“Sir! As the footage shows, the faction had caught and imprisoned our agent three days ago. Communication with her had ceased at approximately 1600 hours. The footage we have been receiving indicates that they have been continuing their interrogations as recently as ten minutes ago today. The footage has been coming in every thirty minutes. There seem to be thirty-minute intervals every ninety minutes, indicating breaks in their administration of torture, before they begin once again.”

“At what time did they begin torturing her?”

“When they captured her three days ago, the video footage we received indicates they began at 1700 hours, sir.

Currently, we are unable to pinpoint their location and have no further information.”

“Damn it. She’s truly on her own. God, have mercy on her. Has there been any change in the footage throughout the ordeal?”

“No, Sir. The same two women have been continuously tormenting our agent. It has been the same continuous process. They have been using vibrators to bring our agent to the edge of orgasm repeatedly, stopping every time she has been close. They appear to take it in turns; as soon as one of them has brought our agent to the edge of orgasm, they switch around.

Earlier footage shows our agent screaming out for us to find her. As the footage continued, it changed from her screaming for us to screaming out for anyone to help her to then screaming out for mercy from the assailants. However, nothing had changed their pattern or methods of torture throughout the three days.”

“What pattern?”

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The Interrogation

Was it hours that had passed, or was it merely minutes? She had no idea. Time itself seemed lost in limbo. Her only measurement of being that seemed to exist now was whether she was coming, or just recovering from having climaxed. A hell of orgasms that would not stop.


No matter how many times she had told them all she knew, they would not relent in their interrogation, desperate to acquire the correct codes for her employer’s office. Her first mistake had been to side with them once in the past, when her ex-boyfriend had convinced her that her employer wouldn’t miss just a couple of the highly valuable paintings he kept there in his vast collection. The second mistake was to back out of the plan, having already told them that, being a close assistant to the boss, she was privy to the access code.

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