Syndicate #1

3

#3

Interrogation

Both Subjects are still trying to recover from the earth shattering climax, clear evidence of their release glaringly staining their inner thighs — not that they can see it for themselves — stickily clinging to them like a second skin. The world falls into silence after they reach their climax, and for some time, it remains that way, until the Subjects can feel hands on them. It’s those strange mechanical arms again, and this time they are there to clean them up. It’s weird that these stiff hands are rubbing at their genitals and feet — the later resulting in another pre-c*m leakage.

But the hands remove themselves from them before the Subjects can find their so desired release, left only to themselves once again. They can feel the chairs moving, separating them from one another. After that, they are left alone, long enough until the paralyzing effects wear off. The man tries to speak, but his throat is still too dry for him to even form a word, let alone a sentence.

Subject AZ101, Hassan, is then being transported to a different room. He is still blindfolded, but this cuffs are released. A pair of strident heels step closer. One of then women are there to direct him to a new room, which he can tell when he hears the sound of automatic doors opening and closing in soft hiss. The woman doesn’t talk, so he can’t really tell which one of them she is. Her hands are gentle though, and she guides him through a series of turns, before finally slowing down and plopping him down to a chair.

The room is breezy from air con, just like the rest of the place he can tell so far. There’s a desk in front of him, but that’s all he’s getting. The door closes, but a new pair of heels approaches, this one a tad heavier. Seconds later, he can feel a cool glass being pressed against his lips.

“Drink this.” That same seductive, velvety voice echoes through the room. Body Lady is here with him, and from the looks of it, the two of them are the only ones in the room.

At this point, he doesn’t even want to think much about it, just simply complies.

“Mr. Hassan, do you know why you’re here?” she asks.

The man shakes his head, then clears his throat. “. . . N-no.” She must have put something in the water, to cancel the drug that rendered him silent.

“Really? Not a clue? Not even a tiny bit?” There’s amusement in her tone. “Then how about this? I saw someone sucking on his toes in a hotel room while wearing a pair of pink lacy panties last night, and got off from it. Ring any bells?”

Hassan gulps at this. That’s an awfully detailed description. Can’t just be a wild guess. But how did she know? Cold sweat begins to form at his back. No one was supposed to know about that.

“. . . H-how did y-you . . .”

“How did I know?” she finishes for him. “I’m part of this specialized organization that allows certain types of privileges to happen, such as planting multiple hidden cameras that just so happen to be strategically placed all over your hotel room.”

He sinks into his seat hearing this.

“S-so . . . you saw . . .”

“From start to finish. But that’s not all.” She quickly types something at a keyboard nearby, before playing out a recording that gives away an all too familiar set up.

It’s him. Moaning. Cumming. Touching himself. Oh, God. This is so humiliating. He remembers doing this after he checking in, right inside the hotel bathroom. How did she get her hands on this recording? This file should have been safely tucked inside his personal computer, which he had brought for his trip.

“We know what you did, Mr. Hassan, and every single bit of your dirty little secrets. We saw you. We have eyes everywhere. We’ve got dirt on you in more than you can ever imagine.”

“W-what do you want?”

“Are you ashamed? You shouldn’t be. It’s rare to find someone as talented as you. Heck, we’re making so much money almost half an hour ago, and it’s all thanks to you.”

“W-what do you mean?”

“The live feed. Of you and Subject AZ102 jerking one another like animals in heat. We published you to our media all over the city, and the audience love it.”

“Y-you did what?” This time his voice is not hoarse because of drug side effect.

“Yes, you heard me. And we don’t regret taking you here to our headquarter. Your skills proved to have worth the effort in dragging you all the way here.”

“A-are you going to let me go?”

“Hell no. Didn’t you hear what I just say?” she snaps, a tinge impatient.

“T-then, what do you plan to do with me?”

Instead of answering, she cups him by this groin. “What’s this?” she sounds mildly impressed. “Are you getting aroused by this, Subject One?”

Hassan flinches when he feels her rubbing her hand at this half hard on, the sinful root poking shamelessly through his thin robes.

“W-why are you calling me that?” he stutters when he can form a string of thoughts again.

“That’s who you’ll be, while you’re still kept in here. I’ll address you as such from now on, and you,” she suddenly grabs hold of him and squeezes real tight like a snake, making him sucks on his breath, her grip around him so painfully tight that he doesn’t even dare to do an intake of air, “will call me Mistress.” She blows hot air into his ear, and that’s when he finally draws a shaky breathe.

The man is confused, terrified yet turned on at the same time — and he haven’t even seen her yet. In fact, he hasn’t seen any of them. While being kidnapped makes him feel scared, the bigger part of him wants nothing more than to have her touch him more. To touch his feet.

“Are we clear?” She squeezes again.

“Y-yes, we’re clear,” Hassan chokes out, and then he adds, “Mistress.”

He can feel her smirking through the blindfold — he just knows that somehow.

“Good. Now, I’m sure you’ve got question.” She retrieves her hand, backing away slightly, and Hassan almost contemplates whether to sound out his protest or not, but settles in letting out a shaky breath instead.

“W-where am I?”

“You’re in an underground lab inside a city called The Syndicate. And in case you haven’t catch the drift yet, we trade s*x. Well, s*x slaves, mostly, among other things.”

“Is that why you brought me here? To make me a s*x slave?”

“That’s a potential, yes, but you’re our test subject right now. And probably will stay so for some time. We don’t really keep Subjects for long, though.”

“Are you going to sell me?”

“That’s usually the idea. But how knows? If you’re useful, we might just decide to keep you.”

He tries not to get too culture shocked with all of these new changes, and instead asks, “We? As in, not just you?”

She chuckles at his question.

* * * * *

Angelina quickly pulls up the video, briefly eyeing the recording before going back to talking. The video is of Subject One getting himself off by using his feet, all while lying on the floor of the hotel bathroom — all which she has had the pleasure of seeing before. One of her assistants had helped her did a background search on this guy before they proceeded with the capture.

The boy is wrapped in all black like usual, wearing what appears to be his traditional clothing, doing some pretty naughty things that she’s sure shouldn’t be legal.

When he hears this, he appears stoic at first, squirming in embarrassment as she continues talking to him like nothing strange happens. One, in turn, eventually morphs from being shy to aroused. It’s such a nice expression on a man, when he is on a brink of arousal. So she keeps teasing him, clinging just around the border — for what she has in mind for a full blown s*x is something that she knows he’ll never imagine.

“W-why? What’s wrong with my question?” One tries to put up a brave front when he asks her about family. Yes, Dungeon in her home, and the people who work for her are her family. So of course if she wants to keep something in her home, she’ll still have to get the majority approval.

They don’t keep pets often. But when they do, she makes sure that everyone has a basic understanding. Just like how a normal family do.

“Well, aren’t you an eager one?” Angelina brushes the end of her heel against the back of his feet, taunting him. His breathing hitches once more, and the Director finds herself basking in his reaction. It’s almost too innocent for some reason, as if he’s not used to this. Hmm, maybe.

Wanting to lure him even more, she leans into him a little bit more, making him takes on a little bit of her weight. She wonders if he knows what she’s using to touch his foot, which are still bare, by the way.

“Tell me, do you have any idea what I’m doing now?”

“M-mistress . . . ?” The sound of her title rolling out from his lips makes her lips curve into a wicked smile.

“Tell me,” she orders, pressing into him even more, making the boy groans in return.

“Y-you’re stepping on my foot,” he starts.

“With what?”

“Y-your shoe heel?” This one comes out as a question. He sounds unsure, even though he’s correct. She wonders if it’s just a lucky guess, or because of something else.

“Tell me, are you aroused by this?” she leans in until her pouty lips almost brush against his earlobe. “By the thought of how close my foot is to touching yours? Just barely inches away.”

“Y-yes!” he hisses in response, almost choking on his own tongue.

Hearing his response makes her smile even wider. She lifts her leg to brush her heel against his calf, making him literally choke this time. “Wonderful,” she replies throatily, before suddenly back off again without as much of a warning, leaving him high and dry.

It takes One a few seconds before realizing that she’s not planning to continue, his mouth twisted in anger and disappointment.

“This is quite a nice collection you have, Subject One,” Angelina skims through his laptop again, as if she hadn’t just almost make him c*m. She knows that he is practically begging for it, but she’s not gonna allow him to be satisfied. Not now, at least. Besides, she needs to keep him excited in preparation for the next thing she has prepared for him. Right after this interrogation. “You certainly have been busy, with your laptop and your feet.”

His eyes bats fast when he hears this. “W-what . . . Those are private!” he protests, finally coming back to himself again.

She glares at him. The deadly silence must be getting to him, because he quickly adds, “. . . M-mistress.”

“Don’t forget,” she warns briefly, before going back to her usual amused tone again. “Anyway, not everyone has the ability to orgasm using his own two feet. I think you’ll be a great asset to our company.”

“Do-does that mean you’ll keep me? Be-because I think doing this has just been a secret dream of mine,” he lies shakily. She can easily tell because he’s jittering way too much now.

“Hmm, is that so?” Her tone is seduction and oh-so-inviting once more, not letting even an ounce of anger seeping through her voice when she speaks.

“Y-yes.” Another lie.

“That depends.”

“O-on?”

“On how long you’ll last.”

Liar, liar, pants on fire.

She begins teasing him again, but this won’t be enough to bring him to his release. She’s way too light with him right now.

“I-I’ll do whatever you want,” he whimpers.

“Really? Do really don’t mind us using you?”

“Y-yes.”

“Then don’t blame me if I’m taking your words on that.” She retrieves her leg all too quickly and returns to her usual firm tone. “There’s another test coming right up, and we’ll see if you can please us or not.”

Right on queue, the doors slide open and come Cara striding in, her honey blonde ringlets bouncing as she moves. The girl nods at her boss, throwing a smirk in the mix, before dragging Subject One back to his feet and out of the room.

“Tell Margot to bring in the next one,” Angelina calls out before the door completely closes.

Subject Two is brought out from the confines of her gyno chair, cleaned and redressed — the later suggested by the boss herself — before being lead out from the experiment room and head to the interrogation room, where Angelina, the Director, is expecting Two to arrive.

They wait outside until gestured to enter. Margot directs the girl to enter, grabbing Two by the upper arm, partially because Margot doesn’t want to risk the Subject escaping, and another part because Two is still too drugged to stand by herself.

The young woman is almost covered from head to toe, her hijab and abaya returned, thus only part of her face, hands and bare feet are actually shown. It shows just how slim and small her face is, as well as a healthy gleam of olive skin.

A woman is already sitting there waiting for Two, and the Subject is made to take a sit on the other chair opposed to the unknown woman. When that is done, Margot nods to her boss and takes her leave.

* * * * *

The Arabic woman is scared, her lips pulled into a tight front. She has no idea why she’s being brought to question. She doesn’t even remember how she managed to end up in this place. The last thing she remembers was wanting to grab a glass of water to drink at the kitchen. But she doesn’t remembering making it past the stairs. She briefly sees dark figure moving in the dark, before something hard hits her from the back of her head.

When she wakes up . . . well, technically, all of this still feels like an on and off dream to her. She recalls her body convulsing hard in the dark, like as if she had just ran a marathon. Then one more time. After each time, she briefly registers being extremely exhausted afterward, before falling into another sleep again. Her body parts tingle after that, and she’s still aching in between her legs even now. Strange.

The woman clears her throat, calling Suzan’s attention. “I’m Director Angelina Jolie. Do you know why you’re here, Ms Suzan?”

Is she a police officer? It seems like so, even though she doesn’t wear a uniform. But— Oh no. Why is she bring brought to this place? What has she done? Has she broken a law that she has no idea she has broken on?

“N-no,” Suzan mutters, then she begins asking a bunch of questions nervously. “Why am I here? I don’t know this place. How did I get here? I’m just a tourist. I don’t know anything.”

“Please do be quiet, Misses. I’m the one who asks questions around here,” the woman, Director Jolie, says. “It has been brought to my attention that there has been some suspicious activity occurring inside Armadon Villa. That’s where you’ve been staying since the last four days, isn’t it?”

Suzan licks her lips, finding them dry. She clears her throat. “S-suspicious? What do you mean? I don’t understand.” When those word flow out of her mouth, the young woman becomes even more frantic. “I have no idea what you’re accusing me out of. Whatever it is, I’ve never done such a thing. You have must got the wrong person—”

“Enough!” Director Jolie looks positively livid, her anger barely contained. “Didn’t I already ask you not to run your mouth? Why did you still do it? Are you doing this on purpose?” The brunette shifts in her seat, leaning back against her chair. “Should I bring in some reinforcement, just to prove how serious I am?” There’s a hint of dark promise in her tone when she speaks. Suzan has a gut feeling that this woman is dangerous, and that she is not to be messed with.

“S-sorry . . . You were saying?” Suzan apologizes quickly, troubled with this unexplained fear swirly in the pit of her stomach. Her head is throbbing again, this time paired with a splash of cold sweat.

The brunette tries to collect herself once more. “As I was saying, my investigators have informed me that they’ve seen some disturbing events playing out from one of the hotel rooms where your family stays; namely, your brother in law’s. Care to explain?”

“I-i don’t understand. What do you mean?”

“We have clear records showing that your brother in law, Mr. Hassan, has been performing some, let’s say, illicit activities.”

“W-what—? That doesn’t make any sense at all. What are you accusing him for? Why would he—”

“Either you shut up or I’ll be pushed to use brute force. Your call—”

“I mean, what is this place exactly? How dare you threaten me like this! With no basis whatsoever. I refuse to be treated like this—”

“You’re overstepping your boundary—”

“In fact, refuse to answer any of your question! Talk to someone else. Or even better, bring me a lawyer. I’m not gonna make any claims—”

“That’s it!” Director Jolie snaps, running out of patience. She’s no longer trying to talk to Suzan anymore this time. Instead, she turns to the computer in front of her and types something fast. “Bring them in,” she says to the microphone.

Seconds later, two bulky men in suits storm in, one African and the other Mestizo.

* * * * *

“It seems like our guess here needs some rehabilitation before she can be off use to me. Boys, please teach her a lesson.” Angelina’s voice comes smooth and deadly, like a calm before a storm. She doesn’t enjoy being interrupted, or talked down on, especially by someone like this Subject sitting across from her. The boys will roughen her up a little bit, just until Angelina is in a mood to talk again, and then they’ll continue where they were left off.

Suzan, Subject Two, stands up almost immediately, eyes bulging at the towering heights of the two men. “W-what is the meaning of this. B-back off! Back off, I tell you,” she says frantically, looking like a cornered animal. She stumbles a little bit as she does so. “This can’t be legal. I’ll make sure to sue your ass off, if you dare to hurt me.”

“Oh, doll,” the light in Angelina’s eyes disappear, replaced with an overcast darkness that reflects the soul inside, “they’ll do more than just hurt you.”

Two screams.

The bodyguards catch her.

They tear her clothes up like paper.

Her hijab is gone in the midst of struggle, her hair falls loose in messy curls that sticks to her face.

Her abaya is completely torn from the middle, exposing her chest and stomach. The men takes advantage of this exposure to yank the piece of clothes off her body, exposing flat stomach, as well as slender arms and legs.

Her body is bared of all of them to see. And even in her drugged mind, Two still knows modesty. She throws her arms around herself, trying to hide herself from their leering eyes.

More sounds of tearing ensues, as the Arabic woman intends to make this as difficult as possible for them.

The guards continue on tearing her clothes until Subject Two is stripped down to her set of underwear, shaking and crying.

Her lips squiver to form coherent words, but too shaken up to do so.

She’ll be rendered down into something much lower, but before that, the guards make sure that Two hears Angelina when she speaks.

“And just so we’re clear, I don’t like being talked down. So if you continue to be disrespectful, I’ll be forced to make sure that you’re thoroughly reeducated.”

The boss nods at the guards, and the two huge men simply continue, pulling down the zipper of their pants and allowing two equally huge c***s to spring free. The sight of their dark lengths are so crude that it causes Two to scream at the top of her lungs.

She screams and thrashes. When she proves to be difficult, the guards receive Angelina’s consent to roughen her up a bit more. They punch her by the guts, the collision hitting Two by her gut so hard, it causes the girl to lurches in response. She is about to come back up again, when another man slaps her square on her face. Hard. She screams in pain. She whimpers in her struggle to breathe through the throbbing pain. Two looks angry, hurt, and very much afraid. It’s almost a guarantee that she doesn’t dare to speak anymore.

Good. The girl learns. Angelina curves the corner of her lips, satisfied. 

Subject Two is shaking all over now. It is only by the face of danger that she really succumbs to the floor, where Angelina sees her most fitting at. The woman also knows that Two is far from used to seeing c***s — especially considering where the girl came from.

Angelina decides to let the moment taunt Two for a little bit longer, before she finally calls out on the guards.

“Stop.” The two men come to a halt right away when the order is heard. “Back off, I want talk to her for a bit.” By the time they do, Angelina can see that evident wounds have taken mark all over her once smooth and even skin. Serves her right.

“Are you afraid now, you meek Arabic b***h?” The Mistress’s tone is hard and cold, sending shivers to Two’s spine.

Her lips are trembling and tears are spilling down her face. Not thrusting her own voice, Two nods her head.

“That will teach you not to mess with me. You should be grateful that I even bothered to put on a nice act earlier on.” Angelina’s steel furry gaze makes her look much more dangerous. She was the power to do just about anything to the girl, including making the rest of Two’s life a living hell. She’s not one who plays nice to those who disrespect her, and this girl better learn it fast. She’s the one who lays out the rules in this place, and Two better remember it well.

Angelina lowers her hand to grazes Suzan’s marked face, the subject quivers in return.

“Do you understand what type of situation you’re in right now?” the woman asks.

The subject nods, way too eagerly this time.

“Use your voice.”

Two’s jaws shatter when she tries to move them, the pain from the punch really taking a toll on her already small and frail body. She knows that the men will go at her again if she doesn’t comply, so Two tries again. “Y-yes, I-I understand . . .” she croaks, her tongue catching the salty taste of sweat and tears when she opens her mouth.

“Call me Mistress.”

“Y-y-yes . . . M-mistress . . .” Two winches when she tries to talk again.

“I really don’t like it when someone raises their voice against me, especially to disrespect me. You’re in my territory right now, and the government can’t help you. I don’t really care how it’s done where you came from. But in here, my men won’t be afraid to discipline you in a heartbeat, if you dare to go as much as stepping outside the line even for just a little bit more. I won’t even bother to make them stop from raping you. They’ll use their huge c***s on you, penetrate you so hard until your filthy Arabic holes are all f****d up, you won’t even be able to close your legs anymore. And after that, you’ll be made a slave, and anyone and anybody can have you whenever they want. Do you understand, you filthy w***e?” Angelina yanks the roots entwined by her fingers harder, drawing out another cry of pain.

Tears run heavily from Two’s eyes — one of them marked with a gradually evident purple mark. One of the men had punch her hard over there. The pain stings her everywhere, but hearing Angelina’s treats only get her even more shaken up that it already is.

Angelina yanks at the girl’s her non-so-gently at a reminder of the Mistress’s impatience toward this girl.

“. . . Y-yes, Mistress—” she sobs bitterly.

“Good. Now that we understand each other perfectly clear.” Two falls back to the floor, hands and face hitting the ground when Angelina releases the knot of the girl’s damp hair. To the men, the woman orders them to escort the subject out.

Subject Two is thrown back out into the same waiting room, doors closed on her coldly so that she’s left to wail by herself ever so pathetically. She’s stuck in this state of shock. Her mind is way too shaken up to thinking properly.

Back to the Interrogation room, Angelina calls for her two trusted assistant. There’s much work to be done at the next stage. Hopefully they already get the initial preparations set up.