Top Posts Tagged with #the interrogator

Rules for Thee; Not for Me

Summary: Rules were made to be followed. Each and every one of them knew what the rules were, and there were always whispers about what would happen if they were broken.

Sometimes though, if you were special, better than the rest, well…sometimes a blind eye could be turned to those who broke them.

Pairing: The Interrogator x Fem Reader (sorta read the notes!)

Tag(s)/Warning(s): Dehumanization of Prisoners, Torture, Restraints, Assault, Physiological Abuse, Sexual Assault, Mentions of Incest, Mentions of Rape, Boss/Secretary Relationship, Rough Oral (M Receiving), Female Masturbation, Name Calling, I Can Make Him Worse, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

A/N: OH SHE AIN'T NEVER SEEING THE GATES OF HEAVEN WITH THIS ONE. Look if you've ever watched Closet Land you know this is about to be unhinged so turn back now if you aren't trying to read some fucked up shit. Also the 'reader' character has a 'name' and so does the Interrogator, but not really. It's explained in like the first sentence so yeah.

Anyways I'm going to go pray.

Word Count: 10K (In 3 days almost)

Rule Number 1: No Names

The moment someone entered the building, they were no longer themselves. Rather, they were who they were hired to be. Instead of a first and last name, they were assigned a letter from A to Z. Pair that with a job title, whether it be a doctor, secretary, cleaner, or something more active like an officer or an interrogator. That was who they were until they left the building for the day.

And on the off chance a colleague visited from some faraway office, well, they would get a number.

Simple, easy.

Unlike the work.

While interesting, there was something about the work that made sure most people didn't last longer than a few years in a position. Whether it be the brutal alternating hours, where one would work 8 am to 5 pm one day, and the next was a midnight to midnight shift.

Or the constant vigilance outside of work of having to make sure nothing slipped out about the workplace, and the type of activities that went on. The reasons were many and varied for anyone working there. Even for someone as simple as a secretary like her.

At least most of them were paid handsomely.

So, when she entered that nondescript building, which was located on a nondescript road, which was hidden by the many trees that surrounded the complex, she was no longer who her friends and family knew her as. She was merely Secretary I, or Ms. I, whenever she wasn't in a group with Doctor I or Nurse I, the other two women that she shared a letter with.

Had they been in a larger facility, it would have been confusing. But with their line of work, smaller, tight-knit, was better. It was easier to find and deal with any leakers that way.

"Ms. I," Officer A nodded to her as she placed her brown leather messenger bag and insulated water bottle in an open-topped black plastic bin.

"Mr. A," she acknowledged politely with a curt nod and small smile as she watched him push the bin onto the conveyor belt of the scanner. "How're your kids doing? I heard one of them was graduating from high school soon."

Rule Number 2: Always Be Polite. You Never Know Whose Watching.

He smiled at her, genuine surprise in his eyes that lit up with warmth at the mention of his kids.

"You remembered! They are doing great. The oldest just visited the university they got accepted into. One down, one more to go," he joked.

"It is my job to remember things," she stated with a cheeky smirk as she walked towards the human height scanner placed next to the item scanner. "But that's good to hear, maybe they'll end up working here one day?"

"Doubt it, kids still scared of his shadow."

A muted chuckle left her lips at his words as she entered the scanner. Had she had anything on her person that was prohibited, it would have rang a sharp, blaring noise paired with a strobing red light. But of course she didn't.

She knew the rules.

Stepping out on the other side of the machine, she was greeted with her bin of items, which she carefully collected as Officer A rolled his chair over so that they were across from one another.

"There's no shortage of shadows here, but you never know," she said, putting the messenger bag back on and collecting her water bottle that jingled as a metal charm clinked against the body of it. "Maybe he'll change his mind one day and want to help with the mission."

"One day hopefully! It'll make the family proud if he did with how there's always been a generation of us here making trouble," Officer A joked as he watched Ms. I gather her things and begin to ready herself for another full day of work.

Making sure everything was as it should be, she shook her head and took a deep breath. It was a ritual she did before entering the depths of a building that held an untold amount of secrets.

The smile on her lips melted into a line, her eyes steeled, and she rolled her shoulders back. Tension pulled at every muscle as she walked forward towards heavy iron doors that separated them from the world. But before she could be buzzed into another world, she was stopped at the sound of Officer A addressing her.

"Oh and Ms.I," he called, that cheerful tone of his taking on a more amused lilt as he spoke. "Overheard Dr. I saying something about how there was a stubborn one tonight."

The hand that she had on the metal door handle tightened. A slight grin tugged at lips that had been drawn tight as the grip on her water bottle twitched just a smidge. There was a tilt of her head as she turned around to look at the man. Steely eyes faltered for a split second, and Officer A smirked at the woman who was no longer the same person whom he had just been exchanging pleasantries.

"Stubborn? Those are my favorites."

Rule Number 3: Everyone Was Guilty

She made sure of that.

Whether it be the artist who pleaded and begged them the entire time they were questioned. Swearing on everything they loved, that the art they created was not in any way a message to the people. Or to the journalist who was quick to rat everyone in their organization out in hopes of a more lenient sentence.

She knew how to twist every word and every action. Mold everything that was said or done to make a narrative that fit piece by piece into a perfect puzzle. To find every scrap of information that existed on that subject of interest. Photos, recordings, friends, family, web searches, book interests, everything.

No stone was left unturned.

No lead was left unfollowed.

It was part of her job to gather it up, summarize it all, and tie it into a pretty little report for —

"Ms.I, Dr.I told me you had the medical summary for CEG248?"

Her fingers froze mid-stroke of the keyboard keys. Concentration broken by the sound of her name wrapped in a smooth, velvet, baritone that had just a slight nasally quality to it. She almost smiled a real smile when she looked up at him.

The Interrogator.

Hair swept back neatly, with only a few strands that lay across the middle of his forehead, his hazel eyes observed her with the same amount of intensity with which he put into his work.

A lot.

Pair that with a pleasant, almost friendly smile plastered on his lips with a warmth that never reached his eyes as he waited for her to answer, and that was the interrogator. Or as she usually addressed him as —

"Mr. I," she greeted with the same amicability, before her fingers began to glide expertly across the keyboard again to find the notes he was referring to. "You seem to be here earlier than usual. Someone in trouble?"

"Hmm, you can put it that way if you like. Though more of a reaping what's been sown type of trouble," he responded in an even tone as he crossed his arms against his chest. "I'm sure you've heard by now about our problem child."

"Problem child?" she feigned ignorance with a flick of her eyes up to him before looking down at the computer screen. "Ohh you mean the simple street artist escaping all the little tricks you have up your sleeve? Don't tell me you're losing your touch," she teased as she opened up the file that he was referencing. "Maybe you're getting rusty in a place like this?"

There was a pause as she clicked around on the screen before the mechanical noises of the printer behind her desk began to rumble to life. Page after page of medical records and vitals inked in black as she looked up at Mr. I, who now wore a sort of lopsided smile. Never had a smile looked so threatening.

Being menacing and kind all at once was a skill hard to acquire, and harder to maintain. It was a balance that was difficult for most people to toe. Important for getting close to someone so that they felt safe enough to tell you their darkest secrets. The things they would never whisper out loud in case the walls were listening.

But he was good at that.

Very good at it, actually.

Not that she gave any indication of being affected by the dichotomy of two different emotions being directed at her. What could she say? When you've worked here for so long with some of the most daunting people, it was easy to compartmentalize these things. A necessity almost in this line of work.

"Rusty? That's the first time anyone's told me that," he muttered, his lips pursed as he took the papers she had offered him.

Hot off the press, as one would say, as he paged through the papers. His eyes were sharply scanning, searching for any bit of information that would be helpful with the 'problem'.

He stood for a few moments, silent, and she knew better than to disturb his meticulous search for the truth. Or whatever truth they deemed was close enough. So instead of going back to her noisy work of typing up a report and looking at schedules, she watched him, drank in the sight of the tall man as he shifted his weight from one foot to another.

A look of concentration etched on his features as his furrowed, and she could see the slight indent that sat right where the bridge of his elegant Roman nose began. Even with his glasses, she could see how his eyes fluttered, long eyelashes ghosting the skin of his face as he read.

That was the other thing he had in his favor.

Handsome.

Disgustingly so.

And he knew it. It was an asset. Because who didn't want to trust someone who looked like him? Deep yet soft voice that was intoxicating to listen to and perfect for storytelling. Devastatingly handsome and tall. Why, it was a winning combination anywhere. But especially inside this fortress they called their workplace.

She smirked as she observed him, her fingers itching to run through the soft brown hair that had specks of blond running through it. There was an urge to mess up the 'angel' wings that he had styled the sides of his hair to look like. Make them something more in character, closer to what she and others knew he could be.

Brutal wasn't even a close quantifier.

"Interesting."

So deep in her musings, she hadn't even noticed that he had looked up at her until his voice punctured the silence.

She cleared her throat, and with it, her vision focused on Mr. I, who smirked at her. No doubt catching her leering eyes as he looked through the document.

Never one to back away from his perceptive eyes, she brushed it off and asked, "What's that?"

"It seems like our Dr. I found something that might be of use for our little problem."

"She's always finding something isn't she? May I?"

"Mhmm, right here," he pointed out, his finger on a paragraph that was hidden in the middle of a page.

Taking the paper from him, she scanned the words he had pointed out and deciphered the terms with ease, even with the amount of jargon that had been thrown in it. Twice she read it. Once to get an initial thought and twice to confirm what they had both read.

And with the confirmation, there was a smile. A smirk, really, as she looked at him and found him mirroring her own expression. Though with his, she could already see the cogwheels spinning, and it thrilled her to no end at what the mind of his was formulating.

Impatience pounded through her veins, and she had begun to tap her feet, the click of her heels echoing on the cold marble floor.

"This wasn't on the original?"

He shook his head 'no' and she handed the stack of papers back to him.

"It seems like it was held back on the account of privacy."

They shot a mutual look of disgust at one another.

"Privacy?" she scoffed to herself, garnering a nod from the man who tucked the papers under his arm. "Well, they can explain themselves when the time comes. But what I'm more curious about is what you're going to do."

"I have several ideas, however..." he paused, the frown from a moment ago replaced with a slight smile. "I'm sure you know I prefer to show rather than tell."

The thrill that shot up her spine made her want to jump up from her chair at his words and follow him like a lost pet. But, how unprofessional would that be? Instead, she opted for leaning forward, putting her elbow on the desktop, and placing her chin on her closed fist.

"Is that how you ask people for help?"

There was a slight twitch of his lips at her words before he spoke, "Oh, you only know I have one person I prefer to go to for things like this."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Mr. I."

Back was the self-assured smirk on his lips as he looked her up and down before asking,

"Really?"

Rule Number 4: One Interrogator Inside; One Supervisor Outside

Whether it be a doctor so that they could intervene medically if necessary, which was hardly ever the case, as most interrogators could tell with practiced ease, of someone's breaking point. Or another interrogator who was dealing with a party related to the subject their fellow interrogator was questioning.

There was always supposed to be someone there to observe.

Why?

For accountability, as she was once told. But most of the time it was an underling watching. Someone who had less knowledge, less experience in dealing with what was happening in the gray concrete room that housed a subject of interest.

Also, who were they to be accountable to if they were by definition the law of the land? She didn't know. And she couldn't care less as she would be the last to complain about it, as she made herself comfortable in the one padded chair in the observation room.

It was the very first room that she had watched him do what he was best at with such ruthless efficiency that she couldn't help but stare at him in awe when he stepped out of the room.

She had watched the subject of the day collapse to the ground after only a few hours of questioning, before they were begging to sign a confession of treason. He hadn't even truly gotten started as the warden had told her, but she had seen enough.

The cruel kindness he had started off with, had already lit something deep in the pits of her stomach as she watched him with fascination while he lured the subject into a false sense of security.

By the end of it, there was still a smile on his face as he thanked the subject for cooperating. Plucking the paper out of their hand as they sobbed and trembled on the floor before he stood over them, and admired what he had done.

If someone had asked her what she had been thinking during her observation of the man she would come to know as Mr.I, she wouldn't have shied away from the answer, even if it wasn't what they would have been expecting.

A giggle, an almost childish-sounding one, left her lips at the memory before her attention was drawn to a door that was on the far end of the room being opened. At first, the door opened to only the background of darkness.

Nothing was at the doorway except the specter of the black hallway in the background that led to the room. Until a speck of white appeared for a brief moment, moving from outside to inside of the room in a fluid motion.

The door slammed shut, and on the floor right in front of the door was the white speck she had seen. A subject on their knees as they banged and screamed to be let out. They clawed at the door, pounded on the metal that did not yield as they screamed for their lawyer. For someone.

Anyone.

But no one answered.

"Scream, scream all you want, no one's comin to get you."

If they knew what was good for them, they would confess this time around instead of putting on an act of resistance that was all but futile. But she knew they wouldn't. Hoped they wouldn't truly. Because where was the fun in that?

No, it was the reason he had brought her to observe this little play. He knew this one wouldn't disappoint, and when she saw him step into the room, unfazed by the subject who screamed and cursed at him. She knew she was in for a treat as that empty smile appeared on his face.

"And we're off the the races," she whispered.

Rule Number 5: All Charges Must Have A Signed Confession

No rule made him want to blow his brains out as much as that rule. A waste of time, effort, and resources that could be put to other uses. Not that he would ever say it out loud. But it was true.

What was the point of having someone sign a confession when they all knew they were guilty? They wouldn't be here, locked in this room with him if they were innocent. Better yet, they wouldn't be in this place at all if they were as innocent as they proclaimed they were.

Yet, as much as it frustrated him, it did bring him some sort of joy.

No, joy wasn't the right word.

Maybe delight?

Thrill?

Because it was certainly thrilling to watch the hope that he had built in them crumble the moment they realized he wasn't there to help them leave. The moment they screamed their throats raw trying to get anyone, someone, to hear that they had an 'apology' letter and were supposed to go free.

That they were innocent.

But no one was innocent. Not in this place.

"Prisoner CEG248, I've been told you've not been eating lately," Mr. I stated as he sat down on the familiar seat at the head of the table in the middle of the room.

Placing the briefcase that was his usual companion on the table, he took his time in opening it. His movements precise and fluid as he pulled the confession papers out and placed them down, and next to them, a fountain pen. One which revealed quite a sharp tip to it when he uncapped it, the gold glinting in the cold light.

Once everything was in its place, he closed the heavy bag with the same meticulousness before his eyes bored down on the subject who stood on the opposite side of the table.

Their arms were wrapped around themselves defensively as they glared at him with such loathing that a lesser person would have been shaken. There was a fire of defiance in their eyes as they stared at him with such loathing, and the flames from their gaze licked at every cell in his body.

A warm rush traveled down his spine, and it coiled tightly in his stomach as he shifted in the seat. Not from the discomfort of the hateful gaze, but from the way he took pleasure from being the one to cause it.

"Well, that won't do at all," he continued, crossing one leg over the other and leaning forward to get a good look at the subject who hadn't moved since he had entered the room. "Our policy is to make sure no matter the charges that everyone is to be kept as healthy as possible. And you're making it quite hard on-"

"I'm making it hard?" they shouted, a bewildered, almost crazed look in their eyes as they cut the man off, who only raised an amused eyebrow at the outburst. "This has got to be a fucking joke! You're acting like I'm not the one who was dragged out of my house in the middle of the night and thrown in here for some bullshit!"

"I understand how frustrating this is, but as I told you before, our officers don't make such mistakes."

Cool and collected as always as he watched the way his response infuriated the subject more; their anger emboldening them as they marched up to the table. Their hands were balled into tight fists as they slammed them on the table, making the papers on the surface slide a little.

Yet, his features didn't change.

He was utterly unmoved by the emotion.

'That's right, just a little closer.'

"So you're infallible? Is that what you're saying?"

Yes.

"No, but our officers are, and I can assure you that the information they received comes from only the best among us."

While he couldn't see it, he could feel her smirk on his skin. It was an image burned into his mind that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand just as the thought of her watching.

His eyes flicked to his side and then back at CEG248, who continued to wear an expression of disgust at his words. Yet it did nothing to quell the waves in his stomach that had already begun to travel further downward.

He had wanted to draw this out, bask in the despair that soaked the atmosphere of the room, but it seemed like even he himself didn't want to cooperate with his own plans. Another time maybe?

Because there would always be another.

"Now, let's continue from yesterday, why don't we?"

"No."

He tilted his head slightly at their answer. A smile still etched on his thin lips as he watched them narrow their eyes at him, their grip on the table tightening at his look.

"No?"

"If you think I'm going to sit here and feed you some story to make the pack of lies you have the truth," they spat, as they prowled closer to him with a face twisted in fury, "well you better find someone else because I haven't done anything and I'm not going to say I have!"

'Almost there.'

"Then how about you prove your innocence?" he asked with a knowing look and a nonchalant tone that seemed to infuriate them further. "I'm not here for a story; I simply want the truth. Haven't I told you that already?"

Even in the cold room, he could feel the heat that radiated off of them. The pure burning desire to pounce on him and bludgeon him to death. But they wouldn't. They could try. He wanted them to try; it made it a better experience when they got physical.

Their lips moved, but what was said was inaudible. But that wouldn't do. Not here. Not in his kingdom. He had to know everything. It was his right.

"What was that?"

Silence.

"Prisoner CEG-"

"I said you're a fucking lunatic!"

Not the worst he's ever been called. Not even by a long shot.

"I tell you what you want and then what? Huh?" they yelled, throwing their arms out in emphasis, their feet drawing them closer to him as their eyes held his attention while they ranted. "You do the same thing to the next person right? Come up with some false narratives to have them throw someone else innocent under the bus isn't that right?"

"Do you really think you would be here if you were innocent?" he asked nonchalantly as he watched every minute expression and movement that they made in his direction. "Every artist, every author, every professor, every person who thinks they are above what we do is watched."

Just as he watched them creep closer to him, their eyes revealing only anger, yet he wasn't a fool. He knew already. It was the most common thing that happened.

"Some of them are innocent of course, being good little citizens and toeing the line but never going over it," he explained as he began to tap his foot on the ground as they came closer to him. "Some even support our cause. However," he paused, as they came to a stop just a few steps away from him, their hands unclenched as they stood within reach of him. "You've never been one of them. A troublemaker from the start. So, let's not waste any more time with this charade. Shall we?"

His question was met with that same look of determination that he had seen in all of them beforehand. One that almost always petered out once they finally realized that they never had a choice. Some were harder to break than others, and he was quite fond of those in a way, as they let him play a little longer.

Challenged him.

Just like this one. But just like all of them before, they would just be another notch on his belt.

"Fine then," they finally answered, bringing him out of his musings. A poorly hidden glimmer in their eyes as they prematurely announced their intentions. "Let's."

When the words left their lips, he had to drown the absolute delight that bubbled in his chest because finally.

He hadn't been the only thing in reach when they made their way up to him. As much as they tried to avoid exposing themselves, he saw the quick flicker of interest in the golden dagger of a pen. A weapon to hold against the system that didn't tolerate dissidents. Each and every one of them were the same, no matter how they tried to act as if they were above everything.

Such a fool. All of them

They were fast; he would give them that.

But unfortunately, he was faster.

Had he wanted to stop them from grabbing hold of the pen in the first place, he would have, but there was no fun to be gained from that.

No, the pleasure came from the way they screamed as he grabbed the hand that attempted to plunge the sharp object into his neck. It was quite a popular place to be targeted, which unfortunately made it all the more obvious to their detriment.

"L-Let go of me!" they shrieked in pain as he twisted both of their arms against their back and slammed their front against the table.

The awkward angle of the subject's hands forced them to drop the pen with a loud 'clank' onto the ground as it rolled away from either of their reach. Another pained screech escaped their throat, and the strangled noise did nothing but travel down his spine right to his cock that jumped at the commotion.

Finally.

They were finally at his - their, favorite part of the act. Or at least one of the favorites.

"Now that wasn't very nice of you," he reprimanded in an overly saccharine tone, as he pulled open a hidden compartment on the table that made it look like it had grown arms.

Yanking one of their hands away from their back and eliciting another cry of pain out of them from the force, he slammed the appendage down on the added arm of the table before lifting up a bar from underneath the compartment that wrapped around their wrist before locking them in place.

"CEG248," he huffed out their 'name' as they protested futilely while he snatched their other hand and pulled it in the direction where he had been sitting. "Weren't you ever told it's not nice to attack someone who's just trying to help?"

The question was met with another string of expletives as he searched for something underneath the table, and when he found it, he revealed another compartment just like the other that their hand was locked onto.

Mimicking the same actions as before, he snapped the lock closed, but not before he made sure to draw another delectable cry of pain from them once more as he put more force into securing the lock than necessary. Pleased with his own efforts, he backed away to admire his handiwork.

Each arm was stretched out in either direction as their front was bent over, forced to rest on the edge of the table. Even from the looks of it, it wasn't comfortable. But their comfort was the least of his concern.

Hungry eyes that were darkened with a variety of emotions drank in the sight at such a revealing position, and had he been a weaker man, the groan that he was suppressing would have escaped the moment he had grabbed the defiant little pest.

But he was, even if the trembling legs that were spread in front of him drove heat to every inch of his body and made the ache in his pants ever more clear. It was then that he flicked his eyes up to the opposite wall again. One that cleverly hid the presence of an audience of one, whose own legs were trembling at the sight for a much different reason.

He could almost taste her on his lips as he smirked menacingly in the same direction, before he looked down at the pathetic, quivering body that was forcefully bowed forward.

'Let's finish this up shall we?'

He thought to himself as he stalked back up to them so that he was hovering above them, close enough that he could see the hairs on the back of their neck standing.

"Now that we've sorted that out, I've heard from a little birdy that when you were young, you had a troubled family life. No mother, no siblings, just you and a barbaric father," he rambled as he lowered his head just so that he could blow air on the back of their neck, a yelp of surprise leaving them at his action.

"Is that right?"

The answer he received was silence, as they turned their head in the opposite direction from which they had been holding it. And even from where he was, he could tell their eyes were squeezed shut. Just like the rest, who thought they could wish away their current predicament as if it were a nightmare. A dream they could wake up from.

But it wasn't. This was no dream.

"Answer me. Isn't that right?" he hissed as he pressed himself against their back, their body snapping into panic at the feeling of his arousal that he purposefully shoved against their thinly clothed backside.

"S-stop it! Let go of me!" they protested loudly, yet the strength of it had diminished greatly as they tried to shake him off to no avail.

"Will you confess then? That your art is a message of propaganda that is used to influence others?" he asked as he leaned forward so that his lips were close to their ears, and all they would be able to hear was him.

He had even made it a point to grind his hips against them even harder as he blanketed himself over them, grinning at the shallow gasp that left them even if they tried to hold back.

"Come on, don't you want this to end? All you need to do is give us one little signature," he explained as his hand crept over their hips before he dug his fingers down into the flesh, causing them to yelp. "Just like all the pictures you've signed before. How hard can it be?"

"F-Fuck you!"

Anger and fire still burned in their voice. But so did the sob that they were trying to hide, along with the fragility of the human spirit. And he was more than happy to be the one to break it.

Just like everyone before them.

A wicked grin etched itself on his lips as his mind went back to what he had read before asking, "Like how you're own father fucked you and passed you around to his friends for money?"

The strangled gasp that tore from their throat was enough evidence that what he said was the truth, and the rush of adrenaline he felt was hypnotizing. He could feel how they froze beneath him. Tension strung in every molecule of their being as they stilled. Even their breathing seemed to stop at his words.

Pure silence. Until it wasn't.

"Isn't it true?" he asked, his fingers gripping their hip harder while his other free hand ghosted the skin of their upper thigh that tensed at his touch. "That's why you do it right? You just wanted attention from anyone you could get so you could feel something, anything."

"S-stop it…stop please!"

He shook his head no, not that they could see it, before he made a low noise of disappointment as his fingers began to trail further up the measly gown they gave all their subjects.

"Stop it? Is that what you would tell them when they touched you?" he whispered hotly as the feeling of bare flesh against his digits only spurred him on further with his mission. "Told them to stop even though deep down you knew you deserved it. Why I think you even wanted it isn't that right."

"P-please stop it! I'm innocent! You know I'm innocent! Stop with this pack of lies! I want a lawyer, give me a lawyer!"

Again with the same tiring plea of innocence. When would they learn?

"Tsk, tsk, on CEG248, you know that's not true, and you know I can't do that," he crooned as the hand he had on their hips dropped, but only for it to hover over the bottom of the thin gown, where he played with the fabric that barely covered their skin. "But there is something I can do for you."

With one fluid motion, he pulled the gown up to their waist, exposing their back to the cold room and eliciting a terrified scream from them as they yanked at the unyielding restraints.

They tried to kick, to fight, to keep him away, but all it did was excite him more as their head whipped from side to side as they sobbed in desperation. Cries of terror echoed around the room as his eyes lit up at the exposed skin that was there for the taking.

"No! No Stop! STOP!"

"Confess then."

"No! I won't! I haven't done anything please!"

"Again with the lies. Oh, CEG248 what to do with you?" he sighed with faux disappointment as he ran his fingers across their exposed ass that tensed at his touch. A touch that was oddly delicate for a man who reveled in the misery of others. "Though with an ass like this, I can see why it was hard to stay away from it. Even a degenerate like your father can have taste too I suppose. Now let's take a better look huh?"

He hadn't given them time to even breathe out a scream before he was spreading them open for his eyes to devour. Exposing them to him as he listened to their screams become shaky shrieks as they practically convulsed beneath him. What a humiliating thing to happen to someone. To bring up something so wretched and strip them down.

Yet all he could do was watch with thinly veiled amusement as he continued to stroke the soft flesh that trembled against his hold. And for a split second, his mind wandered and thought about another's flesh that was softer and much more pliant to his touch.

One that was keen to be devoured by him. A soft groan that was drowned out by the noises of what was beneath him escaped his lips, and he flicked his eyes back to the opposite wall before he looked back down in disgust at what was under him.

"STOP! Stop! Please!" they shrilled, as their voice broke with each plea and was muffled by wet sobs that were simply pure music to his ears.

"Will you confess now?"

He was met with an answer that only contained a shaky cry and uneven breathing, which was far from what he wanted. So, he asked again, his grip on them tightening and another wail of despair being ripped from their throat.

"Prisoner CEG248, do you confess to the crime of spreading false propaganda to dissidents that actively oppose what we do in keeping the people safe?"

First, there was silence. And when he was about to repeat himself. A warble. One that he couldn't quite hear, but could easily figure out. However, he wanted it to be clear.

"I will repeat myself again and the answer must be clear-"

He hadn't even finished his thought before he was interrupted by furious shrieks that lacked any sort of fight in them.

"I confess! I confess! I confess!" they screamed again and again until it turned into sobs. "Is that what you want to hear? Is that what you want!"

He smirked.

"Almost. However, a signature is needed as well."

The way their body went lax under him as he spoke only served to exhilarate him more as he let them go and stepped back from the shaking body. A broken body was one thing, a broken mind, well, that was better.

Quietly, he stepped around them and walked over to the papers that had been only slightly disturbed from the earlier sneak attack that they had tried to perpetrate. Plucking another pen, a less lethal one, from his briefcase, he went back over to the subject who was still quivering as wet hiccups escaped their throat.

"I assume I don't have to warn you about any false movements?" he asked as he slid the paper and pen to the hand closest to him.

"Y-yes..yes."

A smile, one that was as close to a genuine one as they would ever get from him, grew on his lips as he unlocked one of their hands and placed the pen next to them. For a moment, they stared at the pen and paper with a dazed expression and empty eyes. There was no attempt to move, not even a single sign that the person they were was still there.

He, however, had no patience for it.

"Prisoner CEG248," he snapped, eliciting a startled noise from them as their gaze flew up to him, terror evident in unsteady eyes.

"Your signature, please."

Pointing at the paper, he watched as their eyes slowly followed in the direction before, silently and without protest, they picked the pen up. Each movement was painfully slow as he watched them ink their name against the paper with trembling hands. With each shaky swoop of a letter, the chance to stop, to go back was shut. And with one final letter, all doors were closed to them.

With a satisfied look on his face, he plucked the pen out of their hand, noting how loose their grip was, and grabbed the signed confession.

"That wasn't hard now was it?" he mused as he left them there, one arm locked to the table as they collapsed on the floor with a strangled sob.

Their limbs flailed as they screamed and yelled incoherent things at him while he calmly placed the signed confession in his briefcase and closed it. Glancing up once more, he stared at the opposite wall, and his lips tugged into a smile as he imagined what was about to await him on the other side.

"Good day CEG248," he simply stated, right before his words were met with another blood-curdling shriek as he picked up his briefcase and exited the room without another word.

Rule Number 6: No Fraternization

Amusing how such a rule was close to the top of the list. She had always wondered how often this had caused issues if they needed to put it so high up and in plain wording.

All of them knew the rules. Some could even recite them word by word if necessary. A violation of any one of them, no matter how small it seemed, could cause the removal of someone from their post. And in the rare instance, they could face the same treatment as the ones who unwillingly called this place home.

However, when he opened the door to the room where she had been observing the entire scene, both of them agreed that some rules were worth forgoing. Especially when they both knew the rule after five which was -

Rule Number 7: Blind Eye for the I

The I being the interrogators. Call it a perk of being a valuable asset.

Valuable enough that sometimes turning a blind eye was better than speaking up. And why would either of them speak up and deprive themselves of this?

The tightness in his pants was suffocating as he gazed upon the definition of desire. One arm wrapped around the back of the chair, while the other was busy between her spread legs as the faint sound of sobbing could still be heard from the other side. He could smell her arousal and faintly hear it as well, as she let out a muted moan while she rubbed circles around her swollen clit that throbbed at the attention.

A sigh of pleasure escaped her as she rolled her hips forward with each stroke of her digits, and he could see a little peek of tongue sticking out from wet lips as her head lolled back.

"Having fun?" he asked, the low timber of his voice going right down to her core as he finally unglued himself from his spot and began to stalk forward.

The door behind him closed and locked on its own as he dropped the briefcase on the ground and began to undo the belt that constricted him. Once free from it, he threw the offending accessory aside on the floor with a breathy sigh as he approached the woman, who had cracked her eyes open just enough that he could see him.

She wore a tiny smirk on her lips before a breathy whine left her throat as he advanced on her, a hungry look in his eyes as he watched her fingers find her glistening entrance that was swollen with need.

"N-Not as much, ah, as I could be," she stuttered, never stopping her ministrations, even as he finally stood to the side of her, the bulge in his pants directly in her line of sight.

Even in the dim room, she could see the darkening stain on his pants, clear evidence of his arousal as she flicked her tongue against her lips before she looked up at him.

"Not as much as we could be having," she added before another moan escaped her lips as curious digits spread up silky folds that ached and begged for more attention.

"They don't like greedy, you know," he groaned as he brought a thumb up to her bottom lip, tracing the swollen flesh before he placed it at the seam of her lips.

Her eyelashes fluttered as she looked up at him, amusement and lust barely hidden in her gaze at his reference to the ones who ultimately ran the show they performed in. With a soft chuckle, her tongue darted from between her lips, tasting the salty digit before she wrapped plump lips around it.

A moan escaped his throat as he watched her suck, a mere example of what she could do for him as her fingers continued to play with her aching slit. Spreading her wetness all around her hungry cunt that throbbed in anticipation from the heated way he was staring down at her.

His hair had become slightly disheveled from the whole ordeal, and it only excited her more that his normally put-together self was absent at the moment. Maybe she should thank CEG248 for helping in that effort. With one last suck, she licked his digit once more before she parted her lips to allow him to pull away. A thin string of saliva connecting the two as he did so.

"But do you?" she finally asked with a lick of her lips.

He didn't answer; instead, he took the thumb that had been in her mouth and swiped his tongue along it. Collecting every bit of her that he could get into his mouth before sucking the digit clean to the sound of her whimper.

"Fuuuckkk," she whined as she reached for him with the arm that had been holding on to the back of the chair. "Please I need you sir please."

A grin, one that was playful yet menacing, appeared on his lips as she stroked his clothed cock at the same pace that she stroked her wet cunt.

"Please, please, please."

"When have I denied my secretary anything?" he purred as he watched thinly veiled desperation cross her features as she knitted her eyebrows together in a silent plea.

"Plenty of times."

"Only because you crave it."

She didn't have a response to his cheeky, self-assured answer because he was right. He was always right, as they were two sides of the same coin. Perfectly matched with one another to the detriment of anyone they had to deal with.

All she could do was pout at him with the cutest look that he didn't think quite fit her.

"Fine, go on then," he purred darkly, his fingers dancing at the waistband of his slacks before they dipped down to unbutton them.

Fire was alight in her eyes as she watched him, the sullen pout already morphing into a look of delight as she watched his fingers continue downward to tug at the zipper.

"Consider it a souvenir from the show."

With practiced hands and a muffled groan, he tugged both pants and boxers down just enough that his cock sprang forward out of its confines and into her hungry sight. The large member glistened with precum from the previous act, but there was still more that flowed out as its owner tugged at it, coating himself with slick before he offered her a turn.

Never having been one to need instructions explained twice to her, or turn something like this down, she opened wide for him, her tongue sticking out obscenely as he tapped the tip of himself on her. White salty liquid coated the pink appendage, as he smeared it all over her mouth, coating every inch so all she could taste was him as her legs spread open even more as she rubbed her soaking cunt.

"That's right, fuck, just like that," he growled, feeding her his cock inch by inch. "Such a good secretary, such a good little girl."

A shiver ran down her body at his praise, and it made the hair on her arm stand up as she listened to the breathy groans that escaped him. The sounds went straight to her cunt that pulsed wildly at his word, and the only answer she could provide was a muffled moan as she wrapped her lips around him and began to hungrily suck.

Over and over he praised her, called her his good girl as she dipped her finger inside her hungry cunt and played with herself, spread her wetness all around her folds to his delight as he watched with lust-lidded eyes. It was a performance like others, but no two were ever exactly the same when it came to them.

Where was the fun to be had in that?

With each suck, she pressed her fingers inside her, swirling them in the same way she swirled her tongue against his tip before she changed to lapping at him. She could taste the salty musk of his precum as it leaked into her mouth, and she swallowed all of it every single time as if it was his gift to her.

Not that what they were doing wasn't already a treat.

Another moan tore itself from her throat when she felt his fingers press at her scalp, massaging the area before a tug at the roots of her hair had her flicking her eyes up in his direction.

"Mmph?"

"Open," he commanded with a shaky breath.

His voice was raspy as he looked down at her damp face and even damper cunt that made a soft squelching noise as she pulled her fingers away from herself. A soft protest left her throat, but she did what he told her, though not before she bobbed her head up and down his cock a few more times before releasing it with a delicious 'pop'.

Groaning at the cold air that suddenly replaced her hot mouth, he took his free hand and trailed a finger along her jaw that ached from the stretch of him in her mouth. He observed every tiny reaction before he gripped the bottom of her jaw tightly.

His digits dug into her skin with such force that discomfort was inevitable, along with lingering imprints. Yet there was no complaint from her lips as he leaned down so that they were both at eye level.

The warmth of his breath tickled her skin as their parted lips brushed each other numerous times, but never did they touch completely. They were so close that she could even see the specks of brown in his hazel eyes that were almost devoured by the blacks of his pupils.

"Keep it open," he murmured, as his lips ghosted against hers again. "Can you do that?"

There was no doubt in her mind that she could, as she nodded, or attempted to nod with his steel grip around her jaw.

"Good," he purred as he dropped his hand from her face and stood up.

The fingers resting in her scalp tightened as he pulled her forward towards him, his free hand now stroking his wet cock that made a similar sound to the one her cunt made as she fingered herself. It was a mouthwatering sound and sight as he brought himself to her mouth, and had she been expecting a gentle introduction, she would have been a fool.

However, she was too practiced to even consider the thought as her mouth was forced wide open as he tugged her head forward while snapping his hips in her direction. A choked, muffled sound escaped her lips, and tears sprang into her eyes as she felt the tip of his cock hit the back of her throat.

But she didn't move, didn't close her mouth as he let out a long, guttural moan that echoed around the walls of the room. No, instead she relaxed completely as sticky fingers began to trace wet circles around her hungry cunt that wished to be as stuffed as her throat was at that very moment.

"Fuckkk," he hissed from above her as he dragged his cock slowly away from her swollen lips.

He left a trail of salty cum on her tongue right before he forcefully buried himself in her throat once again. It elicited a wet gag from the depths of her throat as he began to fuck the warm cavern that spasmed around him with each thrust.

With each snap of his hips towards her, she pushed her fingers deeper into her soaking cunt that squeezed greedily down on her digits as she caressed the spongy velvet of her channel. Her moans only fueled his hunger as he buried himself deeper down her throat, basking in the choked gags that would leave her lips as he held her throat hostage with his cock.

He would wait for the exact second that he knew from practiced experience when it would be too much. Wait for the way her throat spasmed in such a way that he could feel the vibrations all the way in his balls that tensed at the wet noise.

Only then, when he knew she was on the precipice of tapping out, would he pull away, an animalistic snare on his lips as she took a deep breath before he was fucking her mouth once again.

"That's it, oh fuck that's it," he growled quietly, his grip on her only tightening as he felt that familiar burning coil in his stomach begin to come undone. "Such a fantastic little whore for me, isn't that what you are? My little whore of a secretary."

"Mhmm! Mhmm!"

She could only moan her affirmation to him, her mouth too busy being the object of his praise, which only made her cunt gush as her legs began to shake and spasm.

More, more, more, she wanted more. She was so close, so fucking close. And from the throaty noise that came out of him as she licked the underside of his shaft, as he forced himself back into her mouth. So was he.

"Mmm almost there, almost there," he chanted, as the sound of his cock plunging down her throat mixed with the sound of her soaked cunt created an erotic symphony. "Just a little more my whore. A little more! F-fuck!"

His breath hitched as he felt her throat tighten the same way her cunt did around her fingers as she began to tremble. A loud moan tore itself from her throat as her hips rolled mindlessly into her hand at the frantic way she touched herself.

So close. Just as he had said. She was so close as he fucked her mouth at such a brutal, relentless pace that was so much like him as a person. Spit and cum damped her cheeks, her lips, her face, but all it did was add to the depravity of the act.

It was so wrong. Against the rules. But the thrill of it? Oh, it was worth any punishment they would have given them. Not that she hadn't had her fair share of them before.

Yet, even with his cock buried down her throat and her fingers buried inside of herself, it wasn't that that pushed her over. No, it was when she looked up at him and saw the way his gaze was squarely on her.

It burned the way he looked at her with darkened eyes that burrowed itself deep into her soul. Just as he buried himself down her throat once more before a broken cry slipped from her lips, only to be muffled by his cock.

And then it snapped. The hot coil in her stomach spasmed uncontrollably in the same way her legs both seized and spasmed all at once. If she could scream, she would have, but all it would have been buried by the shout he let out as her throat tightened around his cock. Massaging him and sucking him, as she gushed around her fingers, that didn't stop their ministrations.

"That's it, fuck that's it! Almost, fuck almost!" he growled as he forced himself to pull away from her mouth before burying it back in her throat once more.

He threw his head back with one final, "Fuck!" Before he was emptying himself down her throat.

Somewhere in her post orgasm haze, she could feel the hot spurts of cum paint the back of her throat as she swallowed hungrily. Each drop of the salty liquid that flooded her mouth was drunk with enthusiasm as her fingers slowed their movements in her cunt that had been flooded by her own juices.

When he finally completely emptied himself in her, he was slow to pull out, and she was slow to let him as she gave his softening cock and few more licks before she allowed him to pull away.

Somehow, he had managed to look only a bit more disheveled after what they had done, while she was sure she would need to make a trip to the showers afterwards.

Fine by her.

It was a small price to pay as she watched him meticulously straighten himself up. He even had a handkerchief with which he dried cock with before putting it back in his pants.

A little giggle escaped her lips at that, and it caused him to raise an eyebrow as he zipped his pants while looking at her.

"Something funny?" he asked, watching her with that steady gaze of his as she began to also follow his lead of cleaning up.

While she had enjoyed it thoroughly, it probably wasn't the best to look like she hadn't just gotten her throat fucked on company time.

"You," she answered shortly as she wiped her sticky fingers against the inside of her pencil skirt.

A trip to the bathroom was definitely in order, she thought, the taste of him still on her tongue as she straightened her outfit out.

He raised an elegant eyebrow at her statement and crossed his arms against his chest. Pair that with a tilt of his head that was too adorable for a man who had just been calling her his whore, and maybe he would get the picture.

The duality of man.

"Have you always been such a neat freak Mr. I?" she asked as she walked up to him, her hands going to fix his tie that had become skewed just a bit.

Looking down at her, he waited until she finished her job with a pleased little pat before she met his gaze. She was unwavering in front of him, and it was what he enjoyed the most about the little secretary who surprised him from the first time they had crossed paths. Such a sweet face with the same empty eyes.

"When you work here long enough, and have to deal with," he paused before a fake pleasant smile found itself on his lips. "Vermin. You come to develop something of a habit."

"Maybe I've not been here long enough?"

"You will be, with talent like that, I think you know you have a long career ahead of you."

A pleased little smile found its way on her lips that were still swollen, and the urge to kiss them itched heavily in his mind. But he restrained himself, just as she had done when she hadn't pulled him down for a kiss by his tie instead of fixing it for him.

"High praise Mr. I. Why, I say that was even kind of you," she teased as she let him go and stepped away. "I'll make sure not to break any of the rules just so I can make sure I'm here as long as possible."

An amused 'hmph' left his lips at that, and he shook his head at her as if they hadn't just broken one of many rules.

"Of course you won't."

His response was simple as he turned away from her and began to make his way to the door; his job from earlier still not completed with the intermission that had just been had.

"Oh and Mr. I," she called as he picked up his briefcase on his way out.

He stopped, but he didn't turn around.

"Next time, would you be so kind as to put my name down as a cast member instead of someone in the audience?"

Her words lingered in the air as she stared at his unmoving form. A slight smirk played at her lips as she felt a dark heaviness begin to weigh down on them. It was delightfully oppressive, and the shiver that ran through her was equally as good.

And then, without a verbal answer to her question, he made his way to the door, opened it, and vanished into the dark hallway.

Someone else would have been perturbed, confused by the non-answer. However, to her, it was more than clear what his answer was. And it was one that caused a deeper, more sinister grin to appear on her lips as her eyes cut back to the room where all performances were made.

A/N: Hey siri play Take me to Church by Hozier

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