Military Man….

I’ve been an Interrogator for as long as I can remember.

I distinctly recall sn incident when I was a small child, I tied my neighbor to a plastic lawn chair with two jump ropes. I decided the only logical way to find out of he “like-liked” me was to question him – like this.  My little-girl logic was that if I simply asked him, he could lie, but if I was tickling him while he was inescapably bound to plastic garden furniture, he would have to tell me the truth. Sure, why not. Also, if I didn’t get the answer I wanted, he would still be helplessly tied up. I think I was about 7 at the time, but it seemed like an instinctual thing to do. I have to admit that it went quite well, I remember going home that day with his gameboy in my back pocket (a gift so that I would untie him) and a kiss on the cheek to prove he really did like me. It was a successful venture for a girl my age.

My next interrogation came in highschool, I tied a lovers hands together with a rosary I used to wear around my waist. It was polished black, very delicate and this individual did NOT want to incur my wrath if he snapped it, so he held his hands tightly in place while I questioned/teased/tormented him.  It fed me sexually – to hold someone against their will, to break them down, to slowly see them give in more and more….then finally – they are all your’s. Their will gives out and you become the only thing in the world that matters. They’ll say and do ANYTHING to make you happy, answer any question you want, tell you whatever you want to hear.

When I began my career, I dabbled gently with this fetish, mostly on either newbies or masochists who wanted to test their limits.

With newbies, when they were under my control – fastened strictly and properly threatened, they were free from burden to confess their darkest secrets to me. They didn’t have a choice in the matter so it made the “confession” very easy for them. Let me say here – MOST people I see/have seen, have a very hard time talking about their kinks. Some people have no issues with it – and I LOVE when that happens but a good percentage of boys who come to see me as a Mistress, have a hard time breaking down and opening up. It’s not only difficult to talk to a stranger about what makes you lose sleep at night, but openly speaking the words, accepting it yourself and asking for these indulgences is pretty difficult for a lot of people.  Interrogation made it easy, they either told me everything that got them off, or very simply – I punished them HARD. I was happy either way.

Masochists got to lean on the very limits of their pain threshold if they chose to withhold the information I was after. It was a beautiful exchange and always highly amusing. I suppose this is when I truly discovered my sadistic side. I’m not just talking about a love for dishing out pain, I mean I was unphased by it. I would mock my captives as their eyes bugged out in exquisite agony. Of course, they never uttered their safewords which I happily would have respected, but it was still a control I’ve never felt before.

It became a more popular request in my early 20’s, interrogation was a “fad” in the South Florida BDSM scene if you can believe that. Despite it being terribly common, I still wildy enjoyed it. Having a chance to sharpen my technique on a near weekly basis was sheer excitement for me….except for one client in particular who made me absolutely nuts.

 He wanted me at my worst but no matter what, he was a stone wall. It was like playing with a corpse.  I couldn’t break him and believe me I tried everything. Highly masochistic, very detached, no ego….nothing. I couldn’t get through and by all accounts, I couldn’t read him – I had no idea if he was even enjoying himself. He kept coming back so I must have been doing something right. His eyes would glaze over and occasionally I would notice a bead of sweat form on his eyebrow, but aside from those TINY hints of humanity, I could have been trying to manipulate a bag of sand. I realized after our second appointment that I would need to change my tactic. My questions for him began to shift, to something more personal… “Why is this so easy for you”.

But it was as if I asked the million dollar question. His eyes shot open.

I got to him and I knew it….”You’ve been interrogated before haven’t you…in a very REAL situation”….I trailed.

He nodded yes….

Our session took a very dramatic turn. He confessed his military background, he had been captured, “held” and was rescued. He never elaborated on exact details, I could see he worked HARD to turn a horrible experience into one he could enjoy sexually…or maybe it was that he was reliving it, but with more control….more safety. Regardless, I told him that I was happy to continue seeing him on one condition – he would teach me what he knew about REAL interrogation and how soldiers are trained to resist, cope and confuse.

He happily agreed.

It’s been a very interesting skill to have in my pocket…even now, when I do such sessions I wonder if my poor captive pets have any idea what they are up against.