Interrogation #1

“I want things done to me that I don’t want done to me,” the beautiful brunette sitting in the examination chair says as the crowd of bystanders hovers in close to watch what is going to happen to her. She’s a petite woman with wavy brown hair. She’s sitting nervously, moving her head back and forth, squirming from the imminent violation of her will.  

“No, no,” she mumbles. 

She’s been accused of murder, and the mob has drug her here to this dingy examination room to question her, to decide her fate in the matter. Is she guilty, or is she innocent? We all want to know. 

The doctor, a beautiful blond who was recently murdered but who refuses to stay dead, takes a seat in front of the accused. The brunette is stammering. 

“No, no, I don’t want this done to me. No. ”  

“Restrain her,” the doctor says in a clear, clinical tone. The doctor may be dead, but she’s not going to let that insignificant fact stop her from conducting this interrogation of her own brutal murder. 

Two men from the crowd step forward to assume the role of orderlies. They strap the woman’s arms to the chair with the attached belts as she continues to protest. 

The doctor is wearing a tight, nearly sheer bodysuit and black pants. Her full breasts drip cleavage from her outfit, but I suppose she has a right to wear what she wants given that she’s just been murdered. The only item that indicates her position is the stethoscope draped around her neck. 

“Put her legs in the stirrups,” the doctor orders, and the two orderlies obey.

“No,” the accused woman protests weakly. “Please, I don’t want this.” But the woman’s husband standing next to me is smiling as he watches what is being done to her. 

The doctor takes her stethoscope from where it’s been resting and puts it in her ears. She assumes a calming tone toward the woman as she runs a hand from the brunette’s knee toward her loins. 

“I’m going to listen to your pussy,” the doctor says with a serious sense of urgency. There are no jokes here. The answer to the woman’s guilt or innocence lies there between her spread thighs. The doctor pulls the crotch of the woman’s lingerie to the side, exposing the folds of her flower to the room. The crowd collectively leans in in anticipation of an answer. The doctor arches forward, the head of her instrument in her hand. She presses the cold metal onto the accused woman’s pussy and listens. A moment passes in silence as each person in the crowd stands breathless, and then the doctor exclaims, “She didn’t do it!”

Interrogation #2