Esme’s Interrogation is one of 17 stories collected in my e-book Weird Science – Stories of Erotic Experiments, available for $3.99 USD in the store. Purchases fund the creation of new, free content! (Click here to view.)

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One

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Esme had thought of nothing but her cunt for a week.

After she had cracked under Commandant Thorn’s interrogation, and given the hatred Federation of Yorv the secret to controlling women’s minds, she had thought the Federation would have no further use for her.  But, to her surprise, she had been taken to the command post’s medical unit.

There she was treated by Federation nurses – bare-titted bimbos, for the Federation did not let any women in military service cover their breasts.  They put her on a medical table, exposed Esme’s cunt, and used a gun to fire a small implant into Esme’s pussy flesh.

Esme soon learned to hate that implant.  It served two purposes.  The first was to stimulate the nerves in Esme’s cunt, keeping her constantly aroused, around the clock.  As Esme’s cuntflesh engorged and her pussy wettened and her nipples stiffened, it didn’t take long for Esme to find herself fixated on the needs of her fuckhole, and the overwhelming desire to orgasm.

Which was where the device’s other evil function came into effect.  It wouldn’t let her cum.  It controlled a critical nerve in her groin, and Esme simply couldn’t reach orgasm, no matter how wet she got.

Commandant Thorn laughed, when he visited her in her cell the next day and found her frantically masturbating without release.  “The device can be temporarily disabled,” he told her.  “It requires a strong electrical shock to your pussy.  If we fire a Taser into your cunt, you’ll have a window of about five minutes in which you could orgasm before the device re-activates.”

Esme moaned.  “Please,” she whimpered.  “Please.  Use a Taser on my cunt…”

Thorn laughed.  He walked across to Esme and used one polished black boot to kick her hands away from her pussy, and then placed his foot between her legs and pressed the leather toe of the boot into her twat.  Esme whimpered.  Then Thorn took his cock out of his pants and pushed it against Esme’s face.

Esme remembered that she hated this man, and hated his country.  She shut her mouth and turned her head away, letting the cock poke against her cheek rather than accepting it into her mouth. 

Thorn only laughed, and pushed his foot further into Esme’s cunt.

Esme moaned, and whimpered, and then her need to cum won out over her principles.  If she was nice to Thorn, he might Taser her pussy.  So she turned back towards him, and opened her mouth, and he pushed his cock inside for her to suckle on.

She looked up at him with puppy dog eyes, hoping for a reward, but her only reward was a mouthful of cum several minutes later, which she swallowed.

“If you want to orgasm, you will have to work for it, Dr Esme,” said Thorn.  “Be a good bitch and put that ridiculous female brain to work for us.”

“Don’t you already have what you want from me?” asked Esme.

“Ah, Esme, if your mind control worked, we would not need implants to make you a well-behaved fuck-bitch.  Your work is incomplete,” said Thorn.

“No,” said Esme.  “I was sure…”

“Mind controlling every woman in the nation with a single broadcast is a long way off, apparently,” said Thorn.  “However, we *can* use your work to control the mind of individual women.  So far it only works on natural blondes – so your dye job rules you out – and it requires very complex mathematics based on their individual DNA to ‘tune’ the process.  We have found it very demanding and slow.”

Thorn drew back his foot, then swung it forward and idly kicked Esme in the cunt.  Esme gasped, and knew that if only the implant wasn’t doing its job, she would have cum from the shock and pleasure of the impact.  She tried to kiss the leg of his pants, hoping to please him enough to be allowed to orgasm.

“We think that you can do it faster, Esme,” said Thorn.  “We think that your knowledge of the process will let you ‘tune’ these women far quicker than we can manage it.”

Esme thought about it, and even through the haze of arousal, she knew that he was right.  She could already visualise the process he was talking about.

“You’ll let me cum if I help you mind control these women?” she said.  And then, a spark of rebellion returning to her, she said, “Well, it’s too bad.  I won’t help you enslave other women.  You’ve already gotten far too much out of me.”

Thorn laughed.  “Oh, Dr Esme,” he said.  “No, not at all.  I don’t want to go through this song and dance with you every time we have a new girl to tune.  What I want you to design is an interrogation technique we can use on you to make you do what we want.”

Design her own interrogation?  Esme was horrified.  She wouldn’t do it.

But an hour later, she found herself strapped tits-up and naked to a metal table.  Her legs were spread wide open, her cunt bare.  Commandant Thorn stood at the head of the table.  He pulled her head back, so she was facing his groin, albeit upside down, and stuffed his cock into her mouth.  She moaned, and tried to spit it out, but she had no freedom to move, and eventually she started sucking, as there was nothing else to do.

“Now, Dr Esme,” said Thorn.  “It’s very simple.  I’m going to hurt you.  The pain will stop, and you will be allowed to cum, when you design your interrogation technique.”  And with that he took a long leather belt, and lashed it downwards, so that its tip landed right between her legs, on the wet, puffy mound of her cunt.  Esme squealed around her mouthful of cock.

SLAP.  SLAP.  SLAP.  Again and again the belt whipped Esme’s cunt.  After a while, Thorn orgasmed into her mouth.  He pulled his cock out to wipe it on her face, and then put it back in her mouth again, and kept whipping.

Pain and pleasure blurred for Esme.  Her cunt hurt so much, and it wanted to cum so badly.  But she couldn’t design her own torture…. Except that she already had.  She could see it clearly, how she would make herself betray women and sell them into mind-controlled slavery.

“Mmff,” she said suddenly around Thorn’s cock.  “Mmmf!”

“What was that, Dr Esme?” asked Thorn, removing his cock.  “Do you want to tell me your plan?”

She didn’t want to tell him – but she told him anyway, and he laughed with delight, and instructed an assistant to fire a Taser into Esme’s cunt.

It hurt like fire, and did something funny to her mind, but as soon as the Taser was discharged, a pretty nurse was kneeling between Esme’s legs and licking at her pussy, and Esme managed to cum four times before the implant switched back on.  She had never been happier.

The next day, they put Esme in a room with a pretty blonde woman, mature but stunning.  Esme knew who it was – it was the president of her country, a woman Esme had looked up to as a role model and feminist icon.  She had been the country’s first female leader, beloved by her people.

Her tits were bigger and faker than Esme remembered.  The Federation of Yorv had forced the president to have a boob job since they had captured her.  The president was also completely nude, and she was wearing a leather collar, and her hands were cuffed to the collar, keeping them near her neck and leaving her unable to defend herself. 

“What’s going on?” asked the president.  “Who are you?  What are you doing?”

“I’m a scientist,” said Esme.  “The Federation wants me to give them the maths that will let them control your mind.  I remember how you used to do nightly addresses to the nation on the state of the economy, the military, the arts and so on.  The Federation wants you to keep making the addresses, only you’ll be nude and covered in cum, telling the nation’s women that they need to be good fuckpuppets and let the Yorvian soldiers rape them.  And you’ll really believe it, because they’ll control your mind.”

“No!” said the president, horrified.  “You can’t!  You can’t betray your nation that way!”

“I don’t want to,” said Esme.  “But I will want to, later.  You see, I’m very horny right now.  I haven’t cum in 24 hours, and I’ll just keep getting wetter.  They’re going to lock me in here with you.  They won’t let me touch my own cunt – if they see me do it, they’ll run in and restrain me.  So after a while, I won’t be able to help myself.”

She looked numbly at the other woman.  “I’m going to rape you, Madam President.  I’m going to rape you again and again, to satisfy my pussy.  Only I won’t be able to cum.  But every time I rape you I’ll respect you less and less.  And eventually the idea of turning you into a Yorvian fuckslave won’t bother me at all.  Certainly not compared to my need to cum.  So eventually I’ll go over there to that workstation in the corner, and I’ll do the math that will let them control your brain, and the soldiers will come in here and gang-rape both of us.  Only they’ll shock my pussy first, so that I’ll be able to cum from it, and I’ll orgasm happily, and then they’ll take me back to my cell until they have another woman they need me to enslave…”

The president was backing away hurriedly.  But there was nowhere to go in the small cell.  “This is monstrous,” she said.

“I know,” said Esme.  “It was my idea.”  Her cunt was throbbing with need and shame.  “You know,” she said, “I’m going to rape you eventually.  I’m wondering whether there’s any real point in delaying the gratification.”  She advanced towards the president, grabbed her, and pushed her down on the ground.  Then Esme straddled the president’s face, pushing her cunt against the lips of her nation’s former leader.

“Be a good president and start licking,” she told the other woman.  She felt the hot wetness of tears against her inner thighs as the president started to cry, and then the warmth of the president’s tongue tentatively push between Esme’s cunt lips.  Esme sighed happily.

“And I’m sorry,” Esme continued.  “I know I can’t cum, but it’s so frustrating to be so close and not orgasm.  I suspect I’m going to feel like I *could* cum if only you were a bit better at licking, so I’m probably going to hurt your tits and pussy to give you some incentive once I’m close…”

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