Description:

Under the new Compulsory Seating directives, high-value prisoners are no longer taken to ordinary cells. They are brought, one after another, to President Maria Rios herself—three hundred feet of calm authority—and placed between her fully clothed cheeks for the duration of questioning.

Official language calls it non-lethal pressure designed to encourage cooperation, but Maria rarely bothers with official language. Five men, five threats, one pair of trousers. Each interrogation begins in the same dark, the same heat, and the same certainty that the most powerful woman in the country is sitting on them.

(300-ft giantess, sitting/smothering, interrogation, size difference, political giantess)

Excerpt:

The new protocols were simple on paper.

Five men, five threats to the stability of the administration. One pair of trousers.

Under the expanded Compulsory Seating directives, high-value political prisoners were no longer processed through standard holding cells or conventional interrogation rooms. They were brought, one after another, to the President herself.

Each man was stripped of everything but his fear and placed between the fully clothed, trouser-clad cheeks of Maria Rios—three hundred feet of calm authority—and left there for the duration of the questioning. How they left was entirely up to them.

Official language called it non-lethal pressure designed to encourage cooperation. Maria rarely bothered with the official language. It was a proven technique but it was so much more than that. It was also . . . fun.

She took them in sequence—the network architect, the operations planner, the foreign-linked courier, the former logistics officer, and finally the young ideologue.

Each man woke in the same dark, the same heat, and the same absolute certainty that the most powerful woman in the country was sitting on them. If this didn’t make them talk, what would?

The Network Architect

He came back to himself in the heat and fabric and the slow, crushing certainty that he was already inside something alive.

The dark was complete—soft charcoal wool pressed against every part of him. His chest, his face, the backs of his thighs. The pressure was steady and enormous as he tried to push with both arms. He only managed to make the fabric shift a fraction of an inch before it settled again, heavier. His ribs creaked and air came in thin, warm sips that tasted of clean skin and something faintly floral that had long since mixed with her natural heat.

Somewhere far above him, a voice spoke.

“You’re awake. Good.”

President Maria Rios. He knew that voice from television and the countless speeches she’d given in her tenure. Three hundred feet of calm authority, and he was currently in the space between her ass cheeks.

He tried to answer and only produced a thin, compressed sound. The wool was fine, expensive, and the kind of fabric that belonged on a woman who signed executive orders for a living.

Other Info:

4,921 words Instant download • PDF & ePUB • Short story