Nadia Harrack

In a single room apartment in one of the multitudes of tenements in Casablanca, Nadia Harrak was preparing the evening meal on the electric hotplate. Her lover, Hashed Bensaid, was sitting at a small table that was one of their few pieces of furniture, reading the newspaper. Occasionally he would come across an article that he thought she might would find interesting, and he commented on it. Small talk between a couple who have been together for some time.

The sudden loud, reverberating knocks on the door would only be made by one type of person. Staring at each other for a split moment, Hashed said the single word, "Police," and lunged for the set of drawers pushed up against a wall.

"No, Hahed, don't!" Nadia shouted just as the door was kicked open and four policemen charged into the room. Hashed had taken the twelve inch long stilleto from the top drawer, but the first policeman in the room, a native-born Moroccan wearing a fez rather than a kepi, had drawn his pistol out in the hall-way. He fired once and Hashed dropped to the floor.

"Noooo!" Nadia screamed, dashing towards the bleeding man on the floor. One of the French police officers blocked her. When she struggled as he held her grasped by her upper arms, he shoved her against a wall. Her breath was temporarily knocked out of her and she sank to the floor.

"Go get an ambulance, Abargil," the senior French policeman said to the local cop. That man nodded and ran for the stairwell. He only hoped that there was a public phone in one of the stores on this street.

"Tell me, Nadia," the wounded Hashed asked, "Was it worth it? Was the price of the **** worth this?"

Sobbing as the tears streamed down her face, she cried from her seated position on the floor, "It wasn't supposed to have ended like this."

"We should have...stuck to robbery," Hashed gasped. "We never should have tried to . . . tried to... be hired assassins."

The Moroccan policeman kneeling beside Hashed looked at the Frenchman in charge and translated. "He says they were paid to kill the victim. He is asking her if the price was worth this."

"Who hired you?" the lead French policeman asked as he knelt down by the wounded Hashed. When he did not answer, the policeman repeated the question in a loud, no-nonsense voice, "WHO HIRED YOU?"

The Moroccan policeman on the other side of the body put his fingers to Hashed's neck. "He's dead, sir."

Nadia was not a fluent speaker of French, but she understood enough of it to understand what had just been said. Struggling to her feet, she ran over to the trio on the floor. This time the policeman who had been towering above her did not try to stop her. "NOOOOO," she wailed in that shriek of the banshee screamed by every woman everywhere at the loss of her child, or husband, or lover.

The officer in charge slowly rose to his feet, telling the other Frenchman to wait there with the body until officer Abargil returned. To the Moroccan policeman he said, "Help me get her down and into the wagon."

***** ***** *****

Nadia did not know for how long she had sat waiting in the cavernous, subterranean room with its assortment of strange equipment. There were wooden benches, although weirdly shaped and not possible to be set upon. Iron pipes were connected into bizarre configurations. Wooden four-by-fours were securely fastened to the concrete floor. She did not speak to the two policemen and they did not speak to her. One of the things she had learned while still a child was not to speak to the Law.

Three sets of eyes looked at the door when it opened. It was Captain Renault. Reading from a file he was carrying, he asked, "Miss Harrack, you are twenty-four years and live at," he mentioned her address.

Looking up from the folder when she did not answer, Captain Renault said, "We have the **** weapon. Four officers heard his '**** bed confession'." Technically only two, the other two did not speak Arabic. Actually only one Moroccan officer had been present, the other had left to summon an ambulance. But that was still enough for a conviction. Besides, by the time a trial rolls around, memories of the sequence of events can become blurred. "The only way for you to avoid the guillotine is to cooperate with us."

When she still remained silent, Captain Renault looked at the other two policemen, asking, "Does she understand what I am saying?"

One of the officers fired off a long string of Arabic words to Nadia. He waited a few moments before turning back to Captain Renault. "She understands, sir."

Closing the folder with a look of annoyance on his face, he said, "Handcuff her. Handcuff her face down. To that." He pointed to an ordinary stool like what might would be found in a bar or kitchen. The frame was metal and there was a four-inch, leather encased cushion on top. It was square, about eighteen inches by eighteen inches. Near the bottom of the legs, were connecting rungs for both stability and to serve as foot-rests. Finally, right-angle metal brackets had been screwed in to bottom of the legs and those brackets had been bolted to the floor.

Nadia did not try to fight them off, but she did not go willing, either. Rather, she would dig in her heels, forcing them to have to drag her along. Pushing her down onto the seat, her head hanging over the edge, one officer held her down while the other officer snapped a cuff to her wrist and the other end to the rung at the bottom. He did that to her other arm and the first officer removed his hands from her back. She tried lifting her arms, pulling and tugging on cuffs, but she was bound. With her arms fully extended, Nadia was unable to lift her torso, although she could raise her head.

Captain Renault allowed Nadia time to test her restraints, then, speaking to one of the two Moroccan, he said, "Tell her this is her final chance. What is the name of the person who hired her?"

The officer translated but the woman remained with her lips sealed. With a deep sight, Captain Renault said, "Fine..." He unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock, taking a step towards her. She shook her head violently and extended her neck, making biting motions in the air towards his dick.

Pure reflex caused Captain Renault to slap the side of her head with the **** of anger behind it. Nadia was struck so hard, bright lights flashed inside her eyes. This was immediately - less than two seconds - followed by a punch to her lower back. One of the policemen had withdrawn his truncheon from its ring on his belt and had jabbed her in her lower back. Directly over a kidney. She let out a yell and stared up at Captain Renault with teary eyes. For the first time, he could see fear in those eyes. Probably the severity of her situation had finally been driven home.

When he once more stepped towards her, she remained still. She cringed in disgust when Renault rubbed the head of his cock over her face. "Tell her to open her mouth," he said to one of the officers.

Nadia hesitated when she heard the words in Arabic, but then, fearing another blow, she reluctantly complied. Taking no chances, Captain Renault grabbed a handful of hair on the top of her head, while with his other hand, he firmly clasped her under her chin, gripping her jawline tightly. When he stuck his dick insider her mouth, she glared up at him with pure hatred. "Now suck."

Before the police officer could translate, Nadia closed her lips around the shaft of the limp dick and began to contract the muscles of her lips and mouth to create a partial vacuum. Maybe she understood the word 'sucer' or maybe she just understood the situation. In any event, she used her mouth and tongue to get him hard. As she felt that un-welcomed cock growing and expanding, her resentment and frustration increased, but there was nothing she could do about it.

Nadia squeezed her eyes tightly shut, trying to at least blot out the sight of this humiliation. "Tell her to open her eyes," he said to the policeman who had been acting as the translator.

The man did as instructed, leaning around to see if the woman was obeying. She was not, so he repeated his words. And repeated them again. Ultimately, she did do as ordered, glaring up at Captain Renault while she continued to suckle on that disgusting dick in her mouth.

Once that he was good and hard, and assuming that she was now aware of her predicament, Captain Renault begin to arc his hips to and fro, sliding his erection back and forth insider her mouth. With her head held immobile by Captain Renault's tight grip, all she could do was to endure it. Sometimes, he would thrust in too far and she would gag when the wide head of his cock struck the back of her throat.

Then he stood still. She blinked in confusion until he started pushing forward again. Slowly and purposefully. She gagged as before when his head pressed against the back of her throat, but this time he did not withdraw. He merely kept pushing forward, shoving more of himself into her. Forcing his cock into her throat. She coughed around it and looked up at him in alarm. He crammed in more of it, jamming himself ever deeper. Her eyes rolled around in a panic and she stomped her feet on the floor. She was afraid she was going to throw up.

With his balls against her chin, Captain Renault paused. Nadia could now no longer breathe. Her stomping became more urgent and she strained, trying to pull her hands free, as her lungs screamed for air. Her face reddened and the veins in her neck stood out as she kept on struggling.

Finally, Captain Renault jerked his cock from inside her mouth while swinging his arms out to the side. Her head came up like her neck had a coiled spring inside. She repeatedly filled her lungs with air and quickly exhaled. Her eyes wide and scared; spittle dribbling from her mouth.

"Ask her again," Captain Renault pointed his finger at her. "Ask her who hired her."

The police officer translated, but Nadia just shook her head no, still breathing rapidly, but with the redness fading from her face. "Very well," the Prefect of Police said with a shrug. Looking at the two policemen, he shoved his stiff dick back into his pants and zipped up. "Continue the interrogation." He glanced at his watch. "I have an interview to conduct."

Captain Renault picked up the folder and departed, leaving behind a very shaken prisoner.