Special Powers

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She comes to know real fear.
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Julie20
Julie20
388 Followers

It had been an ordinary Friday morning at college the week before my nineteenth birthday. I had sat in the cafeteria at lunchtime with Alycia discussing what had become a regular topic namely the irrational thrill which I get from what might be described as unconventional sexual situations. We were saying that the problem is that the thrill seems to come from the fear factor of being out of control and subject to someone else's will.

But it is almost impossible to manufacture situations like that because if one sets up a bondage scenario with an accomplice the fear cannot be real as one knows that the situation has been staged. It all seems to come down to a paradox; if the situation is not real neither is the fear and so neither is the thrill but who would dare place themselves in a genuinely fearful situation where one had no way of knowing that the outcome would be benign? I had recently confessed to Alycia that I was a little frightened of becoming addicted to fear and thought that perhaps I needed some sort of treatment. If only I had known what was about to happen.

Alycia had to leave the cafeteria early as she had to catch a lecturer before he went into his afternoon lecture so I finished my coffee and then ambled out of the room and down the corridor. I rounded the corner in the corridor and came face to face with two large men in suits who made no attempt to move out of my way.

"Miss Julie _______?"

I stopped dead.

"Yes."

One of the men showed me a white plastic card with the words "Metropolitan Police" printed along the top.

"I am Inspector Fry of the Anti Terrorist Squad. We need you to come with us please."

The card was back in his pocket now but I was not taken in that easily.

"The card said The Met but we aren't in London."

"This is a joint operation being run from SO13 at New Scotland Yard. My colleague here works with the Home Office and you can come with us voluntarily or we will arrest you."

This could not be happening. What did I know of terrorists or the Home Office?

"But I have a tutorial in....."

His voice was firmer now.

"No Miss, you don't."

He moved behind me and his friend was close beside me. I found that we were moving briskly along the passageway and out of the main door. Right in front of the steps were parked two long shiny black cars and a man got out of the front of the first car and held open the back door for me to be pushed inside. Now that we were outside of the university they were a lot less gentle; the man from the Home Office sat beside me and, looking out of the back window, I saw the inspector get into the following car as we pulled away in convoy.

"Can you please tell me what this is about?" I tried to sound in control but the fear was beginning to mount.

"It's best to keep quiet for now Miss. We can talk when we get there."

My fear gauge began to go off the scale when we drove, quite quickly, away from the City Centre and out to the area which is all industrial estates in a rather shabby part of town. The driver wore a black suit and his dark hair was very neatly trimmed at the back which is all I could see of him.

"This isn't the way to the Police Station."

"We sometimes need to use temporary premises for security reasons Miss."

I didn't talk anymore because I was afraid that the fear in my voice would show or even that I might burst into tears. We swept onto an industrial estate where there were lots of abandoned premises and then we drove through some tall metal gates and straight into a factory unit under one of those steel doors which roll upwards like a curtain. Someone must have pressed a button because the door began to roll downwards as soon as we were inside the poorly lit interior.

A man in a black boiler suit came to the car and dragged me out by my arm then he hurried me across the floor and into a small bare office which smelt of dust. The only furniture was a single wooden chair. As soon as I was in the room he slammed the door and I heard the click of the lock. My only light came from the two foot square window in the door.

That was when I came to my senses and began to shout through the door.

"Hey. What's going on? I am entitled to a solicitor. Get me out of here."

I soon discovered that I could shout whatever I liked but no-one came into view. What could I do but sit down on the uncomfortable chair?

The room had no heating. The floor was dirty yellow lino and the walls had once been white but were now grimy and featureless. From time to time I stood up and peered out of the window into the main factory space where I could see the two parked cars but no people. I could not keep from looking at my watch. Two o clock came and went and so did three o clock. My bladder was beginning to remind me of the two cups of coffee I had drunk at lunchtime and I was not going to shout for the loo as if I were a ten year old.

At three twenty Black Boiler Suit came back and, without a word, grabbed my forearm in a painful grip. Wherever my arm went my feet had to follow so we went down a narrow corridor and into an office much like the one I had left but a little larger. Two men sat behind a table and I was pushed onto a single chair facing them. Boiler Suit stood behind me with his back to the door.

The older of the two men wore a green sports coat and the other man was in a very smart suit and looked like an insurance salesman. Sports Coat spoke to me in a very well educated and brusque voice.

"I am Major Franks and Mr Keitle here is from the United States Embassy. We want to know about your father."

"My Dad? What about my Dad?"

"Well for a start where is he?"

They were telling me that Daddy had gone missing then they asked what he did for a living.

"He works in a bank."

"Have you ever seen him go into his bank?"

"He doesn't work in a branch. He's a lending manager. What's this about?"

"Have you ever been to your dad's office?"

No, of course I had never seen Daddy's office. He never took me to work with him.

"So how do you know he works in a bank?"

I opened my mouth aghast at such a stupid question and the American spoke in a loud voice as his eyes bored straight into me.

"Your daddy is a major criminal and your school fees and the panties you're wearing right now and the rent on your flat came out of heroin, prostitution and gun running and we are supposed to believe you knew nothing about it?"

The major spoke again in his normal cultured tone as if the other man had not shouted.

"Your father's latest caper involved the sale of sophisticated weaponry to one Hamid Al Hasif and we have reason to believe that those weapons are about to be used on the UK Mainland. We would very much like you to help us prevent that."

I said something about what rubbish that was and the major began to lose his cool.

"Listen to me Julie. You need to understand that I am not a policeman. I have never heard of the Human Rights Act or the Police and Criminal Evidence Act. It is my job to find Hasif before he murders a great many people and I don't care how loudly I have to make you scream in order to achieve that."

That was when the American banged the table with the flat of his huge right hand.

"Can we stop playing footsy here? We have maybe twenty four hours to find these guys and this chick knows where her daddy has bolted to."

Major Franks was now back to his normal gentle, polite way of speaking which was somehow a lot more scary than shouting.

"There are two ways that this can go Julie. The easy way is that you tell us about any holiday homes your daddy might own and any strange Arab gentlemen who came round to tea then we find your daddy and his chums and we may even make you a hero. Before I tell you the hard way you should know that we have copies of the emails you wrote to certain very unsavoury characters you met online and we have already typed the press release saying that you are wanted by the Vice Squad. Of course the Vice Squad will fail in their efforts to find you but no-one will care very much about a child trafficker who has probably fled the country."

The American said the same thing but in far fewer words.

"No-one knows where you are kid and no-one will ever find the body after we have beaten the truth out of you."

Major Franks stood up and moved towards the door.

"Mr Keitle and his friends from the CIA are going to spend some time with you. When you want to talk to us just let them know."

I opened my mouth to plead with him not to leave me alone with these men and that was when I wet myself. It had all been too much; they had destroyed everything I thought I knew about my nice, normal family and I felt incredibly tiny with the whole weight of the CIA and the British secret services ranged against me. I really had nothing to tell them but I feared they would never believe that.

Boiler Suit shut the door behind Major Franks then both he and Keitle (of course I knew that none of the names I had been told would be real) began pulling on white surgical gloves. When Keitle spoke he confirmed that my very worst nightmare was about to happen.

"You can get your clothes off right now or we will do it for you."

I felt that they were longing for an opportunity to place their hands on my body and forcibly strip me and I could not face that so, in a daze, I took off my thin jacket placing it on the table.

Feeling two pairs of eyes studying my every move I stood up and dragged my t shirt over my hair exposing my rather skimpy white bra. My wet jeans were sticking to me and I unzipped them feeling my own urine on my fingers.

In an effort to move attention from what I was being forced to do I asked Keitle about my mum and my sister, Gemma. I think he relished the reply he gave me.

"At three thirty yesterday your daddy's silver Mercedes auto was parked outside of your sister's school. She was seen to get into the car and it drove away. Your mother is also missing. They have gone, kid, and they've left you alone. You don't owe them nothing."

As he spoke I removed my bra feeling my little tits exposed to the two men and I stood there with my hands across my chest. Keitle was not satisfied.

"All of it. Get moving."

I bent and pulled off my wet and stinking trainers and my soaked ankle socks then, with my heart, or at least my stomach, in my mouth, I peeled down my thong and it made a wet thwack as it landed on the floor. Boiler Suit was behind me and Keitle was in front of me; I had one arm over my boobs and the other hand trying to cover my fuzzbish. Keitle spoke again.

"Before we do this do you want to tell us anything? Any phone calls you overheard? Any visitors who came to the house?"

I screamed at him in desperation.

"I don't KNOW ANYTHING. I thought he worked in a bank."

Hands grabbed my arms from behind and I was pulled from the room and down the empty corridor with Keitle following. We came to some windowless double doors and Keitle overtook us and opened one of the doors. A man looked over his shoulder at us and yelled.

"Get her outta here!"

Instantly I was spun around and hurriedly taken a little farther down the passageway and into another room. This room had a concrete floor and bare brick walls. Keitle switched on a fluorescent strip light as we entered.

I had seen the inside of the other room for a split second but the scene was burnt into my eyes like a flash photograph. They had Gemma sitting totally naked on a wooden pallet of the sort used by forklift trucks. Her ankles were tied to the front corners of the pallet so that her legs were spread wide apart displaying her pubic hair and the flesh of her pussylips. She had her hands behind her back and the pallet was against the wall so that my eighteen year old sister was leaning against the cold brickwork. Her head lolled to one side and her eyes were sunken and ringed by dark circles. An empty bucket stood beside her and water was running down her hair and her body. Two ugly red stripes across her breasts bore witness to a beating and she had similar marks on her belly and across her ribs. Her face was grimy and black lines of mascara ran down her cheeks.

Just beside her on the floor was an ominous black box with wires trailing from it and temporary spotlights had been rigged up on either side of her. It was their harsh light which had so highlighted every detail of the horrible scene for me. So they had lied to me. Did that mean they had Mummy as well? I tried to shut out the mental picture of my mother naked and bound somewhere in this building.

While these thoughts had been running through my fatigued mind I had been forced backwards so that I too was sitting on the rough wood of a pallet with my ankles tied obscenely wide apart. Ropes were tied tightly around each of my wrists and led to the wall somewhere behind and above me so that I was leaning backwards with my shoulders straining about three or four feet above the floor. Keitle was speaking.

"OK so you know we have your sis. She's remembering things. Telling us that you thought he went to the bank everyday just won't do now. All you gotta do is tell us what you know and we can all go home. None of this needs to go on happening."

I think I whimpered something at him and a bag was pulled down over my head.

"Sit there and remember and we'll come back and write it all down for you."

Before he left he must have switched on a radio with the tuner not set so that my head was filled with the hiss of white noise. I was very conscious of not having heard him shut the door. Had he really gone or was he sitting watching me? I tried to remember if I had seen a chair in the room but I could not do so. Had he left me with the door open so that he could come back without my knowing?

No-one had hit me or even laid a finger on me apart from pulling me from place to place but they didn't need to hit me. I was sitting in a very uncomfortable position and already the muscles in my back and my arms were beginning to hurt. I had nothing to brace against so when I tried to move all I did was to swing from those ropes which ran upwards from my wrists. I could wriggle my bottom on the pallet but the wood was rough and I picked up splinters in my tender flesh.

Of course it was impossible to judge time. I very soon reached the point where I had no idea if I had been there for minutes or hours. Suddenly I heard a piercing scream. I just knew that it was Gemma and she screamed again and again. What were they doing to her? I shouted out that I was here.

I don't know if they had been there all the time or if they came back when I shouted but I felt something whip across my breasts causing me to shriek and an American voice (perhaps it was Keitle) shouted at me to shut the fuck up.

"You wanna talk you talk to us and then no-one needs to get hurt anymore."

I had to make all this stop.

"There was a man."

"What man?"

"I don't know. He was called Speed. He stayed with us for two nights before I started uni. They said he had come so that he and Daddy could go to a meeting together."

They kept the hood on my head and they kept the white noise hissing as they kept asking me about Mr Speed. They wanted a full description, they wanted to know what car he drove and they kept demanding that I recall every detail of the two evenings that he was with us. I couldn't tell them anything about his car as Daddy drove him in the Merc but I gave them an increasingly detailed account of everything he said and did whilst he was with us.

This proved to be extremely embarrassing because it was like this. Due to a blunder in the diary his second night with us coincided with the parents evening for Gemma's year to which Mummy, Daddy and Gem had to go. That left me to entertain Mr Speed and he registered very high on the Dishy scale so I saw the evening as something of a project. Please don't think that I go after every man who comes to our house and I certainly did not sleep with Mr Speed but I did just about everything short of that and my interrogators wanted every tiny detail. They wanted every word and every touch and they kept threatening me and making me go over details again and again so that they could pick me up on the tiniest inconsistency.

When they had wrung me dry I was left in silence apart from the white noise and I think they had left the room but they must have returned very quickly because suddenly my hood was yanked off and I was looking up at Gemma who was fully clothed and wiping the stage makeup from her face.

"I KNEW you did something with Mr Speed and I bet them we could make you tell us."

I was too muddled to respond so I just sat there in my bondage displaying my pussy to my sister and blinking. Then Alycia came into the room, all the men had vanished. Alycia switched off the radio.

"Happy Birthday Julie. You wanted fear and we really delivered. You might be interested to know that you were in the stress position for just twenty five minutes before you cracked."

Gemma was untying me and massaging my aching limbs.

"It was really freaky stripping off to pose stark naked for that scene next door but it was a huge buzz. I could get a taste for it."

It had all been Alycia's idea and she had discussed it with Ray Doyle, our tutor, who thought it might increase my "emotional range" for my drama work. Of course, knowing Doyle as I do, I was sure that the idea of my being stripped and tied up like that really appealed to him. The factory belonged to a friend of Doyle's and Doyle had asked his permission to use it as a drama workshop. All my captors came from that great labour pool known as "Out of work actors" and mocking up the police warrant card and the fake electrical torture device which I had seen next to Gemma had been simple. I took some small pleasure that the bucket of water which had been tipped over her had been very real. Gem had come up from home for the weekend.

When I was sitting in the office with the desk, wrapped in a robe and drinking hot tea I looked down at my breasts where I had been whipped and saw unmarked white skin. Gemma explained that all they had done was to lay a piece of rope across my boobs and, having seen the "terrible marks" on Gemma, my imagination had done the rest.

Of course the really big question is whether or not my ordeal had given me my fill of fear and abuse forever. At this stage I really cannot say but I have certainly learned some things about my devious, calculating little sister.

Julie20
Julie20
388 Followers
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Scotsman69Scotsman69about 12 years ago
A most remarkable tale.

Thank you Julie.

HeyAllHeyAllabout 12 years ago
Excellent story

The writing was excellent. It was very arousing in certain areas. And this is one of the few stories I've read where I can't wait to scroll down to read what happens next, simply out of curiousity.

Thank you.

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