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Breasts can be a big liability - Stephanie’s extreme Interrogation
Chapter 1 – The first half hour
“Stephanie, are you ready?” I asked.
“Yes, I am.” she replied.
Stephanie stood in front of me stark naked. She was an attractive 31 year old brunette with a beautiful figure. She worked indoors mostly, and her complexion was very pale. She had beautifully shaped firm breasts, with pink areolas, and reddish brown nipples that stood forth proudly from them. She stood with her shapely thighs pressed together in an attempt to cover her shaved nether regions as much as possible.
“Do you understand the rules and the scenario, Stephanie?” I asked.
“Yes, I do.” she replied.
The scenario was simple. Half an hour in advance, I had prepared two copies of a storyline: just a few sheets of paper. I had given her one copy and instructed her to memorize the details within half an hour. The storyline was that of a female spy with information who had been captured and was in the process of being interrogated. It contained the information that she knew, and which her captor would try to force out of her. It goes without saying that Stephanie would play out the role of the spy, and me her captor.
The rules were equally simple. Since this was her first session, I had set the time limit at one hour. In that time, I would try to extract the information out of her, using all means at my disposal. Her goal was to hold out for at least one hour, without divulging any of the information. If she succeeded in holding out for the whole session, then she would have endured only the torture that I had put her through in that time. For every piece of information that she willingly or inadvertently divulged, there would be a punishment at the end of the session. The exact nature of the punishment – unknown to her and to be decided by me. There was a safe word – using it would immediately terminate the entire session, but its use too would be followed by punishment that would be declared only then.
I had asked her to put on a blindfold, and I now checked to make sure that it was set correctly. I led her to the center of the dungeon. I clapped handcuffs around her wrists, and then hooked those to two chains that dangled from the ceiling. I turned the ratchet wheel on the wall to take up the slack of the chains. I didn’t want her body stretched too tight just yet. She was just on the verge of having to go on tiptoe. I bound her ankles in a similar fashion to two restraints fixed to the floor. Her body was now a stretched X, completely accessible, and utterly vulnerable.
“Let us begin” I said, and started my stopwatch. The seconds started ticking away.
“What is your name?” I began with the first question. Silence.
I glanced down at the papers in my hand. “Christine Spencer” – that was the made up name of the “spy”. I tossed the papers aside and strode towards her.
“I think I asked you a question!” I yelled, my face just inches from hers. Again, silence. I slapped her hard across the face. The sharpness of the slap made her gasp. Her pale left cheek started to show a red hue.
“What is your name?” I repeated. A moment’s silence, then another hard slap across her face. She shrieked slightly at this one, but offered no information. I walked around behind her and literally breathed down her neck. She shifted uncomfortably, as much as her restraints allowed her anyway.
“What is your name?” I hissed into her ear. I didn’t expect to hear anything, nor did I. I moved back one step, raised my hand and landed a hard open ended slap on her buttocks. Her body jolted from the hit. Her yelp was one more indicative of surprise than pain. I repeated the slap, exactly on the same spot. This time her cry was one of pain. I scratched my fingernails against her tender buttocks. She fidgeted against this unfamiliar sensation. I stroked my nails across her flat abdomen, and pressed my lips against her neck and gave her a soft kiss.
“Come on dear. Tell me your name. You realize life is going to be a lot easier for you if you do, right?” I cupped her breasts with my hands and squeezed them, gently at first, and then more persuasively. She moaned, but said nothing further. I took her nipples between my thumb and forefinger. Her body stiffened immediately as I began to roll them between my fingers.
“Are your nipples sensitive?” I asked her, almost in a friendly manner.
“Yes, they are.” I was so amused by her forthright answer that I nearly laughed.
“Do you think that could be a bit of a liability right now?”
She gulped but remained silent. I scratched the tips of her nipples with my fingernails. She gasped and her body instinctively jolted backward.
“Christine Spencer… is that your name?” I whispered into her ear. She wasn’t expecting this, and after overcoming a moment’s confusion, she shook her head.
“No, it isn’t.”
“Oh, I think it is.” I began to flick her nipples hard from side to side. Her torso stiffened.
“No, it isn’t.”
“Well what is it then?”
She hesitated a moment, then said “It’s Heather Smith.”
I grabbed each nipple and twisted as hard as I could. She shrieked and threw her body backwards at me. But the chains held her in place.
“Now why don’t I believe you, eh? I don’t think Heather’s your name!” I hissed.
“I swear, that’s who I am. Heather, Heather Smith!”
I tweaked her nipples and pulled them upwards. She yelled and rose up on tiptoe to try to take up the strain. The nipple-twisting continued, and her body began to shudder.
“Liar, liar, tits on fire…” I teased. But then my stopwatch beeped softly. Ten minutes were up. Stephanie had survived the first question. I released my grip on her nipples just as abruptly as I had latched on to them. She gasped as the blood flowed back into them, and moaned as she was able to come off tiptoe and relax her torso a bit. I walked around in front of her and brought my lips an inch off hers.
“Alright then, Heather. Who do you work for?” I brushed my lips lightly against hers as I said so. Her face was flushed, and I could tell that the torture was turning her on somewhat. She leaned forward feeling for my lips. She got a hard face-twisting backhand slap in response.
“Who do you work for, Heather?” I repeated as I picked up a cane from the shelf. I hadn’t oiled it or used it in a while, and it seemed a tad dry. But looking at Stephanie’s body, I realized she was already perspiring, so it would be fine. I walked back to her and stroked the cane across her breasts.
“Come on. Who do you work for?” Silence. I cupped her right breast with my hand, and prodded her areola with the cane. She fidgeted uncomfortably.
“You know, it only gets worse from here, Heather.”
She swallowed slowly. “I’m not talking.”
I raised the cane and brought it down squarely on her erect right nipple. It was a crisp blow, and the thwack echoed through the dungeon.
“Aaaahhhh!!! Fuck!!!” she screamed through clenched teeth.
“Don’t swear! Who do you work for?” She remained defiantly silent. I raised the cane high once more.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! I landed three strokes harder than the first on her areola. She jolted backwards violently, her breast slipped out of my hand. The chains clinked as she hung from them and screamed out in pain.
“Aaahh!!! God!!! Fuck!!! “
A full blooded cane stroke across her stomach. “Don’t swear I said! Who do you work for?”
“I’m unemployed!” she said defiantly, “I don’t work for anyone.”
I swung my cane and caught her other breast underneath the nipple. Her torso twisted instinctively to one side trying to shield it. The blindfold meant that she had no clue where the next blow was going to land. I walked around her swinging the cane mercilessly. I caught her on her breasts, her stomach, her thighs, a few stinging strokes on her buttocks, a few harsh ones across her sweaty backside. I must have gotten carried away being turned on by her screams and the contortions of her body, because when I glanced at my watch I found that there were only three minutes left for this question. I wasn’t going to let her survive two questions in a row!
I stood to her side and placed an arm around her waist to prevent her body from moving backwards. Her left breast seemed to be more sensitive, so I began to tap its nipple with the cane. Not too hard, just a rhythmic tap. Slowly I increased the speed of the taps, and also pulled the cane back a little bit more with each stroke. Soon it was a rhythmic swat-swat-swat of the cane beating down on a two-inch area of her breast. Her nipple bobbed in and out as the cane landed on it again, and again, and again. Her body began to shake and tremble. She moaned in between her screams. I knew the effect this treatment had, I’d brought other women to orgasm simply by continuing this for a few minutes.
“Heather, this only stops when you tell me who you work for.”
“I’m…. not… talking….” she muttered between her gasps and moans.
I upped the tempo of the beat, and her body stiffened.
“Who do you work for Heather?” I persisted. Only one and a half minutes to go, by my watch.
I gripped her other nipple with my hand and rolled it between my fingernails, and held her body in place by tugging at it. She threw her head back and screamed.
“Your employer, Heather. Tell me who it is.”
“Morgan Limited!” she screamed.
“I don’t think so sweetheart. You’re lying to me…” I intensified the cane strokes even further. She shrieked. A minute to go, but she didn’t know it. “I can keep this up all day Heather. But can you take it all day long?”
“Oh god!! My nipple! Oh!! … Oh!!! Alright, alright! The Bright Corporation! I work for Bright!”
“No, I’m still not convinced. I think you’re still lying, Heather.” Thirty seconds left. My wrist was beginning to hurt, but I knew she was close to breaking. Her throbbing nipples would see to that. I slowed down the rhythm but delivered longer sharper strokes instead. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
“Alright!! Stop!! Please stop!!! Ronwell Corporation! It’s Ronwell! Oh god stop!”
And it was. I drew back the cane and glanced at my wristwatch. Five seconds left. I strode up to her and traced the outline of her breast with my fingernails. She whimpered at the slightest touch. I bent down and licked that lovely pink areola with my tongue. Her body jolted at the sensation, and yet another jolt as I took her nipple in between my lips and licked it.
“You like that, Heather?” I asked teasingly.
“Yes, oh yes. Yes… yes… oh god!” she moaned.
“Well don’t let yourself get used to it,” I said, flicking her tit hard with my finger, sending her into a surprised but agonized yelp. “Tell me what you do for them. What work do you do?”
She remained silent. She knew she’d let one question slip. And she knew that she’d be punished for it afterward. I walked over to the cupboard and grabbed a pair of pliers and a wax candle. It took a few seconds to find the matches, but once the candle was lit, I walked back over to her.
“What work do you do, Heather? Come on. Make things easy for yourself.”
“I’m not telling you anything else.” she protested.
“Not even now?” I gripped her right nipple between the jaws of the pliers. She stiffened and gasped. The nipple was still throbbing from the last session. I squeezed and twisted. Her body stiffened and jolted back.
“Aaaah!!! Oooohh!!!! I’m not talking! You’ve twisted them, caned them! They’re numb. This isn’t going to work! I don’t feel a thing!”
“Really? Numb? Let’s get some feeling into that nipple then, Heather.”
I held the flame of the candle underneath the jaws of the pliers. For about twenty seconds she didn’t realize what was happening, but then she felt the heat creeping through. Her body went motionless as she felt for it, she sniffed the air and smelt the candle burning, and then she fidgeted to get away from it.
“Are you sure backing away is the best idea when your nipple is being held like this?” I held the naked flame of the candle directly under her other nipple. She yelped and drew back, and then screamed as the pliers tugged at her other nipple. I teased her like this for a few minutes.
“Come on. Out with it. What work do you do for them?” Silence. I tilted the candle over her shoulder. The molten wax built up over the edge, then the first two droplets dripped onto her shoulder.
“Ouch!!! Ohh!!!” she screamed as she tried hard not to back away again. I hovered over her breasts. A few droplets fell and rolled down her tits before solidifying. She gritted her teeth and fought against the urge to throw her body backward, knowing that the pliers would savagely pull at her nipple if she did so. I stole a glance at my watch. Two minutes left. I kicked myself for getting carried away. This was like a competition now. I dripped the wax from closer to her body so that the drops would be hotter. She shrieked as her nipples got covered in white solidified wax. But she wasn’t talking. I released my grip on the pliers, and her nipple slid free. She cried out in pain as the blood rushed back to the throbbing, tender flesh. I held the flame under her tit, moving up slowly. She stood up on tiptoe to get away from it, but where could she go? I crept up slowly, every so slowly. One minute left. The flame got closer to her flesh, her screams grew louder. Part of me felt like cutting her some slack, but not today. My own hormones were flowing. Her screams grew shriller. Twenty seconds left. The flame crept up. Ten seconds.
“Stop!!!! Industrial espionage! Oh god!!”
I blew out the candle, and let her hang there for a while. The score was 2 to 1 in my favor.
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