Q&A

Here I am, Anna Jane. Intrepid investigator. My first time.

I knew the wires were secure, the microphone taped between my breasts heard everything and a dozen TerraPol officers would be instantly on hand if things went bad. There was nothing to be afraid of. TerraPol doesn't abandon it's own.

This was my first time though. I had worked so hard to be accepted but, till tonight, I had been stuck behind a desk. That is one of the reasons I leapt at the chance of this assignment without really considering the sense of it.

Maybe it was all some sort of initiation prank. The whole thing had seemed pretty unprofessional at the time. But I had to follow orders. And I wanted to be accepted at any cost.

So here I was dressed in jackboots and latex hot pants, leather leggings and a leather jacket that didn't reach my navel. A young crewgirl of the ship I was meant to infiltrate currently had her hand around my waist and her fingers tucked into my belt. She was called Red. She was some sort of pirate. I already had plenty of evidence. She was practically bragging about how many crimes she had committed against the human race. It seemed to me her verbal admissions alone were plenty to justify a search warrant of her ship right down to and including a cavity search of it's captain and crew! Why play this out any longer?

I had intercepted her in a spacedogs bar. She was a loose-lipped drunk and easily manipulated into promising a tour of a real spaceship in turn for unspecified fun. TerraPol would step in before I had to make good on my side of the bargain, I hoped!

Giggling like this was a schoolgirl prank, Red had sneaked me onboard and maneuvered me through the labyrinthine engine room, attempting to avoid the other crew. We almost made it. We were almost at her cabin when around the corner came the captain, flanked by four crewgirls. How confidently they swaggered! Pirates, and they looked the part. No, that is not entirely true. The captain had a careworn, rather than carefree, look to her. The crewgirl to her right, however, would have made a fine young pirate captain in any trashy romantic eyetickler. Not that I peruse such pulp. It would certainly be frowned upon for a TerraPol agent. Illusions aside the facts were these: we upheld the law and protected humanity. They spat on both. My life would not be worth much if I were discovered-- and if there were not a dozen highly trained TerraPol ready to whisk me to safety at the first sign my cover was blown.

Still, I took the time to commit her rather tasty image to memory. At home, in bed, in my mind, she could be as nice or nasty as I wished.

Red stopped and saluted. The captain nodded, then her eyes swung to me.

"Quite a catch there, Red. Set you back a bit, I suppose." Her tone was casual, her face was casual but she was suspicious. Her eyes had lingered on me a bit too long.

Red laughed. "Nah. She's free. Practically threw herself at me. Never seen the inside of a spaceship."

"Don't you go showing her anything outside the inside of your cabin, Red." Cautioned the heroic looking girl on the captain's right. First mate, I guessed. I'll call her Spikey. She had short spikes and a hard expression; aimed at Red right now, not me. I wasn't far wrong about her name as it turned out.

"Never intended to," Red replied with childish slyness. I believed her. Help! Where was my backup? Spikey ignored the innuendo and smiled chivalrously at me. Something glinted in her eye. "You must really have wanted to see the inside of a spaceship, girl."

This was getting too sticky for my liking. I tried to look as cheap as possible. "Bet you could show me more than a cabin, sweetheart."

Spikey snorted. My gambit had worked. That glint was gone from her eye, replaced by disdain. They were going to ignore me after all.

They would have ignored me, I would have got away with it. They would not have discovered me and all that was subsequent would not have happened to me IF..

..IF at that instant a grainy voice had not rang out from a hidden speaker, dripping with gloating sadistic glee. "She makes a convincing slut, doesn't she."

It came from under my shirt. From the microphone my fellow officers had helped me tape there. "Almost as good as her impression of a TerraPol officer, wouldn't you say..."

It felt like being punched in the gut. I wanted to be sick. My pulse was deafening in my ears as my brain tried to absorb the fact that I had just been murdered. And I knew that voice. It was the smiling voice of the same sergeant whom had told me not to work so late, not to waste my life chasing discrepancies in paperwork filled out by illiterates.. The same, whom had came into my office only hours ago and congratulated me on finally getting what I had been asking for. A chance at a real mission! I remember being so elated, and so annoyed. I had suspected them of giving me that desk job to bore me out of the force. Though it bored me to tears I had approached it like a detective. And found discrepancies. I knew who and suddenly I knew why.

The pirates had recoiled as if I were plague itself. They were looking at me with horror and disgust. This wasn't the way it was meant to end! Even if the villains killed the heroine here, weren't they meant to praise the heroine for her tenacity first?, or say something like "You and I, we are the same.." That is how it always worked in the EyeTicklers. Instead they looked as if they might stamp me to death rather than touch me with their hands. As one might kill a cockroach. It was not enough. I had not lived enough life yet.

No one spoke. After a gap the voice began again. "Hmmm.. This thing IS working isn't it?"

I don't know why I gave him the pleasure of answering. I looked around at the ring of hate filled faces. "It is working, sir" I answered quietly.

As if my words had broken a spell, they lunged for me. I got in only glancing blows before my arms were pinned behind me, the last of the rest of my life that mattered spent. Spikey strode forwards with ice in her eyes. She ripped open my shirt to expose the concealed mike taped there, and the wires winding around to the transmitter between my shoulderblades.

"You should have known your place girlie," the voice tutted smugly, " You should have known your place."

The captain strode forwards as if to hit me. The blow never struck but it may as well have. "What is the meaning of this?!!" she demanded, almost shouted at me in her fury. I couldn't get any sound past my lips. But it wasn't me she was speaking to after all.

"We had a deal. I have just delivered on my part of the bargain."

"The bargain was for information."

"She has it. When she isn't out looking for a good hard fucking she works in records. A bit too nosy for her own good."

"So you decided to kill two birds with one stone."

"I decided to feed one to the other." The voice disappeared with a click.

"Kill that," the captain said casually, gesturing to my breast. The mike was ripped off me and crushed under a booted foot.

"Damn him!" she exploded the instant it was done. "This is less than we paid for; and I hate being played......Still..." A slow smile took her as an idea occurred. "A captured Reich agent..... "

For a second she inspected me, then she spoke to me. I did not really understand her at the time. " All their lives this crew has lived in fear of people like you. Fear paralyses, girl. You are learning that right now aren't you.. Well they won't be afraid of you soon."

She turned to Spikey. "First mate, get the information out of her. That is your first priority. But the crew will find out we are entertaining a Reich agent and that could cause problems. Tell them she will be turned over to them AFTER we have the required information. I want a Full Channel feed of the interrogation sent to my room."

"Secured?" Spikey asked, puzzled.

"Unsecured!"

"Vassy and Sal will be circulating Ticklers of it before it is even over," protested Spikey. "Jonesy will probably have it playing live in the mess-hall before we have even started!"

"Exactly."

The captain turned and strode away, leaving me in the hands of her crew. At the corner she stopped and turned back to us. "Oh, and Red, escort yourself to the brig. Stay there till further notice." Then she was gone.

***

They pulled my jacket back, trapping my arms behind me. Forced me to kneel as stuncuffs bound my wrists, then my ankles, then wrists to ankles with a third pair so I was hog-tied. Tension on the links drove cotton-wadded spasms up my arms and legs. I grunted involuntarily. "Morons!" I cried, finally regaining my voice, "I'm TerraPol. They'll get you within the day".

Gravity twisted. The ship was lifting!

Spiky spun me round by my flapping shirt, bunched the collar in her fists and pulled my face to hers. "TerraPol sold you to us. For services rendered. Who is going to miss you?"

"You're lying! It wasn't TerraPol. TerraPol doesn't sell its officers."

"Like it sells it's citizens?" She twisted her head to one side, revealing the faint silver bar-code on her cheekbone. A slave scar. "We have all been sold. You're just a tiny piece of payback, sweetmeat."

"I'm not your meat! TerraPol doesn't sell it's officers." But it sounded weak even in my ears. I had only been in the force a few months and never felt accepted.

At Spikey's command they tugged me to medbay and strapped me into the examination couch. Arms clamped behind me. While two held my legs she removed my belt and peeled the leathers down to my ankle-boots. "I won't tell you anything!" I spat. She raised one eyebrow but said nothing. Her confident smirk said it all. The ship had put to space. That probably meant they didn't need my information until they reached their destination. One month, if they hadn't changed their flight plan.

They strapped my legs tightly into the stirrups, below the knees and above the ankles. The pants still bound my naked legs together, and the stirrups were currently together but, this couch could support a woman giving birth, among other things. The sanctity of that moment had nothing to do with where I was now.

I felt the press of cold metal against my temple but before I identified the instrument the act was done. For a moment the drill's buzz shook my teeth in my skull but I didn't feel the actual penetration. They had just shot something into my brain.

Spike ran her hand over my thigh possessively. Her skin was dark against mine. It made my flesh look like coveted fine china. To her it was. I shivered involuntarily.

"If you could see how you looked in my eyes... If you knew the things we are going to to you.... You wouldn't be struggling." Her face slid up to mine. I could feel her breath on my ear. "You'd have fainted dead away."

I tried to bite her. Her lips hovered just out of reach. I spat. She dodged easily and the spittle arced back, slowly in the weak gravity. She did not let it hit me. She caught it in her own hand, then licked the hand dry. Why? why didn't she let it fall on me?

"Because I like you." she replied simply. She read my mind! Or did she just guess?.

The screen behind her flickered to life. There was a jumble of images that were familiar somehow, but one window was filling with text that would change as it scrolled. One of the lines said [WHY DIDN'T SHE LET IT FALL ON ME]

"That nanoware we shot into your skull. One of it's functions is to decipher your verbal-symbolic thoughts. So you see, you don't need to tell us anything; just think it."

Nothing! I thought, and the text was dutifully produced. Nothing! Nothing! nothing!

"It appears to be working satisfactorily. Mute her." A black studded collar was placed around my neck and switched on. It paralyzed my vocal cords and the muscles in my neck. I could move my jaw, but weakly.

"It's for your own protection. Don't want you biting your tongue off."

[DAMN YOU]

My jacket had already been lost when they had strapped me to the couch. Spikey had already ripped the buttons off my shirt when she had removed the TerraPol microphone. Not content with that she now ripped it so thoroughly to shreds that only the cuffs remained, and slid her hand under my bra to cup one breast. The nipple was surprisingly, painfully hard. I grunted, tried to pull back. She was only playing. The bra was rolled off my shoulders and down to my waist.

My breasts jutted ridiculously, sharp and conical in the low gee. I could do nothing but think curses as she rolled the nipples in her fingers, applying some sort thick grease from a tube. When had it become so hot in here?

[WHY AM I SO HOT?] The machine betrayed my thoughts.

They laughed at me. My cheeks burned red with shame. Why should I care what they thought of me? they were going to torture me for information and just plain sadistic amusement. A month to die in. I began to sob, from the lungs because the collar paralyzed my voice. So it came out sort of like laughter.

"We're not gonna hurt ya." Spikey stated firmly. "What we got in mind is much more fun" I didn't know what she meant. It didn't sound good but, simultaneously, I had already expected the worst I could imagine. How could any surprise not be a pleasant one?

Spikey flicked my right nipple, hard.

[Ouw!]

"Sorry," she smirked lopsidedly. "Just calibrating the hardware."

Someone patted electrodes to my aureola. Specially designed for just that task. Rubberized wires terminated in thin floppy rings that let the greased nipple poke through. The grease must have been conductive gum. A nice even contact. At least that would prevent spot-burns, my engineering knowledge reported inanely.

Spikey held a remote pointed at my chest. "Ready for your pleasant surprise? Lets have a countdown. Ten. Nine. Eight..."

So this was how it began. This was their "'not gonna hurt ya' pleasant surprise". The fuckers. I tried to shake the contacts free. I shook my chest violently, swinging my breasts to and fro, up and down, to no effect other than to set them bouncing idiotically.

"Seven, Six, Five, Four.."

I cursed them as I fought, filling up their damn printout with unprintables.

"Three,.."

I went still. breathing deeply. Glaring at Spiky with hatred and betrayal. "Two" she said, smiling gently. My lip trembled involuntarily, mouthing the word.

"One." Click.

Current arced through my breasts. Sensation ripped through my aureole, my arms, danced over my lips as I threw my head back and mutely screamed, as I arched my chest forward in a primitive mindless need to present as much skin as possible to the exquisite pleasure arcing, crackling across my nipples.

It ended. I collapsed in my bonds. Seconds passed before I could take a breath and release it. Panting, head lolling, mind reeling in confusion, I turned my eyes to Spikey; but I have no idea what was in them. I watched unresisting, as if from a distance, as she bent forward and placed a gentle kiss on my lips.

My lips were scratchy dry. I moistened them with my tongue.

"You WILL tell me everything." she whispered.

"Wha... what.. was that?" I gasped out in silence, before I thought better of it.

"Pleasure," she replied with a pitying smile. "Has it really been so long?".

They had rewired my head. Shorted my pain sense directly into the pleasure centre of my brain. But there had to be a payback. I remembered a study where an electrode was stuck into a labrat's brain, into it's pleasure centre, and it would keep pressing this button, zapping it's brain till it starved. I remembered pleasureheads, giving themselves cigarette burns, pushing safety pins through their flesh. Would I end up a drooling pleasurehead?

"No," Spikey said. "The difference is, you're bound into this nice comfy chair. Your arms are clamped behind you. Your legs are clamped into these stirrups, with the comfy-est firmest straps. You CAN'T hurt yourself, so you can't pick up a habit like of hurting yourself."

Sudden pleasure scorched my breasts. "You also don't control this button."

"Now, here are the rules. I am going to ask you questions. I am going to zap you. Don't go looking for patterns, that's my job. There are no rules about what I ask, when I reward, or how much."

"First question. Are you a virgin?" Before I had even absorbed the question, mad spasms wracked my body as she pressed the remote once, twice, four times. Warm dampness flooded my underwear and I clenched my thighs together.

[FUCK YOU]

"What is your login"

[LICK MINE]. Pleasure arced through me.

"Where do you like to be touched."

[UP YOUR ARSE, CUNT]. Every question she asked, I responded by filling my mind with obscenities and curses. I never knew I had so many in me. Spikey was patient, zapping me after almost every answer, till the times when she did not felt like emptiness, void, a lover's disapproval. But there was no pattern that I could see. Occasionally she would stop and wipe my breast and brow with a damp sponge. Sometimes this was just a trick and instead she would buzz me so long that she would have to blow air into my lungs to stop me passing out. All I gave her in return were descriptions of all the obscene things I would do to her if somehow she were ever as helpless as I was. Yet my emotions were so misused that I also thought myself in love with her, towards the end. Don't try to understand, because you couldn't possibly. She didn't know. If she had just invited one of the other girls to kiss her I might have snapped then and there and told her anything to keep her mine. Instead, I just couldn't bear to break in front of her and have her secretly disappointed in me. Love is a fucked up thing. I could actually feel it when I finally tore in two. Things got easier after that.

I came out of a fugue to find she had stopped. I glanced at the screen. Good. Just junk. Did I really say all that stuff? Only then did I notice my legs spread in the stirrups, new wires attached to my inner thighs and to bits of me I won't mention. When had all this happened? I could still feel the warm afterglow of current induced pleasure in my twitching extremities. Even bound like that I had still managed a slouch of total exhaustion. Thinking back, I could remember it all dimly, as if it had happened to someone else.

We now had full gravity. The ship was well underway to whatever it's destination. That was my only clue to how much time had passed.

Spikey was washing herself down. She was facing the wall, frowning in that sort of intensely thoughtful way she did. She was naked above the waist. I could see her muscular back and one firm breast as she raised her arms above her shoulders, rubbing her face and pushing back her short spikey hair so it stuck to her scalp like a seals'. Her drawstring cotton pants were sodden and clinging down to her knees. No underwear. The translucent cloth followed every curve of her tight butt.

Imagine her crawling towards me like that. Head down. Back arched. Small breasts jostling and that butt just peeking over her shoulders. I wondered if she had tired of the game.

[QUITTER, LIMPDICK] said the scrolling transcript of my thoughts.

***

"Damn you," She lay her head down on my chest. "You win. I wanted to do this all in one session. Then I would have helped with your withdrawal. Worked you through it. I even imagined keeping you, like a friend, sort of." Her expression hardened. "But we need certain information and you're just not playing. I said I wouldn't use pain on you. I promised, but now that is going to have to be a lie. And you will hate me." She bit her lip. "I'm not going to help with your withdrawal. Unless you help me. No more jolts. Your going to lie here, begging for contact, just normal contact, while your body comes to grip with the fact that it's over."

"Withdrawal; it's painful," she spoke as if from memory. "It's lonely. I'm sorry."