Questioning
The next part of @painful-pooch and I's From Tyrant to Martyr
Masterlist HERE || Previous part HERE
CW: referenced nonconsensual tattooing, noncon, pet whump, starvation, emeto, medical whump, degradation, humiliation, mentions of training in a torture environment, 18+, dead dove do not eat, this is a really rough one so mind the warnings
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Traditionally, the victim would be questioned by OSI agents. However, these are special circumstances. General Liam Keizer has been given a list of questions and will question the victim at the OSI office with an OSI agent in the room to supervise.
Marlow’s heart is beating out of her chest, and she knows this is only going to get harder. Liam just finished asking her the most basic questions, so it’s time to move on. She was transported to the secure OSI office via an ambulance, transferred to a wheelchair, and taken to the interrogation room with her heart monitor and oxygen and all her IVs. She’s grateful that Liam is the one doing this…even though the female OSI agent in the corner seems terrifying.
“Okay, Marlow. Ready to start?” At her nod, Liam flips to the next page in the packet given to him by OSI. “While you were held hostage at Hunter Bianchi’s manor, how were you dressed?”
“I was not,” Marlow responds. Just breathe. Hunter is in jail, not standing behind her. “I was kept fully nude, unless Hunter wanted me dressed in a sexual costume for a party, and that was torn off quickly. I was even naked when he had me go outside into his backyard, regardless of the weather.”
“Okay.” Liam checks the notes, then asks his next question. The whole interrogation is being recorded by multiple cameras, so he doesn’t need to write down her responses. “Tell me about how you were fed.”
Fuck, this is getting harder. She’s humiliated to say this, she lowers her head and feels her face heat up, trying to hide behind her oxygen cannula. “I wasn’t fed often. Hunter liked skinny girls because he said I looked younger and it made me more beautiful when I was hurt. He had dog bowls for me, one with water and the other…he fed me dog food. Literal…dog food. Sometimes the hard kind, sometimes the mushy kind from the can. Occasionally, he’d hand feed me small amounts of people food at parties to show his guests I would eat out of his hand.”
“And did you do it?” Liam asks, his voice suddenly cold. That question didn’t come from the sheet.
Marlow picks at her hospital bracelet, but remembers what Bruno told her. You did what you needed to come home to us, and there’s nothing wrong about that, kiddo. She straightens up, looking right at Liam. “Yes. When Hunter Bianchi offered me real food from his hand, I ate it. I was starving to death and anything helped keep me alive.”
His gaze softens, and he turns back to the list. “Were you ever restrained?”
A million memories flood her once, and Marlow takes a deep breath to calm herself down. Her answers will help Hunter rot in jail forever. “Yes, I was restrained at least once daily in a variety of ways. There was a dog cage I was often kept in, especially while Hunter was at work. He also had sexual restraints, like BDSM devices and metal poles used to force my body into certain positions. There were leather things like cuffs and armbinders, and spreader bars, handcuffs, and just a lot of rope. He sometimes didn’t want to restrain my hands though, so he found another way to keep them out of the way while binding my legs or breasts.”
Liam is doing a remarkable job not showing any emotion. He told her before this that he’d need to seem impassive, but he’d be sure to hug her and love her when today was over. “What do you mean when you say that?”
She still feels the pain in her knuckles, her joints, feels it every day when she tries to even move her hands. “When he didn’t want to use physical restraints on my hands, he would take a hammer or baseball bat or crowbar and shatter my hands. This was done…” She can still feel the blows as if they happened yesterday. No matter how many surgeries she has, her hands will always be warped. “More than ten times throughout my captivity.”
Liam pauses, opening his mouth, but when the OSI agent shakes her head at him, he sighs and looks at the next question. “A bloody metal dog cage was found in the basement. Here’s a picture.” He slides it across the table and Marlow wants to vomit…so she does. She grabs the bag next to her and throws up, gagging and wiping her mouth. Liam winces, but asks his question anyway. “Were you kept in this cage, and if so, what was the longest duration you spent in it? As many details about the cage as possible.”
The cage. She could never forget the cage. It used to feel like a safe space, but now…she’s shaking so bad, her heart monitor going wild. “The longest I was in there was eighty straight hours. He left me there on a work trip. The cage was also used in videos to start or end a scene, and if he wanted me to sleep in his bedroom instead of the pet room, I’d be in the cage up there. Also if he had a work meeting in his study, I’d be kept in the cage for viewing pleasure until Hunter took me out to service them.”
Liam is starting to look nauseous, his eyes scanning the heart monitor. He pulls the cage picture back, folding his hands on the table. “Just a few more questions and we can call it for the day.” When the OSI agent tries to protest, Liam snaps, “My goddaughter needs to go back to the hospital with her competent team of nurses and doctors so they can reduce her pain and make sure her body doesn’t fail. We are doing three more questions and then we are done.” He turns back to Marlow, smiling at her. “Let’s continue. How frequently were you raped by Hunter Bianchi?”
Stick to the facts, focus on the numbers. She pulls the emotions out of it, takes away her screams and cries as she was defiled and humiliated. “I was raped by Hunter Bianchi at least once every day. He sold me to other men at least five times a week, and at his weekly parties, I could expect to be raped more than thirty times, depending on how extensive the guest list was.”
“Did he start with the clients and the parties from the beginning of your captivity?”
Marlow shakes her head. This question is much easier to answer. “The first party was a week after I arrived. It took two months for him to start sending me to clients. He wanted an opportunity to train me and ensure I wouldn’t bite. I fought hard, General Keizer. I made it really hard for them for as long as I could. Until…” She stares at her hands, chewing on her inner lip. “He raped me so hard my pelvis cracked. That was when I started to comply with the training.”
“And this training…” Liam wipes his eyes, but his voice is firm and authoritative. He has to be her general here, nothing else. “Please briefly explain what this training would entail.”
“He would do it when he was working from home. He had a dildo mounted on the wall, and above it was a clicker. I had to hit the clicker and deepthroat the cock one hundred times.” She can’t stop shaking. The room is closing in on her and she’s reliving all those awful days as she speaks. “He had a fucking machine. I would be strapped in for an hour. Then he would force me to...myself... on camera to the point of overstimulation. Then we’d practice positions and commands he wanted me to learn, and then I was made to take preventative punishments, normally just the wooden paddle on me. And then puppy training…where I’d act like a dog and have to fetch.” She grabs the bag and throws up again, her skin pale. She’s shutting down, going into a dark place of her mind that no one can save her from, and Liam notices.
He shuts his folder, standing up. “Okay, we’re done. Tell EMS to pull to the entrance of the building and be ready with a full oxygen mask and the EKG machine.”
Just as he’s about to grab Marlow’s wheelchair, the female OSI agent pushes him out of the way and throws a picture on the table in front of Marlow. “Tell me about this,” she snaps, and Marlow’s world falls apart.
She recognizes herself in the picture, although she doesn’t remember it being taken. The flash is on, making her pale body stand out against the dark wood and the puddle of blood she’s lying in. Her brown hair is in a tangle around her head and a litany of bruises and cuts cover her body, her face half hidden by her arm. There are new wounds over old wounds, indented scars and raised scars all on a stick thin body, so small and twisted that she doesn’t look human. Come and blood smear around her mouth and between her thighs, a few drops of come on her shoulders. There’s a muzzle on her face and shackles on her ankles, but the main focus falls on her back area. She has whip marks, so many whip marks both old and new, but there’s something far darker than that. A tattoo, bold black letters written across her back. A reminder that she will never escape from. A reminder of who she was to Hunter, to Kovacevic, and to most men who look at her.
Dog.
It’s tattooed on her back and she’s tried her absolute hardest to hide it from the team, but she’s seeing it and Liam is seeing it and the whole world is falling away. She hears her heart monitor’s rapid beeping but it’s like it’s coming from an underwater tunnel, the main thing she can hear is herself hyperventilating and a voice in her head: what’s the matter, little Starshine? Did the stick up your ass finally fall out? Are you going to be my good cocksucking girl or a bad worthless doggie?
The team does not know the full extent of Hunter Bianchi. They do not know how good he was at creating pain. And they do not know how good she was at receiving it.
Liam is shouting in the distance, or maybe that’s just the wind. She doesn’t know. She doesn’t know anything anymore. She forgot how to read in that seven months save for two things: HB, for Hunter Bianchi, and Dog, for her.
It’s too much. There isn’t enough air in the world to make her breathe, to make her stay awake, to make the reality of this situation any different.
Marlow passes out in her wheelchair, medical alarms echoing through the interrogation room as Liam screams for help.