Invasive Interrogation
Thought Police #1
by
Claudia Balvenie
@claudiabalvenie
claudiabalvenie.com
Copyright 2014.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author.
CHAPTER 1
It was Rori's first solo case as a psychic investigator, and she was extremely nervous.
In the cases she had investigated before, she'd been with a partner. That partner had guided her through the would-be criminal's mind. He had explained what she should look for, and how to truly understand if the person was capable of coming the atrocities that their algorithms suggested. He had guided their accused in their dreams, drawing up the darkest fantasies that existed within the mind.
As she trained, she learned the brutal side of mankind. The things she saw inside these criminal brains, the way that they would take women and use them for their own pleasure was unheard of in her clinical, white-washed society. Indeed, sex in general was very vanilla, generally only engaged upon for procreation. The food that the government provided kept all of their sexual urges to a minimum.
As with any drug, there were outliers. These criminals seemed to revert to their most primal urges. Since society could not allow these genes to pass down, her task force was set up to discover if the individual would act upon their urges, given the right stimuli.
The man she was investigating hit numerous points on the mental evaluation. He had been brought in and was kept unconscious. It was easier, they said, for her to move into his dreams and discover what he would be able to do, especially if he believed it was real.
But Rori had a problem. Since she'd first discovered these outliers existed, she'd worked towards becoming a psychic investigator. She was unusually talented in her mutation, so the law enforcement officials sped up her progress, excited that someone as powerful as she was going to work domestically, instead of signing up to be a soldier or a spy.
What they didn't realize is Rori, too, was one of the outliers.
As a psychic, she was able to hide her proclivities. Today though, if the man she investigated was truly one of the violent outliers, he would be playing right into her hands. She wanted to be taken, she wanted to be tied up and used for his darkest desires.
So she settled in to her chair next to the accused, laying her hand upon his. The touch would strengthen the connection. Inside, everything would feel completely real. She would allow him to control the entire scenario, but she was safe, as she could leave at any moment with just a thought.
Terrified and exhilarated, she closed her eyes and stepped into his mind.
CHAPTER 2
She awoke to a pitch black room with no memory of how she'd arrived there.
Groggy, she took stock of her situation. She was laying on a tilted bed made of some sort of hard material like concrete. Her arms lay above her head, numb. When she tried to move them down to force blood back into them, she felt the manacles around her wrist. Slowly she moved one arm and then another to see how much slack she had. With the bed tilted at such a steep angle, it wasn't much.
Sudden panic spread throughout her body. Nausea, claustrophobia, terror, they all hit at once and she understood how women in the movies would scream at their predicaments. She scanned her memory, trying to find some piece of the puzzle to explain how she'd ended up in this place.
Finally, dimly, she remembered why she was there. She was an investigator. She had to discover if her patient was a risk to society. But that was another world, another time. Right now, all she could feel was the pain in her arms.
She had to get her emotions under control, but already she was beginning to hyperventilate. The walls felt as though they were closing in on her. Why would anyone bring her into this environment? What did they intend? Of course, that was why she was there, to discover why. It wasn't calming her down. She was extremely close to abandoning the mission.
She took one deep breath, then another. She closed her eyes and concentrated on nothing but her breathing. That allowed her to take all of the emotions that threatened to overwhelm her, and put them aside. She envisioned a door inside her mind and took every thing that threatened to overwhelm her and shoved it inside, and envisioned herself locking the door. She made a promise to herself that one day, when she was safe she would open that door and let all of that feeling wash over her. That day was not today.
She left the excitement that she could feel growing between her legs. She let it build, focused on it. Sooner or later her captor would make himself known. This alone might be enough to hold him for further questioning. A normal society member would not keep a woman chained in this horrible room. She kept her breathing slow and even, waiting for him.
CHAPTER 3
She was fully calm when she heard the first sound. It was obviously footsteps at a casual pace that were moving towards her room. Good. I'm ready.
The door opened in a brilliant explosion of light. She could only see the outline of the man who stood there though even that gave her quite a bit of information. He was tall and slender and he wore a long coat. The way it moved as he walked towards her made her update her findings to lab coat. He carried a clipboard which he glanced down to, revealing the glasses he wore in profile.
“It would seem you've awoken,” he began, in a deeper voice that she'd expected from someone who looked like him. “Interesting. It would appear you metabolize faster than the average. I will make a note.”
She offered no response. She was the one who needed information, not him. Strange though, nothing in the literature she had mentioned that he was in the medical field. No, her research said that he was a businessman. Odd, why did he present himself to her this way?
She moved nothing but her eyes as he moved to the side of her table. He did not bother with lights. He stood in front of the bed, his whole body in profile as he blocked her light. She could not even tell his hair color.
“Now, madam, we have a questionnaire we need your help completing. It's just routine procedure, you understand. First, I need to know your full name, for the records.”
She stared into the darkness where his eyes should be, and said nothing. What sort of bizarre fantasy was this? She'd had nothing to prepare for it.
He looked back up from his clipboard. “Prefer to remain anonymous then? Alright. Next question. Have you had any major surgeries that we should be aware of? Specifically we're looking towards abdominal or vaginal surgery.” He was looking at his clipboard, his pen poised above.
Again, she merely watched for any sort of reaction from him, and focused on keeping her breathing calm. It was becoming second nature. She'd need that for what was to come.
“Alright, this last one is important, please madam. We need to know if you have any allergies that we should be aware of.”
She turned her head then, her mouth still closed.
He slammed his pen down against the clipboard and transferred both to his left hand. “You simply must cooperate, or this could go very badly for you, madam. He reached with his left hand then and lay it upon her knee, then almost imperceptive slowly, he moved it upward, the bottom of her skirt coming with it. She made her first mistake then. She flinched and it knocked her high heel off her foot. She hadn't even been aware she was wearing heels.
He chuckled very softly to himself, and very slowly crouched in front of her. He delicately retrieved her shoe and slid it back onto her foot. His eyes followed the insid
e of her leg all the way up the dress she was wearing. The position made some of his features clear to her then. She saw his hair, so dark as to almost be black and pale eyes. When he came back to his feet, he patted her thigh twice in a far to familiar fashion. He then turned and walked out.
That was a sure sign of sexual deviance. She considered. Splendid. She still didn't have enough to lock him up. She'd keep going.
CHAPTER 4
It seemed like hours had passed before another of her captors entered the room. Another captor? She wondered. That's not right. Maybe he has schizophrenia?
Her eyes had readjusted to the darkness and she'd given up on trying to relieve the pressure in her arms that were still chained above her head. The door slammed open and the lights were flipped on, blinding her.
“Rise and shine!” a voice gruff and artificially robotic called. Just as she was opening her eyes to try to use the light to get a handle on her surroundings, she was accosted with liquid. She sputtered and gasped as the freezing water had taken her completely by surprise. Finally, just as she was beginning to open her eyes having no ability to wipe them, it happened again. Laughter exploded in front of her.
“You were a dirty girl, time to clean you up!” He cried, and walked to her concrete bed. She could feel him near her hands and she tried to wipe her eyes on the portions of her arms she could actually touch. Suddenly, one hand was free and it dropped to her side. She lifted it to wipe her hands and it wouldn't obey. She kept blinking, knowing seconds were precious. Her other wrist was suddenly free and she fell to her knees, sputtering.
He found this hilarious. “Now you're in just the right position, eh?” She finally was able to open her eyes and get a full view of him. He was bigger than the man before and wore a gas mask and bright yellow hazmat suit. That confused her. What was going on that he would need all of that, she wondered? But it did explain the strangeness of his voice, since it was coming through the gas mask. However, she couldn't get any more details about his looks because so much of his body was hidden. She supposed it could be the same as the man she lay next to, but she wasn't sure what it meant if it was not.
“Time to get clean, Missy!” He took both hands and heaved her to a standing position, though her legs wobbled. Pain shot through her arms though she supposed it was better than the numbness of before. She was able to see that she was in a room made of cinder blocks, maybe twenty by twenty feet in square. He shoved her toward a corner where a drain had been carved into the cement floor. A simple shower head hung above it. She stumbled in her heels. When did I buy heels? I usually only wear flats or sandals.
“Clothes off.” He ordered, and took a couple of steps back, folding his arms across his chest. She said nothing but kept walking towards the primitive shower. He showed no signs of looking away. She began to step out of her heels and he stopped her.
“No, I said clothing. Not shoes.” She narrowed her eyes, as he could clearly see what was wrong with her arms. She willed herself to do it, to slip the dress over her head. Her arms would not cooperate. After her third attempt to lift one arm and another, he crossed the two strides faster than she would have ever expected a large man to do. His gloved hand was immediately at her throat, his eyes, she could see through the mask, glaring into hers, full of hostility.
“When I order you to do something, you will do it, or you will be punished. Understood?” She was quickly losing air from his hands around her neck. She'd never been handled so roughly, and even though she knew the body was only a mental projection, she could feel the strength in his huge hands. Excitement, thrilling and electric, shot down her body. She knew she could leave at any moment, but the fear was exhilarating.
She could manage a brief nod only. It was enough. He released her. She gasped for air, trying to bring one of her painful hands to her throat. Then he laughed. The anger had faded as quickly as it had come.
“Your little arms don't work, I guess, Missy? Just this once, I'll help you out.” He pulled the long bowie knife that had been strapped to his thigh. She hadn't even seen it there, and she cursed herself for that. Or maybe it hadn't been before. She wasn't really sure how things worked in his world. He slid it underneath the hem of her knee length dress and cut outwards. A long slit up the front of her dress appeared. He quickly sheathed his knife and took a handful of dress in each hand. He ripped the dress in two, leaving her only in her underwear.
He took a step back, admiring his handiwork. Then he took the knife in one hand, and hooked his other finger into the midsection of her bra. He drew her towards him. He slowly took the blade of his knife and ran it from the side of her neck down to her left breast. A sudden cut and the strap was severed. He then began again, slowly tracing her plump round breast to her cleavage, down, the knife disappearing into the fold slowly before bringing it back to trace across her right breast. He cut again, then the other strap now free. Back again he went, once again to the tight line of cleavage. He reached in and pulled on what was left of her bra, pulling it away from her skin before slicing it in half, spilling her breasts out into the open.
A soft moan escaped her lips before she could stop it. And he heard, as he looked to her eyes, surprised. He sheathed his knife and yanked off his glove before shoving her into the cinder block wall, hard. His bare hand went straight to her panties. He cupped them and mounded them for a long moment, while using his other hand to keep her pushed against the wall.
“You are a very, very dirty girl, aren't you?” He let her go, and the wind went back into her lungs. He tore the panties in two with one quick thrust. “You are so lucky you belong to the boss first. The things I would do to you...” he trailed off and shoved her into the corner, flipping on the shower head at the same time. She did shriek then, at the coldness and suddenness of the water.
She turned her back to him and tried to concentrate on the rush of the water thundering around her ears. She had to stay calm, had to think of the correct way out. There were at least two personalities keeping her, depending on if the scientist fellow she'd seen first was the boss of the hazmat guy. Two made it more difficult, and three made it nearly impossible. She wondered if her patient would be able to control both men at once, or if he merely used one persona or another to deal with her? It was fascinating, stimulating, and she really thought she'd be writing a paper on it when she went back to her own body.
A hard shove against her back brought her back to the dream. While she'd been considering her predicament, the hazmat fellow had returned with a large, rough brush. It was the same kind you'd see at a car wash, even had foam soap bubbling out of it. With as much grace as someone would wash their favorite car, he scrubbed her with the brush. She winced as its brittle brushes tore into her skin.
Once she was covered in soap he seemed satisfied. He reached for another nozzle and turned it directly on her. She was shoved into the wall by the force of the water, and pinned there, trying to block some of the water with her only marginally less useless arms. He found this also immensely humorous.
Finally he turned it off, and clomped over to her, none of the water touching him in his tall boots. He jerked a handful of her dark hair and pulled her to her feet.
“Missed a spot!” He laughed as he held her up by the hair, dangling, letting the spray get every part of her body, even straight up inside.
Finally, he'd had his fun and dropped his hold on her hair. She sagged down to her knees again. As she recovered, she watched him pack up all his cleaning gear onto a little metal cart.
He started out the door, pushing his cart in front of him. He was whistling as if he'd had a grand old time. When he got to the door, he said not another word to her, simply turned off the lights and left her. She was alone in a pitch black room, naked, dripping wet, and with useless arms.
CHAPTER 4
A while later she was able to get enough movement in her arms to explore her surroundings. She had seen only the bed and the shower in the brief lit glances that she'd had. She ran he
r hands along every wall, finding only that the far one had a different texture than the pure cinder block ones that made up the rest of the walls. It was slick, almost like a window, yet no light came through. She tried to peer in, but she could see nothing. She sighed and assumed it must be a two-way mirror. What good was that, in a dream? Of course, he didn't know it was a dream. She wondered if one of his personalities was watching her at that very moment.
She examined every inch of the bed that she'd been strapped on. It was nothing but a tilted piece of concrete, though it did have some sort of metal contraption underneath. She found a lever, and the bed slid down from the high angle that she'd been held in. The chains had been removed from the top though, hazmat must have taken them with him. She sank back to the cold, wet floor to wait.
She did not have long to wait. Hazmat burst through the door not long after.
“Come on, girl. Time to meet with the boss.” He shoved her nude form out the door. The hallway was a standard industrial type hallway with drop ceilings and tube lighting. He turned away from her for a moment to lock the door. She chose that moment to run.
Savage Mind - Thought Police Bundle #1: (Sci Fi Rough BDSM) Page 1
