I love it when you beg. I just simply, purely, unadulteratedly adore listening to you whine. Hearing your gasps, and your moans, and your thin panting ‘please’s… This is the real reason I took this job.

In the beginning of my career as a information extraction specialist, I was very clear that I was doing this work for my country, because it needed to be done and because it was the right thing. (You can practically hear the “TM” at the end there, can’t you?) I told myself over and over again that torturing, tormenting and driving to the brink of insanity the enemies of my government wasn’t all that fun. I staunchly maintained that I did not actually ~enjoy~ it.

Yeah. I was kidding myself.

I was good at it, tho. My superiors would hand me a file, and I’d go into a bare plain room, and two, three, twelve hours later, I’d come out with the information we needed. Of course, I’d leave a broken shell of a man behind me, weeping and sobbing, pleading for release, for permission to be my personal slave. There are always casualties in any war.

Post war, my skills were aptly applied to extracting information and secrets from the CEO’s of rival corporations. I was highly paid, sought after, courted even. My work environment was much, much nicer. Instead of plain rooms with concrete walls, I got to work in five star hotel suites, penthouses at the top of the world and the occasional boardroom.

In the finest of fashions, walking in fabulous Jimmy Choo’s, I stalked my prey. I’d corner them, seduce them, tease them, and ultimately, deny them. Oh, that heady denial. To be told ‘No’ as you beg, pleading on bended knee… the poor things would follow me around, so eager for my laughter, my scorn, my denial.

It was a natural move for me, to move from extracting information for the government, to working for corporations, to working for myself. I’m an information extraction specialist, and I will have all your secrets. I am a tease and denial expert; you can’t resist me.

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