Rogue State Ch. 02

"Never."

"Of course, not. And yet, with that very bourgeois guidance system in your head, you do want to please me," he said. "I'm in charge. Every molecule of your body has been trained to obey the one in charge. I know that deep down, you're a good girl. You understand there is a natural order. There are natural laws. There are rules established that must be followed, authorities that must be obeyed, or all is chaos."

I heard my voice say, "Yes ...."

"Yes! You see, my drugs and my conditioning, they can not make you what you can not be, but they can help you become one of the possibilities you have kept in the shadows of fantasy and fear," he smiled.

"Are you a new country?" I asked. "Or a league of pop psychologists?"

"My country believes foremost in order, and we have allies all across the globe, preparing to take their rightful place in re-establishing good order after the inevitable collapse of the current regimes. We are the first nation state of a new world order."

"Why," I licked my lips, which suddenly seemed parched. "Why tell me?"

"You are intelligent," he said. "Educated. You represent an interesting experiment for me. And to have you fully aware of the circumstances will comport with the experiment."

"Experiment?" A low throb was starting in between my hips, his dope kicking in on lower and lower levels, literally and psychologically.

"In submission, my dear. Village girls and street urchins are one thing we have in abundance. But as our plans progress, it will be increasingly important to know how to deal with women of your strengths. And I dare say, we could rapidly develop a specialized market in that right now which would be most profitable. But I need a subject."

He talked more, droning odd chains of numbers and mashed up words. His voice turned into my head, presumably into my subconscious. His voice became a low drone and my head began running at a low hum, at a level I associated with that weird sleep that you sleep when totally exhausted, the kind that is always arriving but never really comes.

He snapped his fingers, and I fell into the room mentally, head clear and eyes dry. Suddenly, I missed the numbing comfort of the fog. Every nerve in my body was achingly taut in the silence of that bare room.

"Now, finish for us, my dear," he said. "Strip yourself naked."

The drip; the fear; the sense of having been completely cut off from my own world with nothing but his words to guide me; all kinds of things drove me to my feet. I unclipped my bra even though I was shaking my head, full of tumbling numbers and whispers. I hated him, and I despised his three goons. But I felt more bound than I had when they'd tied my hands behind my back, and that thought in turn stirred up that hot liquid swirl in my tummy. My nipples began to swell, and this drew Stephens out of his chair to stand and flip them with his thumbs. I moaned, and a hot blush of shame coated me fast as a flame on gasoline. He squeezed and I rubbed my legs together, desperate to keep the oil that suddenly leaked there a secret.

"Most responsive," he said, "and wonderfully submitted, eh?" That drew laughs from the other three, but thankfully, they didn't step closer. Stephens began to massage my breasts with the back of his hands, the knuckles rolling and kneading at my firm, taut flesh, squeezing a nipple now and then between two knuckles.

"Just one thing," he murmured. "The one thing we don't know. Why, exactly, ARE you here? Why have we drawn your congressman's eye?" He nuzzled my neck, smelling -- surprisingly -- wonderful, the heat from his throat mixing with the little hot gasps I gave as he pinched a nipple between two knuckles, once, twice, and then again harder.

Could the "why" really betray anyone? I stalled for time, trying to think that one through the vines of pleasure, anger, flame and sticky hot oil tangled through my entire body, focused not so much on my head anymore as my quivering thighs, where his fingers trailed up and down, down and ... up. Not quite there, but near enough as to send a wave up my belly. Damn it, and damn me! I had never been this hot, at least not without getting fucked and loving it, and the notion that this notion was in motion in my head under these capital "B" Bizarre Circumstances infuriated me almost as much as it scared me shitless.

"Is this how your beloved country does interrogations?" I muttered. Temper flared in my head, anger at my helplessness masquerading as willful submission. This smug criminal was using me as his little plaything, obviously getting off on it, and I couldn't stop it. Worse, I couldn't even stop reacting to it, stop the dampness from gathering in my panties. His free hand now roamed up and down my rib cage, every down a little lower, squeezing and obviously enjoying the tight curve at my hip and then the firm ass below. I was a plaything playing literally into his hands.

"Humiliation is a key technique for securing submission," he said. "And I have to think that a beautiful young woman like yourself, a political player, has to find this ... distressing, at least. Being reduced to a toy for the people you came here to harm. Hating it, resenting it -- the drip allows you to keep that much autonomy. But not enough to keep yourself from obeying us -- and enjoying it on an animal level."

I felt cold steel on my bare thigh -- the back of a combat knife. A chill trailed up, and then the blade slid on its side against my hip, under my panties. Stephens gave it a quick snap! and the left side of my panties ripped loose.

"I'm glad you'd rather not join us," he whispered, lips brushing the lashes of my closed eyes, his tongue tickling where my upper teeth held my lower lip back. His roving hand took hold of the panties by the back and ripped them off completely. "You've chosen Fate Number Two, one we'll both enjoy a great deal more, whether you like it or not. But first, I have to persuade you to tell me that little thing, remember? Why it is your Congressman is interested in us? Think on it a moment, and then let me in on the big secret."

It was not thought he stimulated, though. His palm cupped my sex, pumping it gently, squeezing that lemon until the juice ran down my leg. I'd heard that in a half dozen blues tunes ... and as my mind drifted just a bit off on that note, I caught one rational thought flitting through my mind like a leaflet in the wind. I turned it in my mind's eye and saw the face of the man I'd been trying to remember.

Spence.

I could stall with that little bit of information they wanted. Stall ... as long as I could. Give Spence time to -- woah!

I had buckled over, squirming now, my lips pressed tight, my chest balled up, holding in a moan and Stephens worked me good, slow and hard-soft-soft-hard. I bent over his hand farther, my face at his waist, ignoring the hot beaming smirks I sensed from all four faces around me, my own hands gripping his wrist as his palm pulped me, wet, mushy, slow, then hard, and wetter. Shameful. Shameful! And --

God-damn! I wanted to come. I cut lose the imaginary leaflet, let it twitter through the wind and into the fire burning me up from the middle out.

"No," he said, pulling back quickly.

"Noooo!" I crumpled to my knees in front of him, then knelt there, naked, sweating, panting. "Goddamn you," I rasped. Chill ran through the sweat coating my body, and I looked up at my gloating interrogator. "That dope's good," I said, my voice shaking. "Makes me do things ... feel things I wouldn't if ...."

"It lets you feel things you fear," he replied, voice infuriatingly calm. "And it is easing you into a new life. Now -- come with me."

I shook my head.

"Come on," he said, voice casual, but the command seemed to spike through my will. I stood unsteady on my feet. He led me out followed by Larry, Curly and Mao. I wasn't crazy about stepping into a public passageway while naked, but between three Kalashnikovs at my back and a head full of Stephens' snow job my bare feet padded obediently along. Outside, I found yet another grinning soldier waiting.

The guy who had caught me. The guy's whose friends had died on my behalf.

"So," he said. "You've chosen the slave's path?"