"Such delicate soft skin", he murmured. "Such a shame to treat it badly".

She didn't want to give him the satisfaction but her eyes were streaming and her breath still came in sobs.

This was really happening. No daring hero to ride to her rescue. A small office high above a cold, quiet industrial estate, two thugs chillingly intent on getting information from her that she could not even begin to guess about.

His build-up was deliberate and slow. It was obviously meant to terrify. He had shown he was not afraid to hurt her. He was clearly a practised master and enjoyed his work. Sarah was completely terrified.

"You may by now have guessed the procedure", he murmured. "No marks, just lots of ... pain".

He demonstrated. The thin material of her green dress offered minimal protection against the sharply descending rope end. The skin on her thigh felt on fire. Bile rose in her throat as she shrank back into the settee, desperately covering her face.

"I know nothing", she screamed. "You've got the wrong person."

"Think we were born yesterday?" The rope slashed down again. Her limbs reacted in spasms of agony as if with a life of their own.

"I need to go to the toilet", she begged. Then screamed as he hit her again, concentrating on the upper thighs. Her body arching in pain.

Through a haze she realised he had stopped.

"We don't want you doing anything unladylike, I suppose, do we." He surveyed her with distaste.

"So what if you gain a few minutes. We'll start again soon enough, unless you talk, and it'll give you time to think about what's coming."

The toilets were down the corridor. They frog marched her, each taking an arm. The empty corridor echoed with their steps.

Thankfully, as she stumbled along, the pain on her thighs and back slowly subsided. They checked the toilets to make sure there were no exits and then when she complained she would never be able to do anything with them watching, they stood outside.

The doors of the cubicles were solid, so were the swing doors that led to the toilets. Thick rounded door handles stuck out well from the entrance doors but they had no lock.

A thick fire hose was reeled on one wall and a desperate flash of hope flared up inside her. If she couldn't get out perhaps she could stop them coming in again and buy herself some time.

Working as fast as her trembling fingers would allow, she lashed the doors together with the fire hose, broke the glass to set off the fire alarm and locked herself into a cubicle. It was a modern office block, she prayed it was connected directly to the fire authorities.

Her prayers were answered because after some initial heavy shouting and banging, all noise subsided except for the ringing of the fire bells until eventually the splintering sound of a fire axe revealed the blue uniform of a wonderful, cheerful, friendly fireman.

"Best get you down stairs, my dear," he said, with a smile. Sarah, her legs again hardly able to support her, could have hugged him.

They left her in the lobby while they checked out the rest of the building and not wanting to have to explain why she had set the alarm off, although she was feeling light headed, she seized her chance and slipped out of a side door.