"I am an attaché at the American embassy, I have diplomatic immunity. I demand you release me at once!” 

The raven-haired Latina beauty smirked at my outburst. In her Spanish-flavored accent she replied in good English, "You are in no position to make demands, I think, senor.”  

Well, she had me there.  

The toned, curvaceous woman was standing over my seated figure in the small, warm, dimly-lit room. Though she was of average height, her high-heeled boots meant that Major Diaz of the Secret Police towered over me, with an air of intimidation.  

And an aura of sexuality.  

Her wonderful breasts, unencumbered by a bra, were barely contained by a form-fitting crop-top that looked like it would burst any moment under the strain.   

The same was true of her skin-tight hot pants. Both were of a creamy white color that set off her gorgeous mocha skin. Her belt held a sheathed knife.  

In contrast, I was wearing only the thin sleep shorts I was wearing when her goons kidnapped me in my sleep an hour ago. I was securely bound to a chair, with leather straps around my neck, wrists, thighs and ankles, 

"This is not an official interview, senor Brown," she continued. "Your people do not yet know you are missing, and I contend you gave up your diplomatic immunity when you started an affair with the known traitorous rebel, Catalina Cortez." 

The Major leaned into my face, giving me a close-up view of her marvelous cleavage, along with a whiff of her intoxicating scent: a sweet mix of female pheromones and perfume. My cock was getting hard, despite the danger I was in.  

(Early in the abduction, my captors had given me a shot of something that sedated me during transport to this unknown, isolated location. I now suspected it included an aphrodisiac.)  

"Tell me where the traitor Cortez is,” she whispered, her face close to mine, “and where she and the rebels are meeting tonight."  

The Major slowly unsheathed her knife and brandished it before my eyes. "Things will get very bad for you if you do not cooperate, but . . . "  

Her free hand found its way to the bulge in my shorts and lightly stroked the rising rod she found there. 

". . . things could be very pleasant if you do the right thing and comply with my simple—and entirely reasonable—request."  

With a dry throat, I croaked that I did not know what she was talking about.  

"Then you will suffer the consequences," she quietly snarled.  

Major Diaz leaned in, her eyes locked onto mine, our noses a millimeter apart. I thought she was going to kiss me, but, without looking down, she cut away my shorts with her knife, exposing my privates to the tropical air.  

Damn. She’d obviously done this sort of thing before.  

Stepping back and smiling, she then put one foot on the front part of the chair between my legs and pushed down. That portion of the seat gave way, and suddenly, my genitals and ass were completely open and vulnerable.  

My thighs remained spread wide, still strapped to the sides of what was obviously a specially-designed interrogation throne. 

One specially designed to permit access to a bound man’s crotch, be it from the front or from below.  

Oh, yeah, she had done this before.  

With a satisfied little chuckle, the Major sheathed her blade, pivoted and walked three paces to the other side of the room, showing off an ass which was just as memorable as her chest. 

She wheeled a small cart next to my chair and, pulling aside a thin towel that covered the top, revealed a host of wires, boxes and metal devices.  

"In case we do eventually have to release you, if there are no marks on your body, there is no proof you were tortured. But there are ways to inflict pain without scars. I call this my one-two-three persuasion system." 

Holding up a shiny metal butt plug close to my face, she said, "One in your ass."  

She displayed a pair of alligator clips, snapping the jagged teeth open and closed. "Two on your nipples."  

Then she showed me a trio of small black rubbery nooses. "Three wires to surround your balls, the base of your cock and the head."  

All were connected to wires that snaked back to a control panel laced with ominous dials and knobs. The labels were in Spanish, but I recognized the symbols of electric measurements; amps and volts and such. She did not have to outline her plan to run current through my erotic zones, turning them into punishment zones. That much was clear.

I gasped and struggled against my bonds, to no effect. The Major’s eyes were sparkling and her smile was that of a sadistic predator feline watching and toying with its cornered and helpless prey. The tropical night was warm, as was the room we were in, but this was the first moment in the session I truly started to sweat. 

The Major noticed and said, "It is hot in here, no? So, so warm.” 

She slowly stripped off her top, uncaging those firm breasts and perky nipples. She played with them; lightly, almost absent-mindedly while she spoke.

"Here is what I intend to do,” she said. “I will gag you and spend the next hour torturing you. I will hurt you in ways that only an evil woman can and will do to a man under her control. Only then will I ungag you and ask the question again. And that time, of course, you will tell me everything." 

I moaned. Her hand found its way back down to my naked cock. Her fingers traced up and down its turgid length. 

"Or, you can tell me now and I will spend that hour giving you the finest sex you've ever experienced. A long, slow, wet blowjob is only the start. I will then ride your cock, effortlessly controlling your sexual responses with my very talented pussy.” 

I said nothing, but I did let out a small moan. She continued.  

“I will control your body and mind and build you up to the most amazing orgasm you have ever had. Certainly, better than the pathetic efforts of your slut girlfriend, Miss Cortez, I am sure." 

Again pulling out her knife, she lightly scraped it around my upper chest.  

“You have a lovely chest of hair, mister diplomat. That is nice, very macho. Although I may need to trim around your nipples. To aid in conductivity.”  

She lightly flicked the dull side of the knife against those nubs, not cutting, but stimulating them. The tool then moved down to my pelvis, tantalizingly teasing the short pubic hairs that surrounded my cock and balls. 

“I see that you are trimmed, but not bald down here. Good. Hairless is for little boys, not for men. And you are definitely a man. A man I would love to know better.” 

My lips were dry from the excitement and the arousal. It did not go unnoticed.

She took a sip of something from a glass, then leaned into my face and put her lips onto mine. She transferred a bit of the liquid—rum, I think—from her mouth, then kissed me, her tongue briefly dancing with mine.  

It was an exquisite promise of what could be, if only I cooperated. But I held firm. 

“I tell you, ma'am, I don’t know this woman Cortez, or the rebels, or anything that you’re talking about.” 

She stepped back. "I know you are a diplomat and not a trained agent,” she replied, “but I assume you have had some instruction in resisting interrogation. Your training will be of no avail, senor. You will find me supremely skilled in producing both intolerable pain and immeasurable pleasure."  

She tapped a control on the floor and my chair began to elevate a few feet. The Major wriggled out of her tight shorts and stood there with her hands on her hips, parading her body. No panties on this beauty.  

Also no fuzz. No tan lines. No inhibitions.  

Her moist pussy lips glistened in the dim light. The scent of her arousal reached my nostrils. 

Now clad only in her belt and boots, the Major pulled up a stool and sat comfortably with her face near my crotch. "Better. I do not kneel before my captives." 

Her tongue came out and she started gently licking the head of my cock. She then moved down to lick the shaft as well, closing her eyes and moaning softly. Her behavior was as if my cock was coated with an illicit drug that was satisfying a deep addiction in her body.  

When she opened them to check on my face, her heavy-lidded, lustful eyes told me she knew exactly what affect she what having on me. While one of her hands was playing with my firm balls, the other found its way down to her pussy. She purred softly, enjoying the sensation.  

She pulled back and paused in her fellatio, watching my frustrated cock bob up and down.  

The Major then stood up and reached into the cabinet, pulling out an eight-inch black dildo. She inserted it upright into a slot on the top of her stool, then started easing her already wet pussy onto the softly buzzing sex tool.  

"Pain or pleasure,” she repeated, with a guttural sigh. “Whichever you choose, I might as well be comfortable.” 

She gyrated her pelvis a bit, and with a deep sigh, impaled her pussy to the deepest, most satisfying level possible.  

"Time to decide, Mister attaché,” she said. “Torture or Tease? Agony or Ecstasy? The Lady or the Tiger? I’ll enjoy myself either way.” 

So would I.  

Enjoy it, I mean.   

Mistress Montoya, the lady facing me, was the best Dominatrix in this South American country. She was renowned for accommodating the most elaborate fantasies her clients could come up with.  

Like my fevered dream of playing an undercover spy in a foreign country, who is captured, dominated, interrogated and seduced.  

The Mistress here had been recommended by Catalina, a local, high-class lady of the evening I knew and trusted, who had served as the go-between to set up this sexual charade. There had been no goons to capture me, just Catalina driving me to this house outside the city.  

Once here, Catalina strapped me into my chair and called out to the Mistress that I was ready for her entrance and for the start of the fantasy. She exited the room, but remained nearby, and I expected her to make an appearance a bit later in the session.  

During the drive, Catalina had reassured me that this Dominatrix was supremely experienced and would push my boundaries—and blow my mind—without actually injuring me.  

So, I now decided to take as much of the electric “torture” as I could—I've had some experience with electro-stim back in the States—before I gave up the “secrets” I possessed.  

It was promising to be a fantastic night.  

Worth every peso.  

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Author's note: if you like this story, and ones like it, please check out my LS group, Bondage Fantasies (formerly known as Bondage - Women Tied Together) for a lot of sexy images and fun captions.