Say The Word
By Margaret Price

The room was like so many other interrogation rooms Klaus had seen over his long carrier. This one was of old school, though. Chains on the bare stone walls that were meant to intimidate. Small barred windows set high that let in very little light. The room itself dark, with the exception of a glaring light directly overhead.

He was lying on a table, his limbs held down with heavy restraints. He was also naked, which he tried not to think about. Just another tactic to humiliate him. Good luck, he thought as his interrogator pulled a cart covered with what could only be the implements of torture closer to the table. Many had tried to break Iron Klaus over the years. None had succeeded.

“I will not talk,” Klaus stated flatly, as the Interrogator came and stood over him. The man was dressed in the old school style, too. All in black, a hood over his face so he would be unable to identify him later.

“Yes, you will,” came the equally flat reply.

“You can peel all the skin off me. I still won’t talk.”

“Ugh! That would be very messy,” the Interrogator replied as he moved down near his prisoner’s feet. “I prefer more…subtle techniques. Leaves less evidence, you see.”

Klaus tried to look directly at him, but found it impossible to move. He had restraints on his arms, legs and across his chest, effectively holding him into place. “Who do you work for?” he demanded. “KGB?”

“Oh, no. No soldiers in jackboots for me. I’m freelance.”

“Freelance?”

“Yes. Information to the highest bidder,” came the dismissive reply. “The Soviet Union can be very Capitalistic when it comes to buying information. They’re very interest in you.”

Klaus struggled briefly upon hearing this. “Bloody bastard! Have you no loyalty?”

“I leave that to you Boy Scouts.” The Interrogator pulled the cart slightly closer, repositioning it so it would be in easy reach. “Now, you know the drill. Just say the word and I stop.”

“I will not talk,” Klaus replied coldly. He frowned when the man moved away to do something across the room before returning.

“Almost forgot to turn it on,” the Interrogator said.

“Turn what on?”

“The video camera.”

Klaus’s eyes grew wide. “You’re taping this!”

“Of course.”

“You son-of-a-bitch!” Klaus began struggling anew.

“Just tell me what I want to hear, and I’ll let you have the tape.”

“Never!”

“Fine. There are quite a few people interested in seeing the interrogation of Iron Klaus.” The Interrogator swept his eyes over the German’s naked form. “In fact, there’s one party in particular who wants to see you just like this.”

“Goddamn bloody fucking pervert!” Klaus snarled.

“That’s him.”

“I’m gonna kill you when this is over!”

“Just tell me what I want to hear.”

“Never!” Klaus repeated vehemently.

“Oh, good,” the Interrogator said in a delighted tone, rubbing his hands together. “I love a challenge.” He reached down under the table, releasing a lock. “Must have better access…” he said as the bottom half of the table hinged open, spreading his captive’s legs wide.

“Fucking bastard!” Klaus growled, pulling as his restraints. “Just get on with your torture.”

“Torture? Who said anything about torture?” The black clad man stepped between the officer’s spread legs. “That’s against the Geneva Convention or something, isn’t it?” He started to rub his hands up and down his prisoner’s legs. “Is pleasuring against the Convention, Major?”

Klaus’s eyes grew wide, his body going rigid as the hands lightly played over his body. “You’re a Goddamn pervert as well as a traitor!” he spat.

The Interrogator ignored the insult, reaching over to the cart. “Have you ever heard of the ‘Tickle Torture,’ Major?” he asked, holding up a long feather.

Klaus merely grunted. “I’m not ticklish.”

A few passes of the feather verified this statement and the other man put the feather down. “Let’s try something else, then. A little stimulation, just to get things going.”

Klaus was almost afraid to contemplate what this might be in this bizarre interrogation. Then he caught his breath as nipple clamps were put into place. Not painfully tight, but enough for him to know they were there. “Get those off me, you son-of-a-bitch!”

“Just tell me what I want to hear, Major.”

“When hell freezes over!”

“Well, I didn’t think it would be that easy.”

What followed was the Interrogator using a wide array of sex toys, lubricants, and other objects, the purpose of which were to prepare the way for entry into his prisoner’s body. Klaus endured the humiliating procedures as foreign objects were inserted into him, refusing to talk, refusing to submit, despite the fact that he knew what all this was preparing the way for. This did not prevent him from screaming every obscenity he could think of at the other man.

“I think you’re ready,” the Interrogator purred as he made a show of removing his pants, revealing a very impressive erection. He pressed the head of his penis against his prisoner’s body, applying a generous amount of lubricant to himself. “Just say the word and I’ll stop.”

“Do your worst!” Klaus said between clenched teeth. “I will not fucking talk.”

There was a giggle in reply. “Maybe you’ll talk while fucking.”

“Goddamn pervert!” Klaus snarled. He threw his head back, and drew a sharp breath as the man pressed against him, entering his body, gliding slowly back and forth until he was completely inside him. Then his own penis was being stroked with slick hands, growing hard with each pass.

“Tell me what I want to hear, Major.”

Klaus pulled at his bindings, thrashing unsuccessfully, his head shaking back and forth, a loud cry escaping him as the other man thrust deep. “I…I…will…nnnnnot…” He cried out again as the man started a steady rhythm of thrusts that struck the bundle of nerves deep inside him, sending a jolting wave through his body. “Aaagh!”

The Interrogator gave a satisfied grunt as his prisoner bucked and thrashed beneath him, one hand still caressing the man’s erection while the other stroked the nipples still trapped in the clamps. “Hard to talk now, isn’t it, Major?”

“Bbb….Baassss…Bassstarrd!” Klaus managed finally.

“Say the word and I’ll stop.”

Klaus made a show of clamping his mouth shut. This only seemed to spur the other man on, his thrusts growing faster, harder, deeper, striking that point inside with maddening accuracy.

After what seemed an eternity, Klaus came with a sound that was a combination of a groan and a growl. A moment later, the Interrogator came as well, empting himself hot and deep in his prisoner’s body.

The room was quiet some minutes as the pair got their breath back. The Interrogator extracted himself from his prisoner’s body, silently cleaning himself and then dressing before going on to clean his prisoner and check for any signs of injury. No evidence of torture, he thought with a smile.

“Your reputation is well deserved, Major. You’re a tough man to break,” the black clad man said. He dropped the towel on the cart before moving to the head of the table so he could look into his prisoner’s eyes.

Klaus responded with a non-communicative grunt.

After a thoughtful moment, the Interrogator asked, “What would induce you to say what I want to hear?”

Klaus looked up, meeting the inquiring gaze. “Let me see your face.”

This was not the answer the other man was expecting. “Really?”

“Yes.”

The hood was quickly pulled off, allowing a mass of blond curls to tumble free. Dorian leaned closer to his lover until he was almost nose-to-nose. They’d played this game dozens of times before. In fact, it was one of their favorites, allowing the officer to accept and reject the Earl at the same time while screaming obscenities at him to his heart’s content. But in all the times they had played out this scenario, Iron Klaus had never come close to saying the three words that Dorian wanted to hear. He’d never used the safe word, either, but that wasn’t the information his lover was interested in.

“Well?” Dorian said sternly. “Tell me what I want to hear, Major!”

Klaus gave a small smile and raised his head to kiss him. “I love you.”

* * *