“Miss Shannon?” Stacy called from across the office one morning in January, where she’d been logging in e-mails. “You might want to see this one.”
Shannon swiveled in her chair to look at the other woman. Stacy sat tied to one of the chairs Martin had designed and Brian built, her arms free to work the computer, but nothing else, bound from breasts to ankles. She seemed to like it.
“Shoot it over to me, then.”
Seconds later, Shannon opened the e-mail with “Special request” in the subject line. It came from the online form on the institute’s website. The name listed was just Alex—they usually only entered first names, and often, those were assumed, which was fine. He’d filled in every blank—height, weight, hair and eye color, even phone number and address, right down to occupation, which was family practice doctor. If they were all true. It was his fantasy that made her sit up and take note.
“I want to be raped,” it said. “By a man. Preferably bigger and more powerful than myself. I want to be overpowered and taken in the ass. I want to be held captive and raped over and over again.”
And Shannon wanted to watch.
But the form made her nervous. Someone else could have filled it in, out of meanness, or perhaps in payback for some inflated wrong. She wanted to do this, but she wanted to be very sure that this was indeed what this Alex wanted. She picked up her phone and called the number listed.
“This is Alex.” His voice sounded hushed, like he didn’t want anyone to hear him.
“This is Miss Shannon Stirling. I’m very interested in discussing your fantasy.”
“You are?” His voice shook a little. From nerves? Excitement? Fear? “What do you want to discuss?”
“Details. Specifics. What exactly you want? How far would you be willing to deviate, in what areas? How do you see it going down?”
“I don’t want to know.” He almost hissed at her. “That would ruin it. It has to be a surprise, something I’m not expecting.”
“And I have to be sure that it’s something you truly do want, and that if I do arrange it, we’re surprising the right man. Not somebody who’s been set up by his enemies.”
“Oh.” Apparently he hadn’t thought of that.
“If you want me to even consider setting something like this up, you will have to come to the Institute in person to talk about it. There’s paperwork. An interview—I have to see your face, but you won’t see mine. You do understand this is a research institute. There will be research questions you’ll have to answer, both before and after the experience. Once the interview is complete and the paperwork is signed, we’ll take your request under advisement.”
“You mean, even if I do all of that, there’s still no guarantee I’ll get …what I want?”
Shannon let a wry smile twist her lips. “Surprise.”
“God.” The man on the other end of the line fell silent, for a longer time than she expected. “Let me think about it. Can I call you back at this number?”
“Yes. During reasonable hours. Think long and hard about what you really want, sweet pea. Then call me.” She hung up on him. She understood his ambivalence. He’d call back. Or he wouldn’t. Until he did, she had plenty to do. Still–
She got up and wandered in search of her in-house researcher. “Todd? Sweetie, where are you?” She found him in the video room, watching tape of Stacy’s last client.
“What can I do for you, Miss Stirling?” Todd used her last name. He felt it differentiated him from the clients and residents.
“We may have a subject with a rape fantasy–male. I need some research questions for his pre-intake interview, to help me decide whether we want to help him live his fantasy. Can you come up with some for me? Or refer me to someone who can?” she added when he looked uncertain.
Alex called back before supper and made an appointment to come for the interview a week from Sunday. Shannon spent the evening thinking of ways they could use a doctor at the Institute. One willing to work with the residents’ … peculiarities. They’d all been healthy so far, but you never knew. One of the boys might get chastity-belt sores. Still, best not to make too many plans. Alex might get cold feet.
But he didn’t. The new guard was working the gate when Alex showed up and called up to the house to let her know. “Put him in the interview room and make sure the camera and other equipment is adjusted right.”
Alex–that was his name here, for now–was ushered into a small barren room with cheap paneling on the unadorned walls and cheaper carpet on the floor. The room was furnished with a single wooden ladder-back dining chair positioned in the center of the room and a hat rack near one corner. A single window covered with narrow plastic blinds faced the door through which Alex had been escorted by a bulky security guard.
“Face the camera.” The guard pointed to a security-type video camera on the wall to the left. “Talk to the speaker. It’ll talk back to you. Speak slowly and clearly and they’ll hear you just fine.”
The guard handed Alex a manila envelope and left the room, closing the door behind him. There was no lock on the door and Alex suffered a fresh flood of nerves. He wasn’t sure whether he feared being locked in or out. Or maybe he feared locking out what he wanted. But there was no lock, so he didn’t have to be afraid.
He jumped at the hollow speaker-phone sound. A woman’s voice. He hadn’t expected a woman’s voice. He didn’t know why–the website said the CEO of the Institute was a woman. Maybe because of what he’d requested.
“Open the envelope and read the papers inside.”
He wanted to rebel, wanted to shout and refuse and walk out of the room. He opened the envelope and pulled out the papers. Because he wanted what he’d asked for even more. At least, he thought he wanted it. He fantasized about it, about struggling against strength greater than his own and being overpowered by it. About hard, callused masculine hands holding him down. About–
The papers said it. His most tenderly cherished, close-held secret writ down in black and white. It caught his gonads in a steel grip and held them prisoner, squeezing them down to nothing, from the terror, the thrill of seeing it so baldly, coldly written down.
“I,” it began, then had a blank underline with LEGAL NAME (PLEASE PRINT) beneath the space. After that, it went relentlessly on. “Do enter into an agreement with the personnel and board of directors of the Institute for the Study of Interpersonal Intimacy to participate in a study of the rape fantasy.
“Pursuant to this agreement, it is my wish to have forcible intercourse with at least one (1) male subject on one (1) or more occasions at such a time as is convenient to said Institute personnel. I further agree to participate in such other activities as are deemed useful by the supervising staff member, until and unless the appropriate safe word is given. I hereby affirm my consent to these actions by my signature affixed to this agreement below.”
Then it had a place for his name and the date. The back had a paragraph or three about health tests and such. He could provide that. The Institute’s health tests were apparently available for his viewing pleasure at his leisure.
Alex swallowed hard. It was what he wanted. Wasn’t it? Yes. He had to know. Had to experience his fantasy at least once.
“Are you sexually active, Alex?” The woman’s voice startled him again and he dropped the envelope, but not the paper.
“What? I– Yes.” He was indeed sexually active. He dated. Women. He enjoyed women, loved their sleek, soft bodies, their curves and heat and wet, slick, enveloping … femaleness. But he couldn’t stop thinking about–
Why did she always catch him off guard? “Um. No.”
“Have you ever had sex with a man?” The question came faster this time.
Alex shook his head. “No.”
Now the silence stretched. Finally, “Take off your clothes.”
“I– What?” God, could he sound any more gauche, any more idiotic?
“Strip. Now. To the skin.”
If he didn’t, would they send him away? Refuse his request? The idea of stripping naked for the camera revved his engine, though. Got him going a little. Who knew he had an exhibitionist kink in there with all the others? He kicked off his shoes. When his jacket went on one of the hall tree hooks, the speaker gave one of those little pops like it was ready to come on. He tensed for a question, but he’d already started on his shirt buttons before it ever came.
“Why rape, then? Why not just have sex with a man?”
He shivered, but kept unbuttoning. “I don’t know. It’s just–whenever I think about it, there’s force involved. I’m being held down. Forced to participate.”
This time, it was a full body shudder that hit him. He ripped his shirt off, then made himself step calmly to the coat rack and hang it over his blazer. “Maybe,” he said finally. “Probably.”
“Move back to the center of the room,” she said.
Alex obeyed. He had to take a deep breath before he could push his hands to the button-and-hook arrangement at the top of his fly.
“Are you attracted to men?” She would not relent.
“I don’t know.” He got his fly open and shoved his pants down over his butt. They fell the rest of the way and followed his other clothes onto the rack.
“Well? Decide. Are you, or are you not? Yes or no? Have you ever looked at another man and wondered what his cock looked like? What it might taste like?”
Alex thought he might crack a tooth, he had his jaw clenched so tight. “No,” he said, shoving his boxers to the floor. He dragged off his socks and kicked everything to the wall by the coat rack. “Not really.”
He returned to the center of the room and faced the camera, hands clasped in front of him. In front of his raging hard-on. Talking about his fantasy obviously aroused him.
“Hands behind your back,” she ordered. “One inside the other. Like parade rest. Feet a little wider than your shoulders, so your balls hang free.”
His balls were drawn up too tight to his body to actually hang, but he understood her meaning and he did as he was told. He hated it, and adored every second of his nudity.
“How long have you had this rape fantasy?”
“I–um–” He frowned. It was hard to think, standing here naked. Knowing that somewhere she was watching. Who knew who else was watching?
“Months? Weeks? Years?” she prompted.
“Years.” He knew that much. “When I was in med school, maybe? Or maybe interning.”
“So. Are you attracted to men?” She had a low voice, sexy. Even through the hollow-sounding speaker. “Or not really? Which doesn’t mean no.”
Alex cleared his throat. “I–not really, I guess.”
“When you think about rape, about being forced to have sex with a man, is it always anal sex you fantasize about, or is it sometimes oral?”
His balls tucked themselves even tighter and the eye of his cock opened to release a driblet of precome. Alex wanted to rub it into his tip, to stroke himself while she watched.
No, he didn’t. “Sometimes–you know.” Why in hell did she want to talk about this? To make him talk about it? He just wanted to do it.
“Sometimes the rapist fucks your mouth?”
Alex choked. He coughed to clear it. “Yeah,” he croaked.
“What is it about being forced that appeals to you?”
“I–” She’d asked that already and he’d answered. Hadn’t he?
“Alex, what I want to know is which elements appeal to you the most. I understand that being overpowered and helpless is a large part of it, but let’s be honest here– We can overpower you and render you helpless and then fuck you without causing a lot of pain. Or any pain. Because anal penetration without any preparation is most likely going to hurt. Is that what you want? Do you want it raw and brutal and painful, or do you want it painless and overwhelming and sensual?”
Alex just stared at the camera, trying to hold himself together. He couldn’t speak. His voice wouldn’t function.
“Maybe you’d like both?”
He could nod. Barely.
“We can do that. I’m assuming you are attracted to large men–tall, broad, muscular–the type who could physically overpower you.” The woman paused and Alex could hear a faint tick-tick-tick, like maybe a pencil or a long fingernail tapping against something.
“When you have sex with women,” she said, “is there force involved?”
“No. God, no.”
“Some women like being held down, being tied up.”
“I’ve never done that.” Had never even wondered about it. Why not?
“Ever wanted to?”
“What about the other way ’round? Ever had a woman tie you up to have her way with you? Or thought about it?”
“A woman isn’t strong enough to force me.”
“So, it’s all about being overpowered, then. Being forced to submit, rather than submitting voluntarily.”
Alex shrugged. “I guess.” He shook his head bemusedly. “I don’t understand it. I just want it.”
“Do you have any questions for us? Or requests?”
“The–uh–health clauses…” He picked the paper up off the chair and brandished it. “Every participant has to provide clean tests?”
“Yes. And we’ll use condoms. We don’t want to spread anything.”
“Any time we– Oh, you mean when will it happen? You said you wanted it to be a surprise.”
“I do. I just–now I’ve come here, I don’t want to wait.”
“You will. You can. It won’t be that long, but there are a few things we have to do first, if we decide to fulfill your fantasy.”
“Figure out who’s strong enough to take you. Who gets to fuck you.”
Alex shuddered yet again.
“Sign your paperwork. Be sure to leave your contact information, including the street addresses of your home and work.” She gave a little sigh. “Go ahead and get dressed. Security will come back and notarize your signature. Then you can go.”
“It will happen?”
“If we decide against it, we’ll let you know. Just–are you very, very sure you want this?”
Alex looked over his shoulder at the camera, pausing as he pulled his slacks up over his boxers. “Yes, I’m sure.”
“And what exactly is it that you want? I’d like for you to say it out loud for the camera. For the record.”
He took a deep breath as he turned to face the camera. It was almost impossible to say it out loud. But only almost. He wanted it too much. Which probably made him certifiable, but… “I want to be raped. By a man. Surprised and overpowered and fucked in the ass. And I want you to set it up for me so I don’t get killed.”
“Okay, then.” The woman sounded–resigned? Satisfied? Alex couldn’t tell, since he couldn’t see her. He thought her face would provide the necessary clues–then again, maybe it wouldn’t. Women were hard to read. “I’ll tell Murphy to come in and notarize. Get your health docs here as soon as you can. Oh, and your safe word–let’s set it up now, in case. How about ‘snowball’?”
Oh God. This was really going to happen. Maybe. Alex had to clear his throat again. “Okay. Snowball. Oh, and I brought a copy of my health test with me.”
“Did you? Good. That saves time.”
Copyright 2012 by Gloria Dayle