“The state has the right to protect itself from dangerous criminals.”
An officer was at her ankles placing shackles. Merritt watched in horror, panic filling her throat. Handcuffs were one thing, but they were binding her like an animal. There were even connecting chains between the one on her belly and the ankle cuffs. With so little slack, she doubted she could walk much less run away.
“Prisoner ready, colonel,” said the sergeant.
“Gag her as well.”
“You’ll pay for this,” she defied. “Everything you do to me will go in my statement.”
The leather gag was shoved hard between her lips. It was larger than what Simon had used, and these men had little regard for the pain it caused.
“In that case,” Ladislak smiled as they strapped it tight round the back of her head and neck, “I shall be sure not to take one.”
Some of the men stayed behind to rifle through her belongings while the rest hustled her downstairs to a waiting van. Every eye in the lobby was on her with her revealing outfit and heavy bondage. Her cheeks stung with shame, but she felt heat, too, as they thrust her through the windowless doors, seating her on one of the stainless steel benches.
The metal was cold on her bare thighs. An officer bent over her, running an extra line of chain from her belly to a ring on the floor, thus securing her in place.
Her heart was beating fast. One policeman was sitting to her left and one to her right. They were slamming shut the door. She thought of the trucks in the old days when Ladislak’s men would rape the girls on their way to prison.
She squeezed her tender thighs together. What a whore she felt like with no underwear on. Could these men smell it on her? What if they wanted to fuck her? Were they allowed?
“Out,” commanded an officer in Zuravian when the van came to a stop sometime later at the police station.
Merritt was unshackled and hustled out the back door. They were in some kind of underground parking garage.
The policemen took her as far as a metal door without windows. A gray uniformed guard opened it from the inside.
A few words were exchanged regarding the transfer and Merritt was officially turned over.
“Shoes,” commanded the guard, compelling Merritt to remove her flip-flops. The floor inside was cold on her bare feet. It was difficult to walk down the cold, narrow corridor with her ankles shackled, but the man had little patience with her. Twice he shoved her forward, the third time sending her sprawling.
He dragged her the rest of the way to the interrogation room. Removing the shackles, he ordered her to sit at the table in one of the two wooden chairs. The table was metal, painted gray like the cinderblock walls. Had any girls ever been raped on it?
Merritt was locked in the room and made to wait for hours it seemed as she ran through the possibilities in her mind of what the man might do to her. What he might make her do to him. Being unchained yet so thinly clothed made it worse. In one way she was free, in another she was completely enslaved. Lowering her eyes, she did her best to avoid the female in the large mirror mounted on the wall.
That was a passive girl, a submissive girl. Not her at all. Or was it?
“Do you know why you are here?” asked Ladislak when he arrived to sit down across from her.
She noted the two men with him standing at attention at the door. They were soldiers like the ones at the airport.
“No,” she whispered, the sound of her own voice startling her.
He exhaled in a humorless imitation of laughter. “You Americans never cease to amaze me. With your endless meddling, always thinking you can jump into anyone else’s lives and fix things up. In for breakfast, home in time for prime time on the telly, and all the while you haven’t a clue about the messes you make.”
Merritt said nothing.
“Equipment,” Ladislak ordered.
The soldiers placed a pair of metal cases on the table. Inside the first was a console and wires attached to clamps. Some kind of electrocution device, she imagined. The second had more mundane, if not less terrifying, items. Scissors, sharp knives, a pair of pliers and some dental instruments.
He allowed her a moment to contemplate her torture.
“Do you remember our conversation at the airport, doctor?”
She nodded very faintly.
“And you recall what I said was the prerequisite for questioning?”
Merritt’s head could barely make the motion this time. Yes, she remembered.
The colonel leaned back in his chair. “I’m waiting, doctor.”
Merritt rose very slowly, shakily. She must go to the corner and take off her dress. He would question her naked.
With trembling hands, she lifted the hem of the garment. Appealing to the eyes of the handsome young soldiers for mercy or at least for protection of her modesty, she received none. They were watching, cold and hard.
The dress fluttered to the floor.
Her hands moved to shield her nudity but then she recalled the rest.
Girls like her with good tits and legs were questioned naked. Hands on their heads, not covering the tits or thatch.
Merritt raised her arms, putting her hands in place on her damp, blonde curls.
“Very good, doctor. I’m impressed.”
Her cheeks burned. What must the soldiers think of a woman who volunteers to abase herself? Were they disgusted? Aroused? Did they have girlfriends or wives to go home to and fuck afterward? Or whores? Then again, maybe they’d be fucking her in the line of duty.
“Tell me something, doctor. I’m curious. The whole time you were in here you never even tried to see if the door was open. Why is that?”
“I—I’m not sure.”
“Care to hear my theory?”
It was a rhetorical question.
“I think you didn’t want to escape. I think this is the treatment and the life you enjoy.”
Of all the times for Merritt’s nipples to betray her, she thought.
“Have you any idea how badly I can hurt you, doctor?” he shifted topics yet again.
She shook her head, this time no.
“Good answer. You don’t. You’ve no idea, growing up in your fat, greedy country, stealing from everyone else. We can’t afford your civil rights. We aspire to a lower, albeit more practical form of justice. We settle for what is possible. And that is what you must do from here on in.”
He lifted one of the scalpels. “What would you do to avoid torture, I wonder?”
“A-anything,” she replied honestly.
“Another good answer. You learn quickly, I can see. It’s true, you would throw yourself at me, my men, at anyone at all…even a ghost if you thought it would spare you bloodshed.”
She shivered at the mention of ghosts. Did he mean Belok?
“I’m not going to touch you, doctor,” he told her. “You’ll be happy to know.”
Relief flooded her body. She was so damn open, so vulnerable like this.
“I’m going to do something worse. I’m going to make you watch.”
One of the soldiers turned the empty chair towards the mirror on the wall.
“Sit, doctor.”
Warily, hands still on her head she returned to her seat.
“You will kindly keep your legs apart,” he instructed. “Wide apart.”
Merritt placed her crotch on the wood. As hot and wet as she was, she expected to be staining it soon enough.
The soldier took her hands now, cuffing them behind her back. The constriction had the effect of thrusting her aching breasts even further outward. For an instant she thought of Belok’s breast cage. What had happened to his ghost, anyway? Had the events of last night scared him off?
“Observe, doctor.”
The mirror lit up, revealing a room on the other side. The lights had just been turned on and a young woman was being led in. Merritt held her breath when she saw who it was.
“But I don’t understand,” Mariana was saying to the
pair of plainclothes officers. “What have I done wrong?”
The taller one, a buzz cut blonde, inclined his head to the second, a stocky dark haired man with broad shoulders. The smaller man went to lock the door while the taller one slapped Mariana hard across the face, knocking her to the floor.
“Get up,” he said, his voice hard as steel.
Mariana did so, fear in her eyes as she held her stung cheek.
“You’ll speak only when spoken to, now take off your dress.”
Pretty Mariana bit her lip, reaching for the hem of her short blue dress. Both cops were watching intently, the outline of their cocks clearly visible. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see what they wanted from the young woman with the pageboy hair cut and the curvy little body.
Just as Merritt feared, the girl had no bra on underneath.
“Legs apart, whore,” the detective barked. “And show us those pretty tits, too.”
Mariana cupped them, offering herself. She was breathing fast, her gently convex belly beckoning the eye lower still, to the sheer, light blue panties so blatantly advertising the dark thatch of pubic hair between her obscenely spread legs.
“Take off the shoes, too.”
Mariana stepped out of the black mules, placing her delicate, bare feet on the rough concrete. Her toenails were painted pink to match her fingernails, still pressed dutifully against her thrusting breasts. Her lips were also pink. At present they were opened just slightly, a look of soft surrender on her angelic face.
The captured girl was delicious. Well nigh irresistible to any man, her voluptuous, well proportioned body practically begging to be exploited and pillaged.
“We could charge her with soliciting sex acts,” Ladislak explained to the rapidly perspiring Merritt, “but under current laws, pitiful as they are, we’d do better to have picked her up for littering. What will really hurt her, though, is the cocaine we picked up on the boyfriend, Marco. That can be stretched into trafficking and dealing with a little creativity on our part. We can even charge her with conspiracy to distribute.”
“Do you masturbate, Mariana?” the blonde cop was asking, his voice coming through on the speaker built into the wall below the two-way mirror.
“No, sir,” the girl shook her head solemnly. “My boyfriend does not allow that anymore. He says my pussy belongs to him.” Mariana’s expression changed suddenly as if she’d just realized something. “Oh, forgive me, officer, can I say that word in here?”
“Pussy? Sure why not. Milos, say ‘pussy’ for the prisoner.”
The other cop licked his lips. “Pussy,” he growled, giving a good indication of what he intended to be doing with the girl soon.
“Your turn,” the blonde officer told her. “Put your hand down your pants and say pussy.”
“Sir, please, I can’t!”
“Because of Marco? Fuck Marco. You know where he is now? In the men’s detention. Any idea what we found on him?” He tossed the bag of cocaine onto the table. “Coke. Pure grade.”
Mariana looked genuinely shocked. “I had no idea…”
“You’re doing it again,” the blonde pointed out, “talking without permission. You’re also ignoring an order I gave you a moment ago.”
The stocky cop took a menacing step forward.
“Please, wait!” Mariana’s hand slipped under the waistband of the sheer panties, the fingers eagerly seeking out the required target. In a matter of seconds, the coercion gave way to desire. The swell was visible in her nipples as was the flush of passion on her cheeks.
“You like obeying men, don’t you, Mariana? You enjoy being treated like a little sex toy.”
“I—I love Marco.”
“But Marco doesn’t call the shots now, does he? Marco is under our control, and depending on how you cooperate, a lot of bad things could happen to him.”
“B-bad things?”
“Did I say to stop touching yourself?”
“N—no, sir.”
The blonde waited till Mariana had begun to writhe on her own hand. “He’ll go to prison. A nice little foreigner, a pretty boy like that, he’ll take it hard. Up the arse. Down the throat, too.”
“Marco,” she breathed, her chest rising and falling with her passion. “He’s a good boy; please don’t let that happen.
“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “are you prepared to help him?”
“Anything, sir. I’ll do anything.”
“I’ve helped people such as you before, but the girls, they were very good lays.”
“I am a good lay,” enthused the sultry Mariana. “I know how to use my body to please men.”
“That’s not enough,” interjected the stocky cop. “The girls he’s talking about, they give it their all. They submit not only to pleasure, but to pain, too.”
“I can do that, sir! When Marco punishes me, I climax for him. Sometimes I am deliberately naughty so that he will have to punish me.”
The stocky cop slammed his palm on the table. “Christ, I’m sick of hearing about you and your little lover boy!”
“Do you think this is some little game?” the blonde wanted to know. “Is that what you think? Hmm?
Mariana cowered. “Please, I meant no—”
“Take that hand out of your cunt!” The blonde seized her wrist, forcing her to suck her own fingers. “Taste what a slut you are.”
“Little whore!” barked the stocky one suddenly, reaching for her panties. “Do you think you deserve to wear clothes in our presence?”
The thin material shredded in his hand. “This,” he held the fragrant scrap of silk to her face, “is what you are.”
The blonde moved behind her, taking her arms. Using the cuffs, he secured her hands effortlessly behind her back.
The stocky one, meanwhile, ordered her to open up so he could stuff her mouth with her own ruined panties. “Do you know what it is we’re looking for?” he grabbed her tit, closing it in a vise-grip. “A pet slut to service our whole division. We will keep her locked up in a special cell where anyone can get at her night and day.”
“No clothes, Mariana, no furniture,” the blonde said. “You sleep shackled on the floor—when you’re allowed sleep, that is. Otherwise, you fuck. Fuck and suck and whatever anyone else wants to do with you.”
“Our last mascot had to retire,” the other explained. “She lost her youthful appeal.”
“Head down,” ordered the blonde. “Palms on the floor.”
The girl obeyed, making a bridge of herself. The blonde unzipped himself and entered her from behind.
“If you become our mascot,” the stocky one looked down on the subjugated little female. “We might consider letting Marco off the hook.”
The girl moaned enthusiastically into her saliva soaked underwear.
“Oh, yeah,” the blonde cop groaned, slapping her arse, “give it to me good. I’m gonna fill you up to your eyeballs with sperm, you filthy little cunt.”
Ladislak was behind the helpless Merritt. “Jealous?” the man leaned down, taking her swollen breasts in his hands. “Would you like them to give you a dose as well?”
Merritt bit her lip, hating the betrayal of her own body.
“I believe you would, but you’re concerned for Mariana, aren’t you? You’d like her to go free. You’re concerned she won’t last, being fucked like an animal night and day. All the sexual pleasure in the world, but no one to love her, a single master to covet her submissive soul.”
“What do you want?” Merritt thrust back her head with a sigh. “I’ll do whatever you say…tell you anything you want to know…just let her and the boy go…you don’t want them, anyway.”
“Bright girl,” the colonel crooned approvingly. “You’ve correctly deduced that the only reason the Zuravian National Intelligence Service is interested in the little slut and her idiot of a boyfriend is because of you.”
“But I still don’t know,” she whimpered, his hands twisting her nipples mercilessly, “what it is you
want from me.”
“Everything,” said a new voice, belonging to Simon Rutledge. “We want everything.”
Chapter Twelve
Clumsy girl!” snapped Merritt at the redhead quite out of character.
“Forgive, me, doctor,” said Becca throatily, immediately throwing a napkin over the spilled coffee.
“Rebecca, honestly,” she sighed, exasperated, “what if I’d been working on one of the original manuscripts?”
Becca dabbed at the edges of the soiled legal pad, a sinister smile curling at the edge of her lips. “I’m a bad girl, doctor. I deserve to be punished.”
“You’re trying to goad me, aren’t you? You spilled that on purpose. Well it’s not going to work. I am a professional researcher with a book to write, not a sadist here to entertain your sick fantasies, and if you don’t mind,” her voice rose to a point of uncomfortable tension. “I should like to be left alone.”
Becca's eyes had a strange glint. “No,” she defied.
“Out!” Merritt pointed with a trembling finger to the door of the library. “Now!”
It was all getting to be too much. Two days back at the Institute undercover for Ladislak and Rutledge, pretending to do her work while waiting for the so-called Society of the Cup to make its move. A move that could well bring about the end of the world as they knew it.
The slap caught Merritt off guard. Becca hit her hard, stinging her cheek just below the pocket under her eye. Merritt’s response was just as automatic. Grabbing the girl’s arms, she wrestled her over the table, pinning both wrists over her head.
Rebecca struggled but was unable to free herself. “You see? You have to punish me,” she repeated, the relief and anticipation dancing in her eyes. “Because you’re stronger.”
Merritt wanted to let go but couldn’t. At that moment, her head and loins were pounding, surging with an unknown energy. It was like an adrenaline rush only keenly sexual.
“Punish me,” Becca said again, her tits straining at the cream colored blouse. She had no bra on, of course, and in her current excitement, her chest heaving, the nipples were clearly outlined. “Please, mistress?” Her voice trailed to a sensuous whisper, her stocking clad foot rubbing Merritt’s leg.
Belok's Bride Page 17