Fandom: Primeval
Characters: Becker/Jenny, Christine (and a small Connor cameo)
Story: Following Orders
Rating: NC-17/MA
Warnings/Spoilers: Torture and non-con with a female victim. Maybe dub-con, if you squint. Enter at your own risk. Set during 3x06, with spoilers through there. Also, this is a tad longish (about 4,000 words.)
Author's Note: My dark side insisted on coming out to play. Sorreh. A different kind of Becker breakage than the other stuff I have planned. ;)
Summary: Becker’s under Christine’s command, now. And she’s demanded he get information from Jenny on where the team might be hiding.
Following Orders
Like a caged panther, Christine Johnson paced restlessly around the office—Lester’s office, Becker insisted to himself. She stalked him, looking him up and down, trying to pull what information she could from him. The fierceness of her gaze made it feel as if she were peeling the flesh from his bones. Not that he would ever have let on how he felt. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I don’t have access to that database.”
“What do you mean?” She snarled. “Aren’t you their head of security?”
“Yes, ma’am, but my job is to guard the team and the facility. I’m not privileged with any of the other information.” Outwardly, he kept his stance strong, but behind his back, his hands knotted, trembling a little with barely contained rage.
“Couldn’t you just break into the computer system and find it?
He couldn’t help the hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “Ma’am, this system was designed by Connor Temple. It’s been hacked into before, but after all that, he redesigned the security from the ground up. I don’t even know how many layers of encryption it has. Frankly, you’d need his clone if you wanted to break into it now.”
She stared at him, seeming to try to decide whether to scold him for the slight cheeky tone in his voice. Frustration took over, and she stamped her foot. “Enough! I’m not waiting any longer on this. I have a much better idea for how we can get that information.”
“Ma’am?”
She looked up at the burly, foul-looking lackey who stood at the door. “Lieutenant Daniels?”
“Yes, Ma’am.” He stood to attention.
She smiled: a cruel, predatory look that did nothing to brighten her features. “Bring me Jennifer Lewis.”
The underground creature containment area at the ARC was cold, and the cell they were currently in was small and dank. Lit by a single, flickering light, its only current occupants were a steel table, two chairs and a pile of storage crates. The walls and floor were concrete, with a large, grated drain in the centre of the floor.
“Ma’am?” Becker eyed her, confused. “I don’t understand. Why are we here instead of in one of the conference rooms?”
She patted his shoulder, an overly familiar gesture that sent a wave of revulsion through him. “Ah, dear Captain. I prefer spaces that are more… soundproof.”
His blood ran cold.
The heavy door banged open and Johnson’s soldier came in, carrying a heavy, black duffel bag and propelling Jenny in front of him. Upon seeing Becker, her eyes went wide. “Becker? What is this? What’s going on?” She flailed uncomfortably, twisting her hands in the cuffs the soldier had placed on her.
He set his jaw and strolled over to her, taking her arm to gently guide her into the room. “I don’t know,” he hissed in her ear. “Just try to stay calm. I’ll do what I can to get you out of this.” Leading her over to one of the chairs, he sat her down, and stood behind her, trying to stay as close as he could in the hope that his presence might be a comfort.
“Thank you, Lieutenant Daniels. You can leave the bag on the floor.” Johnson beamed at him as he left.
Turning to Jenny, she smiled icily. “And thank you for coming here, Ms. Lewis.”
“It’s not like you gave me a choice,” Jenny spat back, eyes sparking with defiance.
“Oh, you have a choice.” Johnson sat in the chair on the other side of the table and casually crossed her legs. "But if you choose wrong, you can also count on never having a career again, in government or otherwise.”
Jenny sagged a little. “So what do you want with me?”
Johnson crossed her legs. “Just a little bit of information. When you worked here, James Lester surely shared important files with you, did he not?”
“Some, yes. Not everything.”
“Did you know that there are secret locations reserved for ARC usage?” She steepled her fingers.
Jenny said nothing, but shifted uncomfortably.
“Some of them are active military facilities. I know where those are. But that’s not where he’d have sent the team if he wanted to keep them away from me. No, he has them holed up somewhere else, undoubtedly. And I want you to tell me where.”
Jenny’s eyes flicked up to Becker, seeking guidance. He had mixed feelings. On the one hand, if she refused to tell, she could be in serious danger. On the other hand, if she did tell, the others likely would be. And then there was the matter of what Johnson might try to do with the artifact. As subtly as he could, he shook his head. She got the message. “Really, Johnson,” Jenny squared her shoulders and slipped into pure PR mode, “I haven’t the faintest idea where James would have sent them. And even if I did, there’s no way I’d tell you. What do you want with them, anyway?”
Johnson smirked. “They have something I want.”
“The artifact.” Jenny said flatly.
“Clever.”
“And if you get it? What then? Are the team just redundant after that?”
Johnson shrugged. “Maybe. Some of them might have their uses, like Captain Becker, here. But the ones who don’t get on board, well…”
“Of course. They’re just people. Don’t let that get in the way of what you want.” Jenny huffed in annoyance. “Johnson, you are sorely mistaken if you think I’d ever help you find my friends. Or the artifact.”
Standing up and leaning over the table, her face inches from Jenny’s, Johnson snarled, “I think you forget where your interests lie, Ms. Lewis. I’m in charge of the ARC, now, and I have direct contact with the minister.”
Jenny laughed wryly. “I don’t work for the ARC anymore. I’m not a government employee, and therefore I’m not under your orders. And as for my future career, my CV is more than enough to override whatever petty scheming you could do to try to keep me out of private industry.” Meeting Johnson’s gaze dead-on, she smiled boldly. “I’m not afraid of you.”
Pulling back, shivering in fury at being opposed, Johnson straightened her jacket and took a breath to calm herself. “Oh, but you should be, Ms. Lewis. You should be.” She looked up at Becker, a malicious fire in her eyes. “Strip her,” she commanded.
“What?” Jenny made a soft, whimpering noise of fear.
A cold, sickening wave rushed through him. “Ma’am?”
“You heard me, Captain.”
“I don’t understand,” he sputtered nervously. “She doesn’t have the information. What good would that do?”
Her eyes narrowed. “She does have it. You know she has it. Now do as I’ve ordered you.”
“Ma’am, I—“
“Do it,” she growled. Then her voice sank to a thin, acid whisper. “Or I will relieve you of your duty, and give the task to Lieutenant Daniels.”
The thought of roughing up Jenny like this made him want to vomit. The thought of that nasty man doing it instead made him even more sick. At least, he thought, if he did it, he could try to mitigate the damage. He looked over at Jenny and tried to convey some level of reassurance.
“Becker?” Jenny looked at him anxiously.
He set his jaw. Moving to her side, he took her arms as gently as he could, and pulled her to her feet. Silently, he begged whatever deities might be listening for forgiveness. And then he started.
She was dressed more simply than usual, still on a sabbatical break before she started looking for work again. Instead of an elaborate suit or dress, she wore only a neat, cotton blouse and a loose, knee-length skirt. In place of her usual sky-high heels, she wore only simple flats. Hands shaking, and trying to ignore the panic in Jenny's eyes, he began unbuttoning the blouse.
“Today, Becker!” Johnson barked behind him.
He jumped a little, and bit his lip. Too many buttons, he thought. Getting a grip on the fabric, he ripped. Buttons flew, clattering noisily to the floor, and Jenny gasped in shock as her flesh came into view. Round and full, her breasts surged over the top of her lacy bra, rising and falling rapidly as she panted.
He flushed deeply in shame and looked away, but to his great horror, the sight had sent another feeling through him. When they worked together, he’d spent many a night with her name on his lips, imagining seeing her, touching her, in many intimate ways. Finally, he was close. And though he would never have wanted her this way, his body didn’t know any different. The rush of blood flooded his pelvis, and he squirmed, wishing that he could find a way to instantly geld himself.
“Becker, honestly. Do you think you’re done?”
“Ma’am.” He managed to croak. Turning back to Jenny, and catching her eye, he mouthed, “I’m so sorry.”
She seemed to understand. A strange, serene look passed over her face, as if she’d decided to let go, and face the inevitable. In place of the fear was a steely resolve. She heaved a breath, and nodded slightly.
Finding a zip at the side of her skirt, he slid it down, and tugged at the fabric. Sliding easily over her hips, it dropped to the floor.
“All of it, Becker,” Johnson sounded increasingly impatient.
With her arms locked behind her back, there was no easy way to take off Jenny’s bra. He improvised. Producing a small knife from his pocket, he slipped the tip of it under the band at the front, the steel sliding between her cleavage. The sharp edge made quick work of the fabric, and shortly, her breasts sprang free. Sliding the knife into the waistband of her knickers, he did the same there, cutting them away from her body.
Though she was clearly trying to remain calm, lest Johnson get the terrified reaction she obviously wanted, Jenny was still upset. Her breathing was ragged and erratic, and her skin flushed crimson from the shame of being naked before them.
He hated himself for it, but he couldn’t help staring. Every bit as luscious as his fevered imagination had guessed, her body was round and ripe in all the right places, from the swell of her perfect breasts to the sinuous curve of her hips. His cock surged almost painfully, and he wanted desperately to touch her. But not here. Not now. Not this way.
“That’s somewhat better,” Johnson said approvingly. “Now, are you going to tell me where the team is?”
Jenny remained silent, staring down Johnson in cold defiance.
“Well, then. Obviously, we’re going to have to step things up a little.” She nodded toward the bag on the floor. “You’ll find what you need in there, Becker. Bind her, and then we’ll play a little game of truth or dare.”
Moving a little uncomfortably, as the hardness bunched up in his trousers, he strode toward the bag. The array of implements it contained made him shudder. Some were relatively simple things that might be used for discomfort rather than pain, but others were quite nasty—things that would not only cause pain, but leave lasting damage. He quaked at the thought that he might be asked to use them.
The first supply he needed, however, was something to properly bind her. Seeing a length of thin, black cord, he retrieved it, and walked back to his captive.
“How shall I do this, ma’am?” He asked, miserable for doing so.
Johnson chuckled softly. “Use your imagination, Captain. Remember that the point here is to get her to talk.”
Sizing up the length of the rope, he eyed her, figuring out where best it might be secured. Jenny looked at him passively, some measure of trust in her eyes. Thinking it might help stall for time, he decided to go elaborate.
He started the rope around her back and shoulders, and then began winding it around her. He pulled her arms close to her sides, and criss-crossed her breasts several times, the rope sinking into the pliant flesh. Then he passed the rope down around her belly, and a couple of turns between her legs and around her hips, nestling the cord into her groin and the cleft of her backside. He finished with a quick tie around her thighs, binding them together and effectively hobbling her. She bore the indignance bravely, whimpering only a little once or twice as the rope tightened over sensitive areas.
Becker stepped back and nodded at Johnson. “Ma’am,” he barely whispered, his throat dry.
Johnson had her arms crossed over her chest, and was looking on approvingly. “That’s a very good start, Captain. Well done. Interested in talking yet, Ms. Lewis?”
“You’re joking, right?” Jenny smirked at her. Becker couldn’t help a small smile. It was this spirit that drew him to her. He hoped he wouldn’t end up breaking it before the day was over.
Johnson’s eyes narrowed. She clearly had not expected the defiance to continue. Stalking over to the bag, she drew out a range of tools, slamming each one down onto the table.
“Start here,” she pointed to a set of small clamps connected by a chain, “and work your way up. I suspect you won’t get through this entire set before she gives in.”
Becker swallowed hard, and began to wonder if he had the courage to continue. While the clamps themselves looked relatively mild, the other implements she set out looked increasingly nasty. From a leather quirt to a pair of gloves with small spikes embedded in the palms, each tool was different, but had the same purpose: to cause pain. He glanced over at Jenny, whose bravado was starting to slip a little.
Picking up the clamps, and cursing himself, he approached her.
The way he had bound her breasts had made the flesh swell out between the bindings, and her nipples stood out, rosy-tan and pebbly in the cool air. Cupping a breast in one hand, he steadied it while attaching the clamp, then did the same to the other side.
Jenny sucked in a sharp breath and squirmed. “Dammit,” she muttered, almost silently. She shivered, and the motion made the chain and the clamps sway. But she didn’t cry out.
“No?” Johnson said, with a sigh of exasperation. “Next item, then.”
He picked up the quirt.
Item after horrible item, Jenny somehow managed to bear them all. She shrieked and groaned and spat curses, and her face was wet with hot tears, but she didn’t break. Never once did she beg him to stop, not even when her pale skin was violently red, and covered in welts, not even when a couple of items drew blood.
As each item fell victim to Jenny’s bravery, Johnson’s frustration grew. As did Becker’s admiration. Jenny’s toughness in handling the torment he dished out flooded him with respect. Which unfortunately only added to his arousal. He began looking forward to each new toy, to see if she’d take the challenge, and even her screams lit his nerves on fire, and made his heavy cock ache, and beg to be used. Just as he thought he might be the one who’d be broken, Johnson finally called a halt.
“This is ridiculous!” She grumbled and sat back, drumming her red nails on the table. “All right, then. Time for the big guns.”
Becker turned to her. Given what he’d done to Jenny already, the thought of what Johnson might describe as “big guns” worried him.
Smirking, and shifting in her seat, she ordered him. “Fuck her.”
He blanched. “Ma’am! I can’t! I wouldn’t…” for the first time that day, he felt thoroughly powerless, and like he had no more courage to give.
“Captain, I suggest you comply with your order. Unless you want to join her. I’m sure Lieutenant Daniels would be more than happy to rape you both.”
He looked at Jenny, who just shrugged. In her current condition, he imagined, it was just one more thing. Just another thing to add to the list of horrors she had endured that day. Ignoring Johnson for a moment, he put a hand to Jenny’s face. “I would never, ever do this to you if I didn’t have to,” he whispered, his voice breaking with grief.
She managed a thin smile. “I know.”
He moved behind her and bent her over the table, the easiest way to access what he needed to with the way she was bound. He pushed aside the ropes framing her skin and stroked gently. He was grateful that at least she was fairly wet. Doing this to her at all was bad enough. Doing it dry would have been a whole new layer of misery. Face flushing with frustration and humiliation, he unfastened his trousers and brought out his cock.
As he lined up to enter Jenny, he glanced over at Johnson. She sat there, rapt, with flushed cheeks and glittering eyes. She crossed and uncrossed her legs, squirming a little in the chair. With a shot of ice in his veins, he realized: This interrogation wasn’t just about getting information from Jenny. Johnson was actually enjoying this. Not just Jenny’s torment, but his own. Too cowardly to do her own dirty work, she was using him for the task, and taking pleasure in the misery he was experiencing as he performed it.
Ignoring his traitorous cock’s demands that he continue, he stopped, hovering just behind her.
“Well?” Johnson frowned at him.
He remained still, saying nothing, trying to kill her with just a look.
A knock on the door echoed in the silence, and Daniels poked his head in.“Ma’am! I’m sorry to interrupt, but I thought you’d want to know. Captain Ross said he found the artifact at the anomaly site. But we’ve lost contact with him.”
Johnson glared in barely restrained fury. “Well, it looks like your lucky day, Ms. Lewis.” She patted Jenny’s head condescendingly. “Daniels, keep her here in case we still need her. Becker, you’re with me. We know where they are, now. We just need to find a way to smoke them out.”
This was it, he knew. This was his chance to get free of Johnson, and make things right. Chest swelling with the excitement of having recorded her fatal last words, he dashed out to the car park. On his way, he grabbed his phone, dialing the number of Lieutenant Hopkins, the most trusted member of his team, who had, with the others, been marched out of the ARC.
“Becker?” He answered, surprised.
“Hopkins. Jennifer Lewis is being held in the creature containment unit. Get her out of there and back to her home, now.”
“But isn’t Johnson--?”
“Don’t worry about her. I have it all under control.”
“Copy that, Captain. On my way.”
He hung up. And then dialed the number for James Lester.
He tried to relax and enjoy the celebration. He had won this game, after all. He had won back the ARC for his team. And yet, remembering Jenny’s terrified eyes, he couldn’t help feeling like he’d lost after all.
Excusing himself from the happy festivities, he headed out.
“Where you going, mate?” Connor cocked an eyebrow at him. “Not going to stay here and party with us?”
He smiled grimly. “Please do enjoy yourself. Have a beer for me. There are some peopl—things I need to take care of.”
Connor frowned. He’d caught the word before Becker had corrected himself. “People? Who?”
He thought for a moment. Much as he wanted to unburden himself of the dreadful experiences, such confessions were not on the cards. Telling Connor now would only add to his shame, and to Jenny’s pain. “Sorry, Temple. It’s classified,” he said, more harshly than was necessary.
Connor gave him a wounded look. “Oh.”
He gentled his voice. “Maybe I’ll explain someday, hey?”
Connor still looked concerned, but accepted the excuse. "Fair enough, mate. Take care of y'self, a'ight?"
"I will," he smiled gratefully. "Thank you."
His heart pounded as he approached her door. He wondered if he was doing the right thing, if maybe this was a very bad idea. What if his being there only reminded her of the trauma? What if, he thought with a pain in his chest, she’d never want to see him again?
Drawing a shuddering breath, he knocked.
He saw her briefly peek through her window, seeing who was at her door. And then nothing. The wait was long enough that he figured she’d gone running back to the safety of some dark corner of her house, hoping the ghost would go away.
He took the hint, and turned to go. Just as he neared his car, he heard the creak of the door behind him.
“Becker?” Her voice was small, but steady.
He turned back. She stood in the doorway, clutching a thick dressing gown around her, her hair damp and matted. A recent shower, he assumed. Washing off the day—and him.
“Jenny. I can go, if you’d prefer.” He looked at the ground, unable to meet her eyes.
She hesitated for a moment, then extended a hand to him. “No. Please come in.”
She insisted on making him a cup of tea, and also insisted on sitting next to him on the sofa. The proximity made him slightly uncomfortable, but it was also reassuring in some ways. At the very least, his presence wasn’t something she feared.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.
He looked up, surprised. “Sorry? For what? I’m the one who should apologize.”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry that Johnson hurt you.”
“Wait,” he said weakly. “I hurt you.”
“Becker, you didn’t hurt me. She did. You were just her weapon. I don’t blame you.”
“I could have—“
“What, and got the rest of the team killed? No. You did the right thing. We did the right thing. We did what we had to for the greater good. We survived, and that’s what matters.” She put a hand to his cheek and leaned over. Eyelids fluttering closed, she kissed him lightly.
He shivered violently under the touch. Of all the things he’d imagined might happen if he came here tonight, her kissing him was not on the list. “What…” he trailed off, lost in confusion.
“Becker,” she said sincerely, “I’m glad you're here. I was actually considering calling you and asking you to come by.”
“I don’t understand. Why?”
“Because I want you to finish what you started.”
He looked at her in shock.
She shook her head, smiling. “Not like that, no. It’s just…” She ran a hand through her hair and gazed out the window.
He frowned. “I don’t… I’m not sure I can. I—“ he broke off into a heavy sigh. The tender kiss she’d given him had, in fact, given his body other ideas. He knew very well that he could. Whether he should was another matter.
“Look, I want this, Becker,” she said firmly. “I need this. I don’t want my last memory of you to be what… happened back there. I need to have something good to remember.”
He went quiet for a moment as he pondered her words. They made sense, and he began to understand it himself. Taking her with her consent was what he needed, too. He still wondered if it was wrong—if maybe he was taking advantage of a woman who was undoubtedly at a low emotional ebb, and who likely needed professional care, and not the rude attentions of a man who wanted her like this. But her voice was honest and she seemed sensible, not like a woman who wanted to do something crazy out of desperation or self-loathing. And in any case, it didn’t seem like she was leaving him a choice. Clambering into his lap, she took his face in her hands.
“Make love to me, Becker,” she said, her voice low and velvety. “Please.”
He relented.
As they moved together—carefully, slowly—he attended to her wounds. He kissed every mark, every bruise he’d left. He tenderly rubbed sore muscles and stroked salve into raw skin. With each touch and caress, he could feel her beginning to heal—and he began to heal himself.
By the time they were locked together, her atop him, pinning his wrists above his head as she gently used his body, it was all coming right again. He felt that his courage, so shattered after what Johnson had done to them, was finally being reborn.
As she cried out—in pleasure, not pain—a great stillness came over him, like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and like he was floating, leaving the misery of earthly gravity behind. She smiled euphorically, even laughing a little as she peaked. He smiled back, reveling in her joy--taking joy of his own in it. In her pleasure, whatever crimes he had committed under orders were moot, the sins forgiven.
Grateful for the absolution, he released.
--End--
Characters: Becker/Jenny, Christine (and a small Connor cameo)
Story: Following Orders
Rating: NC-17/MA
Warnings/Spoilers: Torture and non-con with a female victim. Maybe dub-con, if you squint. Enter at your own risk. Set during 3x06, with spoilers through there. Also, this is a tad longish (about 4,000 words.)
Author's Note: My dark side insisted on coming out to play. Sorreh. A different kind of Becker breakage than the other stuff I have planned. ;)
Summary: Becker’s under Christine’s command, now. And she’s demanded he get information from Jenny on where the team might be hiding.
Following Orders
Like a caged panther, Christine Johnson paced restlessly around the office—Lester’s office, Becker insisted to himself. She stalked him, looking him up and down, trying to pull what information she could from him. The fierceness of her gaze made it feel as if she were peeling the flesh from his bones. Not that he would ever have let on how he felt. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I don’t have access to that database.”
“What do you mean?” She snarled. “Aren’t you their head of security?”
“Yes, ma’am, but my job is to guard the team and the facility. I’m not privileged with any of the other information.” Outwardly, he kept his stance strong, but behind his back, his hands knotted, trembling a little with barely contained rage.
“Couldn’t you just break into the computer system and find it?
He couldn’t help the hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “Ma’am, this system was designed by Connor Temple. It’s been hacked into before, but after all that, he redesigned the security from the ground up. I don’t even know how many layers of encryption it has. Frankly, you’d need his clone if you wanted to break into it now.”
She stared at him, seeming to try to decide whether to scold him for the slight cheeky tone in his voice. Frustration took over, and she stamped her foot. “Enough! I’m not waiting any longer on this. I have a much better idea for how we can get that information.”
“Ma’am?”
She looked up at the burly, foul-looking lackey who stood at the door. “Lieutenant Daniels?”
“Yes, Ma’am.” He stood to attention.
She smiled: a cruel, predatory look that did nothing to brighten her features. “Bring me Jennifer Lewis.”
The underground creature containment area at the ARC was cold, and the cell they were currently in was small and dank. Lit by a single, flickering light, its only current occupants were a steel table, two chairs and a pile of storage crates. The walls and floor were concrete, with a large, grated drain in the centre of the floor.
“Ma’am?” Becker eyed her, confused. “I don’t understand. Why are we here instead of in one of the conference rooms?”
She patted his shoulder, an overly familiar gesture that sent a wave of revulsion through him. “Ah, dear Captain. I prefer spaces that are more… soundproof.”
His blood ran cold.
The heavy door banged open and Johnson’s soldier came in, carrying a heavy, black duffel bag and propelling Jenny in front of him. Upon seeing Becker, her eyes went wide. “Becker? What is this? What’s going on?” She flailed uncomfortably, twisting her hands in the cuffs the soldier had placed on her.
He set his jaw and strolled over to her, taking her arm to gently guide her into the room. “I don’t know,” he hissed in her ear. “Just try to stay calm. I’ll do what I can to get you out of this.” Leading her over to one of the chairs, he sat her down, and stood behind her, trying to stay as close as he could in the hope that his presence might be a comfort.
“Thank you, Lieutenant Daniels. You can leave the bag on the floor.” Johnson beamed at him as he left.
Turning to Jenny, she smiled icily. “And thank you for coming here, Ms. Lewis.”
“It’s not like you gave me a choice,” Jenny spat back, eyes sparking with defiance.
“Oh, you have a choice.” Johnson sat in the chair on the other side of the table and casually crossed her legs. "But if you choose wrong, you can also count on never having a career again, in government or otherwise.”
Jenny sagged a little. “So what do you want with me?”
Johnson crossed her legs. “Just a little bit of information. When you worked here, James Lester surely shared important files with you, did he not?”
“Some, yes. Not everything.”
“Did you know that there are secret locations reserved for ARC usage?” She steepled her fingers.
Jenny said nothing, but shifted uncomfortably.
“Some of them are active military facilities. I know where those are. But that’s not where he’d have sent the team if he wanted to keep them away from me. No, he has them holed up somewhere else, undoubtedly. And I want you to tell me where.”
Jenny’s eyes flicked up to Becker, seeking guidance. He had mixed feelings. On the one hand, if she refused to tell, she could be in serious danger. On the other hand, if she did tell, the others likely would be. And then there was the matter of what Johnson might try to do with the artifact. As subtly as he could, he shook his head. She got the message. “Really, Johnson,” Jenny squared her shoulders and slipped into pure PR mode, “I haven’t the faintest idea where James would have sent them. And even if I did, there’s no way I’d tell you. What do you want with them, anyway?”
Johnson smirked. “They have something I want.”
“The artifact.” Jenny said flatly.
“Clever.”
“And if you get it? What then? Are the team just redundant after that?”
Johnson shrugged. “Maybe. Some of them might have their uses, like Captain Becker, here. But the ones who don’t get on board, well…”
“Of course. They’re just people. Don’t let that get in the way of what you want.” Jenny huffed in annoyance. “Johnson, you are sorely mistaken if you think I’d ever help you find my friends. Or the artifact.”
Standing up and leaning over the table, her face inches from Jenny’s, Johnson snarled, “I think you forget where your interests lie, Ms. Lewis. I’m in charge of the ARC, now, and I have direct contact with the minister.”
Jenny laughed wryly. “I don’t work for the ARC anymore. I’m not a government employee, and therefore I’m not under your orders. And as for my future career, my CV is more than enough to override whatever petty scheming you could do to try to keep me out of private industry.” Meeting Johnson’s gaze dead-on, she smiled boldly. “I’m not afraid of you.”
Pulling back, shivering in fury at being opposed, Johnson straightened her jacket and took a breath to calm herself. “Oh, but you should be, Ms. Lewis. You should be.” She looked up at Becker, a malicious fire in her eyes. “Strip her,” she commanded.
“What?” Jenny made a soft, whimpering noise of fear.
A cold, sickening wave rushed through him. “Ma’am?”
“You heard me, Captain.”
“I don’t understand,” he sputtered nervously. “She doesn’t have the information. What good would that do?”
Her eyes narrowed. “She does have it. You know she has it. Now do as I’ve ordered you.”
“Ma’am, I—“
“Do it,” she growled. Then her voice sank to a thin, acid whisper. “Or I will relieve you of your duty, and give the task to Lieutenant Daniels.”
The thought of roughing up Jenny like this made him want to vomit. The thought of that nasty man doing it instead made him even more sick. At least, he thought, if he did it, he could try to mitigate the damage. He looked over at Jenny and tried to convey some level of reassurance.
“Becker?” Jenny looked at him anxiously.
He set his jaw. Moving to her side, he took her arms as gently as he could, and pulled her to her feet. Silently, he begged whatever deities might be listening for forgiveness. And then he started.
She was dressed more simply than usual, still on a sabbatical break before she started looking for work again. Instead of an elaborate suit or dress, she wore only a neat, cotton blouse and a loose, knee-length skirt. In place of her usual sky-high heels, she wore only simple flats. Hands shaking, and trying to ignore the panic in Jenny's eyes, he began unbuttoning the blouse.
“Today, Becker!” Johnson barked behind him.
He jumped a little, and bit his lip. Too many buttons, he thought. Getting a grip on the fabric, he ripped. Buttons flew, clattering noisily to the floor, and Jenny gasped in shock as her flesh came into view. Round and full, her breasts surged over the top of her lacy bra, rising and falling rapidly as she panted.
He flushed deeply in shame and looked away, but to his great horror, the sight had sent another feeling through him. When they worked together, he’d spent many a night with her name on his lips, imagining seeing her, touching her, in many intimate ways. Finally, he was close. And though he would never have wanted her this way, his body didn’t know any different. The rush of blood flooded his pelvis, and he squirmed, wishing that he could find a way to instantly geld himself.
“Becker, honestly. Do you think you’re done?”
“Ma’am.” He managed to croak. Turning back to Jenny, and catching her eye, he mouthed, “I’m so sorry.”
She seemed to understand. A strange, serene look passed over her face, as if she’d decided to let go, and face the inevitable. In place of the fear was a steely resolve. She heaved a breath, and nodded slightly.
Finding a zip at the side of her skirt, he slid it down, and tugged at the fabric. Sliding easily over her hips, it dropped to the floor.
“All of it, Becker,” Johnson sounded increasingly impatient.
With her arms locked behind her back, there was no easy way to take off Jenny’s bra. He improvised. Producing a small knife from his pocket, he slipped the tip of it under the band at the front, the steel sliding between her cleavage. The sharp edge made quick work of the fabric, and shortly, her breasts sprang free. Sliding the knife into the waistband of her knickers, he did the same there, cutting them away from her body.
Though she was clearly trying to remain calm, lest Johnson get the terrified reaction she obviously wanted, Jenny was still upset. Her breathing was ragged and erratic, and her skin flushed crimson from the shame of being naked before them.
He hated himself for it, but he couldn’t help staring. Every bit as luscious as his fevered imagination had guessed, her body was round and ripe in all the right places, from the swell of her perfect breasts to the sinuous curve of her hips. His cock surged almost painfully, and he wanted desperately to touch her. But not here. Not now. Not this way.
“That’s somewhat better,” Johnson said approvingly. “Now, are you going to tell me where the team is?”
Jenny remained silent, staring down Johnson in cold defiance.
“Well, then. Obviously, we’re going to have to step things up a little.” She nodded toward the bag on the floor. “You’ll find what you need in there, Becker. Bind her, and then we’ll play a little game of truth or dare.”
Moving a little uncomfortably, as the hardness bunched up in his trousers, he strode toward the bag. The array of implements it contained made him shudder. Some were relatively simple things that might be used for discomfort rather than pain, but others were quite nasty—things that would not only cause pain, but leave lasting damage. He quaked at the thought that he might be asked to use them.
The first supply he needed, however, was something to properly bind her. Seeing a length of thin, black cord, he retrieved it, and walked back to his captive.
“How shall I do this, ma’am?” He asked, miserable for doing so.
Johnson chuckled softly. “Use your imagination, Captain. Remember that the point here is to get her to talk.”
Sizing up the length of the rope, he eyed her, figuring out where best it might be secured. Jenny looked at him passively, some measure of trust in her eyes. Thinking it might help stall for time, he decided to go elaborate.
He started the rope around her back and shoulders, and then began winding it around her. He pulled her arms close to her sides, and criss-crossed her breasts several times, the rope sinking into the pliant flesh. Then he passed the rope down around her belly, and a couple of turns between her legs and around her hips, nestling the cord into her groin and the cleft of her backside. He finished with a quick tie around her thighs, binding them together and effectively hobbling her. She bore the indignance bravely, whimpering only a little once or twice as the rope tightened over sensitive areas.
Becker stepped back and nodded at Johnson. “Ma’am,” he barely whispered, his throat dry.
Johnson had her arms crossed over her chest, and was looking on approvingly. “That’s a very good start, Captain. Well done. Interested in talking yet, Ms. Lewis?”
“You’re joking, right?” Jenny smirked at her. Becker couldn’t help a small smile. It was this spirit that drew him to her. He hoped he wouldn’t end up breaking it before the day was over.
Johnson’s eyes narrowed. She clearly had not expected the defiance to continue. Stalking over to the bag, she drew out a range of tools, slamming each one down onto the table.
“Start here,” she pointed to a set of small clamps connected by a chain, “and work your way up. I suspect you won’t get through this entire set before she gives in.”
Becker swallowed hard, and began to wonder if he had the courage to continue. While the clamps themselves looked relatively mild, the other implements she set out looked increasingly nasty. From a leather quirt to a pair of gloves with small spikes embedded in the palms, each tool was different, but had the same purpose: to cause pain. He glanced over at Jenny, whose bravado was starting to slip a little.
Picking up the clamps, and cursing himself, he approached her.
The way he had bound her breasts had made the flesh swell out between the bindings, and her nipples stood out, rosy-tan and pebbly in the cool air. Cupping a breast in one hand, he steadied it while attaching the clamp, then did the same to the other side.
Jenny sucked in a sharp breath and squirmed. “Dammit,” she muttered, almost silently. She shivered, and the motion made the chain and the clamps sway. But she didn’t cry out.
“No?” Johnson said, with a sigh of exasperation. “Next item, then.”
He picked up the quirt.
Item after horrible item, Jenny somehow managed to bear them all. She shrieked and groaned and spat curses, and her face was wet with hot tears, but she didn’t break. Never once did she beg him to stop, not even when her pale skin was violently red, and covered in welts, not even when a couple of items drew blood.
As each item fell victim to Jenny’s bravery, Johnson’s frustration grew. As did Becker’s admiration. Jenny’s toughness in handling the torment he dished out flooded him with respect. Which unfortunately only added to his arousal. He began looking forward to each new toy, to see if she’d take the challenge, and even her screams lit his nerves on fire, and made his heavy cock ache, and beg to be used. Just as he thought he might be the one who’d be broken, Johnson finally called a halt.
“This is ridiculous!” She grumbled and sat back, drumming her red nails on the table. “All right, then. Time for the big guns.”
Becker turned to her. Given what he’d done to Jenny already, the thought of what Johnson might describe as “big guns” worried him.
Smirking, and shifting in her seat, she ordered him. “Fuck her.”
He blanched. “Ma’am! I can’t! I wouldn’t…” for the first time that day, he felt thoroughly powerless, and like he had no more courage to give.
“Captain, I suggest you comply with your order. Unless you want to join her. I’m sure Lieutenant Daniels would be more than happy to rape you both.”
He looked at Jenny, who just shrugged. In her current condition, he imagined, it was just one more thing. Just another thing to add to the list of horrors she had endured that day. Ignoring Johnson for a moment, he put a hand to Jenny’s face. “I would never, ever do this to you if I didn’t have to,” he whispered, his voice breaking with grief.
She managed a thin smile. “I know.”
He moved behind her and bent her over the table, the easiest way to access what he needed to with the way she was bound. He pushed aside the ropes framing her skin and stroked gently. He was grateful that at least she was fairly wet. Doing this to her at all was bad enough. Doing it dry would have been a whole new layer of misery. Face flushing with frustration and humiliation, he unfastened his trousers and brought out his cock.
As he lined up to enter Jenny, he glanced over at Johnson. She sat there, rapt, with flushed cheeks and glittering eyes. She crossed and uncrossed her legs, squirming a little in the chair. With a shot of ice in his veins, he realized: This interrogation wasn’t just about getting information from Jenny. Johnson was actually enjoying this. Not just Jenny’s torment, but his own. Too cowardly to do her own dirty work, she was using him for the task, and taking pleasure in the misery he was experiencing as he performed it.
Ignoring his traitorous cock’s demands that he continue, he stopped, hovering just behind her.
“Well?” Johnson frowned at him.
He remained still, saying nothing, trying to kill her with just a look.
A knock on the door echoed in the silence, and Daniels poked his head in.“Ma’am! I’m sorry to interrupt, but I thought you’d want to know. Captain Ross said he found the artifact at the anomaly site. But we’ve lost contact with him.”
Johnson glared in barely restrained fury. “Well, it looks like your lucky day, Ms. Lewis.” She patted Jenny’s head condescendingly. “Daniels, keep her here in case we still need her. Becker, you’re with me. We know where they are, now. We just need to find a way to smoke them out.”
This was it, he knew. This was his chance to get free of Johnson, and make things right. Chest swelling with the excitement of having recorded her fatal last words, he dashed out to the car park. On his way, he grabbed his phone, dialing the number of Lieutenant Hopkins, the most trusted member of his team, who had, with the others, been marched out of the ARC.
“Becker?” He answered, surprised.
“Hopkins. Jennifer Lewis is being held in the creature containment unit. Get her out of there and back to her home, now.”
“But isn’t Johnson--?”
“Don’t worry about her. I have it all under control.”
“Copy that, Captain. On my way.”
He hung up. And then dialed the number for James Lester.
He tried to relax and enjoy the celebration. He had won this game, after all. He had won back the ARC for his team. And yet, remembering Jenny’s terrified eyes, he couldn’t help feeling like he’d lost after all.
Excusing himself from the happy festivities, he headed out.
“Where you going, mate?” Connor cocked an eyebrow at him. “Not going to stay here and party with us?”
He smiled grimly. “Please do enjoy yourself. Have a beer for me. There are some peopl—things I need to take care of.”
Connor frowned. He’d caught the word before Becker had corrected himself. “People? Who?”
He thought for a moment. Much as he wanted to unburden himself of the dreadful experiences, such confessions were not on the cards. Telling Connor now would only add to his shame, and to Jenny’s pain. “Sorry, Temple. It’s classified,” he said, more harshly than was necessary.
Connor gave him a wounded look. “Oh.”
He gentled his voice. “Maybe I’ll explain someday, hey?”
Connor still looked concerned, but accepted the excuse. "Fair enough, mate. Take care of y'self, a'ight?"
"I will," he smiled gratefully. "Thank you."
His heart pounded as he approached her door. He wondered if he was doing the right thing, if maybe this was a very bad idea. What if his being there only reminded her of the trauma? What if, he thought with a pain in his chest, she’d never want to see him again?
Drawing a shuddering breath, he knocked.
He saw her briefly peek through her window, seeing who was at her door. And then nothing. The wait was long enough that he figured she’d gone running back to the safety of some dark corner of her house, hoping the ghost would go away.
He took the hint, and turned to go. Just as he neared his car, he heard the creak of the door behind him.
“Becker?” Her voice was small, but steady.
He turned back. She stood in the doorway, clutching a thick dressing gown around her, her hair damp and matted. A recent shower, he assumed. Washing off the day—and him.
“Jenny. I can go, if you’d prefer.” He looked at the ground, unable to meet her eyes.
She hesitated for a moment, then extended a hand to him. “No. Please come in.”
She insisted on making him a cup of tea, and also insisted on sitting next to him on the sofa. The proximity made him slightly uncomfortable, but it was also reassuring in some ways. At the very least, his presence wasn’t something she feared.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.
He looked up, surprised. “Sorry? For what? I’m the one who should apologize.”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry that Johnson hurt you.”
“Wait,” he said weakly. “I hurt you.”
“Becker, you didn’t hurt me. She did. You were just her weapon. I don’t blame you.”
“I could have—“
“What, and got the rest of the team killed? No. You did the right thing. We did the right thing. We did what we had to for the greater good. We survived, and that’s what matters.” She put a hand to his cheek and leaned over. Eyelids fluttering closed, she kissed him lightly.
He shivered violently under the touch. Of all the things he’d imagined might happen if he came here tonight, her kissing him was not on the list. “What…” he trailed off, lost in confusion.
“Becker,” she said sincerely, “I’m glad you're here. I was actually considering calling you and asking you to come by.”
“I don’t understand. Why?”
“Because I want you to finish what you started.”
He looked at her in shock.
She shook her head, smiling. “Not like that, no. It’s just…” She ran a hand through her hair and gazed out the window.
He frowned. “I don’t… I’m not sure I can. I—“ he broke off into a heavy sigh. The tender kiss she’d given him had, in fact, given his body other ideas. He knew very well that he could. Whether he should was another matter.
“Look, I want this, Becker,” she said firmly. “I need this. I don’t want my last memory of you to be what… happened back there. I need to have something good to remember.”
He went quiet for a moment as he pondered her words. They made sense, and he began to understand it himself. Taking her with her consent was what he needed, too. He still wondered if it was wrong—if maybe he was taking advantage of a woman who was undoubtedly at a low emotional ebb, and who likely needed professional care, and not the rude attentions of a man who wanted her like this. But her voice was honest and she seemed sensible, not like a woman who wanted to do something crazy out of desperation or self-loathing. And in any case, it didn’t seem like she was leaving him a choice. Clambering into his lap, she took his face in her hands.
“Make love to me, Becker,” she said, her voice low and velvety. “Please.”
He relented.
As they moved together—carefully, slowly—he attended to her wounds. He kissed every mark, every bruise he’d left. He tenderly rubbed sore muscles and stroked salve into raw skin. With each touch and caress, he could feel her beginning to heal—and he began to heal himself.
By the time they were locked together, her atop him, pinning his wrists above his head as she gently used his body, it was all coming right again. He felt that his courage, so shattered after what Johnson had done to them, was finally being reborn.
As she cried out—in pleasure, not pain—a great stillness came over him, like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and like he was floating, leaving the misery of earthly gravity behind. She smiled euphorically, even laughing a little as she peaked. He smiled back, reveling in her joy--taking joy of his own in it. In her pleasure, whatever crimes he had committed under orders were moot, the sins forgiven.
Grateful for the absolution, he released.
--End--