File A

"EAHH!"

Twelve year old Tiffany Brophy awoke with a start. Something or someone had just touched her foot. Her initial reaction was to reach down and brush it away, but when she tried to she found her hands wouldn't move; couldn't move.

Her wrists were caught in something, held tight. Her heart jumped in her chest, her breath came in sharp gasps. Only then did her mind begin to register what her body already knew. This was wrong. Everything was wrong.

She tried to move her head but it too was held in place, her neck bound by something on all sides, as were her legs. She was being held in an odd position. Her head and wrists bound at the same level, but not close enough for her hands to brush away her long, straight, brunette hair from her hazel eyes. Her torso rested on what felt like a padded bench that ended just below her rib cage, keeping her in line with her horizontal neck and suspending her chest over open air. Her thighs had been pulled up close to her hips, knees fully bent, and ankles pulled slightly away from each other.

She couldn't see anything. Either she was blindfolded, or the lights were out, she couldn't tell, nor did she really care. Right now all that she cared about was the fact that she was naked. She didn't need to see to know that, she could feel it.

Though the air in the room was warm she could still feel a slight draft as it played over her bare skin. It tickled her in places, places that had rarely been exposed in such a way. She could feel it as it fluttered against her downy soft pubes which had only recently sprung forth. Her breasts, which had already swollen to a C cup in the last two years, hung below her and swung gently every time she moved. Below her stomach and pelvis the padding of the bench began to become slick with her nervous sweat.

The position that she was held in unlocked a memory long since thought forgotten. It suddenly came back in stunning detail. It was of herself at two years old, just learning the ins and outs of using the potty all on her own. She swelled with pride as she leapt from the hard plastic seat set over the bowl just for her, calling to her father, 'Daddy! Daddy! I did it!' Her father entering the bathroom smiling, calling her a 'good girl' and letting her know just how proud he was of her with tiny kisses on her cheeks.

She remembered turning from him, bending over, showing him her rear end and privates so that he could finish the job for her. She remembered him moving behind her, a wad of toilet paper in hand as he gently cleaned her. She remembered that feeling of being opened and exposed to the air of the room as he dabbed and wiped. She had that feeling again now, only this time she burned with embarrassment and shame rather than with pride.

She struggled against her bindings, feeling them cut and burn the harder she fought. Tears formed and poured down her cheeks, her lips tasting the saltiness in each tiny drop. Feeling them as they slipped over her quivering lips reminded her that she still had a voice.

"Help! Help! Someone, please help me!"

Her mind began to scream, 'Why? Why is this happening to me?'

Though she wasn't sure exactly what was happening, she knew it couldn't be good. Nothing good could come of waking up somewhere other than at home, completely naked and tied up like a prisoner. Naked and tied up when she should have been wearing her flannel PJs; Naked and tied up instead of hugging her favorite Teddy bear; Naked and tied up instead of being at home with her family.

"Please," she sobbed, "please let me go!"

No one answered, but she never, not for a single moment, believed that she was alone. Someone had done this to her. They wouldn't have left her like this. No. They were out there somewhere, listening to her cries, ignoring her pleas and seeing the most private parts of her body.

"Why are you doing this to me?" she called into the darkness, her voice choked with tears. "I wanna go home! Please ... please just let me go home..."

Suddenly she was blinded by powerful lights. Her eyes closed tightly, trying to shut out its stinging rays, but they pierced her eye lids, filling her vision with a red glow. Again her hands instinctively tried to move, this time to shield herself from the strong lighting, and again they were denied.

After some time she managed to blink her pupils into a less painful dilation. Out of the white blur shapes began to form around her. Directly in front of her, just a few feet away, sat an empty desk chair. Resting on the grey padded seat was a clip board holding several sheets of type filled paper and a ball point pen. To her right a television sat atop a small cart set at just the right height for her to view. Reflected on the blank screen, she could see that only her head and hands were in this room. They protruded out from the center of a wall, the remainder of her body hidden on the other side. Off to her left, if she strained her immobilized neck as hard as she could, there was a door that did not have a handle.

Of all these things there was one piece of equipment that made her whimper the most. Behind the chair and offset to the right slightly, mounted on a heavy duty tripod, the single glass eye of a movie camera glared evilly at her. Its flashing red light was a clear sign that her initial belief that they were watching her was not unfounded. The dark lens gaped at her; within its depths her own reflection sobbed and shook with red and puffy eyes.

"Why are you doing this to me?" she mournfully demanded of the unblinking eye. "Why?"

Still no answer; nothing; only the hum of the lights above and the near silent whir of the camera met her ears. She sat and waited, sobbing and sniffling, wondering what was going to happen to her.

Another memory flashed through her troubled mind. One from when she was seven years old and shopping with her mom at the mall. Her mom was still just sliding one item after another, the plastic hangers shrieking against the steel ring holding them up just above the floor, in a search for the correct size, style, and color. She was bored following her around the department store; it felt like she'd been doing that for hours and hours.

Off she went to find something to do. At first walking around in circles, her arms outstretched, finger tips brushing against tightly packed fabrics on either side. Then she began to zigzag and slalom around the circular racks from one end of the store to the other, her nose filling with that new clothes smell that only lasts until the first wash. When that became too much of a bore she began to crawl on the barely there carpeting, climbing and hiding in the middles of those round racks, surrounded by T-shirts and jeans. Every once in a while she reveled in the sheer joy of scaring an unwary customer with a loud 'Boo!' as they mimicked her mother's actions in search of bargains.

She became so lost in her own little world that she hadn't noticed just how far she had travelled. Tired of her games she emerged from the racks and sought out her mother, only to find that she was nowhere in sight.

Panic set in almost immediately, her little heart pounding in her chest. The playground of clothing now closed around her like a maze as she ran through the twisting aisles. The strangers who she had so much fun scaring just moments before now scared her. She had never felt so alone and lost. She thought that her mommy had left her behind, forgotten her, which is exactly how she felt right now.

Shhkktt

The sound of the door opening sent her terror into overdrive. She redoubled her efforts to pull free of her bindings, causing more pain but suffering the same result ... she couldn't move. With her heart thundering in her ears she craned her neck as hard as she could to look towards the doorway.

A tall man with black hair and sharp features entered the room. He wore a white lab coat, like a doctor, though Tiffany didn't think he really was one. He didn't even look at her as he marched in and picked up the clip board. His eyes scanned the print for a moment before he took a seat in front of her. He sat there in silence while reading, and Tiffany was too scared to speak.

Shhhhhhdddttt

The sound of the door closing caused Tiff to jump, her breath squeaked out of her in a tiny yelp.

"Good evening." The man's deep and powerful voice snapped her attention back to him. "How are you feeling?"

He still wasn't looking at her. His attention was focused only on the papers before him. He held the pen as if ready to write down something, but didn't. "Oh! I'm sorry. You must be thirsty."

Tiff stared at him in stunned silence. Her voice stuck in her throat, making her feel as if she were going to choke on her unspoken words. He bent down and retrieved a small cup with a straw and put the tube to her lips. "Drink this; it'll make you feel better."

Tiff held her lips tightly together, refusing the offered beverage.

"It's okay, it's just orange juice. Well, orange drink at least. I doubt that there's any actual juice in it." He held the drink and waited patiently for her to sip.

After a few seconds of indecision, Tiff finally suckled on the straw. The orange liquid didn't taste very good, slightly bitter actually, but it did make her dry throat feel better.

Once the drink was drained dry, the man pulled it free from her lips and set it on the floor out of her eyesight.

"Could you please state your full name for me?"

Tiff's eyes welled up with fresh tears. "Why ... why are you doing this to me?" Speaking nearly caused her to gag.

"If you could just answer my question, please, what is your full name?"

His words weren't harsh, but she could tell that he meant business.

"Tiff ... Tiffany."

"Last name too, please."

"Tiffany Brophy."

"Thank you Miss Brophy." The man made a tick mark on one side of the paper. "When were you born?"

Tiff didn't know why, but she felt compelled to answer him. "April ... April 12th."

"The year, please?"

"Nineteen sixty-four."

"Good girl." The man made another mark. "Any allergies?"

"N ... no sir," she spoke in a timid voice as her mind reeled in anger with herself. 'Why did I just call that monster sir?'

"Now, Tiffany, I'm sure you are wondering why you are here." His eyes finally met her own deep brown, penetrating eyes. "We just want to ask you a few questions. All you have to do is answer them truthfully." He offered her a surprisingly warm smile. "You can do that for me, can't you?"

"I ... I guess so," her lips quivered. "If I do, will you ... will you take me home?"

"Yes, Tiffany, we will take you home." Again he gave her that warm, fatherly smile. "But you have to answer every question, no matter what, and be honest."

Tiff felt like a ton of weight had been lifted off her. The sudden rush of emotions upon hearing that they would let her go caused her to smile back at the man. A smile that quickly vanished as she once again remembered that she was naked and bound.

"Why ... why am I naked?"

The man's eyes moved back to his clipboard as he made a few more tick marks. "It's part of our experiment. Don't worry, we're all doctors here, we've seen everything there is to see before."

The man stood up and moved close to Tiff's head, her nose almost touching the crotch of his black pants. For a moment Tiff started to panic again, believing that he was going to unzip his pants. She made a whimpering noise and closed her eyes tight. She felt him touch her face, lightly brushing her hair out of her eyes, before he slipped something like a cap over her head.

"This will tell us when you are not telling the truth." He tugged the tight fitting cap down, flattening her hair against her skull. "Remember, if you don't answer all of my questions honestly, we won't take you home."

Tiff opened her eyes in time to see him re-take his seat.

"Do you understand?"

"Yyyes ... sir."

"Good girl." He cleared his throat. "Let's begin then, shall we?"

The man in white flipped the first page over the back of his clipboard.

"All of these questions are to be answered with either a yes or a no. You do not need to explain your answers; all we want is either yes or no. Every time you answer truthfully a green light will flash above your head; Every time you give a deceptive answer that light will flash red. We will not move on until you give a truthful answer, so the sooner you tell the truth, the faster we will be done." The man looked up from his clipboard. "Do you understand everything that I have told you so far?"

Tiffany nodded.

"Please say yes or no."

Her voice came out as a shaky whisper, "Y ... y ... Yes."

Reflected in the glass of both the TV screen and the camera lens, Tiff could clearly see a little green light flash on and off three times just over her head.

"Good girl." After making a mark on the page he flipped to the next.

"Are you currently in the sixth grade?"

"Yes," she responded with a little more confidence. 'Maybe this won't be so bad after all.' she thought to herself.

"Are you going to get straight A's this year?"

"Um ... yes." Instead of the green light, she saw the red one flashing.

"Well ... um ... I'm going to try to, I mean. But, well, I'm having trouble with Algebra."

"Please," The man frowned at her, "Just a yes or a no answer. Are you going to get straight A's this year?"

Tiff sighed; she knew that she'd be lucky to get B's and C's.

"No."

The green light flashed three times.

"If you don't get good grades this year, will your parents punish you?"

"Yes." Again she sighed, knowing that if she went below a C she wouldn't be allowed to go camping with her friends in the summer.

"Will they ground you?"

"No." Her parents never had before.

"Will you receive a spanking?"

"Um..." She didn't want to say, it was embarrassing, but she knew she had to.

"Yes."

"Will it be your father who spanks you?"

"No."

"Will it be your mother?"

"Yes."

He made a few marks down the side of his papers. "Will she spank you over her lap?"

"Umm..." Tiff's face began to redden. "Yes."

"Will she make you take down your pants?"

"What?" Tiff was repulsed by the idea. "No!"

He made more tick marks. "Have you ever been sexually excited while she spanked you?"

"No!" She looked mortified. "That's sick!"

Her eyes grew wide as the reflected light flashed red. "That thing's lying! It's not true!"

"Tiffany, the machine doesn't lie. It can't," he smiled, "It's a machine."

"Well, I don't care what you say." she said angrily. "I've never liked getting spanked!"

The light flashed red.

"Tiff, the sooner you tell the truth, the sooner we get you home." He leaned back in his chair. "We have all the time in the world."

Her heart raced and pounded in her ears, she'd been caught and couldn't get out of it. One time, last year, she had been caught sneaking around in her parent's closet. She'd been looking at her father's Playboys, had just carefully put them back after flipping through the glossy pages, when her mother caught her.

She was already aroused, the excitement of looking at something that she knew was forbidden and dirty flushing her body full of hormones. Her mother didn't know this of course, she only thought that her daughter was blushing out of fear, and as her hand administered it's punishment against her bottom, her whimpers of pleasure were mistaken for pain. Though Tiff had touched herself before in private, it had been her mother's firm hand that had taken her over the peak for the first time.

"Tiffany, I need an answer," He tapped the pen on the paper, "Yes or no."

"No ... I ... uh..." What was she going to do? What could she do? If she continued to lie she would be here forever, but if she told the truth? Oh man! If she told the truth he would know just what a pervert she really was! Her face burned red as she gave her answer.

"Yes ... yes I got turned on. Are you happy now?" Fresh tears welled up and dripped to the tile floor below as the light finally flashed green.

"Thank you." He made a mark with his pen, his face not showing any response to her admission. "During that time, did you wish that your mother had pulled down your pants?"

God, what was he doing to her? Her brain warred with itself, fighting the desire to once again lie. She just wanted to go home, to be away from this place, away from this evil man asking questions that she didn't want to answer.

"Yy ... yes..." she sobbed, "Please don't ask me any more questions. I ... I just wanna go home."

"We've been through that already, Tiffany." He spoke firmly, like her father did when he was getting angry with her. "You have to answer all of my questions, and then, and only then, you can go home. So let's keep moving along, okay?"

Feeling defeated, Tiff slowly nodded.

"Good girl." Another of those damned tick marks. "Have you ever wanted your father to take over your punishments?"

A little hesitation; her voice getting caught in the middle of a sob. "No."

"Have you ever touched your vagina to gain pleasure?"

"Yesss." she slurred through her crying.

"Have you ever touched yourself while imagining your mother touching you?"

She closed her eyes, shutting out the room and wringing more tears free. "Yesss..."

"Have you ever wanted to touch your mother the way that you hoped she would touch you?"

"Oh ... oh god, please," Her throat became sore and dry once again, "Please don't make me say it ... I'm not a lezzy!"

"Tiffany, yes or no?"

"Yes! Yes!" she shouted, "I wanted her to touch meeeee!"

She wanted to break down, to shut down and just cry until she was empty, but he didn't let her. "Has anyone ever touched you sexually before?"

Tiffany shuddered in her bindings. "No..."

"So you are a virgin then?"

"Yesss..."

"Tiff, was your mother the only woman whom you have thought of sexually?"

A long pause, "No."

"Was she another relative?"

"No."

"A friend?"

Full of shame, she nodded.

"Yes or no, Tiff."

"Y ... yes."

In her mind she called up an image of her best friend Kayleigh. She had always been so nice to her, and so pretty. They shared everything together, everything except for Tiff's true feelings for her.

"Is it Kayleigh Roberts?"

Tiff's eyes popped open as her heart stopped. "How? How did you know?"

No emotions on his face to speak of. "Yes or no, Tiff. Are you sexually attracted to Kayleigh Roberts?"

Her mouth hung open in total shock. These people, whoever they were, knew things about her that she hadn't even written down in her diary out of fear that it would one day be read by someone other than herself.

"Yes, but how did you..."

He cut off her question with another of his own. "Have you ever kissed her?"

The question took her by surprise and the answer was out before she could stop herself. "Yes, but we were just playing arou..."

"The kiss wasn't just playing around for you, was it Tiff?"

"What? Yes..." The light flashed red, " ... I mean no. Slow dow..."

"That kiss turned you on, didn't it Tiff?"

"No ... I mean yes ... I mean..."

"You wanted that kiss to go further didn't you?"

"Yes ... I ... no ... why are you..."

"You wanted her to kiss you back the way that you were kissing her, didn't you?"

"STOP! YES! YES I WANTED HER TO KISS ME FOR REAL!" She shook in frustration, in anger at herself and hatred for the man making her answer. "I'm not a lesbian ... it was ... it was just something that happened."