The Interrogation

by Robin Roseau

  Then she stepped away, and I knew when she came back with the bucket.

  "The key."

  "No," I whispered. "I won't let you give me to anyone else!"

  And then she tipped the bucket over me, and I heard the scorpion's claws sliding against the bucket as it slid out and landed on my stomach.

  I freaked and screamed, arching my back and throwing it from my body.

  "God damn it," she said. And then she was scrambling around at the side of the bed. "There he is." A moment later she stood up. "He's still pretty slow. He'll be harder to catch once he wakes up."

  "Please don't put him on me, Katrina! Please!" I started to thrash in the bonds, but she was thorough, and I wasn't going anywhere.

  "Listen to me, Bethany. I play for keeps! Do you understand? You won twice, but tonight, I am winning. Now, if you throw him off again, you are getting the bag until you are out of your mind with panic, and then I will make this guy sting you. And they aren't like a bee. They can sting, and sting, and sting."

  "No!" I said. "No!"

  "Hold still!" she said. "I mean it."

  And almost against my will, I found myself obeying. She tipped the bucket over me, the scorpion tumbled off, and then she pressed the bucket over my belly, making sure I wouldn't throw him off.

  "Please, Katrina! Get it off me!"

  "The key."

  "No!"

  "You know what happens if you move, Bethany."

  "I won't move. Please take it away. Put it outside! Please!"

  She lifted the bucket and set it aside.

  "He's still half asleep," she said, and I felt her poke at the scorpion. "But he'll warm up soon, and then he'll be very lively."

  "Take it away. Please take it away."

  "The final key."

  "No! I won't let you give me to anyone else."

  She prodded at the scorpion, and I felt it move.

  "Ah, he's waking up," she said.

  And then I felt it begin to crawl across my body. Katrina was doing something to encourage it towards my breasts, and I held my breath, trying not to scream.

  Then it poked one of my breasts, and I did scream. "It's stinging me!" I wailed.

  "No, not yet," she said calmly. "Just investigating. Maybe soon though. You'll know a sting."

  It moved again, crawling between my breasts, and I begin to whimper. Then Katrina poked at it, and it turned around. She began herding it lower and lower. When it got to my belly button, she said, "You know where it's going next. I think it might be looking for a dark, damp place to hide."

  And that was it. I lost it. "Penguin!" I screamed. And over and over I screamed the safe word.

  Immediately Katrina swept the scorpion from my body and back into the bucket, and then she was lying next to me, her body stretched along side my, caressing me gently. Slowly, I calmed down, but it took a long time for the sobs to stop.

  "Shhh," she said quietly. "It's gone now. Shhh."

  "Take it outside," I said. "Please take it outside."

  "Soon," she said. "After you give me the key."

  "No," I said. "No. You can't give me to anyone else. You can't! Only you, only you, only you."

  And then that's all I could say, "Only you," over and over and over.

  "Shhh," she said after a while. "Only me."

  "Promise? Promise me. Only you!"

  "Only me. But I want the third key."

  "Only you!" I screamed.

  "Yes, honey. Instead, you're going to dress however I want you to dress. That is the payment for losing the third key to me."

  "Yes," I agreed. "Yes. Only you. Take it outside. Take it outside!"

  "Once we're clear, and you have given me the key. I don't want to track this sucker down again. You will wear your boots. No leggings. Panties I pick for you. And I have a corset that isn't quite your size. It won't contain your breasts, and they'll be spilling out the top."

  "Not in the car!"

  "No. You'll have your coat, too, but not your tunic, and the coat remains open. You will be quite on display, Bethany."

  "Only you!"

  "No one will touch you, but when we do a scene, I will include another submissive female or two."

  I thought about it.

  "You already agreed to that, Bethany. The third key. Now."

  "Only Katrina. Then Only Katrina with both words spelled backwards. Then forwards, then backwards, then forwards once more. Period at the end of each."

  She laughed. "I like that key," she said.

  "Take it outside now!"

  "I have to test the key, honey. If you haven't lied, I'll dispose of the scorpion. I'll never let it crawl on you again."

  "Kill it!" I said. "Oh please kill it."

  "We'll see," she said. "I don't like killing them." Then she climbed from the bed, and I heard her at the computer.

  She was very subdued when she returned. I understood why.

  "Take it away now! I didn't lie. Take it away, Katrina."

  Instead, she climbed onto the bed and carefully removed the blindfold. She hovered over me. "I am going to show you something," she said. "You're going to freak, but I absolutely promise you that you are safe. Do you trust me?"

  "Please take it away, Katrina." I began to hyperventilate.

  "Honey, it's not a real scorpion."

  "What?" I said, suddenly sober.

  She leaned over and picked up the bucket, dipping her hand in and pulling it out.

  "No!" I screamed. "It will sting you."

  "It's plastic, honey," she said. She held it where I could see it. "See? It's plastic. You don't really think I'd go near a real one, do you? If I knew there was a nest in my back yard, I'd have the exterminators out the next day."

  I stared at the black hunk of plastic in her hand. She flicked it with another finger then tipped it over, and it was hollow on the bottom. "Fake," she said.

  I looked into her face. "You freaked me out with a piece of plastic?"

  She grinned. "Yep."

  She set it on my breast, and I looked at it from inches away. "Okay, I don't care if it's fake. It's gross. Please get that off of me."

  She tossed it back into the bucket and dropped it to the floor.

  "A fake scorpion."

  "Yep."

  I began laughing. "You got me."

  "Yep."

  "The June bug was real."

  "Yep. Damned thing. Will you really get it out of our bedroom?"

  "On one condition?"

  She narrowed her eyes. "Let me rephrase-"

  "Call it 'our bedroom' once more."

  "Please, Bethany, will you please remove the June bug from Our Bedroom?"

  "Of course, Katrina," I said with a smile. "As soon as you release me."

  She studied me. "Stiff?"

  "No."

  "Good."

  Instead of releasing me, she began stroking my body, and I was offering promise after promise by the time the orgasm arrived.

  The Secret Letters

  Katrina,

  I am sure you will see this letter. I will hold out as long as I can, because I don't want you to have the next two letters. But I am sure you'll see this one. I think the party could be fun, although I'd rather stay home with you.

  It has been a long time since anyone has touched me, about two years. It has been a very, very long time since anyone has touched me the way you do. I've only been tied up a few times, and each time was pretty half-hearted. My girlfriends all thought I was weird for asking, and none of them got into it. They would do it if I asked, but it was perfunctory, and they didn't do any more than they had to. They were, quite frankly, both disgusted with the idea and found it dull.

  I've never been brave enough to do this with someone I hardly knew. I couldn't believe I let you do what you did to me last night, and in front of all those people. I don't know why I trust you so much. Last night was the most insane, amazing night of my life. I am left wondering what tonight will bring.

  T
hank you for showing this to me.

  Yours,

  Bethany.

  * * *

  Katrina,

  If you are reading this, the second letter, then I may be in trouble. I don't want you to have this letter. I don't want to share you with anyone. I know I don't own you. I know I can't tell you that you aren't allowed to touch anyone else. But if you are reading this letter, know that I am going to be insanely jealous tomorrow. I hope you won't hate me if I express it. I'm not sure I'll be able to hold it in.

  My passcode for this letter was, "I never feel as sexy as I do when Katrina looks at me." And that is completely true. In the last letter, I told you no one has touched me in two years. But no one has ever touched me the way you do. No one has ever looked at me with the desire you do. Other women have told me they enjoy my company. Other women have told me they enjoy how I touch them. But no woman has ever looked at me with such desire. No woman has ever told me she thought I was sexy.

  I don't know if you can understand what a gift that is. I am nearly forty, and you tell me I am sexy, and then you take the time to convince me you are serious, that they aren't just words, and I believe you. You find me sexy.

  Oh Katrina, that is such a gift you have given me. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

  Yours,

  Bethany.

  * * *

  Katrina,

  You won't see this letter. You won't. I won't ever let you give me to anyone else. I am writing this just because later you may ask to see what I wrote. But you won't see this letter because I gave you the key.

  I can't let you ever give me to someone else.

  I trust you. I trust only you. I want you. I want only you. I want to be yours, and only yours.

  Katrina, I think I am falling in love. I know that is foolish. I know you can't feel the same way. I know we only have this time together.

  Please, when you send me home, please be gentle, but firm at the same time. Don't leave me with hope that can't ever be filled. But I hope I'll go home believing I am special to you, even if I'm not.

  Yours, only yours.

  Bethany, your belle.

  Only yours.

  Part Three

  I was exhausted when she finally let me sleep. I knew she'd read the third letter, and I knew what it said, and I knew it was all true. She gave to me and gave to me, and she took what she wanted, and I have never felt more desired in my life.

  And then we slept, but even in sleep, I felt warm and safe in Katrina's arms. She held me all night. She held me close to her all night, and I couldn't imagine ever being somewhere else.

  I don't know which of us woke first in the morning. I lay in her arms for a while, then I felt her blowing against my ear. I giggled.

  "There are two bathrooms up here," she said. "Go grab your toothbrush and use the other bathroom, and meet me back here."

  I laughed and scrambled from the bed. Several minutes later, we lay together in the bed, facing each other.

  "Did you mean everything you wrote?" she asked.

  "Yes."

  Katrina smiled. "You are special to me. You are very special. I understand it may be hard to believe, but I have until Wednesday to convince you, don't I?"

  "Yes."

  "Will you let me spend today convincing you California is better than North Carolina?"

  I laughed. "Yes, but they aren't going to offer me a job I can take."

  "I guess we'll see. If they offer you a job, and you are inclined to turn it down, I want you to ask them to give you a day to think about it, and then we will talk. All right?"

  "But-"

  "Say yes, Bethany. Promise me."

  "Yes, Katrina. But-"

  She put her fingers over my lips, silencing me.

  "How do you feel?"

  "Stiff," I said. "Worn out. Very, very happy."

  "I'm happy, too," she replied. "Will you make grits for me today?"

  "And flapjacks."

  "Flapjacks?"

  I smiled. "Pancakes. From scratch though. Not a box. You can have them with syrup or fruit."

  "Maybe a few of both?"

  I laughed. "Southern flapjacks may be a little larger than you usually have. I'll make you one of each and call you a pig if you finish both of them."

  It was her turn to laugh.

  "I won't be offended if you don't like the grits. I'll put them in a bowl and give you just a little to start. I'll want you to take a taste, and if you don't like it, let it settle, but try a little more before you're done."

  "All right."

  But we kissed and cuddled for a while longer.

  "All right," she said, pushing me away. "We have a long day. Go shower and meet me downstairs."

  "What do I wear?"

  "We're going to the beach."

  "Swimsuit?"

  "Oh heavens no! The water is fifty-two degrees. But it will be sunny. I have a hat for you and sun screen."

  "I don't have beach wear. I didn't think I'd see a beach while I was here."

  "I have a wraparound skirt," she said. "If you have a white blouse."

  "Shoes? I have tennis shoes and dress shoes."

  She sighed. "My shoes are too big for you. Wear the tennis shoes and socks, but I'm buying you some sandals."

  "You don't have to-"

  "Shush. This is a permanent rule. You will never start a sentence like that to me again. Do I make myself clear?"

  "Yes, Katrina."

  She smiled. "Go on."

  "Will you tell me where we're going?"

  "Over breakfast. Hurry. It's a bit of a drive." She rolled me away from her and swatted my bottom, and then we were both heading for separate bathrooms.

  * * *

  She didn't care for the grits. I didn't think she would.

  "Do you make them for yourself?" she asked.

  "Yes. It's a southern staple."

  "Then you will continue to make them, but in the future, I want them from your bowl."

  I laughed. "Hoping to acquire a taste?"

  "Yes."

  "All right. But I don't think I'm going to be cooking breakfast again this week. I won't have time tomorrow. Maybe Tuesday."

  She liked the flapjacks and ate less than half of what I gave her. I could tell she was full long before she gave up. I reached over and held her hand.

  "They're big. You'll notice I ate one. You don't need to finish it if you don't want to."

  "I rejected your grits. I didn't want to reject your flapjacks, too."

  "Did you like them?"

  "Yes. I like the strawberries more than with syrup."

  "Me too. I can use other fruit next time."

  She smiled. "I'd like that."

  "Why don't you have a coffee maker?"

  "I do." She pointed to a contraption on the counter.

  "That's not a coffee maker!"

  "Espresso machine."

  "Oh," I said. "I don't know how to work it."

  "And I don't want to teach you this morning. We'll stop at Starbucks on the way. Clean up the kitchen while I pack up the car, but make sure I give you a hat. Do you have a camera?"

  "In my purse."

  "Okay, good."

  Ten minutes we were in the car.

  It was an amazing drive, truly amazing.

  Katrina talked to me about the outdoor beauties of Northern California, explaining the difference between Southern and Northern California. "If we had more time, we'd go to the redwood forest, but we can't do that and Santa Cruz in the same day." She told me about the redwoods.

  "I'm confused though. I thought San Francisco was on the ocean. What direction are we driving?"

  "Mostly south," she explained. "I should have shown you a map. San Francisco is the northernmost tip of a peninsula between San Francisco Bay and the Pacific Ocean. To leave SF, you cross the Golden Gate Bridge. It spans the gap across the entrance to the bay."

  "Oh," I said. "I didn't know."

  "The peninsula is only about four mi
les wide by then, but down here it is much wider. The bay stretches from the north to the southeast, so the land west of the bay is wider near the southern tip of the bay, and that's where San Jose and Mountain View are. If we had more time, we could drive along the coast from further north, but that takes forever."

  "If I come to visit, will you take me?"

  She glanced over at me and smiled. "Yes. You'll have to stay longer."

  "Will you want to see me?"

  "Yes."

  "You'll have another girlfriend by then," I said. "I don't know if I'll want to see you with someone else."

  "Let's not talk about that, Bethany. Right now, it's just the two of us."

  "All right."

  She described Santa Cruz then explained that Monterey was further south. "You'll get to see more of the coast, and we'll go to the aquarium. It's world renown."

  "I've heard of it."

  "I have friends here," she said. "We're going to park at their house and walk. Public parking on a weekend can be hard to find."

  "I'm glad I'm with you then."

  "Me too," she replied with a grin.

  She asked me about North Carolina, and we spent the drive comparing our homes. I had to agree, if it weren't for the cost of living, I was willing to move. If nothing else, I was tired of living in a state where the politicians had such hateful things to say about me. But I had to admit it was pretty. North Carolina is pretty, too. But the summers were hot and the winters wet and while not miserable, not fabulous either. I thought San Francisco was nicer.

  We finally came over a ridge, and I could see the Pacific Ocean laid out before me. Katrina glanced over at me.

  I'd been to the Atlantic ocean often enough. But our coastline was much different, and we had a barrier island spanning nearly our entire coast. There was no barrier island here, and the coast here was very rugged.

  She drove slowly through town, and traffic was terrible. But traffic at the beach at home is bad, too. Finally we pulled into a small driveway.

  "We're here," she said. "You will meet Fran and Jean. We'll only stay a few minutes. They won't expect more." Then we climbed out of the car, and there were two people standing on the front steps of the house waiting for us.