which she sipped greedily 
from my canteen.

"I'll do anything you want, how can I help you?" I said, genuinely taking an 
interest in this woman.

"Teach me to smoke, and bring me cigars or cigarettes or whatever, because I 
want to get very good at it," she said, pausing in her quest for more water, 
which she began to gulp as it flowed down her chin. She stopped, and I saw 
that burning desire in her eyes once more.

Being a nonsmoker, I didn't have any cigars on me, but I promised to get 
some. I thought she looked so sweet as she hastily finished the canteen of 
water, then licked her lips, breathing heavily. I, in my innocence, thought 
that she looked so sexy while smoking the cigars that they were feeding her, 
and I immediately knew what she would have to do to totally defeat them. I 
watched as her breasts rose and fell with the rhythm, and caught a glimpse 
of her sweaty cleavage as it stretched the sack-like dress to its limits. 
For the first time, I saw her smile.

We immediately began making plans for our escape. She seemed to be somewhat 
knowledgeable about the camp, which I found surprising, but she explained 
that she had queried the guards who brought her food and water throughout 
the day. She also knew that there was a small radio room just off the 
generalissimo's office, which I could use to contact the Federale forces, 
and give them our location. She explained that the US had had a change of 
opinion on who was to be supported, and that explained why my agency had 
pulled out. It all made sense, really, after all we were talking about the 
US government, who were changing their minds all the time. So, I was to give 
our position using the generalissimo's radio, and then, in a few days, they 
would come for us. It seemed like a simple plan. Though it turned out to 
have a few twists in it.

When I had to go, she gave me a quick kiss on the lips.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I must stink like hell."

Well, she smelled of cigar smoke, but it smelled like perfume to me. I 
realized that not only seeing her smoke turned me on. Her smell, a mixture 
of female sweat and cigar smoke, was a turn on, too.

"Oh, well, you do smell of cigar smoke, but I doesn't really stink to me. In 
fact I somehow like it, I guess."

"You don't find it repelling?" She looked perplexed.

"No, not in the least."

"Wow. How odd." she gave me a strange look, then on impulse she kissed my 
lips again, much more strongly. This time, she encircled her arms around me.

"Can you stand that too or do I have to brush my teeth?"

"Oh, you don't have to. I can cope with that."

Still unsure, she leaned into me again and then with a sudden determination, 
she crushed her lips over mine and forced her tongue into my mouth. I 
responded gladly and we kissed passionately for a while. It was the first 
time I kissed a smoker and I found it to be incredibly sexy. Her mouth had a 
bittersweet taste and the harsh smell and that light buttery undertone that 
raised my excitement almost to paroxysm. When she opened her eyes, I saw 
that burning desire there again.


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