By JerryB
“We know that you have information that we need Mr. Bond and that you will share it with us soon.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about.” James Bond found had been captured by enemies of the British Commonwealth many times and had never disclosed state secrets, even under the most severe torture. His hardened body bore the scars of these interrogations. Only by luck and skill had he avoided death at the hands of megalomaniacs set on dominating the world.
James had been attending a fund raising event on the French Riviera when the six foot two inch agent found himself surrounded by five armed men. He was quickly escorted into a near by unmarked black Renault Vel Satis. Alone in the back seat, a clear panel separated him from the driver. Almost immediately he could smell a sweet scent and began to feel light headed. He realized that it was nitrous oxide as he could feel the pulse in his ears. His head was spinning and soon he was unconscious.
When he awoke he found himself strapped to a padded chair. One strap held his chest fast against the over stuffed leather seat. Each thigh was strapped down as were his upper arms and wrists. The position did not allow for much movement, but was reasonably comfortable. He wondered why so much attention had been paid to the quality of the restraints.
His captor stood above him. He was a dark skinned man in paramilitary garb. 007 could not see any insignia on the uniform. The man stood about 5′ 10 inches tall with a muscular build, approximately 180 pounds. Bond could not identify any marks on his skin save for a small scar over his left eyebrow. His face was cleanly shaved, his hair dark brown and full, his eyes dark brown. He guessed his age to be mid thirties, 32 to 36.
“I believe introductions are in order. My friends call me Amir. Before we are through tonight, I am hoping that we will become great friends Mr. Bond.” The man spoke with an international accent. Although his name and appearance indicated that he might be from the Middle East, his accent was a blend of Italian, French with even a bit of German inflection. Apparently this man had lived in many places in his life and likely spoke many languages. “I have been hired to talk to you about British forces stationed at various locations across the Middle East. I am a patient man and I am certain that before long, you will want to share everything you know.”
This style of narcissistic posturing did not surprise 007. Right now his attention was focused more on his surroundings and how he was going to escape from this predicament. The room was small, perhaps 12′ by 15′. Aside from the chair, there was a large over stuffed ottoman near by. Across the wall behind his captor was a large mirror. Obviously there were other people behind the mirror who had a view of the room. This would make it nearly impossible to escape without the enemy knowing.
Behind the glass stood a slender, spectacled man, Dr. Stanton. The doctor had been retained to apply experimental technology he had developed for the purposes of obtaining information from enemy captives. He had developed a device that used microwave technology to precisely stimulate areas of the human brain. As Mr. Bond sat unconscious in the chair for the past hour, the machine had been mapping the regions of his brain. It now had a very accurate picture of the inner topography of Bond’s brain. The doctor was ready to begin giving Bond a series of electrical stimulations. Although he had experimented on many patients, this was the first time his machine had been used for an interrogation. The doctor selected an area within the right temporal lobe, to begin stimulating of one of the points in the amygdale.
Amir stood calmly in front of James Bond, simply smiling with his arms folded comfortably. It was not unusual for interrogators to begin with a friendly manner to test a subject. Fear of torture can often break someone who lacks proper training. Bond continued to assess his surroundings. The wide straps on the chair were strong enough to hold him for now, but with a little effort, he could escape from them. All it would take is a few moments alone. Glancing upward, Bond noticed that there were several antennas in the room focused towards the center. This gave him pause. Perhaps there was more to this room than it appeared.
“You have recently returned from Egypt, Mr. Bond.”
“A brief vacation.”
“I think it might have been both a business and a pleasure trip.”
“No, simply an excursion.” James said. 007 heard a faint humming in the room, like a small electrical motor. Quite unexpectedly, he felt himself relax. The tension left his body and he seemed to sink more deeply into the padded chair. He felt a pleasant tingling sensation in his head and he actually smiled.
“I see that you are finding your surroundings more comfortable Mr. Bond.”
“Why am I here?” he asked as he tried to refocus his attention on the danger of his predicament.
“I just want to talk with you about your recent trip Mr. Bond. You are a well traveled man and have seen many things of interest to me.”
007 began studying his interrogator with more interest. There was more to this man than it appeared. He searched his face to see if he could recognize him from somewhere. His features were lush. Soft café au lait skinned, full lipped with neat wavy hair. His most prominent features were his eyes. They were very dark, nearly black, with double thick black lashes that rested over the dark pools. It made them seem deeper. Over them arched thick black brows, again with a noticeable scar in the left brow. It added character.
Bond realized that his mind was drifting. He pulled himself back into focus and swept his eyes around the room. Nothing had changed. He noticed that the room was a pleasant cream color. Funny that he had not noted the color before.
“Tell me about British forces stationed in the Middle East.”
“How would a tourist know of such things?”
“I believe you are more than a tourist Mr. Bond and that you do know where these forces are stationed.”
“I told you it was a vacation. Even if I did know something, I can’t talk about those things.”
That was a bad slip; something completely out of character. Already James had said much more than he knew he should or that he intended to say. Somehow he couldn’t help himself though. He was relaxed and there was something about this man that seemed friendly. It didn’t make sense, but James just had a warm feeling that made it difficult to focus on a game of cat and mouse.
Amir changed the subject to the charity fund raising event and began chatting about it with James Bond. James had been staying in the hills of a little town called Bormes and had driven to the event in St. Tropez. The conversation touched on the beautiful manicured countryside and the famous beaches. While they were speaking, Dr. Stanton continued to give periodic electrical stimulus to the same area of the brain. It was a pleasure center. The prisoner could not help himself but to relax and feel good. It was better than using drugs because it did not affect the prisoner’s memory and the same point could be stimulated repeatedly.
Usually stoic, James Bond became almost chatty. Amir and James visited about the goals of the fundraiser, about travel, about the weather, almost everything seemed pleasant and interesting. In fact James found himself liking this man.
After about 20 minutes of periodic stimulation of the same area, Dr. Stanton decided to move to phase two. The new point of stimulation was in his right temporal lobe located in the superior part about thirty millimeters below the surface.
James suddenly felt a pleasant tingling sensation in the left side of his body from his face down to the bottom of his feet. He half smiled and suppressed the urge to giggle for a moment, which was completely uncharacteristic of him. The change in his expression did not escape his interrogator.
How are you feeling Mr. Bond? Asked Amir.
“Good right now, except for these restraints.” Said 007.
His interrogator pulled the ottoman in front of the chair and sat down. “Yes, you are at my mercy, so to speak. What handsome shoes you are wearing. May I see them? Amir grabbed his right shoe and lifted it to his lap. The highly polished Valentino lace up shoe hugged his long, wide foot.
007 felt his cock jump in his pants as Amir touched his foot. He realized that had wanted to be touched for several minutes and this seemed unusually erotic. James noticed how handsome Amir was. In the back of his head, he realized that this was not a normal reaction and that something was very wrong, but it felt so good he ignored his gut feelings. He blushed slightly at the feeling and took a breath.
Amir slipped off the shoe and looked inside. “Size 46 I see.” A black silk otc sock clung to James Bond’s wide, meaty foot. The smell of leather and perspiration lingered in the air. James smiled, almost as though he were drugged, unable to take his eyes off Amir touching his foot. His cock pressed hard against his pants, but he was relieved that the bulge was well hidden in the folds of the material.
“Now, Mr. Bond, about those military installations. Do I need to use more vigorous means of persuasion to get you to talk?” With that, Amir lightly tickled the bottom of 007’s foot.
“Ha ha ha ha ha. No.” Bond was giggling. This was strange. He began to wonder if he had been drugged.
“No, Mr. Bond. I shall let you relax with both feet up”. With that he took hold of 007’s left foot and removed the shoe. He placed both feet up on the over stuffed ottoman and held them together at the ankles. He began tracing lazy circles around James’ feet with his nails, feeling the silkiness of the warm moist socks.
007 was caught completely off guard. It was as though he had been drugged with an empathic drug. He was actually enjoying this foot play and conversation with his captor. He wanted to touch him. His cock was straining against his suit pants and none of this was making any sense. How could he be reacting this way to this? In reality, he was reacting more than thinking and he was becoming more and more wrapped up in the situation. He had stopped paying attention to the room or thinking of ways to escape.
At this point Dr. Stanton decided to stimulate point LP located on the surface of the left temporal lobe. Inside the interrogation room, 007 groaned as a wave of pleasure washed over him.
“Oh my God, what are you doing to me?” he asked rhetorically.
“I have only put your feet up and removed your shoes to make you more comfortable. How do you feel Mr. Bond?”
Another waive of pleasure overwhelmed 007 at that moment. He responded by stretching within his bonds and moaning. His face was smiling and his eyes were a little glassy.
“Now, tell me about where those bases are located in Persian Gulf.”
“I can’t talk about things like that.”
“Ah, but you know where they are then.”
“Yes, I mean no, I don’t have any information.”
Amir wiggled his fingers in front of Bond’s eyes. “I have ways of making you talk, Mr. Bond.”
“No ho ho ho ho ho ho..” Bond began to chuckle. “You wouldn’t…”
“I wouldn’t do what Mr. Bond?”
“No, you wouldn’t do that, please.”
“What wouldn’t I do, Mr. Bond?”
“Don’t tickle my feet, please.”
“What a wonderful idea, and please is such a nice word. I promise I will be very gentle in fact so that I will please you.” Amir began lightly stroking Bond’s feet through their sheer silk socks. The sensation was overwhelming. Bond quickly dissolved into giggling laughter, his head rolling around on his shoulders. But with his thighs and upper body securely strapped down, it was easy for Amir to hold his feet still for more tickling.
In only five more minutes, his captor had pried the location of one secret operations base from 007.
Back in the control room a figure stepped forward from the shadows. “This will be the new secret weapon for interrogations,” said Dr. Stanton to M. “You and I both know that Bond has resisted nearly any type of torture imaginable. But this is different. Here we are tricking his mind into liking his interrogator. His own mind is telling him that this is nothing but a fun game, sensual and exciting. He simply cannot summon up any will power to resist. Over enough sessions I could reprogram him to completely trust Amir to be his best, most trusted friend and intimate confidant.”
“This is very impressive. Yes, I believe that this technology has passed the test.”
“Shall I end the experiment?”
“No, I am rather enjoying watching 007 laughing like a school boy. Let’s let them continue a little longer before we interrupt.”
In the other room Bond’s head was rolling around as he was in a laughing fit while the interrogator continued to stroke his feet.
“Maybe it is time to take off your socks James?”
“No, please, ha ha ha ha …..”