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The Checkpoint 3 (Simon Grail)

The Checkpoint 3 by Simon Grail

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Aspiring 21 year old English model Courtney Carpenter, working in the tiny middle European state of Barovia, is arrested on suspicion of distributing radical literature and is taken to Checkpoint One. Soon she is stripped naked and being interrogated by attractive but tough Sergeant Ivanka Stefanik. In desperation, Courtney demands to see the British ambassador, but she gets instead Sir Humphrey Chiltern the Honorary Consul. Soon she realizes that her only alternative to having her life and career ruined by suspicion and public security service investigation is to volunteer for trial by sexual ordeal under the medieval Barovian code of “permezatenci”, with Chiltern and Ivanka sharing the role of her inquisitors. Moving between the Checkpoint dungeons, its terrifying pleasure garden torments and hidden dens of vice in the cities of Strakensburg and Zilny, Courtney is subjected to all manner of trials and humiliations in an attempt to make her confess. She is kept as a naked sex pet, caned, paddled, put in a chastity belt, made to ride a phallic hobbyhorse, used as a living dartboard, made to play a nasty swimming pool game, perform a painful maypole dance, become both a living wheel of fortune and ping pong ball air gun in a sex club lottery, and serve the perverse carnal pleasures of three masked judges. Courtney is innocent, but she cannot prove it except through her courage and suffering. And even if she survives her ordeals, will she be the same person she was before this nightmare began? And if she is changed, will that be a bad thing?

Product type: EBook    Published by: Fiction4All    Published: 8 / 2016

No. words: 40676

Style: Sex Slavery / Training, Sado-Masochism (SM)

Available Formats: Palm  MobiPocket (MOBI)  EPUB  Sony Reader (LRF)  PDF  MS Reader  This book has a format which can be downloaded to Kindle

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The Checkpoint 3: Chapter One

Courtney screamed and spluttered: ‘Y… you can’t do this to me…!’
‘Yes I can,’ said Sergeant Ivanka Stefanik, who was holding a fistful of Courtney’s hair at the back of her head ‘…when you are a radical sympathizer!’
‘I’m not, you stupid bitch… umfff!’
Ivanka pushed her downward and there was a splash as Courtney’s head and bare breasts were plunged into the freezing water once again.
‘And you will not insult me during questioning,’ Ivanka added.
Courtney strained to lift her head out of the icy pail but with her hands cuffed behind her back, she could not raise her naked torso while Ivanka was pressing down on the back of her neck. She squirmed and jerked frantically but she was imprisoned in the simple but terrible device.
A small wooden trestle with a padded leather top was mounted transversely over the middle of a low, rectangular wooden base board set on heavy castors. The trestle top and sides of the base had buckled straps bolted to them. Set on the base on each side of the trestle was a pair of copper buckets sitting on wooden blocks. One was set lower down and was empty, while the other’s rim was almost level with the top of the trestle and was filled with water in which cubes of ice were floating. This was the one into which Courtney was being dunked. A pair of polished copper posts rose up out of the middle of the bucket thirty centimetres above the water level and were spaced just far enough apart for Courtney’s neck to fit between them, preventing her twisting her upper body sideways to escape the freezing water. A short padded horizontal bar bridging between the tops of the vertical rods and fastened to them with sliding rings locked by screws on their sides, prevented her lifting her head clear of them.
Courtney was straddling the device with her legs spread about the lower bucket, the rim of which pressed against the insides of her knees, so that her feet rested against the sides of the wooden base where the cuffs were buckled about her ankles. She was bent across the padded trestle so that her head overhung the larger bucket and the trestle top rested against her lower belly and the front of the hip bones. A long leather strap had been buckled across the top of the trestle over the small of her back to hold her hips down so that her bare bottom jutted outwards and upwards.
Ivanka pulled on Courtney’s wet hair and her neck slid back up between the rods and her head came out of the water. Once again, Courtney gasped and spluttered for breath.
When it was not wet and contorted by fear, Courtney had a pretty face, framed by shoulder length wavy brown hair. She had an upturned top lip that exposed her perfect bright white teeth, a firm nose with a snubbed tip, straight full brows over clear brown eyes with a slight rebellious tilt at their outer ends and heavy, dark-lashed lids that normally half veiled them. Her lightly tanned, clear-skinned body was well-proportioned with a tight waist. She had soft, pale wide-set breasts capped by large pale brown nipples with cherry tips – at least when not shrivelled with cold as they were now. Her hips were rounded with pale, deep-cleft buttocks and smoothly tapering thighs, at the apex of which hung her prominent pussy mound. It was crowned by a bikini-line trimmed fluffy mat of dark curls but its plump rounded outer lips were smooth and bare. From between them pouted the crinkled and suggestively impudent vertically split tongue of inner labia. This prominent Mound of Venus peeped from between her spread thighs that also exposed the puckered pit of her anus nestling in the cleft of her bottom cheeks.
‘Will you behave yourself now?’ Ivanka demanded.
Ivanka was a lean, slim woman wearing, except for her jacket, a police uniform. She was only a few years older than Courtney but she carried herself with icy self-assurance. Her skin was pale and her dark hair was pulled tightly back and pinned in a severe bun. She had deep, dark intelligent eyes set under straight dark brows, a slightly overlarge but firm narrow nose and shapely but thin lips. Her rolled shirtsleeves exposed slender but well-muscled arms. She spoke fluent English with a slightly clipped accent.
Courtney snivelled in fear. They would never treat her like this in England… but she was not in England.
She was in a lofty chamber with a black beamed ceiling and whitewashed stonewalls. It had high barred lancet windows, a large store cupboard in one corner and an imposing oak desk in another. The room was in Checkpoint One, which was both the central customs post and police headquarters of the city of Strakensburg in the Duchy of Barovia, a tiny independent state that lay between Austria, Slovakia and the Czech Republic, and guarded access to and from its equally minuscule neighbour to the east: Nove Krasnic. The Checkpoint occupied one half of an ancient castle that now formed a gateway between the two countries, which lay on the boarder between them that ran along the crest of the low hills that were the southern extremity of the Little Carpathians, and divided what had once been a single medieval city into two capitals.
Ivanka slapped Courtney’s bare bottom hard enough to leave a palm print and make her flesh ripple. ‘I asked: will you behave yourself now?’
Fear and indignation still raged inside Courtney, but the shock of the ice bath and realization of her total helplessness had brought home the seriousness of her situation.
‘Yes…’ Courtney said in a tiny voice.
‘Yes, Interrogator Ivanka,’ Ivanka corrected her.
‘Yes… Interrogator Ivanka,’ Courtney repeated miserably. What did you do in situations like this? Oh yes: ‘I w… want to see the British Ambassador... th… that’s my right!’
‘At the moment you have very few rights,’ Ivanka warned her. ‘But that one can be granted. However, at this time of night, I doubt if the Ambassador himself can be reached. But Sir Humphrey Chiltern, the British Honorary Consul, happens to be in the Checkpoint dealing with another case. Would you see him?’
A title like that sounded very grand and reassuring. ‘Yes… please, Interrogator Ivanka…’
Ivanka let go of Courtney’s hair and stepped back, leaving Courtney to hold her own body painfully extended out over the pail of icy water. Her bare breasts were still half submerged, but she was unable to straighten up fully because of the strap across her hips and the bar across the tops of the twin posts, and with her hands cuffed behind her she could not brace herself in any way.
Ivanka went to the desk and used the phone to make an internal call. She spoke a few words, put the receiver down and came back to Courtney. ‘Sir Humphrey will be here in five minutes…’
She reached down into the pail of icy water and pulled a second padded bar spanning between the twin posts like the one at the back of Courtney’s neck, up out of the water until it pressed against the front of Courtney’s throat, giving her something to rest on to ease the strain on her back. It kept her face out of the water but ice cubes still bobbed about her breasts.
‘There, now you’ll be able to tell him your story.’
‘B… but he can’t see me like this, Interrogator Ivanka!’ Courtney protested.
‘Yes he can. He’s lived in Barovia for many years and is used to our methods. He won’t be in the least embarrassed.’
‘B… but what about my embarrassment, Interrogator Ivanka?’ Courtney blurted out.
Ivanka slapped Courtney’s bare bottom hard, so that she yelped and the crisp smack echoed round the room. ‘You are a suspected radical sympathiser. Be grateful he won’t find me beating the truth out of you!’
As Ivanka had said, Sir Humphrey was neither surprised nor embarrassed to see Courtney naked and bound, bent over a bucket of ice with her bare bottom thrust up into the air exposing the intimate details of her groin. He merely glanced at her while greeting Ivanka in fluent Barovian.
Sir Humphrey was a lean, fortyish, greying man dressed in a cream linen suit with a pink bow tie. He sported a neat moustache and gave the impression of being distinguished and amiable but also sharp-eyed.
‘This is Courtney Carpenter, aged twenty-one, and a British subject, ‘Ivanka explained, switching to English. ‘She has been arrested on suspicion of being a radical sympathiser. She was abusive and resisted a body cavity search, so it was necessary to restrain and cool her down.’
‘Did you find anything in her?’ Sir Humphrey asked.
Courtney blushed and squirmed at the memory of Ivanka’s latex-gloved hand feeling inside her vagina and rectum as she searched for concealed objects, lingering that little bit longer than was necessary. The woman was a lesbian, she was sure of it…
‘Perhaps I’d better hear what she has to say for herself,’ Sir Humphrey said.
Ivanka prodded Courtney’s bottom. ‘Tell Sir Humphrey your story.’
Courtney’s cheeks burned with fresh shame at the prospect of conversing with this elegant man with her breasts freezing in icy water and her bare bum stuck up in the air before him! But she had no choice. She spoke trying to keep her teeth from chattering.
‘I… I’m from London. I’m a model… I just do occasional promotional jobs… one day I hope to be an actress. I was hired to work at the B… British Pavilion at the Barovia International Festival of Arts and Culture… handing out information leaflets, explaining the programme and guiding people around. T… this was my last night. I was just going back to my hotel when these policemen stopped me. Somebody had made a complaint about some brochures I had been handing out…’
Ivanka presented several of the brochures for Chiltern to see. ‘They’re genuine on the front, but on the backs they have been printed with radical propaganda calling for the overthrow of the Duke of Barovia and the formation of a government ruling by Sharia law… and denouncing America, of course.’
‘Oh dear,’ Chiltern said. ‘These do look rather serious. What were you doing distributing such things, Miss Carpenter?’
‘But I d… didn’t! I don’t know anything about them! T… the ones I gave out and didn’t have any of that stuff on!’
‘Are you sure?’ he said. ‘Did you check the backs of each one?
‘Well… no… but why would anybody at the British Pavilion give that stuff out?’ Her breasts felt as if they were freezing solid. ‘I… I am not a radical sympathizer! I’m B… British… and they can’t treat me like this… it’s inhumane… illegal!’
Chiltern shrugged. ‘It would be in England, Miss Carpenter, but they have different standards in Barovia. They are on friendly terms with Britain and the European Union but they are not a part of it, nor are they signatories to any international human rights agreements. By their laws they can do use extreme measures to learn the truth – especially from a radical suspect.’
‘But I’m not a r… radical anything!’ Courtney sobbed.
Chiltern turn to Ivanka. ‘It is possible that somebody obtained a package of leaflets and added this propaganda and mixed them with the authorised items. Miss Carpenter may be merely their unwitting distributor.’
‘I know, but at the moment she is the only person we can link to their distribution.
We’ll have to keep her here while the people she worked with are questioned. Her past life will be investigated by the British police and Europol. As the literature mentioned America, the CIA will also have to be alerted…’
By now Courtney was gazing at Ivanka in despair. ‘B… but everybody would think I’m a radical!’ she sobbed. ‘H… how long will it take?’
‘A few months, perhaps. If there is any doubt you will be kept on their watch list.’
‘A few months!’ Courtney cried, aghast. ‘But what will my modelling agency think? Will I get any work while I’m being investigated?’
Ivanka shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Inevitably, there are consequences. They are regrettable but they cannot be helped.’
Courtney groaned. She’d loose everything!
‘A pity she cannot be judged by the old laws of Barovia,’ Chiltern mused. ‘That would be so much quicker and more discreet.’
His words gave Courtney a sudden fleeting hope. ‘What are these old laws?’
‘A civil code that used to exist here in medieval times, long before war and revolution swallowed up Greater Barovia,’ Ivanka explained. ‘Laws were created especially to allow women to prove their word in legal cases when they had few other rights. They are called permezatenci, which means a “permitted violation”, because women would bring it upon themselves by volunteering to be judged by ordeals of pain and sexual humiliation. The accused has to make a formal declaration of her innocence before witnesses and continue to assert it after a given number of tests. There is a belief in Barovia that when women are subjected to extremes of pain and pleasure they are unable to lie. If they endure their ordeals without confessing their guilt, they are declared innocent.’
It all sounded horrifying and totally medieval. But if it was quick and secret... ‘Please, Interrogator Ivanka. If I was t… tested like that, would my agency have to know?’
‘Nobody else would have to know anything,’ Chiltern said, ‘not even the British government. Once the process is invoked, it is conducted purely within Barovia. I would be requested not to inform the British ambassador until it was resolved, therefore he would not pass on any suspicions about you to the authorities. But don’t think it’s an easy option, Miss Carpenter. What you are experiencing now is quite mild by comparison.’
Courtney shuddered. Her breasts were turning blue. But she could not face the alternative. Not the shame and the damage to her career. ‘H… how long would it take, Interrogator Ivanka?’
Ivanka looked at her narrowly, as if assessing her. ‘In your case a week… perhaps eight days.’
Eight days! But that was better than months and a ruined career and people pointing at her and wondering… ‘I’ve finished my job here… I don’t have to go back home straightaway… no one would know what I was really doing.’
Ivanka was looking thoughtful. ‘It would save us a lot of time and inconvenience… if you volunteer of your own free will…’
‘I do… I volunteer!’ Courtney said desperately.
‘It is my duty to warn you once again, Miss Carpenter,’ Chiltern said earnestly, ‘that it will not be pleasant. You will suffer imprisonment, humiliation, pain and multiple sexual violations.’
Courtney gulped. ‘I… still want to do it.’
He shook his head and turned to Ivanka. ‘I don’t think she understands. She will break down and confess at first instance and only waste all our time.’
Despite her fear, Courtney felt a flush of resentment at that suggestion.
‘It’s your fault for mentioning the old laws, Sir Humphrey,’ Ivanka said with a wry smile. ‘But perhaps she should be given a taste of what to expect first. If she is as weak-willed as you seem to think, then she will break quickly and we will take the normal course of action. If she is still willing to volunteer for permezatenci then it is her right. I must respect our laws.’
Chiltern sighed. ‘Then do so, Sergeant. I will leave you to it…’
‘No. It should be done by a man as a figure of authority. You are a resident of Strakensburg and familiar with our ways. You are qualified to do this.’
Chiltern looked surprised. ‘Would that be quite proper in my position?’
‘It is if I authorize it.’ Ivanka looked at Courtney. ‘You will be permitted to undergo permezatenci if you allow Sir Humphrey to test you first to prove that you have the courage to face the full ordeal. If you admit your guilt or you beg him to stop, then the process of international criminal investigation will begin, do you understand?’
Courtney felt as if her stomach was being scooped out by a blade of ice. ‘I… I do, Interrogator Ivanka.’
‘Now politely ask him to test you.’
‘Per… please will you t… test me, Sir Humphrey…’ Courtney stammered.
Chiltern was still protesting. ‘What about one of your other officers?’ he asked Ivanka. ‘Where is Captain Kubeck?’
‘Unfortunately the Checkpoint is extremely busy right now as you know. The influx of visitors to the Festival has created extra work. We have no one else to spare. Her case has already taken me from other work. I only ask for half an hour of your time, Sir Humphrey.’
‘Oh, very well then, Sergeant. Let’s get this get this over with…’ He began removing his jacket.
Ivanka indicated the store cupboard. ‘You may use anything you wish in there. I will be back in thirty minutes. And do not be gentle with her just because she is a fellow countrywoman. I expect to see her bottom well tanned…’
She left the room, closing its big iron studded door behind her.
Chiltern rolled up his shirtsleeves, surveying Courtney’s body critically. ‘This is nothing personal you understand, Miss Carpenter. It’s just the way they do such things here.’
‘I… I understand…’ Courtney choked out.
‘Sir,’ he said pointedly. ‘If I’m to be a figure of authority you will call me “Sir”.’
‘Y… yes, Sir…’
‘For the next half hour I’m going to be your master and tormentor…’ he stroked and patted her bare bottom, admiring its soft curves and pliancy. ‘I admit it won’t be unpleasant with an attractive woman such yourself. Knowing that you are unwillingly pleasing your tormentor is of course part of the test…’
He went to the cupboard and selected a thing that looked like an oversized flyswatter with a chunky handle, a springy cane blade with wires wrapped around it and a broad black rubber paddle blade with metal studs set in it. He swished it through the air in front of her.
‘This is an electric spanking paddle,’ he told her. ‘The blade will hurt by itself and electric studs will double the pain.’ He stroked the blade over her upraised bottom. Her buttocks clenched in a futile attempt to escape its touch.
‘Now I’m going to give your bottom a good paddling and you will cry. It’s natural. Don’t try to be brave. Scream and plead and beg for mercy as much to like and I’ll ignore it. There are only two ways of ending the beating before you faint. One is to confess clearly and unequivocally your guilt and that you are a radical sympathiser. The other is to offer your body to me for carnal use.’
Courtney whimpered.
‘Of course that would also be humiliating and degrading to a free woman, but then they wouldn’t be true tests of character otherwise. Barovians believe that if you want to prove your honour, you have to sacrifice it first…’
He drew back his arm and swiped the paddle through the air.
Courtney screamed as it struck her right buttock full on. Her flesh rippled and a crisp smack echoed about the chamber. Then the electric studs stabbed her with their electric pins, redoubling the pain as Chiltern promised. He swung again, smacking into her left buttock with the same agonising result. Then he changed the angle of his swing slightly, bringing the blade across at a low angle so that it caught the fleshier undersides of her buttocks, making them shiver and bounce.
Tears dripped from her eyes that were screwed up in pain and dripped into the bucket beneath her. She had never felt anything like it before in her life. ‘No… ahhh… please... Sir… stop… awww… it hurts… eeek… I can’t… don’t!’ she babbled.
‘I’ll stop if you confess you are a radical sympathiser!’ Chiltern said, still swinging the terrible paddle vigorously.
‘No… I’m innocent!’ she screamed.
After a minute of this her bottom was a rosy red and felt as if it was blazing, while her breasts, jerking and swaying from the impacts of the blows transmitted through her body, were freezing as they bobbed amongst the melting ice cubes. She was caught between fire and ice! Oh, for some of that ice on her bottom! The relentless pain overwhelmed her and with a sob of shame, her hot pee spurted in fits and starts into the empty bucket between her thighs.
She could not take any more of this! It was too much! She would die! She had to escape and there was only one way…
‘Ahhhh… please… Sir… eeeee… Sir…. awww… Please screw me… I b… beg you to…ooooh… fuck me… fuck me… h… hard… p… please… Sir!’
Chiltern stopped beating her, leaving her blazing buttocks to twitch pathetically.
‘What did you say?’
‘P… please screw me… Sir,’ she said clearly, snivelling and blinking through her tears. Had she really just begged an Honorary Consul to screw her?
Chiltern pushed the shaft of the spanking paddle sideways into her mouth so that she had to clench her teeth about it. ‘Hold onto that and don’t let it go,’ he commanded. ‘If you are not sufficient pleasing, I’ll use it on you again…’
He reached around the ice bucket and turned a tap. The freezing water began to drain out of the upper bucket into the lower one between her thighs. In a few seconds her breasts hung free; dripping wet, purple and blue and tingling as circulation began to return to them. Chiltern stood behind her and she heard him opening his flies. That he stepped onto the base of the trestle frame and lay forward across her upraised body. He rested his hands on the trestle on either side of the waist. She felt stiff penis rubbing through her wet cleft and then finding the mouth of her vagina. The fabric of his trousers rasped over her simmering buttocks as he positioned himself.
‘This is for your honour and the truth,’ he told her.
Then his shaft plunged into her and stretched her sheath wide. And to her horror and shame she sucked on it in desperation. He thrust into her so that the trestle frame creaked and her sore bottom flesh smarted as it was compressed by his lunge. He lay over her and reached under her and grabbed her freezing breasts that were bobbing in the empty bucket from the power of his thrusts and cupped and squeezed and kneaded them. Courtney screamed as they filled with pins and needles. Drips of lubricating juices fell from her squelching, bulging vulva into the bucket between her thighs. The contrast between her blazing buttocks and reviving breasts and churning, dribbling vagina was overwhelming her senses. She was going to cum…
Chiltern dug his thumb nails in to her cold nipples so that she screamed about the paddle shaft clenched between her teeth and he roared in her ear: ‘Are you a radical sympathizer?’
Courtney shook her head wildly even as her loins burst and he pumped his sperm up inside her. Then there was an interval of confusion and dizzy delight in a world beyond guilt or innocence....
Afterwards, as Courtney slumped limply in her frame, too dizzy to think, she was dimly aware of Chiltern standing over and using her damp hair to wipe his penis clean of his sperm and her juices, even as same mixture was dripping out of her sore pussy into the bucket between her thighs. It was one more humiliation to endure. Then he tucked his now flaccid manhood away and became the immaculate gentleman once more.
He took the spanking paddle from between her teeth and stooped down and lifted her chin to examine her red-eyed tear-streaked and woebegone face.
‘You have passed the test, Courtney,’ he told her. ‘You are fit for permezatenci.’
And for a moment, Courtney felt a bizarre surge of gratitude towards the strange man who had just reduced her to tears by beating her bottom and tormenting her frozen breasts and screwing her almost into insensibility.
Courtney’s bottom was still rosy red but her tears had dried and her breasts were turning pink when Ivanka returned.
She examined state of Courtney’s bottom critically. ‘Did she break?’
‘She is braver than I thought, Sergeant,’ Chiltern conceded. ‘She still insists she is innocent. I think she is, but it’s not up to me to decide. Look at the time… I must be off now…’
‘No, Sir Humphrey,’ Ivanka said, gently but firmly. ‘We are still short-staffed and we have no room in the cells tonight. As you have proven how well you can handle her, I suggest we share her permezatenci between us, one day at a time. Take her home with you now. You can test her there or anywhere else you see fit, as long as she is kept secure, and I will see to here. Barovia would be most grateful for your assistance in this matter…’
Chiltern sighed. ‘You always know how to get round me, don’t you Sergeant?’
‘I hereby deputised you as a temporary assistant inquisitor. I rely on your honour not to be gentle with her.’
‘I will not be gentle with her,’ Chiltern promised.
Courtney shivered. In the space of a few hours her world had been turned upside down. The only thing she was sure off was that she was innocent. But proving it was going to be a nightmare…

Author Information

Simon Grail is an artist and author of many strong BDSM content A1 books, including the best sellers "Sex Slave Holiday","Hell School for Teachers" and "The Young Women of St Evals" and "The Bagatelle Club". Past works include:"The Purgatory Club" trilogy, the "Bondmaid" Saga sextet, the "Lesbian MILF Blackmail Gang", "Sisterhood of Submission", the "Dragon School" and "Castle of Slaves" novels, and several short stories including the ongoing "Breaking in..." and "Nightmare in..." series.


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