Dear Miss Gomez and friends,
Here is my second story written inspired by your great course. Enjoy!
The Secret of Dr. Denisse Romero - part I
I was on my way to another wonderful lecture by Miss Gomez on the wonders of the female body and its sensitivity to pain, when Major Alfredo stopped me.
"I need you," he said.
"Can't it wait?" I asked, "I'd hate to miss the lecture."
"No, no. This is an important matter. You proved yourself last time when you interrogated Susanna Frizio, and maybe you'll succeed this time too."
"What's the matter?"
"Half an hour ago we arrested Denisse Romero. We have known for some time that she is Don Lázaro Ferreyra's personal secretary and we hope to catch him if we can get her to tell us the name of the café where she was supposed to meet him today at six o'clock. He is a dangerous charismatic leader who is undermining the regime and is trying to overthrow it in sophisticated ways. He has set up a powerful secret organization, and recently they have carried out some serious sabotage operations. We must stop him at all costs. Our agent followed her from a distance while she was meeting him in a café in the city centre. He got as close to them as he could without arousing suspicion and overheard part of their conversation. Don Ferreyra told her that he was afraid they were being followed and arranged to meet her at the old café they both knew on the other side of the city at 6:15. He told her that she had to be there on time. If she didn't arrive on time he would leave the place - so he said - and make sure to contact her later. Now, our agent made a mistake. He didn't know that the person he was talking to was Don Ferreyra himself., and after he left, he continued to follow her instead of following him. As soon as he reported the meeting to us and gave us the photograph of her with him, we ordered him to arrest her immediately and bring her here. She is currently in the interrogation room. Our forces are spread out throughout the city, but we can't cover all the cafes. If you can get her to tell us where is the meeting place, we can get there in ten minutes and arrest him. Come with me. Here, take her file. There are some details about her in the file that might help you with your interrogation, but we really need to hurry. Here she is in interrogation room number 3. She is already handcuffed to the capture chair and waiting for you."
[1] He glanced at his watch. "It's a quarter past four. You have exactly one hour and fifty minutes to get the information out of her. She is very sensitive to pain. We arrested her four years ago and the next day we brought her in for questioning. Even then, we suspected her of having ties to a subversive organization. We gave her three electric shocks during the interrogation. She screamed in pain like crazy. We were sure she would break down immediately, but that didn't happen. As I said, she is very sensitive to pain, and after the first electric shock we gave her, she fainted, and it took us almost ten minutes to wake her up. We tried to convince her to talk, but she was as silent as a fish. Despite her sensitivity to pain, she is very tough. We gave her another medium-level electric shock between her breasts, and her reaction was impressive. She screamed her heart out and released her bladder, and then fainted again, and this time it took us almost fifteen minutes to wake her up, but again we were unable to extract anything from her.
[1] The capture chair is a novelty in our interrogation room. The chair looks like a standard armchair, but as soon as the interrogator activates the remote control that looked like a camera, two half-tubes with a joint rose up from under the chair, clung to the woman thighs and calves, and four hidden straps burst out from under the chair, capturing her limbs and locking them with a click.
The third time we moved on to her genitals, you know – one pole deep inside the vagina and the other pole connected to a thick needle that we inserted through her urethra into her bladder, and again she fainted from the intensity of the pain, but refused to talk. We were going to use bleached needles to convince her, but then a hasty order came from above to stop the interrogation and release her. She must have had connections with some high-ranking figure. But this time we have clear evidence of her subversive activities. And I don't think anyone knows about her arrest at all. You have an hour and fifty minutes from now. You can use any means you can think of – electricity, bleached needles, dissection and extraction devices – you name it. If you can't get the information out of her by five fifty, there will be no point in continuing to interrogate her. She knows a lot about him, but what's important is to get our hands on him. Good luck!"
I quickly scanned the file - thirty-five years old - a year and a half younger than me - a master's degree in art history and a doctorate in computer science. A gifted pianist. She came from a privileged family in the north. Major Alfredo had noted in his handwriting: "She published several articles that contained implicit criticism of the government that only that only knowledgeable people can understand. Those idiots in the censorship department approved them for publication. They didn't understand what explosive material they contained. The articles aroused great interest among the elite and caused a stir that we were barely able to suppress."
I looked at the black and white photograph of her that had been included in the file and taken from an old newspaper. I could see that she was beautiful. I peeked at her through the small porthole. She was sitting upright, handcuffed to a chair and looking very relaxed. The photograph did not flatter her. She was a real beauty. As I looked through the few pages in the file, I began to formulate a course of action. I'll have to improvise and find an unconventional way to get the information out of her mouth, I thought.
I entered the room. I placed my briefcase and the small backpack with the sandwiches I was going to eat after class on the table. I sat down opposite her and watched her. She didn't look down. She had black hair tied in a ponytail with a gold headband. She had lovely silver earrings in her ears and a matching pendant around her neck. Her nails were varnished. She was wearing a quality dress that really flattered her. Her breasts were very large, but they blended well with her body shape. Her features were delicate but also indicated a firm and determined character. The task would not be easy – I thought to myself.
After a long moment of silence, I smiled at her. "Dr. Romero," I said to her, "you are a beautiful woman. It says here that you have a degree in art history and a doctorate in computer science. You are not only beautiful, but also smart. I look at you and see things that are not on the record. You are a wise woman and know your worth. I am sorry that we meet under such circumstances."
She did not respond, but something in the look she turned towards me suggested that my compliments were on target.
"I wish I had met you under different circumstances." I continued, "In a social club or at university or in a seaside resort. I would have fallen in love with you immediately. You are a year and a half younger than me. I believe I could have had a wonderful relationship with you, talking to you for hours about literature and art and music. I know that your political views are very different from mine. I have read your articles. You have an extraordinary power of expression. It is such a shame that we meet under such circumstances."
The corner of her mouth curved into a half-smile. I tell you: she is an unusually brilliant and intelligent woman. I suddenly understood why she smiled contemptuously.
"No, no," I continued, "you suspect me of trying to influence you in a pleasant way to change your political views. Let me tell you that such a thought never crossed my mind. I respect your opinions even if they differ greatly from mine, and I am wise enough not to try such a childish approach.”
She stared at me and smiled slightly. Her smile this time was one of appreciation. We were like a couple on a first date, examining each other. The first step was complete.
“Dr. Romero,” I continued, “under the present circumstances, I must follow our rules. I will have to remove your jewelry before we begin.”
I reached into her hair, removed the gold hairpin, and untied the elastic and pins. Her hair fell to her shoulders.
“I think you look much better with your hair down. You know, you have great hair. You used to look so formal with it up.”
I very gently removed her earrings and removed the pendant from around her neck.
“You have wonderful taste,” I commented, “And now the bracelets and rings.”
I released her hands, which were tied behind her back. I looked at her manicured nails and thought about the treatment I would give them next. The thought made me feel erotically aroused. I very carefully removed both bracelets and one of the rings. The remaining ring was fastened to her finger and I had difficulty removing it.
"Wait," I said, "I don't want to force it off."
I went to the cabinet and took out a small bottle of oil. I applied the oil to her finger and carefully twisted the ring and slowly managed to remove it from her finger. I wiped the remaining oil from her finger with a napkin, and placed the ring next to the rest of the jewelry neatly on the table.
"You will get them back when the interrogation is over." I said, "And now the watch."
I removed the watch and placed it at the top of the pile so that she could see the time. A thought crossed my mind. I remembered the role that watches play in the wonderful movie "High Noon" and Gary Cooper's wonderful performance as the lone hero.
"And now I have to ask you something. I need to take off your clothes. Those are the instructions, but I don't want to use scissors and cut them to pieces like they did the last time you were arrested." I knew this was standard practice in interrogations.
"I'll release you from the chair and let you take them off yourself. Okay?"
I activated the remote control and untied the straps that bound her. She looked at me with a puzzled look, but then she got up from the chair, stretched her limbs and began to undress without haste and without turning her back to me. She took off her dress. I handed her a hanger. "Hang it here in the closet. It's a shame it'll get wrinkled."
She did as I said, then went on to take off her bra and panties, folding them and placing them on the shelf in the closet. She took off her sandals, then without my asking she sat back down in the chair and put her hands behind her back.
"No, no," I said, "put your hands on the arms of the chair. You'll be more comfortable."
She obeyed. I turned on the remote control and handcuffed her.
"And now there are only two things left, and we can begin." I said.
I brought acetone solution and removed the nail polish from her nails. She looked at me strangely and frowned. I took out a small electric razor that women use to remove hair from the drawer. I shaved both of her eyebrows and erased the makeup lines that emphasized them, then with a makeup pencil I drew new eyebrows, curved upwards and asymmetrically, which gave her a grotesque expression. I held up a mirror in front of her and allowed her to observe her figure. She opened her mouth in surprise and looked at me with a pained look.
You must be wondering why I wasted precious time on such trifles, but I knew I was applying what I had learned in Miss Gomez's wonderful course: to respect, on the one hand, the feminine narcissism inherent in her, like in every woman, and on the other, to emphasize my absolute control over her. She understood this immediately. Her look said it all.
I looked at her naked body – a perfectly symmetrical body, a pair of firm breasts that any woman would be proud of. She was thin but not too slim. She had perfect, shapely legs.
Thoughts raced through me. The sight of her naked body aroused me. I was ready to embrace her and penetrate her. I was given complete control over her and could do with her whatever I wanted, and in the same breath the thought of having to destroy this perfect body and hurt her also crossed my mind. I knew that I would enjoy it erotically, that I would be able to realize many fantasies that I had dreamed of for a long time and that I would reach heights of pleasure and excitement that would not be measured, and at the same time I felt sorry for this feminine beauty that I would have to corrupt to achieve my goal.
