The Interrogation

by Robin Roseau

  The Interrogation

  Robin Roseau

  Table of Contents

  Part One

  Part Two

  The Secret Letters

  Part Three

  Part Four

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Part One

  I was so far out of place I couldn't begin to imagine. I'd never seen anything like this, but I couldn't take my eyes off the entertainment. As a girl -- and I know, I am a woman and have been a long time, but I felt like a girl here, surrounded by all the adults -- from Winston-Salem, North Carolina, I never envisioned parties like this existed, much less ever dreamed I'd attended one, especially dressed the way I was. Even writing about it gets my thoughts in a twist.

  I had spent a half-month's salary on the outfit earlier today, money I couldn't afford to spend, as I was pretty sure I was going to be out of a job by Monday afternoon. I was in the San Francisco Bay area for business. I worked for a small computer software firm back in Winston-Salem, and the company owner, my boss, was selling us to a big firm in Silicon Valley. The company buying us invited us all out for interviews on Monday and Tuesday to see which of us they intended to retain. I was sure they wouldn't want me, at least not at a salary I was willing to accept to live in the expensive world of the bay area. Back in Winston-Salem, I owned my own house. It wasn't much, and it had cost even less, but I knew if I sold my house, I could maybe afford about two square feet of real estate in San Jose.

  It was a gaming friend who had told me about the party. Girl gamers weren't that common, so when we'd met several years ago in online gaming, we had recognized kindred spirits. We both knew right away the other one was a real girl, not a guy posing as a girl, which was so common. But it had been years before we both learned that we shared something else in common: we were both into kinky sex. Except for Jasmine, she actually got to experience the kinky sex. I only got to fantasize about it.

  I'd called her when I knew I was going to be in her home town. "I'm coming to California!" She'd asked when and then immediately invited me to "a party on Friday night," but she hadn't offered details until I arrived.

  She had called it a fetish party and told me where to buy an outfit. I looked down at myself for a moment, incredibly self-conscious. I was dressed like the Ginn character from Stargate Universe, someone I'd had a crush on from the first moment she appeared on screen. I was dressed all in brown leather except for my black leather belt and boots. Brown leather leggings, brown leather tunic that ended as a skirt, and flowing leather jacket that billowed as I walked. I even had the red, shoulder-length hair that actress Julie McNiven had worn for the show. Of course, I was ten years older than she'd been when filming the show, but I tried not to let that bother me. I didn't have her hot body, either, and that bothered me, but there wasn't a thing I could do about it tonight.

  Jasmine had called it a fetish party and invited me as her date, but then she called me this afternoon and said, "I'm sick as a dog. I'll give you directions, and you can come pick up the invitation, but I can't go with you." I'd spent all the money on the outfit, and so I let her talk me into going. "Have fun," she said when she gave me the ticket.

  We had never met in person before. It was so weird to stand at the entrance to her condo and see a friend I'd never actually met in person before, but who I'd shared some of my deepest secrets.

  I had come expecting this to be a lot like a convention party where people were dressed up as anime characters. I'd been to a few of those, but I'd never dressed up. And this was a little like that: everyone was dressed up. And that was where the similarity ended.

  It wasn't a costume party. It was a sex party.

  Jasmine encouraged me to take a cab to the party, which I had done, and the cab had dropped me off in front of a warehouse. I'd paid the driver then tipped him to wait five minutes in case I was in the wrong place. I wasn't in the wrong place. I'd walked to the front door to find a pair of large men acting as bouncers. They'd asked for my invitation; I had shown it to them and asked them to confirm I was in the right place, then turned around and waved to the cabbie so he could leave.

  Inside, I had been told to read a complicated set of directions and then sign a sheet agreeing to the rules. I had then been given tokens good for two alcoholic drinks and told, "If you do not use them, return them at the end of the night." It was absolutely forbidden to give them to anyone else. I held in my hand the gin and tonic I'd bought with the first of my tokens.

  And stared.

  The warehouse wasn't a single large room. Instead there were four large rooms and several smaller rooms. One of the large rooms held the bar as well as a long buffet table with food. This was a room for general mixing. The other three rooms were listed as "demonstration" rooms.

  It was one of the demonstrations I was watching now.

  There was an elevated stage at the other end of the room. I was sitting on a tall stool at a high top table near the wall, not too far from the entrance, with clear view of the stage at the other end, perhaps twenty or so paces away. The room was rather full of people, all of them far hotter than me, most of them watching the occupants of the stage. The lights were down, although it wasn't so dark I couldn't look around, but the stage was brilliantly lit.

  On the stage was a woman dressed in leather, but not at all like my outfit. She wore a black leather skirt and a tight leather corset that pushed her breasts high, barely covering her nipples. I was spending a lot of time watching her breasts, hoping for a clothing malfunction. She was a few years older than I was with her hair worn in a severe style. She wore patterned nylons and tall, black leather boots. Her hands were clad in black gloves that ended above her elbows. She was stunning, and I was looking at my first in-person dominatrix.

  I couldn't take my eyes off her.

  I had arrived in this room just as she took the stage leading the man behind her. She had ignored the audience, speaking directly to the man, but she spoke to project, filling the room with her voice. "My name is Katrina," she had told the man. "Just Katrina. You do not call me 'Lady'. You do not call me 'Mistress'. Do you understand?"

  "Yes, Katrina," the man had said, his eyes averted.

  The man, well... He was barely dressed at all, wearing a leather thong and a leather collar. Attached to the collar was a leash, and Katrina had held the leash.

  I wasn't into hetero sex, and I was ready to leave as soon as I realized that was what I would be seeing. Jasmine had assured me there would be lots of lesbians here. She had assured me I would be safe, that I wasn't obligated to do anything I didn't want to do. I hadn't at the time understood what she meant. So I was ready to leave, but I couldn't take my eyes off Katrina.

  Have I mentioned how hot she looked?

  Katrina ordered the man to kneel in front of her, and I wondered what it would be like to kneel to her. He kissed the tops of her boots, and I wondered what her boots would smell like; I wondered what they would feel like under my own lips.

  She stepped away from him and moved to the back of the stage, back where it was dark, back where there were black curtains set up, hiding everything at the further portions of the stage. She returned wheeling a large piece of metal furniture. I had no idea what it was, but now I was curious.

  She wheeled it to the center of the stage, ignoring the man. He remained where she had told him to stay, not moving a muscle. She did something with the wheels, and the metal settled firmly onto the stage. She shook it for a moment, and it rattled, but it didn't move. She turned out to the audience, smiling, and I watched as she scanned the room. Her eyes settled on me. I know they did. She was staring straight at me, and I found myself grinning at her. Her lips quirked upwards for a
moment, and I knew she was acknowledging my grin, and then she tightened her gaze and turned to the man.

  I don't know why I didn't leave. I was frozen in place. I really wasn't interested in what she was doing to the man. But I couldn't stop wondering what it would be like in his place.

  I blushed through the entire performance. I couldn't stop thinking about it. I wasn't at all an exhibitionist, and I wasn't at all interested in letting her do those things to me in front of all these people. I wasn't at all interested in baring my body to anyone, rarely willing to even let a lover look at me, much less a room filled with strangers. And thinking about all those eyes on me made me blush.

  The metal structure was a rack. She made the man stand up and then she spent a very long time securing him to the rack. She spoke often, her words carrying clearly throughout the room. I saw from time to time she whispered to him, too, but this was a show for the audience as much as an experience for the participants.

  She did, well, things to him, some of which he clearly didn't like and some of which he clearly enjoyed a great deal.

  I thought about her doing those things to me, and I knew I was growing wetter and wetter with the thought. I knew I was going to go back to my hotel room that night, deeply horny, and spend a long time satisfying myself while thinking of her gloved hands on me, thinking of her gloved hands binding me to her rack. I would think of her hands touching my breasts and sliding things into my mouth. I would think about her gloved hands caressing my cheek and wiping the sweat from my brow.

  Every now and then, Katrina looked out across the audience. Every now and then her gaze settled on me. But I knew she was looking at other people, too, and I was sure it was part of her act, convincing each of us she was looking at us, perhaps letting us think about letting her take us.

  I wondered if she was some sort of professional sex worker.

  I wondered whether she took female clients.

  I wondered if I could afford her.

  The show wasn't finished, but my drink was. There were waiters and waitresses working the party. They were all dressed similarly, bare above the waist except for a collar around their necks and cuffs on their wrists.

  The rules had stated clearly we were not to lay a single finger on the wait staff. We could look all we want, but no touching.

  I learned the reverse wasn't true. I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to find myself staring at a wonderfully pert pair of breasts. It was an effort to lift my eyes to her face. She smiled knowingly and didn't seem at all upset where my eyes had landed first.

  "I'm sorry," I said.

  Her smile grew. "Do you need a refill?" She gestured to my drink.

  "Gin and tonic," I said, giving her my old glass and trying to give her my token.

  "Keep it until I get back," she said. Then she ran her fingers along my shoulders, caressing the back of my neck, as she stepped away.

  I closed my eyes or a moment, then opened them and found Katrina looking straight at me. She smiled at me for a moment before her gaze moved past me. I wondered if she'd watch my interaction with the waitress. I wondered if I'd given away anything about me when I had done so.

  The show on the stage went on. The man was drenched in sweat and was begging Katrina. For what, I wasn't sure. I couldn't tell if she was going to give it to him, either.

  I wondered what she might do to make me beg. I wondered how long I could hold out.

  The waitress returned, exchanging my token for a fresh drink. "Do I tip you?" I asked, digging for my purse. She put her hand on my arm. "There's a tip jar near each of the bars. You can leave something there if you like. We have soft drinks, water, coffee and iced tea after this."

  "So if someone wanted to buy a drink-"

  "Then that someone should go to a bar," she replied.

  "Thank you," I told her.

  "Enjoy the party," she said before moving on. I wished I'd been brave enough to ask for her number. I had another two nights here, but I knew I'd never have been brave enough to ask her.

  I sipped from my drink and looked up to stare at Katrina.

  She eventually finished with the man. She stood for applause while two women came forward to release the man from the rack and help him from the stage. They nearly had to carry him, he was so worn out.

  I wondered whether Katrina would wear me out like that. I wondered if she would give me to her assistants when she was done with me.

  I gulped my drink and stared into her eyes, unable to take my eyes from her.

  Then she stepped from the stage, and the stage lights went out. I lost track of her as she disappeared into the room.

  I squirmed in my chair.

  I actually got some attention, a few people, both men and women, checking me out as they stepped past me. I ignored the men and smiled at the women when I noticed them, but none stopped to talk to me.

  But then there was a familiar voice in my ear. "You look amazing. That looks better on you than it did on Julie McNiven."

  There was no way that was true, but I turned to the voice and almost spilled my drink as I stared into Katrina's violently-green eyes. I immediately looked down, but she reached out and lifted my chin so I was staring into her eyes. "I'm up here, honey," she said.

  "I'm sorry," I said. "I don't know how I am supposed to behave."

  "Oh, you aren't from around here, are you?" she asked.

  "Does it show that clearly?" I asked, embarrassed.

  "You have the most delightful accent." She held out her hand. "I'm Katrina."

  I shook. She had a firm grip, and she didn't release my hand. "Bethany," I replied. "I'm from North Carolina."

  "Well, Bethany from North Carolina," she said, and I thought perhaps she was mocking me. "May I join you?"

  "You want to join me?" I stuttered. "I mean. Um. Of course." I felt like an idiot. I gulped my drink then felt like an even bigger fool. I should have nursed it. I could feel the alcohol, but more importantly I thought I was going to want to hide behind the glass.

  She smiled, turned away to another table, and took a seat practically from underneath someone else. The previous occupant started to object then saw who it was and apologized, actually carrying the chair over and setting it next to mine for her. Katrina took the stool regally, then recaptured my hand and stared into my eyes. She raised her hand and five seconds later, one of the waitresses was at our table.

  "Can I get you something, Katrina?"

  "Champagne," she replied. "For two." The waitress scurried away, and Katrina returned her gaze to me. "So, Bethany from North Carolina, what brings you to the bay area?"

  "Um," I said, cementing my position as the biggest idiot in the room.

  "Do I make you nervous?" she asked.

  "Yes," I blurted out.

  She laughed lightly. "Oh honey, I won't eat you. Well, not until you have begged me to."

  I felt myself immediately begin to blush, and Katrina laughed again. "My, almost as red as your delightful hair. We're not in Kansas anymore, Toto."

  "North Carolina," I said automatically, then caught the reference. I hung my head. "God, I'm an idiot."

  She lifted my chin again, her gloved fingers remaining cupped against my jaw. I realized the gloves were silk, soft and slinky.

  "You're just nervous," she said gently. "You don't need to be. Here is our champagne. Perhaps you will want to drink it more slowly than your previous drink."

  The waitress set down two champagne flutes, and Katrina slid one to me, picking up the other. She immediately said, "To new friends."

  I picked up my own glass, and we tapped rims before drinking. I smiled tentatively at her.

  "All right, Bethany from North Carolina," Katrina said. "I'll make this a little easier for you."

  "I'm really an idiot, aren't I?" I said. "That's why you're calling me that. A real hayseed."

  She frowned. "No. I think you're endearing, but if you would rather I go."

  "No!" I said firmly. "I mean. Um. No, I don
't want you to go. If. Um. You wanted to stay."

  She cocked her head. "So, Bethany. Are you now living in California?"

  "No," I said. "I'm here for business."

  "Is this your first visit to the bay area?"

  "Yes," I said. "First time west of the Mississippi."

  She frowned. "This event is strictly by private invitation. Have you crashed our party?"

  "I have an invitation!" I said in defense, fishing it out of my purse. I showed it to her.

  "So you do," she said. "How did you come by this invitation?"

  I told her the story. I'm sure I babbled, and once I realized I was babbling, I shut myself up by the expedient of taking another sip from my champagne.

  "And so," Katrina asked, "Are you shocked by what you see? Were you shocked by my show?"

  "A little," I said.

  "Yet, you couldn't take your eyes off the stage. What caught your attention so thoroughly? Did you enjoy watching what I did to Peter?"

  "I was watching you," I told her, then hid behind my champagne again.

  "Were you?" she asked. She knew I was. "Let us come back to that, Bethany. What type of business are you in?"

  "Computer software," I said.

  "Ah. A programmer?"

  "No," I said. "Executive Assistant."

  "Do you travel often?"

  "This is the first time," I said. "And probably the last."

  "What makes this trip special?" she asked.

  I wasn't sure I could tell her. Harmon Software was being sold, but it wasn't general knowledge, and we had all been given a choice: sign a fresh non-disclosure agreement or accept a two-week severance package. If we signed the non-disclosure agreement, we would each be offered a new job in the new parent company, or we would get a much better severance package. Everyone in the company had signed the agreement.

  "I can't tell you," I replied.

  She raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

  I thought about it. "I'm under a non-disclose agreement."