Then a voice in my ear. "Stay still and I won't hurt you any more than I am. Don't scream, no one is going to hear you. And don't say that your boyfriend will be back any moment. He's out cold in the kitchen. Now I'm going to ask you three questions and I want a truthful answer." And he gave a twist of my nips in the opposite direction. I squirmed and whined my displeasure.

"A few weeks back you wrote a story in which you mentioned a certain man, a certain agency, and a certain folder. How did you get that information?"

I made it up, I told him. I make up all my stories.

"So you're not really into this bondage stuff you write about?"

Well, yes, I am, my lover and I play our games. In fact I was expecting you to be him, tie me up and finger me and well, other things.

"Yeah, sure. Now tell me, where'd you get those names."

I told you, I made them up. I don't know anyone with that name, I just put three initials together for an agency name, and the folder name is off a can of soup. Please, I'm telling you the truth.

He gave my nips another twist then grabbed my hair and spun me around, unrolling a coil of plastic wrapped metal wire around my chest and upper arms and the chair. I tried to kick at him as I went around but to little effect. He was wearing a full ninja cloth, though his eyes did not say Asian. I almost laughed at his, but he was obviously not my bodyguard, or anyone I knew.

You work for that agency I named? There really is one like that? But he did not answer, only cuffed my wrists to the chair arms. These were also plastic wrapped. My bodyguard had been in Air Force Intelligence (yeah, I know, an oxymoron) and once commented about such items that would not leave the usual binding marks on a person's body.

Oh my God, you're for real. No, honestly, I made it all up. Please you have to believe me. He spun me around to face him, put his hands on my breasts and began to squeeze. "I don't believe you. And when I'm finished you will tell me the truth."

I screamed for help, for my lover, for the new neighbor next door, the nice lady who was so interested in my writing. I realized that someone had read my story, and it must have sent so-called flags up at that agency, and they, probably with the patriotic assistance of the internet provider, had found my address. I told him again I wasn't a threat, just a writer of fiction. He spun me around to face my computer. I watched as an image of a pretty girl shackled to the back of a truck, what I thought was a 3d poser, suddenly changed to the truck backing up into a warehouse dock, the girl spewing blood out over the dockway. Then the image began to burn in the middle and a whole series of skewed lines of differing fonts scrolled quickly finally going blank. My favorite screensaver, a puppy running thru a field of flowers came on. As it began to frazzle around the edges and fade completely off the Ninja was working on my breasts.

I looked down at the wooden skewer placed against my right nipple. Felt it edge in, the bend of the nipple until the tissue gave way and then the skin extending out the other side until the skin again gave way with a sting I'd never known before. I screamed, but the room is in the back and my neighbor was probably not home from her job. I squirmed and tried to move my bound chest away from him. But the thin stick moved on thru my nipple to the other and again the same pressuring and another sting as it exited the other side. I begged, I stamped my bare feet on the rug, I felt my pussy wanting to piss. I noted the stick had a groove in it as the Ninja asked me once more the three questions. I shook my head, tears running down my face. It's all made up, honestly.

"The Federal Government gave up on honesty back in 2002. Now tell me what I want to know."

I told him exactly what I had said before. Now he began to sprinkle a powder along the groove, some of it spilling off and falling on my shaven mound. I asked what he was going to do. He simply told me to answer his question. I can't I cried. And then the powder ignited and burned rapidly along the stick, burning my nipples and that area on my mound. I squirmed in agony, trying to shake the damn powder off before it burned down onto my clit hood. This time I could not hold my piss and made a mess on the chair and rug. The middle of the stick broke and each stick end pointed in a different direction. He cupped my breasts and pushed them up for me to see the damage better. My tears fell on my poor nips. He laughed. Yanked one stick out of a nip and stuck it up into a nostril. "Want it down there next?" Then put it down against my pussy labia. “You'll love it down here.”

I was about to tell him a lie, make up a story of how I had learned all about it from my lover, but that would endanger him, and could be easily checked. If I tell the truth you don't believe me, if I tell a lie you'll probably know I'm lying. You're a modern day witchfinder I yelled at him. Then I heard my neighbor's lilting voice. She sometimes came over while I was writing and would sit beside me staring at the computer as I wrote a story. Cooing at my innovative ways to bind and put a woman in peril. And we'd even made love afterwards. Now I was in peril, and she was too.

"Your back door is open, and I thought I heard you scream. Are you all right? Where's what's his name?" She was walking thru the halls to the studio. I started to scream at her to run. But suddenly one of my cast off sneakers was pushed up onto my face, my lips crushed into the inner sole, one eye closed against the open canvas flap, and the other eye just able to look around at the shoelaces rapidly being tied behind my head. I was spun around and could see the open doorway to the hall. I bounced in the chair, one stick still stuck in a nipple, still aching from the torture.

She walked in and halted, then leaned her shoulder on the doorway, wearing jeans and a light shirt. "Well, look at you. Trying out a new routine for your next story?" She was chuckling at the obvious stupid face gag. I couldn't say anything. I couldn't warn her not to come in any further, but she did and the Ninja was behind her with a couple of karate chops that knocked her out onto the floor. She lay face up with her face turned away. He stood over her. "Tell me. NOW."

I cried. How the hell was I suppose to get this maniac to believe I was telling the truth. I had no idea what he had done to my lover, what else he had in store for me, or for my new friend. And I couldn't make a suitable noise with the damn shoe on my face, the idiot.

Then I watched as he pulled out a gun from one of his leg pockets. He aimed it at her throat. I shook my head. He came over and released the shoe.

"I can't tell you what I don't know. I made it up,it's all just a horrible coincidence."

"The Federal Government doesn't believe in coincidences."

I cried that I didn't know anything. He went back to her and put the gun between her legs, approximately at her anus. "Agency name, where did you get it." I told him I had just let my fingers tap at the keyboard. He pulled the trigger and her body bounced. I screamed at him. He put two more shots into her, the first one into her left breast, her body twitched but not when he put the other into her right breast.

He turned the gun on me. Go ahead, kill me, I said.

But he wouldn't. Came over and turned the chair down onto the floor. He reached between my thighs and spread my labia, and poured more of the powder into me. I waited for the horrible burning of my pussy, but nothing happened. He then slapped my breasts hard until they were both red. "I just love spanking tits." He said as an explanation of this unauthorized method of interrogation. Then he stopped as if listening to someone on an earphone. He released the cuffs and the wire and let me lay on the floor across the room from my dead friend. I closed my eyes as he lay down and fucked me. He finished inside me then sat me back up on the seat, diddled me with his finger. "You write...nice." I came and he went. I guess. I slumped...

I got up from the floor where I had been playing dead, fake blood squirts on the front of the shirt and the seat of my jeans. Good shooting I told my partner. I slapped the face of the writer, making sure she was not faking being passed out. "Okay, I believe she actually stumbled onto those names. So, finish up the usual way."

I went back to my house, disengaged the monitors to her computer and phones. E-mailed my assessment to my boss. My partner returned, stopping to raid their refrigerator of a six pack of beer. Just had to fuck her? I asked him. "Well, you had. Should have seen her face when I poured the baby powder into her pussy." Then he passed me one of the beers just as the furnace next door blew up. We changed into flannel pajamas and ran outside so the neighbors could watch as we tried to unsuccessfully enter the burning house to save the couple inside.