No Going Bac

"We are fortunate tonight," he offered with a big smile. "Our favorite officer has brought in two unfortunate souls who made several stupid mistakes this evening. They need to be punished for their transgressions, and if tradition follows, they will probably prefer that municipal law and publicity be avoided at all costs. Shall we adjoin to the theater to witness their interrogation?"

With a strong murmur of approval, the group stood and began to move toward a door in the rear of the room, taking their drinks with them. We entered at the top of what actually did look like a theater, or at least a private screening room. The floor slanted down to a screen that I realized was really one way glass. We sat in the dark, watching a brightly lit room on the other side. The room was unfurnished except for a table the size of a billiard table and several chairs around its edge. The table was sturdy wood, with an inlaid red leather surface. It looked like the leather was laid over something softer than hard wood, and I guessed it was even softer than it looked.

As we watched, a man in plain clothes but wearing a badge walked in. Behind him shuffled two young people, a boy and a girl. The boy looked a bit rough, but his clothes showed he came from a family with the means to buy him whatever he wanted. The girl was small and thin, with shoulder length blond hair. Her features were delicate, and she looked so scared, it was hard to guess her age.

They sat side by side next to the table. The young girl tried to take the boy's hand, but he pulled away. The hurt on her face was painful. The "officer" began to talk to them.

"You two are so pitiful. Stupid little rich kids. You think you can take Daddy's Mercedes, drive out to the woods, do a little coke, screw, and get home before curfew. Well, you're gonna get screwed all right. You know the penalties for possession? You, Hotshot, you're 18, you get to go to jail. The big guys are gonna love you there. And you, sweetie, you can kiss your cheerleading and your scholarships goodbye. It'll be hairstyling and nail school for you, assuming you can flip enough burgers to pay for it. You do realize we get to keep Daddy's car? He's gonna love you for that."

Her eyes got so big, I thought they would pop. "I never did any drugs," she cried, "I didn't even know he had anything with him. He didn't tell me. And I wasn't going to do anything with him! I've never done anything like that. It was only our second date. You've got to believe me!"

"The bitch is lying," the boy snorted. "It was her stuff. I never saw it before. I want to talk to a lawyer." The girl looked at him like he had slapped her. It was clear who was the culprit here.

"Shut the fuck up," the officer growled. You're both full of bullshit, and it doesn't matter anyway. The evidence is clear, and your intentions are irrelevant. You're both out of luck, so quit your bitching. Unless you want all the problems I just mentioned, you be quiet and let me think. I hate sending kids, even ones like you, where the really nasty druggies go. You'd never last long there, and I don't want that on my conscience. You stay here and do whatever the investigators tell you to do. I'll be back."

He left the room, slamming the door behind him. In a few seconds, he was in the room with us. While we watched, a spirited argument took place in the room. I didn't think it would be long before the two kids were at each other's throats, but someone banged hard on the door and they shut up. They sat on opposite sides of the table, glaring at each other.

"Well," a voice from the back of the room drawled. "I think they're ready. Who wants to do the honors?"

"How about the new guy," came a suggestion. I heard several men laugh lightly, but could sense a basic approval from the group.

"You take it pretty well," I heard directed at me. "You think you can dish it out?"

"If they're hungry enough, they'll eat what I have to offer," I answered.

Again, I sensed I'd pleased everyone with my response, so with a deep breath, I stood up and walked down the rows toward the door. I looked through the glass at the innocent little girl on the other side and wondered how far I'd go to please the Cult, or maybe simply to please myself.

As I prepared to enter the room, I was given a bag with some potentially useful items, as well as a few last words of advice. I opened the door, scowled at the two kids, and closed the door behind me.

"Damn, you two screwed up big time," I said. "We're going to have a hard time getting you out of this mess."

I saw both their faces light up with hope. "You got one chance. You cooperate with whatever I and the other officers ask you to do, and we'll see if there's any way to make this go away. You understand me?" They both nodded hopefully.

"I mean it," I added. "No shit and no backtalk. This won't all be pleasant, but it will be a hell of a lot more pleasant than the alternative." I could tell they were scared enough to cooperate, at least up to a point.

"OK, first, I need to guarantee I can trust you. I don't want anybody trying to jump me from behind. You, I need you at this end of the table. Stand there facing the end and put your hands in front of you." I took out a pair of handcuffs, and before he could protest, I cuffed his two wrists to a metal loop recessed just under the end of the table top.

"You, too, honey, come down this end." She moved hesitantly and delayed until I waggled my fingers near the metal loop. She reluctantly held out her hands and I cuffed her to the table. I sat down at the side of the table and looked at each of them in turn.

"Now the unpleasant part. At this point, the quantity of coke you had with you may be small enough to fall under what we consider . . . negotiable, especially if some of it happens to, well, disappear. What we have to make damn sure of is that you're not carrying any more. That means a search. Sorry, but it has to happen this way. You get to be first, big boy. I want you to undo your belt and drop your pants." He looked at me like I was insane, but I just stared back at him.

"You got a problem, friend?" I inquired. He started to speak, but I gave him a look that shut him up for the moment. He reached for his belt, then stopped to look down to the end of the table.

"Hey, man, do you have to do this in front of her?"

"What did I tell you about asking questions? You want to make this even worse?"

With a slight bit of difficulty due to the cuffs, he undid his belt, unzipped and pushed his pants down a bit. I walked behind him, grabbed his pants and pulled them down to his ankles. The girl at the other end looked down at the table.

"You better watch this, little lady," I growled, "cause you're next." The look on her face probably inspired quite a few smiles on the other side of the window.

Picking up my bag, I zipped it open and pulled out an intimidating instrument that had similarities to every man's nemesis, the proctoscope. This thing, however, was about twice as thick and at least sixteen inches long. I wondered who had designed it and if it was truly unique.

"Shit, man, you can't put that thing in me!" he cried. I looked at him in disgust. "You want it gentle, or you want it rough? It's up to you." He shut his mouth.

I pulled out some rubber gloves, put them on and then coated the long tube with lubricant. "See how nice I am to you. This won't hurt much if you don't think about it." I saw that his jeans were baggy enough that they would slip over his shoes. "Lift your foot," I demanded. I slipped off one leg of his jeans and underwear. "OK, now the other." He was naked from the waist down.

I heard a whirring noise on the wall behind me. Always filming, I thought. I moved a bit to the side so everyone in the gallery would get a good look. "Spread your legs and slide your feet away from the table. You can rest your hands on the edge."

I wasn't sure he would comply, but he moved into position. "Come on, man, you really got to do this?" he complained.

I reached between his legs, grabbed his balls and gave them a painful squeeze. Caught by surprise, he bent over out of control and banged his head solidly on the table. "Any more questions?" I asked. Apparently, he had none.

I could see that the instrument had a clear end on it with a light and what had to be a camera inside. This should be disgusting, I thought. I placed the end of the rod against his asshole and pushed. Even lubricated, it didn't want to go in. "Relax!" I demanded. "Don't make me get aggressive here." I could see him try to push himself into better position.

Smiling up at the unseen eyes behind the glass, I placed the other end of the scope against my hip and leaned into it. The end popped into his ass, and he grunted like a stuck pig. The girl's gasp from the other end of the table was full of horrible anticipation.

Once in, the scope slipped easily up his ass. When I passed six inches, I felt a slight resistance and he grunted again. I pushed further and it slid in to about twelve inches. Unwilling to risk actual injury, I stopped. The little screen on the device showed me what was undoubtedly appearing on a much larger screen in the other room. I couldn't imagine that the image itself was particularly exciting to anyone, but seeing this idiot with a rod up his ass certainly was a kick.

I could see the sweat breaking out on his neck. I knew he just wanted this to be over. I had an idea. I reached into my pocket and set off my beeper. "Damn. Sorry kid, I need to go answer this. Hold still and I'll be right back." I laid my end of the instrument on the chair, leaving it buried in his ass. Smiling, I walked out the door, turned the corner, and opened the door to the theater. I saw many glasses raised in acclimation and smiles equally as big as my own. And best of all, the fun was only beginning.