With my palms pressed together and my eyes closed, I began to close my ritual. I took the Damascus blade from the alter, and ran it across my palm. I clenched my palm, raised it above my head, and let the blood course down my forearms. I rubbed my palms together, getting the blood on both hands. I could smell the iron, the metallic smell. My job made my nipples hard.
Behind me, in the same room, were three men in suits. There was a fourth man, completely naked, down on his knees in front of the men. His arms were tied behind his back, and there was a black bag over his head. Even at this distance, I could hear his gasps for air and a slight whimper that told me someone had begun my job for me.
"I only take them pure," I said. One of the men, the one who was obviously in charge, stepped forward.
"But you're the best. We really need this one," he said, with cowardice in his voice. His hesitation was proof that my reputation preceded me.
I had on a tight leather vest, slightly unzipped in the front. My bare arms were covered in my own blood. While the men stood there, I started rubbing the blood on my breasts. My nipples were so hard, and the feeling of the warm blood dripping between my breasts just made them harder. I hoped the blood would flow over my hard stomach, and down into my leather pants. The moistness of the blood would make a wonderful addition to my already wet and throbbing clitoris.
I walked over to the naked man kneeling on the floor. The clack of my high healed boots hitting the hard floor of my lair, my playground, was just the beginning of my psychological torture. The man's whimpering became louder as I approached. Two of the three suited men, the two subordinates, took a step backwards as I grew nearer.
"Tell me something about him, Walter," I said to the leader of the pack.
"So you'll take it?" he asked.
I brushed my hair out of my eyes, smearing more blood on my face. I locked eye contact with Walter. "Tell me about him."
Walter pulled his head into his shoulders like a turtle. He knew better than to not follow my directions, my requests.
"It has to be you," Walter said.
I sighed, never leaving eye contact with Walter. "Does it really warrant the skills of a contract interrogator?" I replied.
"Does it matter what stakes are if we're willing to pay?" Walter put a suitcase down on the table.
I sighed. "I don't do this for money, I do this because I like it."
I got down on my hands and knees to get a better look at this man, my potential subject. I took the bag off his head. Someone had put duct tape over the man's mouth.
"You guys are amateurs," I said, ripping the tape from the man's lips. He let out a deep sigh, a groan.
It was then that I got my first good look at the man. He was gorgeous. Shaved head, big strong arms. His nose had been broken, and blood was dripping down his face. After I removed the tape, the blood crept across his lips. He made eye contact with me, defiantly, and licked the blood from his top lip.
This was going to be fun.
"Restrain him, boys. Then remove the cuffs."
It took all three men to lift him to his feet. I could tell that the man was fading in and out of consciousness from the events of his capture.
"Not on the Rack this time, boys. Restrain him in my bed." I pointed to the contraption that was my bed on one wall.
They dragged the man over to the bed, and restrained his arms and his ankles. They put another strap across his waist, and another across his chest.
"Come back in 8 hours, boys."
With that, they left me alone with the man. I stood over him, looking at his sweaty naked body. He was trembling, probably from the chill in the air. Surly, a man such as this could not be frightened by my blood soaked leathers. I pulled a pink and white quilt over the man and allowed him to rest. I watched him for more than an hour, and eventually, he slept.
Eight hours later, Walter and his subordinates returned. The four of us walked to the bed. I slapped the man across the face, hard enough to rock the bed. He awoke instantly. I could tell from the way he writhed in the restraints that his rest had renewed his spirit. He had regained considerable strength.
"Rack him," I said. "But let's make sure we don't damage him, okay?" I held up a syringe and a bottle of honey yellow liquid. I filled the syringe, flipped it upside down, released any air bubbles, then sunk the needle into the man's thigh. He arched his back in fright. After a few moments, he was unconscious.
The three men lifted him into the Rack, a wonderful device I designed myself. It took better than six years to build and perfect, but every dime and every second was well worth it. The Rack resembled and was based on the "Orbitron," a gyro-ride used by Astronauts for multi-directional training, and by carnivals to thrill and excite their patrons. It allowed the participant's body to move in all directions. I had rigged this one so that it didn't respond to the body of the subject. It responded to my manual movements or my remote control only.
While they strapped the man into the rack, I took a shower. I wanted to be fresh and ready for the job at hand. I unzipped the front of the leather vest to reveal my hard nipples. There was blood crusted to my body all over, even underneath my breasts. I unsnapped my pants from the snaps that came up the outside of my legs. The shower was ice cold. I let the water fall on my face, and trickle over my body. I looked down at the shower's floor, and saw a vortex of blood being sucked down into the drain. I reached between my legs, gently caressing the short hairs on my outer labia. The blood had crusted my labia together, denying me access to my throbbing clitoris. I rubbed my blood soaked arm with my right hand and used the blood as a lubricant to shave off all my pubic hair. Now clean, I stepped from the shower, soaking wet, without grabbing a towel.
I walked out into the main room. The three men were still there, and my subject was well anchored into the Rack. Walter seemed startled at seeing my wet naked body glistening in the dim light.
"He's secure. We'll go now," Walter said.
"No," I replied. "I want you to watch."
I walked over to a tray I had set up near the Rack the night before. On the table was a Henk sound set, still in the leather case. There was also an assortment of 20 gauge needles, several larger gauge needles, five scalpels, several pieces of rubber cord, a speculum (mostly for affect), and other objects under a small towel. I put most of the objects in plain view where the man could see them, and some stuff hidden for his imagination to worry about.
Walter looked to each of the subordinates then whispered, "no, we should really be going."
I pulled silenced pistol from a holster pinned under the tray. "You aren't going anywhere. You watch or you die."
I pointed to a series of lazy boy chairs in an adjacent room. They would be able to watch the whole event from behind two-way glass. I took them to the room at gunpoint, and locked the door from the outside once they entered.
I went back into the main room, where an intercom system had been hooked up to the observation room. "I don't care if you watch, gentlemen, but you're going to stay here while I interrogate this man." I rubbed my naked wet body on the glass. "You might enjoy it."
The man in the Rack was rocking himself violently, trying to loosen the restraints. I walked around to the front side, so he could see me.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"Fuck you," he said, trying to regain some composure.
"No, we need something a little more realistic than 'fuck you,' my toy." I took the remote in my hand, and with a clack and a whir, the gyros moved, flipping him forward. I inverted the man, putting the back of his head down near my knees.
"Your name," I said again. This wasn't a question, it was a demand.
"John," he whispered.
"Well, John, I suspect that you know why you're hear. Is that true?" I asked.
"Holding me...against my will," he whispered.
I used the remote to put John right side up. When he was completely upright, I took a few steps back, partially so I could look at him and partially so he could look at me.
"Tell me, John. Who are you? What makes you important enough that you've ended up under my care?"
He said nothing. I picked up one of the 20 gauge needles from the tray. I pinched my left nipple with my left hand. The nipple was still hard from the recent cold shower. I massaged it, pinched it, made it harder. The tip turned bright red. I showed the needle to John. Then I put the tip of the needle on my own nipple and pressed. The needle went through my nipple and out the other side. Without removing the needle, I pinched the nipple. Blood began streaming down my breast.
I retrieved a second 20 gauge needle from the tray and showed it to John. I took two steps towards him, now standing inches away. I touched my own nipple, covering my fingers with my blood. I then began rubbing John's nipple with my bloody fingers.
His penis twitched. His body rocked. His little raisin nipple got harder under my bloody fingers.
"No," he begged.
I slid the needle up to his nipple, and ran it through. He gasped, shivered. His penis again twitched in the dim light, and began to elongate. I removed the needles from our nipples.
I walked to tray again. I retrieved another 20 gauge needle. This time, I walked over to a nearby chair. I pulled the chair and put it directly in front of John. I spread my legs, showing John my inner labia and my swollen clitoris. I pinched my bleeding nipple, and rubbed the blood between my legs. John was working on a rather prominent erection. I again showed him the 20 gauge needle. I took the needle, placed it against my left inner labia, and pushed it through.
"Oh God!" I screamed. Climax number one. I pulled the needle out of my labia and stood up. Blood dripped down my leg. I showed the bloody needle to John, then I licked it clean.
I retrieved one of the larger gauge needles. I showed the needle to John. I flicked my own bleeding nipple, then I flicked John's.
I started stroking John's hard penis. He couldn't help but have the hardest erection of his life. I felt it throb in my hand.
Without warning him, I pushed the needle through the head of his penis. It went straight through the head, through the urethra, and out the other side. He cried out in pain, but his penis throbbed even harder.
"You'd better not climax, John. I'm not done with you yet."
My chest was covered in blood, and even more blood was dribbling down my thighs. I could feel my inner labia swell and start to throb where I had just pierced it.
I retrieved the sound set. I pulled one of the larger sizes out from the leather case. John seemed relieved that it wasn't a needle. But I got the feeling he didn't know what it was actually for.
I again started stroking John's penis. I had a good grasp on it, but I was stroking it slowly. During one of the gyrations, I slipped the metal rod down his urethra. I was gentle, slow. I pushed it in about half way down his shaft, and then pulled it out abruptly. With my free hand, I reached back and squeezed his testicles. They were tightening. I could tell he was about to climax.
I licked the blood from his penis where I had pierced it. As I sunk my lips over the head of his penis, he came in my mouth. The combination of the blood and the semen in my mouth brought me to my peak. I reached down and slid one finger over my clitoris and I climaxed again.
He climaxed, but his penis stayed ridged. I used the remote to flip John onto his back. It looked like he was laying flat on a table, but he was actually suspended from his wrists and ankles. Man, I love the Rack. I grabbed a scalpel from the tray. I made small nicks on his chest, which bubbled into small pools of blood. Then I made a few more larger cuts on the inside of his thighs.
John was crying. I'm not sure if it was the psychological shame of having climaxed in the middle of an Interrogation, or if it was from the pain he must feel all over. But he was crying, and his submission turned me on all the more.
I tossed the scalpel over my shoulder and herd it clang on the ground somewhere in the distant dark shadows. I retrieved a new scalpel, wanting to make sure I had nothing but the sharpest tools for my tasks.
I climbed up on top of John's tired body to admire his still throbbing penis. I took the new scalpel and made an incision on the head, joining his urethra and the piercing I made with the needle. I filleted open the wound, and licked his salty bloody manhood. I decided to take advantage of the blood, to use it as a lubricant. I slipped my dripping hole over Johns throbbing penis and started moving up and down. His wrists and ankles were already bruising from the combined weight. Faster... Faster... I started to scream, nearing my third climax. We came at the same time. I felt him go soft inside of me.
I dismounted. Still trembling myself, I located the remote control and put him upright again. I walked out into the hall and unlocked the door to the observation room, freeing Walter and his two men. All three men were shaking.
I walked back towards John. His spirits had clearly been broken.
"Walter, take him down," I said. The three men walked over to John and began releasing the restraints.
To Walter, I said, "now he'll associate torture with sex play. You'll never have to worry about him giving away secrets. He'll look forward to torture instead of fearing it."
John crumbled onto the ground. I leaned down and kissed him on the neck before whispering into his ear.
"Welcome to the CIA, John."
submitted by: Anonymous
on: 12 April 2003
in BME/HARD Fiction Stories