Puppet On A String Read online

  “I told you, music.”

  “Music, that’s it?” He raised his eyebrows skeptically.

  “That’s all I know.”

  “So, if I said that it was some kind of coded message, that wouldn’t loosen your memory?”

  “No, no it wouldn’t. There must be some mistake.”

  The man had a very unpleasant face, but it was not one that was particularly distinguishable from a thousand other faces you might see every day. Bland but very disagreeable. Gritty, hard when he was playing the heavy, which he was now.

  “A mistake? I think not. You’ve been caught with sensitive intelligence information on your person, and unless you are willing to cooperate with us now, I’m afraid that you will be detained for further questioning.”

  “What do you mean, detained for further questioning? I’ve told you all I know.”

  “You’ve told me nothing, Ms. Ryan. Nothing truthful. Perhaps you could wrack your brain a bit and maybe find the truth rattling around somewhere.”

  He pulled the offending disk from his suit pocket and pushed it across the table toward her. She’d never seen the disk before, not without the envelope. Not a mark on it. Nothing to distinguish it from any other standard DVD.

  “I swear, I know nothing about it. A casual friend of mine gave it to me. Said there was a lot of good music. That’s it.” As her frustration grew, tears began to well in her eyes, and her body began to shake, overcome by the cold in the room and the coldness of the man’s frozen heart.

  It took a long while for Raich to answer. Until he did, the other men in the room shifted a bit on their feet, getting restless with the process. Shelby was restless too, more fearful every minute.

  “You know, you’re a very pretty girl, Ms. Ryan? Sometimes pretty girls get all kinds of opportunities to do things…” He purposely did not finish his statement, though the cruelty in his delivery had changed with his tone of voice turning sexual and vulgar, innuendo dripping from every overwrought syllable. Shelby sat before him, blank-faced and terrified, knowing that nothing good could come of this.

  Perhaps their movements had been choreographed. Otherwise, there was no other reason to explain why one of the jean-clad brutes suddenly moved in, grabbed her arms and pinned them behind her. She started to struggle, but the talking man immediately slapped her face, scowling. “You resist, you’ll get hurt.” With both hands bearing down on her, he tore her jacket and blouse wide open, leaving her breasts nearly exposed in her lacy bra, the nipples nearly bared. Overwhelmed by the frightening circumstances, her beautiful chest rose and fell with every breath she took.

  Once her accuser moved to his feet and walked off, the third man moved around in front and began taking pictures of Shelby’s face and chest. When the flash of his camera blinded her eyes, she tried to look away, but a pair of hands roughly forced her face forward.

  “Open your thighs!” the disagreeable Raich barked the order but she didn’t move. In fact, her knees remained locked together by force of will.

  The man who had been holding her from behind clamped her wrists in cuffs to keep them out of the way, then he too moved around to the front and crouching down in front of her pushed her knees wide open with a force much stronger than her own. He worked with some efficiency, strapping her upper legs to the legs of the chair so that in seconds, Shelby was utterly bound and could barely move.

  When he pulled out a knife, she froze, her eyes glued to the shiny blade.

  “No, no, please don’t hurt me. I’ve done nothing!” She started to weep, hot tears streaming down her cheeks.

  She might have given in to the feverish chaos of hysteria, but with the knife so very close, she feared for her life and was determined to keep her wits about her.

  The man with the knife went on with his task despite Shelby’s protests, and sliced away at her brown pants, exposing her crotch to further humiliation. Meanwhile, the eye of the digital camera continued to record the scene.

  “So, Ms. Ryan, you have something to tell me now?” Her accuser came around from behind, bearing down on her again.

  “I swear if I did, I would,” she sobbed.

  “Tsk, tsk, too bad you can’t cooperate. Perhaps Colonel Jessup will be able to get the truth.” His scowl made her blood run cold. But perhaps not as cold as when he snapped off his next order. “Prepare her for transfer to the anti-terror unit.” Giving her one last glance and a very dismissive one, he left the room while his two accomplices got to work.

  Once Director Raich left, the table was pushed to the side and Shelby was released from the chair. Her hands were rebound in front of her then lifted high above her head where they were attached to a hook that dropped down from the ceiling. Her pants were in shreds and useless and her jacket had been discarded before her hands were tied. This left her in nothing but her underwear, her thin blouse and her high heeled boots.

  After getting a good long look at the lovely young female dangling before him, the man behind her laughed, “Ooo, Jessup’s gonna like this one!” Too bad for him, he didn’t have time to ogle her body further. Getting on with his task, he stuffed a ballgag in her mouth and tied the attaching straps behind her head. “There’s nothing about this that you’ll like,” he pulled her head back by her hair, and spoke in terse tones directly into her face. “But you’d better get used to rough treatment, because where you’re going that’s the only way they treat lying cunts like you.”

  The next several minutes went by in a blur of activity all directed toward one purpose. First was the gloved hands yanking down her bra, followed by the tattoo needle pressing into her delicate skin, leaving the mark JPX7 on the soft skin of her left breast. Next were metal thigh bands snapped around her upper thighs, a connecting chain between them. This way she could walk, but she couldn’t run away. Then, once her arms were lowered, she was bent over the table, her torso flat against the surface while thick gloved fingers probed their way into her anal cavity, giving her a thorough body search. That finished, the one glove was discarded and another one snapped over the hand that would probe her vagina in the same thorough way. Neither man would find anything, except perhaps some evidence of arousal, given the amount of fluid in Shelby Ryan’s velvety sex hole.

  The last indignity was more painful than all the others. A metal band was snapped around her waist and locked in place. A second band that bisected her ass cheeks was fitted between her legs and then locked into the waistband above. However, before this second band was secured in place, Shelby felt the indignity of having two metal probes the size of small dildos fitted into the crotch piece so that both her anal cavity and her vagina were penetrated. The impaling wands seemed innocuous at first until the further purpose was demonstrated. For that Director Raich returned.

  “Ah, very nicely done,” he said, on inspecting the tattoo, the thigh rings and the belt. “And what do you think?” He was right at Shelby’s face with the question, but of course she couldn’t speak with the ball gag in her mouth.

  Looking down at Raich’s hand, Shelby saw what looked like a TV remote, except this one had a small dial with numbers one to ten. Raich had his fingers on the dial. Moments later, a soft hum and a pulse began between her legs. “You feel that?” Raich asked, sneering. The sensations that began deep in her ass and sex were clearly designed to be erotic. “That is the ‘feel good’ setting,” he informed her with a smile. A second later, the two probes seemed to jump, zapping her from inside. She doubled over with her next breath, falling against the table and screaming behind the gag. “My, we’ll have to go easy on you to start. That was only level 3,” Raich quietly informed her, “Level 5 puts you on the floor and writhing for a good ten minutes. Level 10, wellll…you won’t wake up,” he sneered again. “I think you get the message.

  “So,” he sidled up to her, every bit as cruel and sleazy as before. “In a few minutes, you’ll be taken from this office, through the terminal building to a waiting plane that will take you to an interrogation unit far f
rom Vienna. We could simply have you crated for the trip, but the head of operations likes to use this as a test of a subject’s willingness to cooperate. One of my assistants will accompany you – with the remote in hand. You’ll stick to his side like you belong together, no screaming, no calling for help. You’re just another tourist making a connecting flight. You make a single peep, you’ll be on the ground at Deiter’s feet.” His expression turned especially grim. “You don’t want to know what happens then.” He moved around her one more time, letting his words settle in. “So it’s clear, Ms. Ryan, what you’ll do?”

  Unable to speak, she nodded, then watched Director Raich leave the room.

  In the minutes that followed, the cuffs and the gag were removed as were the rest of Shelby’s tattered clothes, except for her tall brown boots. In place of her clothes, she was given a pretty print summer dress with a stylish gathered Empire waist. She might have seen something like it in a recent Macy’s catalog. But though it did nothing to call attention to her womanly figure, it efficiently concealed all evidence of her prisoner status: the thigh bands, the crotch piece and the tattoo safely hidden away. After her harrowing ordeal in the dubious custody of slimy security guards, Shelby Ryan would step out into the airport terminal looking like a normal young female, wearing a fashionable dress, perfect for the summer season and with her knee-high, high-heeled boots.

  As she walked from the detention room through the terminal, Shelby could feel the chain between her legs, and the probes that made her wince each time she felt them shift inside her ass and pussy. Her breasts felt raw and tight where that tattoo marred her once flawless skin. She might have taken some comfort in the fact that she made her way through the crowded airport without stirring anyone’s notice. But her mind was a blur, so overcome by fear that she could hardly think about her appearance, or what subterfuge her captors pulled off in plain sight.

  When she finally reached the small twin engine plane for the specially chartered flight, her mind woke enough to realize that her life had suddenly been changed. There was no going back, no way to retrace her steps or make different decisions. For all her attempts to be just a normal girl, perhaps this was the reckoning, at the very least the penance she’d pay for having tried to live a normal life.

  Chapter Three

  The night of her capture and incarceration, Shelby Ryan lay on a cot in a dark room, in an unknown location. For a long time sleep eluded her. Still wearing the dress, the crotch piece and the thigh bands, her body could not relax; her fear was just too great. While waiting for dawn to come, she prayed that when the sun rose, she’d be rescued from this awful nightmare. With the same breath, however, she knew there’d be no rescue.

  As hours slipped by in the uneasy darkness, her mind drifted back ten years to the first time her life had been so irrevocably changed. The events that began that extraordinary time were much less dramatic than the swift change that had just taken place…

  “I’m Mr. Darcy, your employer,” the man spoke in a low monotone. He sat behind a large ebony desk, while Shelby stood before him. “I suppose you saw my name and immediately thought of that fairytale gentleman of English literature. You can see plainly by my looks that I have few attributes in common with that pretty boy. I’m neither pretty nor a boy. Then again we do share a healthy degree of pride.”

  About that he was quite right. A bold and craggy face, deep-set eyes, bushy brows, a hard expression; these features did not describe a handsome man. And yet, there was an energy about him that was intensely alarming. Shelby was shaken from the moment she laid eyes on him. She felt it in her gut; a huge burning sensation grew from there and spread outward, all the way to her limbs. She trembled nervously before him, unsure what to do – although the thought of fleeing the scene had certainly crossed her mind. Still, despite the tattered nerves and alarming fear, wildly erotic sensations were moving quickly through her body and she could simply not budge.

  She held her ground. Probably as much in fear as determination. This was a lot for a nineteen year old innocent to handle, but she was determined to do her best. Mr. Darcy’s job offer was something to cheer after a long string of disappointing interviews.

  “Let me be quite clear, Ms. Ryan,” he looked down at the paper on his desk, “Shelby, is it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You’ve been chosen for this job because you scored high in our qualifying examination. The exam was intended to weed out aggressive, overachieving females with any sort of penchant for domination or control. What I need for this position is a woman capable of loyalty, discretion and a high degree of integrity, who is otherwise submissive in disposition, willing to do as she’s told without question.

  “And you’re young. I like that. I like the woman who works so closely at my side to be moldable, something easier to accomplish with a younger woman who may still be unsure about themselves. I assure you, that at this point in time, with what you have told me in your application and the qualifying exam, I know you far better than you know yourself. I know your mind, your heart, even your sexual inclinations.”

  Shelby’s eyes widened but she made no reply to that remark.

  “See,” he attempted to smile. “A more assertive woman would have objected to that last statement. But you did not. A lack of response is appropriate for your naturally submissive disposition. We are going to get along just fine…”

  Only in the days ahead would she realize just how true that statement was.

  ***

  Shelby was stripped of the thigh-irons and hateful waist and crotch belts. Though the tattoo was going nowhere, at least she had the dress and her brown boots. Some semblance of normalcy, she wryly thought. Yet, the cell into which she’d been roughly thrown was as cold as the interrogation room in Vienna, and not nearly as comfortable. All she had now was the bare floor and the cold walls, and her crazed mind. If it weren’t for the water dripping somewhere nearby there’d have been no sound at all. A quiet so deep as to drive one crazy.

  Shelby’s eyes were closed when an unfamiliar noise suddenly jerked her body awake. Then the sound of boots striding across the concrete floor, the turn of the key, the clang of the door. She looked up to see a striking male figure in riding jodhpurs and a tan work shirt. In his fist, a leather strap. Her sex went suddenly wild over an image straight from her past, from dreams and nightmares created in another place and time.

  The man stood over her for a long while, gazing down expressionless. When he kicked her with the toe of his boot, she scrambled to her knees and he backed off.

  “I’m Col. Jessup.”

  She’d already guessed as much. Some things you know without having them spelled out.

  “You tell me now what I want to know,” he spoke in perfect American English. Tough as a cowboy kind of American, certainly not the kind of man she had expected. “It’s your last chance to avoid a lot of pain.”

  “I wish I knew what to tell you but there’s nothing, I swear! You have to believe me, you have to!” She looked up at him through desperate eyes. “I thought the DVD was music, nothing else. I swear to you, you have to believe me…”

  “I don’t have to believe a thing,” he cut her off, and grabbing her by the arm, he jerked her to her feet. His free hand was raised about to strike. Even without it connecting with her left cheek, she could feel her flesh burn hot. One good look at Col. Jessup and she knew exactly where the terrifying moment would lead. She’d met this man before, not in the flesh, but in her nightmares many times.

  He pushed her away, then strode before her menacingly, eyes hard and firm, his chin sporting a day’s growth of beard. Across his right cheek was a small scar. He was hardly taller than Shelby, but his build was muscled and fierce, a man not given to kindness or pleasantries.

  “So you don’t want to talk. You want to keep up your lie. That is fine with me. My job is to torture females who refuse to cooperate.” Shelby could see a smile forming at his lips. “Being sadistic by nature, I’m v
ery good at my job. In fact, I love my work. Right now it’s just you and me. I’m more than happy to work on you all night if that’s what it takes to break you.”

  “Sir, please, I’m begging you,” she dropped to her knees and clung to his booted feet.

  He kicked her away.

  “Grueter!” He barked into the dungeon air and a young man in a grey uniform appeared. He was a much less rugged man than Col. Jessup, more polished like the well-trained guard at the Vienna airport.

  “String her up by the wrists!”

  While Grueter swiftly moved in and grabbed for Shelby’s wrists, Jessup stood by watching. The cell had been previously fitted for torture with eyes bolts cemented into a number of places along the concrete walls, and an apparatus for suspension ready to pull down from the ceiling. Straps and hooks and two sets of heavy cuffs all attached to pulleys in an ominous array.

  Shelby shuddered, but she did not resist as the young Grueter lifted each wrist and secured it into a thick cuff. Then moving to a set of controls on the wall, he hoisted her until she was standing on tiptoe.

  “Stop!” Jessup snapped. “You can leave us be now. But stay close should I need you.”

  “Yes, sir,” he said with an officious nod to the Colonel. Then his boots clicked sharply as he left the cell.

  Before Shelby could get her bearings, Jessup flashed a knife before her face. “Oh, gawd, please, no!” she whimpered.

  “Just going to cut off the dress so I can have a clear target when I whip you. I’ll start with twenty lashes, then see if you’re interested in talking after that.”

  It was only a matter of time before the dress would go; Shelby had been certain of that. And yet, she mourned the loss of decency and the dress’s scant protection. Naked but for the boots she could feel Jessup’s callous eyes burning into her body like lasers, tearing her skin to shreds long before the first cut of the lash.

  He used a wide leather strap like a flaming sword. Hardly before she could catch her breath the first twenty had blazed across her naked back leaving a swath of hurt that made her entire body burn.