Autohr's note

Lot's of stuf happened while I was trying to produce this chapter. Making this chapter has cost me dearly, as I'm facing great difficulties in my life right now and this story weighs heavily on my heart. But here it is. Part VI of this excruciating story. It's close to the end.

WARNING

This is adult content, and not the kind you're used to!

This short story aims to create a fictional story that provokes shock and critical thinking about sensitive adult themes. Under no circumstances does the author support or accept any kind of mistreatment, aggression or torture of another human being, whether physical or psychological. Any resemblance of actual people or events are merely coincidental.

That said - Here's the latest chapters

The Boiler Room Ordeal - Prologue: The Last Reflex of Broken Dreams

The Boiler Room Ordeal I - Sacrificial Lamb

The Boiler Room Ordeal II – Struggling on Quicksand

The Boiler Room Ordeal III - Bare Ideologies

The Boiler Room Ordeal IV - Feminist Struggle

The Boiler Room Ordeal V - Holy Hypocrisy

AIDE MUSIC

"Fauré: Requiem in D Minor", Op. 48 - IV. Pie Jesu

Amélie’s body was a landscape of pain, each muscle trembling from the electric torture. Relaxing her muscles was no longer an option; the chair was digging into her flesh. She could feel the pressure on her thigh bones and pelvis as their flesh burned at the contact with the chair’s steel bars. The air was suffocating, heavy with the smell of sweat and the dampness of the room. She forced herself to stay conscious, her body tense, and her heart pounding hard in her chest. She knew the ordeal was far from over. It was tempting to just give in to despair, break, and beg for release, but she wouldn’t. She’d rather die before that.

Dominique, his shirt now drenched in sweat and sleeves rolled up, stepped forward again. —Now, Boucher, let’s discuss your loyalty. How dedicated are you to this country? To our agency?

Amélie’s mind raced, searching for an answer that wouldn’t provoke more pain. —I am loyal to my country, — she said, her voice hoarse. —I’ve always served France to the best of my abilities.

Étienne, his shirt collar completely unbuttoned, took a step closer, his stutter more pronounced. —A-and what about the a-agency, Boucher? D-do you believe in its m-mission?

Amélie knew they wouldn’t be satisfied with any answer she gave, but she had to try. —I-I believe in protecting my country. If the agency’s mission aligns with that, then yes, I support it.

Lyonel, now shirtless and with a sadistic grin, picked up a thick leather strap. —Let’s test that loyalty, shall we? — He lashed the strap across her chest, the leather biting into her flesh. Amélie gasped in pain, her body arching involuntarily.

Dominique’s eyes narrowed. —Your actions have been questionable, Boucher. Your actions against the country’s interests back at your scholastic formation and how you managed to secure yourself here screams corruption. This is dissent and mockery. Do you take us seriously? Are you loyal to us or not?

Amélie struggled to catch her breath, the pain making it hard to think. —I am loyal to France, — she repeated. —Everything I do is for my country… I-I believe the agency work is o-of utmost importance to the country’s defense.

Moreau struck her again, harder this time. The sound of leather meeting flesh echoed in the room, and Amélie bit down on her lip to stifle a scream as her sensitive flesh was struck.

—Your loyalty is to be tested, — Dominique said coldly. —Do you believe in the methods we use? The decisions we make?

Amélie’s vision blurred, but she forced herself to answer. —Y-your methods are barbaric and cruel… Sometimes methods are necessary, sometimes not. I-I fear you can’t see that…

Lyonel sneered, his eyes gleaming with malice. —Let’s see if you can handle our methods, then. — He lashed her calves and thighs with the leather strap, each strike making her jump in the chair and whimper in pain, desperately trying to pull her legs away from the lashing. When she attempted to retract her legs, he viciously struck her stomach and breasts. Étienne removed his glasses, pressing his temples and cleaning them of the dampness while watching with a pained expression. —P-please, Boucher, j-just tell us the truth. I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. — Moreau stopped the lashing, his breath labored, but his face showing a grin of accomplishment.

Amélie’s breath came in shallow gasps. She was trying unsuccessfully to quench her whimpers that came out from her mouth as spasms, but she tried her best to ease her nerves. —I-I am loyal to F-France. I follow orders because I believe it’s for the greater good. W-what we do must be done for a g-good cause.

—Hm, already seeing yourself as one of us? Ambitious, — Dominique retorted. —Lyonel, prepare the battery. — Lyonel eagerly obeyed as Boucher whimpered for them to stop. He attached the electrodes to her inner thighs, very close to her intimate area, and then took the controller and looked at Dominique. He nodded, and Lyonel activated the battery. The electricity surged through her body again, longer and more intense. Amélie’s muscles contracted painfully, her body convulsing as she fought to keep from screaming.

When the current stopped, all her muscles suddenly relaxed, and she couldn’t control her bladder anymore, releasing its contents on the floor, golden drops rolling down her thighs and dripping from the metal chair. She let out a whimper of shame while gasping for air.

Lyonel backed away amused. —We have a squirter! — making Étienne look at him disapprovingly.

Dominique ignored them both and leaned in, his voice a low growl. —Do you think you can deceive us? Do you think we don’t know the truth?

Amélie was on the verge of giving up, her voice barely a whisper. —I... I am loyal. I do what I must. I do what I must, I’m loyal, I’m loyal...

Lyonel laughed, a cruel, mocking sound as he sensed how close she was to the breaking point. —Loyalty is such a fragile thing, Boucher, like your nether parts. After all this leakage, I think it’s time for some hydration. — He retrieved a large metal bucket filled with stained water and brought it forward, while Leclerc positioned himself behind her, taking the rags Étienne handed him. Her eyes widened as her heart pounded in her chest, but she reminded herself to not give up, to endure, to survive.

Étienne stepped forward, his voice shaking. —W-we just need to know, Boucher. D-do you support the agency's mission, yes or no?

Amélie’s mind raced. She knew waterboarding was coming, and she stiffened her body, her eyes rekindling in defiance. —I support what is right for France. If the agency looks out for France’s interests, not those of bureaucrats, then yes. — She spat.

—Hm, interesting, — Leclerc said while caressing her hair, his thick fingers brushing her locks almost in a caring, fatherly way. Suddenly, he yanked her head back by pulling her hair, almost without resistance from the weakened woman who tried, but failed, to put up a fight. He forced a rag through her clenched teeth, hurting her gums, and shoved a rag in her mouth and a cloth over her face, holding her head straight while Lyonel poured a foul, salty solution on her face from a large metal bucket. As the solution filled her throat and lungs, it also drenched her body, reacting with the lash wounds and causing an intense burning sensation. She flailed about in a futile attempt to save herself from drowning and started to convulse. When it finally stopped, Leclerc removed the rags and noticed her eyes widened, but without the strength to expel the water. He then pushed her body forward and slapped her back hard until she threw up all the water and then some more, before producing a primal gasp for air. Lyonel laughed hysterically, while Étienne cleaned his glasses, his hands trembling.

Boucher hung on the chair, her restraints stopping her from falling to the floor as she gulped large quantities of air between coughs, eyes wide. As her breathing steadied, Dominique pulled her by the shoulder back to a proper seating position and squeezed it amicably, looking at her with an inscrutable expression. —Congratulations on your stamina, girl. As a reward, rest for a few seconds. I can promise you that we're coming to the end.

He then bent down to her ear and whispered with an evil grin on his face. —I just can't guarantee what that end will be like.

Amélie's eyes widened, overwhelmed by the possibility of dying right there. But she steeled herself. She would resist even if it meant her demise.