6. The Drowning Torture
He had no idea of the time because he couldn't read the clock. It was pitch black without the lights. It must have been a few hours later when the cell door was flung open. That was quick, he thought. His heart sank. She'd come back for more. She remained momentarily silhouetted in the faint light showed through the opening.
He couldn't see that this was a younger Japanese lady, still in her jodhpurs, entering then carefully locking the door behind her.
The red lights came on.
'You, come here,' she commanded, whacking her riding crop against a black leather boot.
He recognised her immediately. She was a model/actress, named Lucy Devon and had also appeared on many celebrity shows. He had even photographed her coming out of nightclubs in the early hours.
'I said come here,' she ordered.
He hurried over.
'Oh my, I thought Mummy had got another slave,' she said in a perfect privately educated accent. The persona from her TV appearances was nothing like she was behaving here. And the smile was different too. Now it was cruel.
'Get down,' she told him, 'on your knees facing me.'
As he did as he was told she walked around him, carefully studying him.
'So, you're the new smother-slave, are you?' she asked rhetorically, a smirk on the corners of her lush lips. Her eyes were green and her bronze hairdo had probably cost more than he earned in a month. 'You're better looking than the last one. Mhh, I think I'm going to enjoy you.'
Something flickered in her face in way of recognition. He dreaded if she recognised him.
'Do I know you?' she enquired, puzzled.
'Yes!' she hissed, then laughed out loud. 'You're the paparazzi photographer, the one who's a pain in the arse.'
'Jeez... I couldn't have had better luck if I tried,' she chuckled. 'This is going to be such good fun.'
She bent to sniff his breath. Straightening, she told him, 'You smell of piss. I'm going to give you a bath.'
She went over to the glass tank, turned on the taps and, prodding him with her crop, she ordered him: 'Move back until I say.'
He shuffled back until his feet touched a pair of ankle shackles lying on the floor. Securing his feet, she grabbed the back of his head, forcing him to lean backwards and secured his ankle shackles to his tied wrists. She proceeded to winch down the ceiling hoist with a chain pulley. The rattling of the chains unnerved him even more.
'Every time your breath smells of piss I'm going to give you a little bath,' she laughed.
The hoist had chest and shoulder straps attached to it. Strapping him in, she raised him up a foot off the floor. He dangled there, terrified, his legs bent backwards.
She looked him directly in the eye. 'If you make a sound I'll really make you suffer. Do you understand?'
He nodded and she took the ball gag from his mouth.
'You're going to need this out to give you any kind of a chance,' she laughed.
She winched him just above the height of the five-foot high tank, pulling the device so he was directly over it. 'Come on in,' she chuckled, 'the water's lovely.'
With a loud laugh she released her grip so the chain passed quickly through her fingers. He lowered fast into the water of the nearly filled tank, the water nearly overlapping the top. As he reached the bottom she turned off the taps. He was lucky. The temperature of the water was tepid. It had been cold he would really have been in trouble.
Giggling at what she saw, she watched his contorted face through the glass furiously attempting to break surface. He thrashed about for a few moments before finally managing to stretch his entire body enough to get his mouth and nose above the water line.
'You look like a goldfish,' she chortled. 'Like a fish out of water.' Her chuckling continued while his struggles to breathe became more desperate. 'I think I'm going to really like torturing you.'
She reached over the tank, pushing him back under using both hands. Bending down in order to see his face, she laughed again at what she saw.
'Wow, you're really suffering, aren't you?' she giggled at the look of torment on his agonised face underwater.
Leaving it to the last possible moment, she let him go causing her to laugh at the sound of him breaking the surface and trying to gasp in as much air as he could. Cruelly, she pushed him back under before he could properly inhale.
'That's horrible of me, isn't it?' she laughed, purposefully holding his head underwater.
Studying his contorted face through the glass, she was grinning from ear to ear. 'This is really bad of me doing this to you,' she chuckled, 'but you know what, I just can't stop myself.'
Letting go suddenly, she allowed his face to surface but yet again, before he was able to inhale sufficiently, she plunged him back under.
This form of water torture continued for an hour and a half. As she eventually grew tired of playing that particular game, she was now ready to move on to the next form of amusement.
She left him dangling, half drowned, over the top of the water tank, dripping into the water. Even her own clothes had become semi-drenched.
'I don't want you getting water all over the place,' she informed him leaving the room only to return wearing nothing but skin-tight beige shorts, with a slit up the back revealing her bottom crack. She had a glass of chilled Crystal, from which she took an occasional sip.
He hung above her, completely helpless, fearful of what she had in store for him next.