The Interrogator by Chris Bellows

Author:Chris Bellows [Bellows, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: erotica
Publisher: Pink Flamingo Media
Published: 2015-08-25T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-One

Throughout the night I am watered as directed. I find it curious how quickly I revert to the learned behavior of my Bangkok cell.

When I feel the plastic straw about my lips I know to greedily imbibe. When I feel fingers sliding back my foreskin, I know to release the contents of my bladder.

Where do women such as Mae Lee learn to so deftly handle the male appendage?

She is most adept in assisting in the most basic male function, even on occasion toying with a nipple to relax me when an initial flow is not forthcoming.

And then of course, there comes the release of the straps. Yes, and each so expertly timed. Just when my cortex shuts off the messages of slowly building pain from cramping muscles desperately seeking to move, Mae Lee releases a strap. Starting with the right arm, I feel the pressure of the strap being relieved. And then, as opposed to the procedure in my Bangkok cell, two hands firmly grasp, massage with vigor, and then begin pulling, twisting and turning until it seems ligaments or tendons will tear. I believe I cry out, though the hissing in the headphones cuts out the sound of my own voice. And ironically what begins as relief becomes a new source of pain, once again commencing the slow journey toward unbearable torment. I find that Mae Lee is strong and merciless, treating each limb as an object, some type of challenge, a serpent to be wrestled to supplication. For as she works a limb, the initial relief quickly changes to sharp agony.

Do I beg? I cannot hear my own words.

I am reminded of childhood encounters with the neighborhood bully when one would find himself in a headlock, full nelson or some other restraint and be forced to cry out ‘uncle’.

If only the simple word would end the suffering.

And then, I assume satisfied that the circulation has been restored and the pain threshold reset to a low level, the woman replaces each limb into the ineluctable strap and I find myself once again held completely immobile.

So for many, many hours Mae Lee becomes my only contact with reality. Water, urination, the strange relief of temporary release, immediately followed by the more pronounced agony of her aggressive wrestling holds. Then the process begins anew. Is this indeed reality?

And of course there is the boredom, the interminably long periods of sitting. No motion, only my mind moving, wandering. And one’s thoughts center on Miss Denise, the woman who again holds me captive.

So, the entire Bangkok ordeal was some kind of net thrown out to snare sexual predators. All these years of contemplation, mentally asking ‘why’, and the answer was in the slides and the penis cuff. Photos designed to elicit a response of arousal, one that could be measured where the male most evidences stimulation. And with the arousal and measurement would come a judgment... sexually healthy male or pedophile.

What happened to those judged aberrant, predators to the young?

Thankfully for me,

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