Three times a Lady Martin Kane A Delphi Agency Tale: A gruesome interrogation is performed. --- Author's note: Anyone wishing to contact me may do so via the DtV messageboard for Readers & Writers. Please do not use the E-mail address mentioned on previous tales as it is no longer active. I invite anyone to send their comments, suggestions, thoughts or suspicions should they wish to. Copyright is mine. I'd be flattered if anyone wanted to use this tale elsewhere, but please seek permission first. Needless to say this story is purely a fiction and all characters merely the products of an overwrought imagination I'll abstain from the adult content warning, if you've got this far, you're certain to know what kind of thing to expect anyway. --- When Caitlin entered the room, the three men were already bound and gagged. They sat in a row, all seated on a long church pew style bench. Hands were cuffed behind them, tangled within the heavy wooden seatback. Three identical strips of thick black tape sealed their mouths, three identical expressions of fear and apprehension met her as she walked into the room, carefully closed the door behind her and turned to face her captive audience. She smiled at them, a winning expression. None of the three men fell for it however, they did not know who she was but they knew why they were here. That meant they knew why she was here. None of the men were about to let a pretty face fool them into believing the woman before them was anything but the most dangerous person they’d ever met. Caitlin addressed her victims. They were scared, that was a good start. They were also unharmed, as per her instruction. Everything was ready. "Gentlemen," she began, formally, her smile for all appearances a genuine one. "I’m sure you know why you’ve been detained so I’ll skip directly to the point. Each of you knows the password that will allow access to a certain computer file. Any one of you may relate this password to me, and if you do so, you’ll survive to see the sun rise. Your two colleges will not. I am well aware that you do not wish to tell me this password, however, I have been hired for this very task and I assure you, I’m good at my job." She looked at each of the men in turn. They were still scared but there was resolve in each set of eyes; these men were all certain that they would not betray their secret. Caitlin however, knew better. She was dressed in a long, heavy leather jacket. It was bulky and covered her torso so that, as she removed it, the true shape of her upper body was revealed. Caitlin was a bodybuilder, that much was blatantly obvious by the broad and built shoulders, the thick arms with bulging biceps straining beneath the skin. She wore a sleeveless black top, cut high against her throat, stretched taut over a swollen chest. Full and generous breasts jutted blatantly, looking just as formidable as her heavy muscles. She raised her arms, running her fingers through lush blonde hair. The purpose was quite obviously to show off the impressive biceps, which leapt and tightened at the movement. "I don’t know if you’re aware of the mythical significance of the number three," she said, ignoring the shocked expressions. "It’s a theory that I subscribe to. I’ll run it by you briefly, just so that you understand what’s happening here. I’d hate for you to die without first having a clear idea of all the whys and wherefores." She let this hang in the air, let them sit and brood on it a few moments. She picked up the discarded jacket and carefully hung it on the wall rack. She took time in the act, securing it even and straight, turning the collar down and folding the sleeves in neatly. Next to it was a towel that she removed, shook out and then replaced with a flourish. She knew that they would be staring at her back as she did this, assessing her powerful muscles - the flex and motion. Caitlin faced them again. "Three is the most important number in this world. Everything revolves around it, everything that functions in our existence, does so in threes or can be broken down into three. I’m not talking about superstitions or numerology, I’m not even talking about maths. This is about how the world works. Everything depends on threes. "Three dimensions; three cheers; three point turn; three tenses; three genders. There’s the Mother, Maiden and Crone, the Father, Son and Holy Ghost. Water, our most basic necessity, is composite of three elements. I could list examples indefinitely but it proves nothing as counter examples always exist; though as I say, you can always break them down to a basic threesome. The way we think, the collective unconscious, the manner in which we express ourselves, constantly reflects our inherent nature of breaking down subjects into three. Many, more, most; I, You, They. I have killed, I do kill, I shall always kill." Caitlin paused for dramatic effect. She’d given the speech before but often felt that people failed to take proper note of what she was saying. "Let me give you an example. If I punch a man, I’ll hit him not once, but three times. Though I have the strength to destroy him in one blow, the symmetry and balance of the three punch is more satisfying. The first punch will knock him senseless, rendering him helpless. The second will ensure complete unconsciousness and the third becomes murder." Caitlin regarded her captive audience smiled, just a hint of sadism apparent in the grin. "This is how it works," she told them. "There are three of you. I’m going to ask each of you in turn the same question. That’s one question asked three times. I’m going to ask it to each of you once only and then I’m never going to ask it again. You each have one chance and one chance only to tell me what I want to hear. And gentlemen, I really do advise you to be forthcoming." She walked over to the closest man to her and neatly ripped the duct- tape off of his mouth. She regarded him with a serious moment of empathy. "You may well believe that you’ll not tell me what I want to hear. I can assure you however that this is not the case. If you’ll only take my word for it and accept this as the truth then you can be spared a most unpleasant experience." The man did not speak, somehow defiantly matching her penetrating gaze. "What’s the password?" She waited a second... two... three. He remained resolutely silent. Caitlin just sighed. She replaced the tape gag and backed off. "I want to tell you a story," she said, regarding the three of them as a whole again. She swung her arms around and threw them into a muscular pose, pumping her biceps up into action. Her arms leapt to attention, huge and round like baseballs under the flesh. Biceps large enough to split the seam of a shirt hardened into steel as she squeezed tight. She waited a few moments, then dropped the pose, keeping her attention on them. They were now staring at her in absolute shock. "As you’ve probably noticed, I am a bodybuilder. That is one who uses applied weight training to build up her body. But my muscles aren’t just pretty to look at, they also have incredible practical application too. A few years ago I used to be a pit-fighter. Two people go into a pit or a ring of some sort, as in a boxing ring. They fight a no-holds-barred fight that ends only when one of them is either unconscious or dead. As you can imagine, having muscles like mine was a great advantage in that environment. "Then, one day, I saw this guy in action, another pit-fight. He did the most amazing thing I had ever seen. Once he’d defeated an opponent, he ripped him apart. I mean he literally tore the man into two pieces. Now I’ve seen some gruesome deaths before - hell, I’ve committed most them; I’ve snapped necks and stomped skulls; I’ve lifted a man above my head and brought him down onto my knee snapping his spine like a hollow twig; but this...? This was something else. "I fell in love then and there. I’d never been so turned on in my life. I found this guy later and he was everything I imagined him to be - everything I needed him to be. We just clicked. When muscle- bodies fuck, it isn’t like how you people experience it. Imagine having ceaseless energy and stamina. Imagine having the strength to crush a man with your bare hands and always needing to be careful lest you unwittingly damage your partner in the heat of the moment. But with him I didn’t have to hold anything back. I knew he was tough enough to take it so I could be utterly unrestrained and uninhibited, and it was the same for him - he could be as hard and rough as he wanted and was powerful enough to be as hard and rough as I wanted him to be. We screwed without restraint - so hard and vicious that it would have killed any normal man or woman. "And after that, I got him to teach me how to do it, how to rip a man apart like that. How to hold him, where to pull, where to tear. I went out and picked up a guy in a bar. I took him back to the gym where my boyfriend watched and commented while I tried it out, ripping his legs apart, splitting him right up to his ribcage. And then we fucked again, right there and then, and it was better than ever." Caitlin had become dreamy during this reminiscence. The memory seemed to be turning her on and her voice had become more wistful, her chest heaving tellingly whenever she sighed, sharp nipples poking at the material of her top as she became steadily more aroused. But then she stopped speaking and her demeanour became suddenly harsher and cruel. Not cruel in the sense of the sadistic heat that had fuelled her telling until now, but cold and angry. "This story doesn’t have a happy ending," she told the men, regarding them each in turn. "The people I worked for back then didn’t appreciate fraternisation within the staff. They found a way to split us up, as it were. The next scheduled pit-fight set us against each other. "We both knew the reality of the situation and we both knew where our loyalties lay, but even so, when I got into that arena and saw the look in his eyes, it shocked me. He was ready to do it - to kill me. I’d gone in there thinking that I’d do only what I had to, in order to survive. "I had a perfect record, I’d never left an opponent alive in my entire career. But I was prepared to defeat him without inflicting any permanent damage. Then I went into the arena. At that moment I knew that only one of us was going to walk out alive. The other one would be scooped up into a bin-liner. "I’ll spare you the gory details - it’s suffice to say that I was victorious and he was not. It was the first time I succeeded in ripping a man into two. The fact that I despatched the man with his own party-piece is an irony that wasn’t lost on the crowd. It was also my swansong. I refused to fight again, much to the irritation of the people who owned my services. The announcement of my retirement was not taken well at first. But someone stepped in to negotiate on my behalf. A woman who ran an specialist agency paid off my duty and employed me to perform various tasks to which a woman of my talents is best suited." She smiled at the men again. "But enough of the biography, to the matter in hand." And without another word or warning, she strode directly over to where the first victim sat. His eyes were alight with horror but she ignored his squirming and hopeless struggles, reaching over him and down to the handcuffs behind his back. In a moment of surreal intimacy, her considerable breasts crushed up hard against him, smothering his face while she grasped at the handcuffs. She’s not been given the keys, nor had she asked for them. It was hardly a consideration for one as mighty as she. With an audible snick, she snapped the chain between the cuffs and stood straight once more. She had a hold of his wrists and drew his arms forward. "Stand," she urged, tugging gently at him, more akin to someone encouraging a shy partner than a sadist leading a victim to certain death. He obeyed but was whimpering quietly, fear writ bold in his eyes. He had begun sweating profusely and his shirt was damp with it. Caitlin paid it no mind and led him with gentle firmness to the centre of the room. She continued her tenderness, sliding her powerful arms about him with such care and love that you could almost believe she intended the man no ill will. She embraced him softly, moving in slow dance- steps. Her face was an inch from his and she regarded him with such concern, shushing his fears. "Baby," she cooed. "It’s OK. Hush." She leant her head on his shoulder, dancing softly to some invisible ballad. Her breasts were squashed up against his chest, their soft bulk pumping heat against him. Upper arms at least as large as her immense breasts hugged him tenderly. She held back on actually squeezing him but the tremendous size and tension against his body made it quite clear that she could crush him like a beer-can just by flexing. But despite his fear, the allure of her body was powerful; the heat and solid tone of her flesh against him was utterly seductive. Despite himself, despite his fear and apprehension, he felt himself begin to get an erection. He couldn’t help it, it was the motion and proximity of her body, the heady scent of her effusing him, combined with the giddy combination of adrenaline and mortality. He tried to arch his hips back, not wanting her to notice his excitement but she held him tight and he was trapped against her. She cooed appreciatively into his ear and began grinding her hips, pressing herself against his erection. He shuddered, this time it was purely physical, a bodily response totally irrespective of circumstance. He knew, on an intellectual level that she would kill him. His emotions blocked this out, fear and shock attempting to preserve sanity. But his body was working on its own, responding on a purely physical level. She cut through his confusions and internal paradoxes with a single, decisive strike. The hand that so tenderly and lovingly adhered to the curve above his hip changed its tact; with a simple, lethal precision, she jammed a rigid hand, fingers first, into his kidneys. The pain was intense, like fire erupting in the pit of his stomach. If she hadn’t continued to hold him up he would have collapsed there. Instead, he went limp in her arms and she continued dancing, carrying him like a mannequin. The gag cut off his scream, but his lungs tore loose anyway, hollering his pain. She shushed him again, as though he were a child waking from a nightmare. This however was no dream and there was no way out except death. For the first time, he actually realised that, when it came, death truly would be a blessed relief. "I’ve just killed you," she told him carelessly. "I’ve just ended your life. Sure, maybe if an ambulance were rushing here right now, maybe you could be saved. It’s possible that with emergency surgery they could mend the rupture I’ve just made, but there’s no guarantee that they could. And, rest assured, the cavalry are not on their way and no one is rushing to save you. There will be no last minute reprieve. "It’s no conciliation, I know, but that internal injury I’ve just inflicted upon you will not be the death of you. Oh it’s a fatal wound all right, don’t get me wrong there. Given enough time, you’ll die here on this floor. But you won’t live long enough for it to kill you." She stopped dancing then. She eased him away from her and held him up like a puppet. She knew he’d collapse to the ground if she let him go. She had her hands under his armpits and supported his entire weight. His body was slumped forward, his head like a leaden sack. She curved one hand up, gripping his shoulder as best she could from below and then retracted the other arm, her right. She took his entire weight on the left arm. His body slumped down as soon as one arm let go. She raised the other arm a little, holding him up before her. "This’ll kill you too," she told him, and drew back her fist. She bunched her muscles, making a proper show of the act. Then she struck. She punched him in the chest and the cracking sound was audible to all present. He collapsed backwards, propelled for the blow. He landed heavily and began to spasm. Caitlin looked down and his broken form, noting the caved ribs. He was dead all right, even now his lungs would be collapsing, the heart struggling to keep its beat. "But of course, I’m going to kill you three times," she assured him. He wasn’t paying her any notice, too engrossed within his private agony to notice the outside world. Not even realising what was happening when she walked around him and took one of his ankles in each hand and lifted his legs up and out to the level of her hips. The other two men knew what was coming however, and their cries, though muffled, were insistent and desperate. Caitlin ignored them. "Only one thing could have prevented this torture," she told her victim, "but you didn’t take the chance when it had been offered. Now you’ll see the error of your ways." It was said for the benefit of her witnesses, not her victim. He was too far gone to care. Until she began. Agony like no other tore at him. Caitlin pulled and flexed, her muscles bulging in unreal proportions as his body began to break apart. She grinned as she planted a heavy foot into his crotch, meticulously crushing his dick and testicles. She braced and pulled, blood beginning first to seep and then to flow. She eased his legs straight and parted them beyond that which was natural, her arms wide apart. Even without the huge biceps flexed in an obvious pump, her upper arms were huge, the muscles bristling with power. A sick crunch sounded and one leg loosened. It popped free and she pulled at it, tearing the body upward. His screaming began anew, this was a new level of hell. The horrified spectators couldn’t take their eyes off the sight, couldn’t help but notice that his legs suddenly seemed a lot longer than they used to be. It was an illusion, given by the fact that his crotch had now split in half to his waist. His trousers were in two halves, his legs no longer meeting in the middle like they should. Caitlin was breathing heavily now, but not through exertion. She wasn’t just in this job for the money - she liked her work. She eased her way along the legs, clutching them to either side of her face, bracing them on her mighty shoulders. She wrapped muscular arms about his thighs, squeezing her peaked biceps against his legs to the point that if they still worked, the blood would have been cut off. She flexed her torso, swelling her chest and rolling her arms aside, ripping his thighs apart at the same time. A fresh agony, a fresh tearing, a fresh gush of blood. Ligaments twanged and popped as meat was stretched and torn out of place. As the containing barriers of flesh were ripped apart, his internal organs began to slop out, shuddering from his cavities like a pile of steaming vomit. Caitlin let out an exhilarated cry, feeling her body begin to orgasm already. She reached inside the split form of her screaming victim and found a firm hand grip on either side. She lent her body back and torn at him again, ripping down as far as his ribcage. The stomach toppled out as the surrounding walls were peeled away. It splattered on the floor in a wet spillage. He finally stopped screaming, though what was left of the body in her hands was still shuddering. The legs were flopped either side of her. So far, the spine had stuck strictly to one side, ever since she’d parted the pelvis. Now it seemed undecided. Careful not to sever either length of flesh, she reached her hands inside the ribcage, all the way until the knuckles braced against his collarbone at the other end. Buried up to her elbows in his body, she raised her arms up in front of her, righting his body again. The flailing halves of his form slopped down like tails on an old-style jacket. Her biceps hardened in peaked anticipation as she tensed her muscles. Then his body exploded as she ripped her arms apart, tearing herself free. The ribcage had shattered fairly evenly, the spine still sticking to its favoured side. The lungs hung from the lopping flesh, the heart had fallen loose, amongst the mess of organs and tissue and blood vessels. The two split halves of his now very obviously dead body, looked like they had been eviscerated. The contents of his body were spread all over the place. Caitlin collapsed on the floor as an orgasm racked her unceasingly. She reached under her skirt to masturbate with unabashed fury, irrespective of the numb audience. She finally finished and collected herself, regarding the mess that once was a man. His head was still attached to one side of the body, the other half having been ripped free at the collar. "I know what you’re thinking," she told her witnesses. "This doesn’t correlate to mythical significance of the number three." She lifted the greater half of his body by grasping the attached arm and positioning it so the head came to her feet. She placed one foot on the fairly complete neck and smiled. "For every problem, there’s a simple solution." A simple flex of muscles, pressing down of the thigh and a tugging that made her arms bloom into mountains. A crunch issued and the head actually rolled as it fell free. Caitlin turned away from the gory mess, focusing her full attention on the two guys who were watching her with a horrified intensity that bordered on rapture. "Now I won’t lie to you and pretend I didn’t enjoy that, because I did. However, I will say that it could have been avoided. All he had to do was say one word and he would have been a free man." She looked pointedly at first one man, and then the other. "You both know the password and either one of you can give it to me. If you do, you’ll go free and no other unpleasantries will befall you." She gestured to the puddles behind her. "If you don’t, you know what I can do. I’ll make sure I take my time." By the time she’d finished her little speech, both men were bucking and braying in their confinements, both were yelling against their muffling gags. It was clear that each wanted to be the one to spill the beans. Caitlin saw this and tried not to laugh. The mythical power of three does it again. Without a hint to warn them, she ripped off both gags simultaneously. Both men blurted out "Bawd" at the same time. Breathlessly, they repeated their certitude, trying to convince her that they said it first. She asked them to spell it and, again, they both fell over each other trying to please her. This time she did laugh. "Good boy," she said as she turned away. Which man she said it to however, neither one could be sure. She ignored both men as she walked to the wall, thumbed an intercom and told the speaker-grill, "Bawd. Biceps - Abdominal - Woman - Delts." "You sure?" the speaker asked, sounding decidedly unconvinced. "Sure I’m sure. That’s why you hired a professional." A pause. Caitlin waited, listing to static crackle before an impressed: "Bingo. Baby, I’m sorry I doubted you." "What about the two loose ends?" The voice was too overjoyed to really care. "As you see fit." "Thanks, good luck with the software." "Have fun. Let me know when you’re done, I’ll send in some guy to clean up." She walked away from the wall to regard her horrified audience. Needless to say, they had heard every work and knew what was coming. She flexed her biceps as though they were weapons, and in this case, that’s truly what they were. The peaked muscles looked more devastating than ever as she regarded first her massive arms, then they two men she was going to destroy with them. "I’m sorry to lie to you guys but you know how I like to do things in threes. I’ve only killed one guy and given myself just one orgasm in the progress." One man was screaming in fear, howling like a newborn. The other was weeping silently. Caitlin regarded them both and grinned. "Let’s play."