Interrogation

The uniformed woman forced her face right up against that of the naked woman. The naked woman could not out-stare the uniformed woman and bowed her head before this onslaught. The naked woman was spread-eagled vertically; her feet not quite touching the floor. It was not a comfortable position at all. She had been minding her own business. On a lovely spring day, she had been on her way to get the shopping in. Suddenly she was engulfed by a crowd of people running away from the tear-gas that started to choke her. The next thing she knew was that two large government troops had seized her and bustled her into a van. She had fainted from the suddenness of it. When she came round she found herself in her present predicament.

The uniformed woman spoke. "My, aren't you a pretty one! I prefer the pretty ones. They seem to feel what is done to them more keenly". Dropping the philosophical reverie, she continued. "I am your interrogator. You have been assigned to me. You will tell me precisely what I want to know".

"But I don't know anything..." interjected the naked woman. Irritated, the uniformed woman proceeded

"For the moment you will listen. There will be plenty of time for you to talk. I advise you to use that time wisely. The reason that I have been chosen to interrogate you is because I'm good at it! I have not as yet failed to learn the very deepest, darkest secrets of my 'clients'. Do you know why I'm so good?" Not giving the naked women time to answer, the woman resumed. "The reason that I am good at my job is because I enjoy my work. The squeals of a tormented prisoner are like a sip of fine wine. Their begging is a joy to my heart. The wriggling of their bodies as they endure my tortures sets my heart fluttering. Whilst the look in the eyes of a fine strong young man as I slowly crush his testicles is gorgeous, far and away the pleasure of listening to the screams of a lovely young woman such as you is the ultimate pleasure."

The naked woman quaked at this horrifying litany. In an attempt to placate this clearly deranged woman, she again assayed "But I don't know anything... I'd tell you whatever you want to know, but I can't think of anything that would be of interest to the police."

The uniformed woman's response frightened the naked woman even more. "Then my dear, I hope that you get pleasure from pain, for there will be plenty of it. I shall soak up your agony like I would the sun on a summer's day."

The naked woman heard a person enter the room behind her, but could not see who it was. The questions started "Who are the other members of your terrorist cell?"

"I am not a terrorist! I don't know what you mean by a terrorist cell!"

"Do you think we are stupid? You were caught instigating a riot! Don't take us for idiots." Turning to the person beyond the naked woman she spoke gently "Teach her a lesson". A scream was forced from the naked woman as the bull-whip landed across her back. She didn't know what it was, never having been so much as chastised as a child. She only knew that it was a pain the likes of which she'd never before experienced. The uniformed woman reiterated with the simple command "Again".

The naked woman started to speak "No... Plea..." The 'please' turning into a fully-fledged howl of agony as the lash again struck her unprotected rear.

The uniformed woman again came close and almost whispering, cajoled "Do you begin to see what we can do to you? This is only a gentle encouragement."

The naked woman wondered just what a severe 'encouragement' could be like, whilst at the self-same time trying to think desperately of ways not to have to find out. What she didn't realise at the time was the almost imperceptible feeling of excitement in the tender flesh between her thighs. The irritation was as yet merely nascent. The flogging continued for an hour or so. The naked woman's squeals rang around the soundproofed room. She begged oh-so eloquently for the uniformed woman to stop: to cease even if just for a minute, a moment. It never occurred to her to make up some names. She had been brought up as a strict catholic in this South American republic. To lie was wrong, so it never so much as entered her mind. Eventually this particular form of torment stopped and she sighed with relief. She was rapidly disabused of any notion that her torments were over.

The crocodile clips bit cruelly into her nipples and the lower lips of her sex, but this wasn't the worst of it. Wires ran from the crocodile clips! The naked woman wasn't yet so far into her pain that she didn't realise what was about to happen. She again tried to reason with the uniformed woman, whose eyes had taken on a certain excitement. "Please officer, if I knew anything I would tell you." What she could and would not admit even to herself was that she too had felt her breathing increase and a slight dampness form between her legs. This time the uniformed officer herself turned the controlling dial and pressed the switch that made the naked woman dance like a puppet. Her muscles simply spasmed every time that the switch was thrown and wouldn't stop until the interrogator took her finger off the switch. "What were you doing on the street today?" barked the officer.

"I was going shopping..." Before she had finished she had been cut off.

"Liar!" and the current made her howl like a maddened dog as she jigged as much as her chains would allow. "Why didn't you run away with everyone else?"

"I was uncertain. I didn't know what was going on."

"Liar, you must be taught a lesson..." "Aaargh!" The questioning never stopped. Several times the same question was asked, or it was asked in a slightly different way so as to elicit a contradiction that could be sized upon by the uniformed woman. The interrogator was definitely enjoying her work today! Her panties under the severe skirt of her uniform were becoming distinctly damp. She was beginning to smell her own arousal. Oh this was why she had sought and won this job. It was so sublime drinking in the agony of her victims. She almost groaned at a particularly energetic wriggle and extra loud shriek from the prisoner. Indeed, as well as the smell of her own arousal, the air in the torture chamber was becoming distinctly musky as the torturer realised that there was also another aroma present. In curiosity she took her hand off the tormenting switch and rose from her chair.

In relief and an almost pleasurable respite the sufferer hung limply in her chains. Approaching, the persecutor was startled to find a single drop of moisture had dribbled down the thigh of the woman hanging there. The fragrance of aroused womanhood was intoxicating. It was the same essential woman scent, but subtly changed by the other's body chemistry. Here was a woman as aroused as she herself was! This was astounding! She had tortured many women, but few had been turned on by the pain they were suffering. Feeling something very strange for her, sympathy welled up in the bosom of this erstwhile tyrant. Taking the face of the sagging woman in her hands she lifted it so that she could look at the expression on her face. Looking deep into the eyes of the dangling woman, a communication of sorts took place. Each understood the other perfectly. Letting her hand slide down the body of the helpless woman, she stayed her progress at the nipples of the limp woman. Caressing gently, she felt the flaccidity go out of the vulnerable woman. Continuing with her exploration, she felt the prisoner weekly trying to gyrate her hips as her fingers stroked the moist slit. At this point the interrogator should have withdrawn and passed the case to her superior to reassign, but her own arousal stopped her from even having that thought. Throughout the gentle probing that she was inflicting on the captive, her eyes never left those of the victim. She thought of the aptness of her jokey philosophy when she first met this lucky woman, that if there truly was no information to be had, she hoped the prisoner would enjoy her pain. Herein lay the jest! Here truly was one for whom the pain was no pain, but pleasure. A lucky woman indeed! Continuing to caress between the lower lips as she drowned in the eyes of the enduring woman, the torturer spoke softly "Shall we try something new?"

Both understanding, the afflicted woman responded "Oh please".

The uniformed woman gave the naked one a drink of water. Both understood that this was not an act of kindness, nor would an act of kindness be wanted by the naked woman. It was simply to lubricate her larynx so that she could continue to yelp, bawl and scream satisfactorily. The interrogator started off again with the bastinado. Beating the soles of the victim's feet elicited the most pussy-wetting screeches yet. Indeed, by the time she'd finished, the feet were so swollen that walking would not be possible for a couple of days at least.

Throughout the course of the day the tormentor applied her whole gamut of misfortunes on the tormented woman, or at least those that her superior had not specifically embargoed. As the late afternoon approached, both women were in a lather of excitement, though the victim's wasn't so obvious being hidden in her wriggling and screaming. Ordering the guards to put the prisoner on her knees before the torturer, and fasten her wrist to her ankles, she produced a long stick that terminated in a "Y"shaped joint. Both the women were flushed and breathing heavily. The torturer was writhing in her chair, her hips moved as though she were being fucked, and there was nothing she could do to stop herself. The torturee too was bucking her hips as much as her bonds would allow her. The victim looked up straight into the eyes of the torturer. Words were unnecessary. The message was clear! "Please" was telegraphed through the eyes. The tormentor turned the dial at the handle of the stick up to full and thrust the cattle prod deeply into the slit of the kneeling woman. Both women screamed out loudly. Their screams were of passion, one of pure pleasure and the other of pure pleasure boosted by her pain.

Both women were exhausted. The emotional roller-coaster had taken its toll on them both, but for the victim, the stress on her body of her punishment also needed its time to recuperate. As both came back to their senses, the officer ordered the guards to take the victim back to her cell. The torturer caught the eye of the victim. There was a sisterhood of a sort between them now. Not an equality, but an acknowledgement of where each stood in the pecking order. The interrogator realised that her conduct would be the butt of much joking in the guards' barracks, and that it would probably get back to her superior, but somehow she really didn't mind. If by political machinations she herself was denounced and found herself as the prisoner she hoped, and deep in her heart had reason to think that she too could have that special quality of enjoying her pain. In short, while she had had a wonderful day, she was totally jealous of the victim.

The uniformed woman stood before the desk to report on the days "work". "Truly captain, she knew nothing. She was as she said, on her way shopping when she got caught up in the riot. I tried everything with her! Short of maiming or killing her, and you prohibited that on the grounds that she was the daughter of an important party member, there was nothing else I could do to her".

The captain responded with sarcasm "And you didn't enjoy it at all, lieutenant?" Sensing that the gossip had already got back to the captain, she turned the irony back. "I wouldn't say that sir! You know I get pleasure from my work. It was an interesting case. Strange though it might seem, I do believe that the poor girl really did enjoy it!"

"You really are a perverted bitch aren't you?"

"Why thank you captain! I'll take that as a compliment. Doubtless it's why I'm so good at my job."

"Is there any reason why we have to keep her imprisoned?"

"No captain, I can't really think of any reason."

"Very well, keep her here for a few days until her wounds are healed and then release her. And remind her that talking about what happened to her would be a fatal mistake."

It was late afternoon, and summer was on the point of slipping into autumn. The lieutenant was off duty, enjoying a quiet glass of wine at a street café. Being out of uniform, no one knew what kind of work she did. Today had been a particularly difficult one. Her victim, a tough ex-military man, had been hard to break. It was only when she had felt his balls crushing under her boot that he had started to talk. It had been worth it. He had been a mine of useful information about rebel infiltration of the Military. She was not really thinking of much, just daydreaming. The woman approaching the café looked familiar but the lieutenant couldn't place her. She was dumbfounded when the woman came to her table and knelt before her.

The woman spoke "I don't know what you've done to me, my Lady, but I can't eat or sleep since you tortured me. I need your cruelty. Please let me be your private prisoner; I beg it! Torture me some more if it pleases you!"

Suddenly recognising the kneeling woman, the lieutenant's heart started to beat rapidly and her knickers started to dampen. "Here is a key, and here is the address. Go there and prepare a meal. It had better be superb or you will know about it!" The kneeling woman rose and left. The lieutenant was quite sure that no matter how wonderful the meal was, it would not be good enough!