Axelle had not anticipated that things would get this rough.
And she had not anticipated quite how much she would like it.
But, as the interrogation wore on, and as her captor’s attentions grew bolder and more physically demanding, she was forced to admit that somehow this was making her even wetter than before. This was a torture of a different sort: struggling to maintain a dispassionate demeanor while her body responded to the stimulation in unexpected ways. Willing herself not to give in to the feelings coursing through her being, knowing that there was no one there to see or judge her if she failed.