The Interrogator

I lurch noticeably, forgetting my formidable bonds. Miss Denise laughs.

“Yes, I surmised such in reviewing your file this week. Your reaction has just confirmed it. I was not aware of her or her Thailand facility when I interviewed you years ago. Had I been aware, things could have been easier for you. I could have had you talking sooner. Without all the, shall we term, ceremony?

“But I probably would have had you sent to the discipline room anyway, Bobby. The thought of having the buttocks of bad little boys caned at my whim rather excites.”

“Guess it’s a power thing. Kind of thrilling for a woman like me.”

She smiles, sips and squeezes, bringing forth another moan as the anal insert swells... physically demonstrating her dominion over my vulnerability.

“Uhh!”

The grimace escapes, acknowledging her simple gesture of authority. It brings a grin.

“Yes my tour of duty in Bangkok was most enjoyable for me. Interviewing naughty boys like you... at my pace... using my methods... unfettered access to mind and body... without supervision. And I had such delightful assistance. You’re probably aware that all the guards were handpicked by me.”

“Yes, all possessed complete insouciance to the plight of the naked and well restrained male. There were times when they didn’t want to go home after their shift. And to think they received a paycheck...”

More laughter. Another sip of wine.

“You’ve probably guessed that they all had bad experiences in youth.”

I had not, and with my curious look she continues.

“Oh yes, the encounters in the deep basement were not their first with Caucasian males. Seems most were abused as youths, caught up in the Thailand sex trade. Forced into sexual slavery, made to serve the likes of men like you, Bobby. And at such early ages, the abuse fosters a lifetime of revenge. In working with me, there was collective retribution for the deviant acts of the Caucasian male. For my Thai girls, the time was well spent and sweet!

“I turned the former female prey into predators. Fish into fishermen, so to speak.

“Except you weren’t quite the fish we were trying to net.”

I begin to better understand the guards’ propensities for the administration of pain; the callousness, the hours of heartlessly ignoring pleas, the enjoyment of the well timed releases to reset the clock of the slowly building anguish of four point restraint, the many moments of entertainment in the washroom, the ceremonial walks to the discipline room, naked, bound, controlled by my balls.

I also begin to understand Mila’s absence during the revealing slide show, when Miss Denise’s clicking hand brought forth photos which methodically transcended from depictions of spirited lewdness to pedophiliac depravity. It opened wounds which Mila was, in tormenting me, trying to heal.

So, despite Miss Denise’s insistence that my question of ‘why’ would never be answered, she cunningly provides quite the clue. Her knowledge and experience in sexual deviancy, a program ostensibly affiliated with the Bangkok police, women with odious memories of Caucasian males apparently more than eager to extract revenge, it all begins to add up.

“Yes, when I analyzed the results of your tests, wearing the penis cuff, it became evident that you were not the candidate we suspected. Pictures of naked underage girls and boys did not overly arouse.”

Miss Denise laughs softly.

“But once a moth is entangled in the web, why not enjoy the plight? A rather uncaring attitude on my part, I realize. But I must admit, having you thoroughly caned did imbue a certain level of ecstasy. Guess we all have our foibles, don’t we Bobby?”

“Oh yes, don’t look so surprised. Those little tête-à-têtes with the whipmistress were recorded. And some of my file tapes of you are my favorites, particularly when the excruciating pain causes your bladder to open. That cannot be faked in even the best S&M flick. Such graphic reaction to my authority, my control.”

I am stunned. My look of shock is apparent.

“But despite my enjoyment, I eventually had to let you go. There were so many other flies with which to deal, the real catch. Though none reacted quite as nicely to the bondage, the tight restraints, the deep humiliation, the agony of the cane.”

Miss Denise pauses to sip, finishing her glass.

“Ever think, Bobby, that your current sexual abstemiousness, brought on by nothing more than your own subconscious, is little more than an expression of yearning?”

“Perhaps you would enjoy another trip to Bangkok. Ever think that your self induced chastity is trying to tell you something?”

“Empress Suhan awaits, Bobby... at least in your imagination.”

Chapter Nineteen

Miss Denise knows of Empress Suhan!