The Interrogator

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Was I in jail in Bangkok?

The unanswered question still rattles my brain. And there are others.

My confidential release agreement was with the Bangkok police department, but the facility was more like a mental institution than a place of incarceration for criminals.

As I sit awaiting Miss Denise, my mind wanders. Though it has been three years, everything remains so crystal clear.

Riding in the back of a police car, wrists handcuffed, a towel as my only covering, the police woman continuously gripped my left arm at the elbow. There was something about being nearly naked in her presence, the adrenaline flowing in the excitement of being arrested, if I was arrested, the thought of being controlled, directed against my will, well I suddenly found myself hardening, where a man normally likes to harden, only not in front of a woman police officer and not when at some point the ride will conclude and I will be escorted out of the car.

Yes, as the fast moving car bounced through narrow streets of Bangkok, the woman held more firmly, particularly around turns when she knowingly steadied my upper torso so I would not topple over. Once I realized I had a problem in the groin area, it became even more difficult to mentally control and the towel slowly tented as my manhood pressed against the folds.

Then the driver took an unexpected and fast turn. With nothing to hold, I leaned. The officer pulled me back and the motion caused my p***s tip to find its way through the opening where the two ends of the towel met. Guys know to cover themselves such that the ends of a covering overlap at the hip. In the hotel room, the woman had hastily covered me such that the overlap was at my pubes, just where my p***s was ardently attempting to poke through.

I was not sure whether she noticed my predicament, but when I pushed my feet together to draw closer my thighs and relieve the tension on the towel she objected. A torrent of Thai words flowed. Apparently, keeping one’s feet apart is mandatory in police custody, at least in Thailand, for when I did not respond to her admonition, she pulled out her nightstick and gruffly pushed against my right knee. This action ended all pretense as the towel parted altogether, and the tip of my turgid erection popped fully into view.

The look on her face was of alarmed disgust but quickly changed to amusement when she seemed to realize that the vaunted male p***s, though virile and normally respected in the Asian culture, was very much under her control.

There were more words, translation unknown, but the tone of her voice mellowed. Not to one of sympathy but more to one of pity and ridicule. As if to indicate ‘poor baby, all aroused and no available climax’. There was a phrase she uttered more than once, posed as a teasing question, which I guessed was something like ‘wouldn’t you like to stroke it?’.

Then her free hand brazenly pulled away the front of the towel altogether, and there I sat completely exposed. To make matters worse, she jostled my testicles with the end of her nightstick to afford herself a better view, then began to diddle the underside of my erection with the smooth polished wood.

Mocking words, which I subconsciously translated as ‘you like?’ were teasingly offered, and I worked to control myself as the nightstick stroked and the bouncing car added a perverse rhythm to her handiwork.

I was humiliated yet aroused, and my erection seemed to grow and rise to the point that I worried about the driver up front seeing the standing tip in the rear view mirror. When the car stopped in traffic, I became frozen with the fear, concerned that passers-by would see the depraved antics. My apoplexy, in turn, seemed to thrill the female officer. And of course there was the ultimate concern... finally capitulating to her weapon and ejaculating in the back of a patrol car.

The officer would, of course, deny all participation in such a degenerate act. That, I knew. So I fought off any arousing thoughts and mentally worked to control myself.

But alas, she seemed to sense pending climax for she perfectly timed respites of her diddling with the smooth stick to correlate with those moments when I frantically pulled on my handcuffs... which she rightfully interpreted as unbridled attempts to stroke myself to climax.

She worked then stopped, worked then stopped. Finally, with a glance out the window to ascertain our location, my tormentress abruptly thwacked the very tip of my p***s with the end of her nightstick. I gasped in agony as my proud erection quickly detumefied like a pricked balloon. This brought laughter and some words I interpreted as gloating from the woman in control.

As the patrol car turned into a drive, the seemingly delicate hands, which had so callously deflated my erection, reached over my lap and gently folded the towel over my pubic area.

I wanted to hug her in gratitude.

In hindsight, I admire the entire subterfuge. Rather than vociferously proclaiming my rights as an American citizen, protesting my treatment, threatening to call the American embassy, I spent the entire ride concerned with the exposure of my privates and the licentious deeds of my captor. When the patrol car pulled to a halt, I was more occupied with my nudity than any legal issues.