INTERROGATION
(2500 words)
Totally encased in thick rubber, hooded and gagged and roped into a painful hog-tie, beefy police Inspector is struggling to get his mind around the bizzare situation
Suddenly, it was terrifyingly clear what my captor wanted. Information. Information only I could give.
Does your silence mean you are beginning to comprehend your predicament, Mister Drummond? The mocking voice interrupted my racing thoughts and brought me back to the seriousness of my situation. The rubber surrounding me suddenly felt terrifyingly constricting; the heat that permeated my body was suddenly even more overpoweringly debilitating; the tubes up my nose suddenly seemed dangerously small and my sense of panic was difficult to hold back as so many hard facts burned into my brain.
Yes. You have information ... and you WILL help me by providing it.
Determinedly I shook my head in the negative. No way could I give information to this dangerous freak.
Not necessarily the names of all your operatives ... just the undercover shits who have already infiltrated my organisation at some level and who intend to undermine my ... efficiency. I know they're on the inside already. But it's a large ... organisation! And, of course, I'll also be asking you for names of any of your men who have infiltrated the ranks of my rivals. That will be amusing to know ... and use to my advantage.
Again the grim humour tinged the edges of his voice, and my worst fears began to hammer inside my encased head. I couldn't give this bastard the names of undercover operatives; it would mean certain death and worse for them all ... but he already knows the names of my stake-out men. My mind reeled.
And my body already felt seriously weakened as the harsh realities continued to repeat themselves again and again in my brain: tortured, painfully restrained enclosed in thick rubber, breathing through two dangerously small tubes inside some fiendish device over which I had absolutely no control. Was I up to the challenge? I had already been driven beyond my ability to cope by nothing more than the electric tickling'.
With abject desperation, I suddenly came face to face with the unavoidable possibility that I may not be able to cope with any further treatment' yet knew they had not even begun their interrogation. I was afraid afraid I couldn't hold out afraid I was already close to betraying everything I had always thought I stood for.
As if to prove this point, I suddenly felt my legs being drawn back up towards my wrists again. There seemed to be some unstoppable mechanism at work outside my rubber prison, dragging my bound ankles irresistibly closer and closer to my wrists ... and at the same time slightly upwards. Some sort of pulley? It hurt unbearably and I struggled to make it stop. I roared into the gag as the pain increased. My muscles were strained and as my ankles drew closer to my wrists, the bonds around my knees and thighs and all around my body grew systematically, deliberately tighter. Were they going to suspend me off the floor? That would kill me, I thought wildly. I could hardly breathe already and the muscular pain was unbearable. I pulled as hard as I could to stop the increasing constriction, but I was powerless against it. My weight and six-foot-four heavily-muscled frame was working against me: my strength, for the first time in my life, worth nothing.
Suddenly, a strange smell hit me and my head began to reel but the pain receded a little. I moaned in frustration (perhaps tinged with fear) and wrenched myself around, hog-tied and tethered upwards as I was, desperate to find some little relief. Impossible. But then, gasping for air
and it wasn't air I realised
as I began to pass out again.
Regaining consciousness, the burly policeman is still in the oppressive rubber suit and mask but now strapped to a table. He tentatively tries to assess the degree of strapping which holds his body to the table - and his head now totally immobilised.
Awake again, said the same voice into the ear-piece; that same sarcastic humour in the tone. I think your first experience will convince you that you're completely under my control, and that it's a waste of time and effort to resist. You know what I want, and I always get what I want
in the end.
The man sounded so sure of himself and I, perhaps for the first time in my life, was feeling totally unsure of myself after my first devastatingly painful experience at his hands - when was that? Today, yesterday, last week? I had no recollection of the change of position or the re-strapping.
It suddenly struck me that time stood frozen for me ... and maybe I had already been given up for dead by my colleagues and superiors. A fatalistic despair weighed down on me and, suddenly, I was afraid I could not withstand much more of the treatment already received. Afraid, a concept totally foreign to me. I wanted to switch off mentally, to escape into oblivion and end this nightmare. No avenues were left open for me: the bondage was as efficient as before, and being inside that rubber cocoon seemed to sap my ability to think as I'd been trained to think. This was so intensely abnormal. I'd never seen or heard of this type of interrogation technique before in the real world. Only in the extremes of sado-masochistic fiction, something which had never held any appeal for me.
The gag filling my mouth began to deflate with a hiss of air; the rubber bulb deflating and retracting automatically. It was disconcerting that this happened without anyone having come within my vision. I flexed my jaw, grateful that I was free of that vicious gag at last.
Now, my friend. Some questions for you to answer.
Who the fuck are you? I shouted. But after being gagged for so long it was more of a croak. Anger suddenly surfaced and I strained against the bonds in my impotence. My body could barely move and my head not at all. A terrifying thought, but efforts to put up some show of struggle felt good in the face of my unseen kidnapper.
Mocking laughter filled my ears and, as I began to shout more abuse, the gag flipped back into my open mouth. Swiftly it began to immobilise my tongue efficiently, and fill the space unstoppably.
You bastard, I shouted against the wet rubber balloon but too late. Only unintelligible noises escaped around the slimy rubber as it expanded inexorably. As it continued to inflate even further I suddenly panicked, because the invading rubber bulb was filling my mouth more completely than it had done previously. With head clamped firmly in place, I began to choke and couldn't breath. I flexed in vain against the body straps and a blind terror seemed to overflow, swamping my mind. I screamed but couldn't scream; fought for air that wasn't there. When I thought I would totally lose my mind, the rubber inside my mouth shrank to its former size. I gulped air through the nose tubes as best I could and fought to regain some sort of control of my heart-rate and breathing.
Panic slowly receded and I subsided within my bonds, sucking in air gratefully.
Surely you know by now that I control every aspect of your being, Chief Inspector, the voice vibrated in my ears. Accept this fact and you might yet live through it, he purred. You will speak only to answer my questions. Do you accept that?
Totally unable to move my gagged head, I thought about the situation and then made a sharp grunt which I hoped sounded like Yes. No way could I nod even within the confines of the helmet.
The bulb inside my mouth deflated and retracted once again. It made little difference to the amount of air available, but it felt good to at least be able to move my tongue: it and my mitted fingers being the only parts of my body not immobilised. I was conscious of this concession.
Let's start again, the voice said. Information pertaining to your undercover operatives on the inside is all I want: names and their identities within my organization.
Undercover operatives? I know nothing about undercover operatives, I said, determined to sound convincing.
After a pause the voice said, I'll let you off that one, but don't insult my intelligence, Chief Inspector D.A.Drummond. I know more about you than you think. You are assistant head of operations for three divisions, and responsible for all the recent reorganisation of undercover operations in those areas since Commissioner Black resigned so abruptly ... and his crony Superintendent Cullen lost all credibility and was retired on full pay.
With shock I now accepted that this man, whoever he was, knew more than he ought. Obviously, an informant had passed on a great deal of restricted information.
You are going to tell me user names and passwords of certain files and I already know which files but how your newly re-coded information is now accessed at regional headquarters is what only you can tell me and you are going to tell me, the voice went on determinedly.
Wha
how do you know ab
, I checked myself, realising that I had just given something away.
That fucking all-knowing laughter again. How I hated that laugh and the unseen man who owned it. But my mind raced out of control. It was useless trying to fool somebody who obviously already knew so much. Desperately, I decided that maybe there was a slim chance but I had to play along for the moment but he mustn't think I'm giving up too easily. I actually dreaded being subject to his interrogation, but he'd smell a rat if I didn't put up some further resistance. I can't tell you, I said.
Oh come now, you can ... and you will. Believe me! ... again with that hateful tinge of mocking humour in his voice.
No, I mean that I don't have the information in my head, I continued.
Look, Bulldog' or perhaps Drum' might be more appropriate, considering the pickle you've landed yourself in. Hanging around on street corners in full leather. Darn right provocative, I call it. Asking for it. But suddenly all humour dropped out of the voice. If you continue to piss me about with these attempts at stalling, I will have no choice but to show you just how inventive and imaginative I can get with somebody who thinks he knows how to resist pain and I mean pain, not just subtle persuasion.
As his words swept over me, the gag had dropped back into place, forced itself home and begun inflating quickly to unstoppably fill my mouth once more.
For starters it will amuse me to first do
THIS. I heard the grim voice rasp ... as I felt something inside me begin to stir. Something deep inside me ... and it was growing! My numb arse was being invaded, and whatever was already inside me began to grow bigger as motors began to hum. Then again I felt the dreaded tingling! This time at the base of my cock only ... and immediately, as the stimulation assailed it, my nine inch dick took on a life of it's own and sprang to its full height ... but still clamped firmly within the external tube that held it. A rhythmic pulsing and sucking began to ripple along the length of my engorged penis and I gasped around the gag as waves of tortuous pleasure surged through me. Suddenly, that smell again! The bastard was using that drug; the relentless stimulation continued to build. It didn't make sense, interrogation usually meant pain, not pleasure. He'd said pain but this was pleasure. Who was this demented fucker, anyway? Confused conflicting thoughts raced through my mind as the stimulation continued to build. I tried to shake off the feelings ... clear my head. I knew it was not right, but could do nothing to stop it. I shouldn't be feeling this way in these circumstances, there was something dangerously perverse about it ... I must resist! Shouldn't be enjoying the ... It must be the drugs!
. Aaahhh, Jesus Christ! I was getting close to cumming and I strained with all my strength as the insistent pulling and sucking built up. Then suddenly it stopped!
The smell was gone, the rhythmic dance along my cock ceased and the pressure in my arse melted away. I lay there gasping for air and sucking desperately on the rubber which filled my mouth. Frustration! I was bathed in sweat, and I screamed in anger as the waves of pleasure ceased completely. I was so near to a wild orgasm and it was snatched from me at the last moment. It was then I understood for the first time that pain was not the only form of torture, and (at least in theory) I had been trained to resist pain. I was, I now knew, totally unprepared for this type of physical and mental ... manipulation.
Did you enjoy that Dan? You don't mind me calling you Dan, do you? I've seen you naked, you know. Helped strip you out of your leathers, out of everything, and man-handle you into our special suit. You missed a treat, being unconscious. Two of my lads got a special kick out of stripping a big beefy cop bollock naked. It took me all my time to stop them taking liberties. But, of course, if you continue to be uncooperative I could easily hand you back to them ... but, face it, I intend to have my fun with you first. My special kind of perverted' fun, as I know you think of it. The sort of stuff your innocent heart has never even dared dream about, came that mocking tone which I had grown to loath. No knowing what will be in store for you if you refuse to do precisely as you're told. Tougher men that you have cracked under the sort of treatment I enjoy inflicting. And I do it very well!
By now I was sobbing desperately as much as the gag would allow. The frustration of the stimulation and the idea that I'd been pawed over by these perverts ... and there was no end in sight ... was destroying me. Doing my best to regain some sort of composure, I looked up and saw the same strapped-down image as before: but nothing I could see reflected the torment going on inside that rubber cocoon. I could feel nothing but despair as I stared into the reflection of my totally immobilised form. And behind the rubber mask the wild eyes were only distantly visible staring back. Two orbs of diminishing intelligence, my brain admitted ... trapped within a tough black rubber prison. There were no bars on this prison, but it was the most effective confinement I could ever have imagined.
Once again the gag deflated and retracted and I flexed my mouth and jaw, vaguely trying to get rid of the ache which now seemed a permanent distraction: but, more importantly, tensing myself against whatever might come next.
Dan, I will ask once more. Give me the details I need. A more threatening tone had taken over the voice and I mentally cowered at it's icy edge.
Okay! okay! I'll co-operate. You win, I said for the first time in my life. ...
...
As the agonising electric current ceased, the interrogator again insidiously penetrated my BRAIN. Again the grim humour tinged the edges of his voice, and my worst fears began to hammer inside my encased head. I couldn’t give this bastard the names of undercover operatives; it would mean certain death and worse for them all ... but my mind reeled.
And my body already felt seriously weakened as awareness of the harsh realities continued to hammer again and again in my brain: tortured, painfully restrained enclosed in thick rubber, breathing through two dangerously small tubes inside some fiendish device over which I had absolutely no control. Was I up to the challenge? I had already been driven beyond my ability to cope by nothing more than that damned electro-tickling. Face the facts! I could visualise no relief ... no means of escape or rescue. There seemed to be no hope of surviving in this sinister, all-encasing rubber prison; no ray of hope. With abject desperation, I suddenly came face to face with the unavoidable possibility that I may not be able to cope with any further ‘treatment’ – yet knew they had not even begun their interrogation. I was afraid – afraid I couldn’t hold out – afraid I was already close to betraying everything I had always thought I stood for.
As if to prove this point, I suddenly felt my legs being drawn back up towards my wrists again. There seemed to be some unstoppable mechanism at work outside my rubber prison, dragging my bound ankles irresistibly closer and closer to my wrists ... and at the same time slightly upwards. Some sort of pulley? It hurt unbearably and I struggled to make it stop. I roared into the gag as the pain increased. My muscles were strained and as my ankles drew closer to my wrists, the bonds around my knees and thighs and all around my body grew systematically, deliberately tighter. Were they going to suspend me off the floor? That would kill me, I thought wildly. I could hardly breathe already and the muscular pain was unbearable. I pulled as hard as I could to stop the increasing constriction, but I was powerless against it. My weight and six-foot-four heavily-muscled frame was working against me: my strength, for the first time in my life, worth nothing.
Suddenly, a strange smell hit me and my head began to reel – but the pain receded a little. I moaned in frustration (perhaps tinged with fear) and wrenched myself around, hog-tied and tethered upwards as I was, desperate to find some little relief. Impossible. Only my stomach still heavily against the ground. I suddenly became aware of my cock, again trapped painfully under me. But it was rock hard – and I was completely shocked to find myself turned on and horny. Deeply aware of my situation, I couldn’t believe what I was feeling. What was that smell? They were using something on me – some drug. “Oh shit, what’s going on,” I demanded of myself in panic. I continued to wrench from side to side as much as the upward attachment allowed, mangling my cock and almost humping the surface on which I lay. I couldn’t stop myself – although I knew that I shouldn’t be feeling this way – not like this.
END OF 'INTERROGATION' EXCERPT
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