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A different kind of torture

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Le Chiffre felt his lungs tightening, sweat was running down his back and his shirt was soaked. It was not that he had believed this would be easy or fast. Yet, usually the first signs of breakdown or begging should have already occurred. He was getting the feeling that Bond might prove to be hard maybe even impossible to break. The resulting frustration was aggravating.

He remembered Dimitri, the Russian agent, at the time he had thought the man had been pretty stubborn and hard to break. Yet after the second hit, he had already begun holding him off. Bond did no such thing, Le Chiffre got the feeling that the British agent was trying to act as if all this did not affect him. Even though it clearly did and certainly beyond the immediate pain.

Bond`s reaction irritated him. He needed to change strategies and was not sure how. He had never considered that this proven method might not be working. So he tried a different approach by offering him to let Vesper go. Not that he was serious about it or believed for a second that it might work, it was a feeble attempt to say something and not loose the initiative. Maybe part of him was curious to see the reaction, whether there was a tiny hint that Bond cared at least enough to consider the possibility. After all hearing her scream seemed to bother him more than his own torture.

When the MI-6 agent instead just started laughing again, Le Chiffre realised that Bond was not going to budge anytime soon.

"You really aren’t going to tell me", Le Chiffre said. "So I think ..."

Getting up from a squatting position, he was going through the last steps of his new strategy. It did not take him much acting skills to pretend he was angry. Bond's desperate and yet unyielding grin was annoying. With a swift kick against the chair he sent his helpless victim to the ground. Drawing the knife from his pocket he decided to find out just how little Bond cared about his private parts being mutilated.

"... I'll feed you what you seem not to value."

The impact had sent his bruised dick bouncing and a fresh wave of pain came over Bond. He pressed his teeth together, dreading what those words meant for him. The fall had trapped him on the chair, while he might have been able to get rid of it, James lacked the energy. With or without, Bond knew he was completely at Le Chiffre’s mercy.

Here, on the cold floor in the murky and stinking belly of the ship, Bond realised that he was only human after all. Not that he really had thought of himself as not being human. He just felt disconnected from ordinary people. As an agent, he couldn’t allow himself to indulge in human weaknesses. He had been trained to focus - to let nothing come between the mission, his target, and his duty. So far, it had always worked for him, according to M, sometimes too well.

James had known from the moment they strapped him onto the chair that provoking Le Chiffre into killing him sooner rather than later was his best option. Bond was not about to give up the password. Not because he would be dead as soon as he did, he was not going to give Le Chiffre the money. If he could do nothing else, then still put the nail in Le Chiffre`s coffin. At the very least he was able to end his career. All he had to do was withstand this torture.

Yet all his training didn’t prepare him for this. Never before James had felt more vulnerable. He had always felt that this body was the least he cared about. It was a tool to be used. Pain and severe injuries came with the trade. Indeed, there was always a grim satisfaction seeing the scars all over his body. They were proof, that pain meant nothing and how his mind drove him past physical injuries to success. Pain that was nothing compared to what he felt right now. While the pain had dulled somewhat after each impact, the dull ache was still strong enough to blank out the various signals of pain that came from the rest of his body: the bruised shoulders, the knocked up rips, the cuts on his face, the bend back and the banged up knee.

Le Chiffre looked down on the agent whose face showed that he had given up. Unfortunately, it was on his life and limbs, not regarding the password. Bond was going to let this happen and that dawned upon his tormentor. He knelt down next to Bond whose red penis rested now on his gorgeous abs. The slight trembling of Bond’s body was a welcome sight for the frustrated banker. The MI-6 agent expected it to end now, for what reason would he have to yield after the deed was done? Le Chiffre made one small incision, pushing the issue as far as it seemed sensible.

Despite being in so much pain already, James felt the tip of the knife puncture the skin on his bruised cock. Bond wanted to scream, to get Le Chiffre to stop, even though he believed he had upset him enough so he might even continue regardless. Any delay would only weaken the agent’s resolve: behind his cracking armour was the man behind the spy. A man who was very much attached to his dick and liked it to stay that way.

"Now tell me, is it more to the right or more to the left?"

Now it was Le Chiffre`s turn to make fun of James. He took in every little twitch of the agent's lips, every blink as he moved the knife a bit to right and then back to the left. James tried to control his reactions by focusing on his breathing. It wasn’t very successful any more. While it was hardly important to not show pain, as it was clear that anyone who got kicked in the balls five times was going through hell, it was vital to hide his emotional state.

Yet, his head jerked a little every now and then, no matter how hard James tried to suppress it. His eyes were wet and it wasn’t just the physical pain. The small cut bleed terribly and the red liquid ran down the crack of Bond's firmly shaped butt.

"Oh, no comment? No, special request this time?", Le Chiffre teased him.

He let the knife trace the blood without making an additional cut. Instantly, Le Chiffre could hear that Bond's breathing got deeper and much more forced. The MI-6 agent wished he were able to find the right words to infuriate the banker even more. His thoughts were filled with an unspeakable horror like he had never felt before and nothing came to mind that might bring this gruesome end about faster.

Bending closer Le Chiffre said in a nice and low tone: "Tell me - or I promise you will get a taste of yourself."

Bond felt his strength to resist waning with every second that passed, with every second that he was still whole. He just lay there, staring at the ceiling as he didn’t want to see his enemy's face. Moment after moment passed and a minute seemed like an eternity to the agent. The feeling of the knife between his cheeks was agonizing, even though no additional cut was made.

There was no sign left of defiance and yet Le Chiffre had the feeling Bond was still not going to reveal anything. A good torturer knew when his strategy was not working and in this case he had to realize that fast results were not possible. Normally this would not be a problem, however, in this case time was not endless. Bond had to know this. The question, Le Chiffre asked himself, was if he could find the right one to break Bond before the light of dawn. He was already beginning to implement his new strategy.

Kneeling closer against Bond, he reached calmly down with his free hand to lift up the red and swollen member. Rather than looking at it, Le Chiffre focused on his enemy's face which was writhing in pain. They both waited. Bond staring at the ceiling, breathing hard; Le Chiffre observing his victim's facial expressions like a cat a mous. One struggling for control, the other for the right moment to strike.

To an untrained observer it might seem as if Bond was successful in regaining his composure. In reality, he was mess. Being touched like that this even though it was a light touch, was painful. What was even worse was having his privates being handled by someone else, to be so out of control.

Bond had screwed both men and women in the line of duty but there he had driven the action, been in charge, but here he was violated in the most grotesque way and all James could do was endure. The banker held Bond’s dick between his thumb and one finger, stroking in little circles about it like he was playing with a coin. It was a totally impersonal gesture from Le Chiffre. James felt like an insect pinned to board, slowly dying.

He had to avoid looking at Le Chiffre, but even without his weakness lay exposed and James could feel how gratifying it was for his enemy who chuckled in light of this first success.

Bond, who heard him, was snapping out: Loud, uncontrolled and without thinking. "Do it - I let you know what it feels like - so you are prepared when your friends catch up with you."

Le Chiffre laughed, he had waited for Bond to say something. He admired the agent for still trying to get at him, by pointing out what Quantum could do to him, if they thought he had talked. That was in the future, the banker wanted to focus on what would prevent that. The fact that Bond wanted to get this over quickly, that he was ready for it to happen, showed him his next step. Le Chiffre smiled at James who looked at him with this half-crazy, half-desperate expression.

"I think, I’m letting you off too easy." He closed the knife and put it back in his pocket.

For a moment the MI-6 Agent felt relieved as the cold steel was removed from his dick but after a few seconds reality caught up with him. James had been convinced that Le Chiffre was going to cut off his dick, that it might lead to him bleeding to death with a little more help.

It had been a misjudgment as Le Chiffre wasn’t easily provoked. Even worse, the banker had successfully bluffed him and gained an advantage. Bond was aware that the chink in his armour was exposed, the prospect of prolonged torture was getting to him. There was a sense of dread for the horrors yet to come and still Bond remained determined not to give up. He knew that ultimately time was on his side.

James had already accepted that he was going to die tonight, the question was just how fast this was going to happen. “So what are you going to do instead? You can't scare me.”

They both knew this was a lie, James was afraid and he knew that Le Chiffre was aware of it. A more precise statement would’ve been to say: ‘Whatever you do, I won’t tell you.’

It didn’t matter to Le Chiffre how resolved Bond still was, he had seen a way in and it was just a matter of pushing further, to wear down more of Bond’s defences. It wasn’t the physical torture that would get to Bond, he needed to work his mind, throw him off, degrade him, build on that growing fear of ongoing torture. It would help to hurt that perfect body of his, to drain him of his strength and wear him out.

“Let me show you,” Le Chiffre said, “but first let’s get rid of this.”

Taking the chair, he removed it suddenly from under Bond, who slumped to the side, moaning as he suddenly found his legs dropping. He thought about kicking his enemy but he couldn’t move his legs, they felt like pudding. James groaned in pain as Le Chiffre pushed him onto his side with his foot.

Very slowly he felt the foot coming down on his butt, pressing down and grinding his cock onto the dirty, cold concrete.

“Look at you,” the banker mocked him. “All those muscles and no strength left in you.”

“Maybe I just don’t feel like getting up,” James spit out the words in between groans.

As the boot was lifted, Bond tried to look behind him but his head spun and nausea welled up in him. He was aware that Le Chiffre was crouching down, even before he felt his hand on his butt. James knew that the way his enemy explored his behind with gentle, firm strokes was supposed to mimic a sexual interest but it seemed devoid of passion and even the little squeeze he gave his left cheek was just a cold impassioned imitation of lust.

Despite all this, James felt his throat dry out, wondering how far Le Chiffre was going to take this mockery. As if to answer the question, Le Chiffre opened his zipper.

“Don’t worry, you don’t need to get up on my behalf, I like you lying down like this,” he told James as he undressed further. As he lowered his pants, he was surprised how much this turned him on, when a firm erection sprouted forward with just a few touches. “Or maybe kneeling.”

With unexpected firm grip James felt his hips being pulled up, any attempt to move out of the kneeling position he was moved, was answered with a firm shove. Bond winced silently, biting his lip as Le Chiffre’s hard cock pushed against his crack. Faced with how far the enemy was prepared to go, James thought of one last desperate attempt to avoid being raped.

He laughed, at first it sounded more like a cough, his body hurt as he kept going and went louder, making it obvious and noticed.

“I wonder what amuses you know, Mr. Bond? Or shall I call you James, given how much closer we’ve gotten?”

Le Chiffre’s tone was between surprise and annoyance, and the agent felt some confidence return. “Just thinking, that whatever else happens, I turned you gay.”

Bond expected outrage or denial but not hearty laughter. “You say that if it were something bad, didn’t you read my file?” Le Chiffre took a deep breath and said in a more scolding tone. “I’m severely disappointed by such a bigoted, pathetic attempt.”

It was all show, Le Chiffre enjoyed every minute of this new direction the torture took, while he couldn’t see Bond’s face, his voice, the way his body trembled, were telling him all he needed to know. He left him just for a moment to fetch that small pocket flashlight from his dinner jacket. The silver chrome rod was long and sleek, except for the end with the light. It still was thicker than his thumb.

For a moment, he considered using the thicker end, but it seemed more useful as a handle to hold onto. Bond frantically tried to see what he was doing but his actions only resulted in sickness getting stronger. It left him completely unprepared for the cold metal brushing against his ass.

James screamed in pain as it was brutally shoved inside him. Le Chiffre felt his own dick ache in excitement. He could see the rage as Bond twisted his head to the side, reeling from pain and the humiliation. Unlike Le Chiffre, his encounters had been solely him penetrating others, this violation was the worst for the agent, James pressed his teeth together.

Twisting the flashlight around, moving it roughly in and out, Le Chiffre tested him like one would play an instrument, pressing here and there, enjoying the sounds that he forced out of Bond. He wasn’t satisfied until Bond was screaming again. Unwilling to wait any longer, he pulled the flashlight out and grinned when he saw the opened hole. He was considerably bigger and when his dick pressed against the whole, he felt the resistance.

Bond shivered and moaned in pain, his body also shaking as he strained against the tears and urge to sob. Le Chiffre’s moans were those of cheer delight, as he forced his way inside, he could tell how thick shaft filling out the agent’s ass was hurting him. The hard flashlight might not have torn his insides but they had bruised him up.

Holding on to Bond’s hips, Le Chiffre began fucking the agent roughly, an exhausting task but as endorphins rushed through his body, his energy and will to push himself harder increased. The more he felt his dick spearing inside James sore ass causing him pain, the more satisfying this became. Le Chiffre wished he had the breath to tease the agent more but later would be good enough.

The pain and the forceful penetration were too much for the agent, his nausea won and he violently threw up, the contents of his stomach. Involuntarily contracting more around the cock buried inside of him. A forceful stimulation that caused Le Chiffre to groan as it sent him over the edge. With a final loud groan, he came and spilled his cum into Bond, who seemed even more breathless than he was.

With a smirk, Le Chiffre dropped on top of the humiliated agent forcing his face into the content of his stomach. Breathing against Bond’s neck, he ignored the stench as he thought about what to say.

A loud scream from behind the door, caught their attention. Vesper was still alive and let out a series of screams, making him wondering if someone else also had a bit too much fun.

“You might be willing, to endure this,” Le Chiffre said, withdrawing his dick, before lying flat against Bond again. His fingers stroked over Bond’s bruised face, he bend closer and whispered into James’ ear. “You think Miss Lynd, is willing to give it up for Queen and country?”

Bond’s head jerked up but fell back into the vomit underneath him. The agent had gone into shock and Le Chiffre interpreted his body language rightly as such. He reached beside him, grabbed the flashlight and raised himself up enough so he could ram it back, only to roll Bond on his back.

He wanted to see the agents face, even slapped him to make him look at him. With glassy eyes James stared up, looking so broken and vulnerable, while almost continuously moaning from sheer agony.

“Who knows, maybe she’ll enjoy it. I could fuck her and penetrate her with this,” to emphasise that he meant the flashlight, he pressed Bond down, forcing it up just a tiny inch deeper. Bond shook his head, in a sluggish way, being too disoriented to think clearly.

“Tell me, the password,” Le Chiffre told him. “Or I swear, the pain you feel, right now will pale in comparison what I’m going to do to your little Vesper.”

“Vesper,” Bond said, thinking about her fate, remembering what Le Chiffre did to Solange. “No,” he shook his head. Note even sure, if he meant to say ‘no, stay away’, or ‘no, I won’t give it up’.

The sudden motion made him dizzy and as he closed his eye he drifted into unconsciousness. As sharp, biting pain brought him back, his chest seemed on fire and he saw that Le Chiffre cut him right through his right nippe, leaving a read bloody streak on it.

“Vesper,” Le Chiffre tried to re-affirm that Bond recalled where they had left off.

Bond blinked at him, his breath suddenly became faster again, as he whispered, “No, no.”

Confused, the banker let his knife sink, wondering why Bond suddenly showed signs of distress about the girl, when before he had seemed almost stoic about her fate. Wondering if he had worn down his enemy that much that he had barred someone with a heart? It wasn’t that and slowly the real cause of distress dawned on Le Chiffre.

A wide smile on his face, he said triumphantly: “Vesper, V E S P E R.” He enjoyed spelling out and seeing the horror on Bond’s face. He had done it, he had gotten the code and the spy was left with the realisation that he had gone through all of the pain and humiliation for nothing.

“837737”, Le Chiffre gloated as he rose and dressed himself properly. “Mr. Bond, the pleasure was all mine.”

Bond threw his back and screamed until his consciousness finally faded to black.