Viet Cong stories

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-24

A pair of bare feet moved with difficulty, their insteps and ankles stained with blood. The toenails on all ten toes had been pulled out, and blood was still seeping from them. A pair of thick shackles hung from the ankles of these bare feet. The chains clanged against the ground. As we looked up from the bare feet, we saw a pair of beautifully curved legs covered in whip marks, twisting with difficulty, which moved their full hips. It was the beautifully curved hips of a mature woman, her abdomen unusually flat with clearly defined abdominal muscles, her navel alluring, and a pair of firm breasts covered with a network of whip marks, the blood that had seeped out had already scabbed over. Her muscular arms were bound behind her back with hemp rope, and a beautiful face appeared amidst a waterfall of black hair. Beneath willow-leaf eyebrows, a pair of single-lidded eyes gleamed, their gaze revealing contempt for the executioner. Her nose was prominent and straight, her lips tightly closed, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. In the dim light, we saw a woman with a graceful figure, walking with difficulty. The light illuminated her beautiful arms, full and firm breasts, and clearly defined muscles in her abdomen, buttocks, and legs. Her entire body was covered in whip marks and branding scars. The clanging of shackles echoed in the dim corridor.

The executioner drove the female prisoner with a leather whip, making a sharp cracking sound. With each lash, the woman's body twitched, then she stopped, turning back to glare at the executioner with hatred. At this moment, the executioner lashed her twice more with his whip, shoving her while shouting, "Damn it! You filthy bitch! Get out of here!" Suddenly, the woman stumbled, tripped by her shackles, and fell to the ground. Two executioners rushed to help her up, but the woman said firmly, "Get out of my way, I can get up myself," her voice weak but resolute. The female prisoner slowly pulled her shackled feet closer to her eyes, then moved her body to the wall, leaning against it with her back, and strained to stand up. She then dragged her heavy shackles laboredly towards the end of the corridor,

leaving behind beautiful, bright red, bloody footprints on the floor.

A moment later, the clanking of chains stopped. The female prisoner leaned against the cell doorframe with her left shoulder, looked up and saw the number 41 on the door. She closed her eyes and collapsed unconscious at the cell doorway. A muscular executioner with a face full of scars and a long beard lifted her up and carried her into the cell. This was a cell for important prisoners, with inner and outer rooms.

The inner room was where prisoners rested, while the outer room was a small torture chamber, fully equipped with instruments of torture. In the outer room was a hanging post, with chains and shackles attached to it.

Two executioners dragged the female prisoner into the outer cell, untied the ropes binding her arms, and used iron shackles from a pillar to fasten her wrists from behind. They then removed the chains, and the prisoner was slowly hoisted up. Bloodstains were visible on her wrists from the shackles; her upper body was hunched, her legs and shackled feet hopping, only her ten bright red toes touching the ground. The pain in her wrists jolted her awake. To alleviate the excruciating pain from the shackles, she strained to stand on her tiptoes, hopping like a ballerina. Her cascading hair fell in front of her legs, and through the gaps in her hair, her breasts could be seen hanging down her chest, her nipples erect. The two executioners, having completed their task, locked the cell door and hummed a tune as they walked away.

The female prisoner slowly and laboriously raised her head, her beautiful almond-shaped eyes scanning the cell. The scenes of her arrest and her entry into this cell flashed before her eyes.

Amidst the chaos of war and the billowing smoke of the battlefield, the Japanese punitive expedition was tightening its encirclement, launching a final assault on the Viet Cong positions. Under the command of a heroine in a red coat and boots, wielding a double-barreled pistol, the Viet Cong fighters held their ground with extraordinary tenacity. Piles of Japanese corpses lay before the position, the Viet Cong suffering heavy casualties. A stalemate ensued. Then, the Japanese deployed armored units, creating a stark disparity in strength. Number 41 shouted to her comrades, “Brothers! We cannot fall into enemy hands! We must save our last bullet to end our lives! Someone will avenge us!” “Boom!” “Boom!”… Dozens of shells rained down on the Viet Cong fighters. The female Viet Cong fighter, along with her comrades, fell on the battlefield. Dust and snow covered them. Blood flowed from their bodies, and mangled limbs were scattered everywhere. The Japanese army began clearing the battlefield; it seemed there were no Viet Cong soldiers left alive. Suddenly, a Japanese soldier shouted, "Reporting, sir! There's a female Viet Cong here, and she's still alive!" Two Japanese soldiers dragged a woman in a red coat towards their commander, Colonel Yoshida. The woman was unconscious, her clothes were shaken so badly that the cotton wadding was visible, and she was barefoot. She was muttering something under her breath. Colonel Yoshida, after examining her, said, "Take her back and interrogate her! Make sure she tells us the address of the Viet Cong headquarters! Assemble! Move out of the way!"

The Japanese soldiers tied the woman tightly with rope, loaded her onto an armored vehicle, and headed towards Tongliao County, the location of their headquarters.

Along the way, the woman slowly regained consciousness. After realizing she had been captured alive, she desperately banged her head against the steel plates of the vehicle, but several Japanese soldiers stopped her. The journey was bumpy and silent; after more than ten hours, the Japanese army finally arrived at their headquarters, Tongliao County. Colonel Yoshida, disregarding the fatigue of the journey, began interrogating the woman that very night.

Under the dim kerosene lamp, Colonel Yoshida and Major Fujino sat. Beside the glowing charcoal stove stood two shirtless executioners.

Colonel Yoshida: "Bring the female Viet Cong!"

Clang...clang...clang... As the sound of clashing chains drew closer, a pair of shackled feet, struggling to move, came into view. The chains were rusty, and blood seeped from the ankles chafed by the shackles, flowing down the arches to the toes and onto the floor, leaving a trail of bright red footprints.

A moment later, the female Viet Cong stood under the lamp. In the dim light, a pair of clear, bright eyes shone on a beautiful face, seemingly filled with countless beautiful legends. A small, purplish-red callus, the size of a soybean, adorned the left side of her brow. Beneath a straight nose, her well-defined red lips were slightly parted, revealing glimpses of pearly white teeth. A cascade of black hair obscured half her face. The collar of her cotton-padded jacket was open, revealing a long, strong, white neck. Her prominent breasts rose and fell with her breath. Her hands were bound behind her back with hemp rope, further emphasizing the firmness of her chest. The cuffs of her yellow riding breeches were open, revealing shapely, spindle-shaped calves. Her feet, shackled and stained with blood, were slightly parted…

Colonel Yoshida: “What’s your name?”

Female Viet Cong: …Staring at Yoshida.

Yoshida : “Tell me! Where is your headquarters?”

Female Viet Cong: …Staring at Yoshida.

Yoshida: "Not talking? Die, die!"

Female Viet Cong: "………………" Staring at Yoshida.

Yoshida: "Baka yarou! Sanbin de!"

Executioner A: "Hey!"

Snap… Snap… Snap… The executioner's merciless hand struck the female Viet Cong's cheek. She staggered.

The female Viet Cong's disheveled hair, blood dripping from the corner of her mouth onto the ground. She slowly raised her head, glaring at Yoshida.

"Ptooey!" A mouthful of bright red blood was spat onto Yoshida's face. This enraged Yoshida.

"Baka yarou! Strip all your clothes off, give me the whip!"

Two executioners grabbed the female Viet Cong's hair, pushed her to the ground, and soon stripped her naked.

The female Viet Cong stood among several Japanese soldiers, covering her private parts with her hands. She glared at the executioners.

The executioners hastily hoisted her from the rafters, leaving only her toes on the ground, and began their bestial acts. "Crack…!!!!!" After ten minutes of continuous whipping, the Viet Cong woman remained silent, only letting out low moans. Her snow-white body was covered in a network of whip marks. The two executioners were exhausted, sweating profusely and panting heavily.

Yoshida walked up to the Viet Cong woman, lifted her chin with his left hand, and looked at her face, which was both beautiful and perplexing to him. He said, "You'd better tell me, so you don't suffer." The Viet Cong woman forcefully pulled her chin away from Yoshida's grasp, not even glancing at him.

Yoshida went berserk. "Speak! What's your name! Where's your headquarters?!" He grabbed the female Viet Cong's hair and yanked it back and forth. Her naked body swayed, but she remained silent, only filled with angry silence and glaring. "Speak!..." Suddenly, Yoshida pinched the female Viet Cong's nipples hard with his thumbs and forefingers, pulling them upwards forcefully. The female Viet Cong's phoenix eyes widened as she cursed, "Beast!" This only fueled Yoshida's surging testosterone. He released his grip, muttering something under his breath, while stripping off his clothes, revealing his long, thick, blood-soaked penis. He went around to the female Viet Cong's back and inserted his penis into her vagina, thrusting wildly. Yoshida's lewd cries and the clanging of chains echoed in the interrogation room. The Viet Cong woman's pained expression alternated with Yoshida's ferocious face. Her breasts, covered in whip marks, swayed with Yoshida's bestial acts, while her legs, twitching and trembling from the shackles, twitched and trembled.

This scene stunned the Japanese soldiers nearby, who stared at their commander's disgraceful behavior, unsure of what to do. Then Yoshida said, "You guys have a go too, hahahaha!" With that, he withdrew his penis and ejaculated a glob of semen onto the Viet Cong woman's buttocks, laughing wildly as he sat down in the armchair behind the desk, lit a Cuban cigar, and took a deep drag.

Several henchmen understood their commander's intentions. Facing the battered Viet Cong woman, they each pulled down their trousers and used their hands to make their penises erect... The Viet Cong woman was forced to straighten her legs, her buttocks were forced to stick out, her breasts, covered in whip marks, were thrust forward, her eyes were wide open in anger, her lips were tightly closed, her hands gripped the chains that bound her, the muscles in her arms were clearly defined, and she stood on tiptoe as the Japanese soldiers raped her. Every time the Japanese soldiers thrust violently, the Viet Cong woman's whole body would convulse violently, and she would let out a low and painful groan. The hour-long rape and abuse finally passed like a nightmare. The executioners lowered the Viet Cong woman from the roof beam, tied her arms behind her back with hemp rope, and at the same time, tightly bound her breasts with hemp rope, making her already firm breasts stand up even higher and her nipples more prominent. They nailed 30-pound shackles back to her ankles and made her lie flat on a long bench. The female Viet Cong woman's head drooped to one side of the bench, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. Her long hair cascaded down to the floor. Her breasts, bound behind her back, were prominently displayed, covered in the teeth marks of the Japanese soldiers, some still oozing blood.

One leg was stretched out on the bench, the other dangling naturally beneath. Her shapely, shackled feet were naturally stretched out. A murky mixture of blood, semen, and bodily fluids flowed from her genitals, piling up on the floor and emitting a foul stench.

The atmosphere in the interrogation room was relatively relaxed. Yoshida straightened his clothes and walked to the woman, saying,

"Tell me, who are you? Where is your headquarters?" The woman shook her head and turned her face away. "Baka!" Yoshida roared. "Get to work, you branding iron!"

An executioner branded the female Viet Cong woman's ribs with a red-hot iron. The excruciating pain made her tremble violently. She gritted her teeth, her body taut like a fully drawn bow, her legs stretched straight. Low groans escaped her lips, and beads of sweat the size of soybeans covered her body; it was clear she was trying not to scream. After a few minutes, the woman finally couldn't bear it any longer. Her eyes widened, she threw her head back violently, her legs and feet kicking wildly in the air, and she opened her sharply defined lips, uttering, "Oh... ah... ha... ouch... ouch..." The sound of chains clanging accompanied the cries. This lasted for several seconds before she went limp and fainted.

Seeing this, Yoshida sighed. "Alright! Everyone rest and get back to work. The interrogation will continue tomorrow." The executioners carried the woman to a plank, covered her with several military overcoats, and then went to sleep.

[The End]

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