by Selena Kitt
Don't be ridiculous. You don't get to be the chief interrogator of a Saxian militia base unless you're a real prick. Especially not before you reach the age of thirty.
Well aware of the fact that she should be using this 'downtime' to come up with some sort of plan, or at least reinforcing her courage for the next onslaught, whatever that may be, Lena found herself unable to stop thinking about Sergeant Fielding and how he'd come to be where he was. Who he was. Until, eventually, exhaustion forced her into a fitful sleep despite the chill in the air.
Chapter Four
"Rise and shine, sleepyhead," Blaze said, tapping the girl's foot with a gentle forefinger.
She jerked in her bonds, and for a second he felt bad for having startled her. He only just bit back his apology in time. "Did you sleep well?" he asked instead.
Her brilliant green eyes glared at him. "What do you think?"
"Didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to answer a question with a question?"
"Pfft. That's rich, coming from a militia interrogator."
Even though she had a point, he sat down on a stool near her head and took a sip of coffee, debating his next move. He really needed her to start talking, and he really didn't want to have to bend her over and use the strap on her bare ass until she did so.
Well, part of him did, but that part didn't count. Not here. Forcing what he hoped was an easygoing smile, he held out the mug. "Want some?"
"Is that coffee?" Her eyes widened.
"Certainly is."
"I haven't had coffee in forever." Two adorable little creases formed between her brows. "Where did you get coffee from?"
"Standard rations. We always have coffee. Don't you?"
She scoffed at that. "Nope. I guess the 'standard' rations differ somewhat between you militia and us 'little people.'"
Blaze decided to ignore her derogatory tone. "Sure you don't want some? It's still hot."
He could see her wavering; the temptation must have been huge. Then, as always, her iron will won out. "No thank you. I don't want anything from you."
Unable to resist, he slid his hand into his pocket and flicked the remote he had concealed there, bringing the egg still buried inside her back to buzzing life.
"Turn that fucking thing off!" she howled.
"Tut tut. Someone's not a morning person, is she?"
There was a pause, then she slumped back, as if defeated. "Please. Please turn that egg back off. I'll be good. I promise."
"Good as in you'll stop shouting at me, or good as in you'll start talking?"
There was a long, long silence. Then, "The first one."
"I thought as much." Draining his coffee, he set it aside and then stood up, deliberately looming over her. Gently, he placed a fingertip between her breasts and dragged it down… down… over the concave curve of her belly until his hand came to rest just above her pubis. He could feel the vibrations coming from within her, and he hadn't missed the way she inhaled sharply at his touch. The pulse was pounding visibly in her throat again.
"Aren't you getting tired of this?" he asked, tenderly.
"Aren't you getting tired of doing this?" she shot back, glaring at him.
Blaze placed his palm flat on her lower abdomen and pressed down, increasing the pressure of the vibrator on the most sensitive spot within her pussy. He was rewarded with a gasp as her nipples puckered and her hands clenched into fists. "Oh no, sweetheart," he growled, "this is the most fun I've had in a long, long time. You're so fucking… responsive."
He began to roll the flat of his hand back and forth, feeling the bullet undulate and hum inside her. His dick was so hard it ached.
The woman was refusing to meet his eyes but he didn't miss the tension in her body or the rise and fall of her stunning breasts as she panted, silently, under his ministrations.
"You can pretend you're not enjoying this but I know different," he said gruffly. "I don't need to look between your legs to know that you're leaking again; your cunt aching and slippery, your arousal—once again—becoming unbearable."
God knows, mine is.
She gave a most unconvincing shrug. "I could think of worse things."
He pressed a little harder. "Oh believe me, sweetheart, so could I. We haven't even started yet… I've been going easy on you." Sliding his other hand between her splayed, slender thighs, he let his thumb rest on her already distended clit. "You have one more chance, little girl. You're going to tell me your name or I'm going to untie you from this table, bend you over, and apply my prison strap to your bare ass until you start talking."
She gasped at that and, without thinking, he allowed his thumb to start moving over her swollen nub; up and down… up and down… Bending lower, he added, "And if I have to strap you raw, believe me, little one, I will do it."
The girl took a deep breath, gave a tremendous shudder, and climaxed so hard he could feel the contractions reverberating beneath his fingertips. With enormous effort, Blaze removed his hands as calmly as he could, forcing himself to ignore the chafing hard-on in his uniform.
That was the second time she had come while he'd threatened her. Humiliation… spanking… surely it wasn't a coincidence? Could it really be that the thoughts turned her on?
It was also the second time she'd come without permission. The next time she climaxed—if there was a next time, he thought furiously—it would be because he wanted her to.
"Your name?" he said coolly.
She shook her head almost imperceptibly, but Blaze caught it. He straightened his back and flicked the remote switch to 'off'. "Very well. You give me no choice. Wait here."
"Ha ha," she said, as he turned on his heel and stalked towards the door. He was going to show Little Miss Stubborn who was running this show once and for all.
But first he needed to calm down.
* * *
Lena had never known such turmoil. The man was as infuriating as he was attractive, which made resisting him even harder. And the effect he had on her was nothing short of terrifying. He seemed to know exactly which buttons to push to drive her crazy—in every sense of the word.
If only he wasn't a militia sergeant. If only he didn't belong to the people she despised most in the world. If only their circumstances were different. Their chemistry was undeniable and, most frightening of all, she felt a curious, traitorous urge to confide in him. To bring him around to her way of thinking.
Get a grip. He's an indoctrinated soldier. Not a chance.
She felt a trickle of juice leak from her pussy and closed her eyes, reliving the humiliation of climaxing at his fingertips once again. If only he didn't say those things in that tone… she was completely unable to control herself when he did. Her face grew hotter as she remembered him telling her that there were people—soldiers—watching them from behind the mirror.
Peeking over at it from beneath lowered lashes, she saw no-one but herself, still naked, still bound to the table, her mane of dark hair hanging halfway to the floor.
Give nothing away. Think of the others. She wondered what her class had been told about their teacher's absence; whether the kids she so adored even missed her. That train of thought made tears sting her eyes, which she blinked back quickly.
So what happens now? He'll come marching in here and—what? Make me come again? Follow through with his threat to spank me? A twinge of fear prickled through her at the thought… as well as something else. Longing? Excitement?
Arousal?
It can't be; don't be silly. No-one gets turned on by the idea of physical punishment. Especially not you.
And yet, if that was the case, why had the mere mention of it forced her to come apart under the handsome sergeant's fingertips?
Coincidence. That was all it was. Not what he was saying, but how he was saying it… the way he was looking at her, the way he was touching her. The way he—
"Have you decided to play along yet?" His voice interrupted her thoughts, something for which she was curiously grat
eful.
"Have you decided to give up and let me go yet?" she bit back. Something about him brought out a defiant side in her she didn't even know she possessed, she thought wryly.
"I'll take that as a 'no' on both counts then," he said, apparently unperturbed. Without another word, he began to undo the straps around her wrists and ankles, and then her waist.
"Think you can get off the table on your own or do you need my help?" he said politely.
"I'm fine, thank you. I can manage."
"Very well." He caught her glancing at the door and tutted. "It's locked. And there are armed guards beyond it. Believe me, you do not want to run into them."
"I'm aware of that. I had the pleasure of meeting some of them—yesterday, was it? I've lost track of the time in here," she said bitterly.
"Just stating the facts."
Her whole body was stiff from lack of movement and she was forced to clutch the table as her weight shifted to her feet. Her knees were wobbly and she really needed the bathroom. But she would be damned if she'd show even the smallest sign of weakness.
"There's a chamber pot over there if you need to go," Blaze said airily, waving to the corner. "I promise I'll turn around."
Lena wanted to hiss at him, to leap at him and scratch his face even as another part of her wanted to cling to him, to beg him to save her from all this madness. "I suppose it wouldn't be anything you haven't already seen," she said, making her way over to the corner and waiting for him to fulfill his side of the bargain by turning his back to her.
"Good girl. No need for you to suffer more than you already will."
There was a twinge deep inside her at his words, which she tried steadfastly to ignore.
"Make sure you come back over here when you're finished," he went on.
Lena did as she was told, marching back over to where he was standing and then facing him, her chin tipped up in a show of defiance.
He was much taller than she'd first thought; towering over her by at least a head. As she stared into his dark eyes, challenging him to make his next move, she was taken aback by his expression.
"Don't make me do this," he said in a voice so low she had to strain to hear it, his lips barely moving. "Please, just cooperate and I can help you."
Utterly dumbfounded, she stared at him uncomprehendingly.
"I mean it," he went on in that same, curious whisper. "I can't go easy on you as we're being watched. If I have to take the strap to you, I really have to take the strap to you. No half measures. I'd really rather avoid it if I could."
It's a trap. He's nothing but brainwashed militia scum. Don't believe a word he's saying.
"Nice try," she said, "but I'm not going to fall for your pathetic tricks. And just for the record, you can hurt me all you like—I still won't tell you anything."
"We'll just see about that." Firmly gripping her elbow, he spun her around to face the table, then pushed her nose into the padded surface. "Are you going to allow yourself to be restrained willingly, or am I going to have to get some of my men in to hold you down?" he said brusquely.
"W-willingly," she whispered, hating the frightened catch in her voice.
"Good girl. Put your hands… here, and spread your legs. Just so."
Lena did as she was told, allowing him to guide her limbs and reattach the bindings until she was tied—bent over—to the table, her wrists tethered firmly beyond her head, her feet splayed wide. A few gentle tugs at her bonds confirmed what she already knew: she wasn't going anywhere for the time being.
"You want to see the strap?"
Blood was roaring in her ears and his voice sounded far away. "No, thank you," she managed.
"It might make you change your mind."
She shook her head.
His fingers threaded through the hair at the base of her skull, yanking her head up until her eyes focused on what he was holding in front of her. "You're not in charge around here," he said roughly; any and all trace of tenderness or empathy gone from his tone. "I am. I am in charge and you will do as I say. Look at this."
Wordlessly, she took in the thick, gleaming leather; about fifteen inches long and three inches wide. It looked thick and stiff. It looked like it would hurt.
A lot.
"Now, sweetheart," Blaze went on, in the same gruff tone, "this is your last chance. What's your name? And don't even think about giving me a fake one because I have been trained to detect untruths and I will know immediately if you're lying."
Swallowing hard, Lena closed her eyes.
Think of the others. You can't save yourself, but you can save them…
Trying to ignore her pounding heart, she gave her head the tiniest shake; at which he let go of her hair and stalked around the table until he was standing behind her.
"Very well. Don't say I didn't warn you."
THWACK!
The stiff leather impacted both her buttocks with a force that took Lena's breath away. Searing heat exploded across her skin, and the ensuing sting was still growing when he whapped her a second time; increasing the burn tenfold.
She was unable to contain a muffled scream when the strap landed a third time, in the same place, squarely across both cheeks.
"You going to tell me your name now?" he said calmly.
Biting her lip, already dreading the fourth swat, she moved her head slowly from one side to the other.
Blaze sighed. "Your choice."
THWACK!
Lena was glad she was restrained, for every single part of her wanted to leap away from the table, slap the shit out of the handsome sergeant, and rub away the flames in her derrière. Her pulse was still racing… partly with fear, but also with something else.
Anger.
She was absolutely livid.
Livid with the meteor which had given despots the opportunity to create a new, warped society. Outraged by the docile acquiescence of the sheeple who allowed their government to treat them the way they did. Furious with her parents for abandoning her the way they had, forcing her to cope on her own and join the Resistance, and absolutely incensed by the fact that she had allowed herself to be caught and was now, as a consequence, bent over naked and tethered to an interrogation table, being strapped by a sickeningly attractive man—and somehow enjoying it.
It was undeniable, there was a distinct throbbing at the apex of her spread thighs.
How can this be? He's hurting me. This fucking hurts! Why in the world is it turning me on? Don't think about it. Concentrate on the anger.
THWACK!
The leather landed a little lower on the fifth stroke, spreading the almost unendurable sting to the crease where her buttocks joined her thighs—and the tops of her thighs themselves. Lena threw her head back and howled.
* * *
Blaze was about ready to throttle the dark-haired beauty whose backside was turning ever deeper hues of hot, shiny pink. Why did she have to be so damn stubborn? Forcing him to follow through with his threat… forcing him to be harsh with her so as to not only save face in front of his men, but also to ensure her safety.
Because the moment he declared his interrogation over, they would execute her. And they'd probably rape her first.
So what? a small inner voice told him. She's doomed anyway. She's going to die anyway. All you're doing is tormenting her beforehand. Prolonging the agony. Go to the commander, tell him she's not going to talk, and have done with it. Let them deal with it. With her.
Her howl of agony on the fifth stroke pierced him to the core, and it took every ounce of resolve he possessed to be able to raise his arm and bring the strap down a sixth time. The girl stopped howling and went limp. Then she just lay there, silent. He didn't miss the fact that her whole body was trembling—although whether it was from the cold, fear, adrenaline or pain, he couldn't tell. Probably a mixture of everything.
Blaze reached over and put a hand on her hot, mottled buttock. The woman jumped as if she'd been branded. It probably felt as though she had
. "You going to tell me your name yet?" he asked, unable to disguise the weariness in his tone.
Her only response was a choked sob.
It was a good thing they'd made such a point of instilling rigorous self-discipline during all his years of training, he thought, as every instinct he owned was screaming for him to untie her, scoop her up in his arms, and tell her that everything was going to be all right.
But it wasn't.
He was racking his brains, trying to find a solution that, deep in his heart, he knew didn't exist. She had gambled—and lost. She was obviously a member of the Resistance, otherwise she would have told them what she was up to, and whether or not she admitted it didn't really matter. She would die. It was merely his job to get as much information out of her as he could beforehand. No-one could save her now; not even him.
"Just one little word and all this could be over. I'm not even asking for your full name. Just your first one. Really, how much could we possibly do with that?"
It was a flat-out lie and she undoubtedly knew it. Not only was this fascinating girl brave, she was also smart. The militia had an extensive spy network and endless informants. They could glean a lot of valuable information from her first name alone.
His men were behind the mirror now; watching them both, listening to every word. Blaze couldn't afford to let them suspect anything… that he wasn't doing his job properly. That he wasn't devoted to the cause. That he didn't really want to hurt her.
Except that wasn't entirely true. The circumstances sucked, for sure, but if things were different… if they were in a different world, a different reality, he might really have enjoyed bending this young woman over and showing her who was in charge.
If only they weren't being watched.
If only he wasn't forced to be quite so harsh with her.
If only he knew she was enjoying it.
As he raised the strap for the next lick, he ran an assessing eye over her high, round buttocks. Her ankles were restrained so far apart that her pink, glossy lips were clearly visible between her slender thighs.