"Let's get into it"

A hand flies towards Ray's face and he almost loses his footing as he leans back to avoid it. He raises his hands to deflect the blow.

"Oh no, you don't seem to understand Ray. You can't leave the consulate."

What is Fraser thinking? That Ray can just sit there and wait while all of Chicago is trying to arrest him or...worse.

"As long as you remain here, you'll be safe."

"Tea, Mr Vecchio."

Oh Christ and how in hell can he have forgotten Turnbull?

"Safe?"

Fraser smiles at him strangely as he says,

"Welcome to Canada"

And after calling Dief he leaves Ray alone. Alone. Alone with Turnbull. Can the day get any worse?

Meeting with Frase in the consulate and Turnbull being there is bad enough and that's only, what, five minutes in a day. Ray doesn't think that he can put up with the inane chatter for a whole day. Maybe he can get Turnbull to leave him alone. He's got a head injury, maybe he can cry headache...

He hears Turnbull talking in the background of his thoughts, something about an orientation being in order and...WHAT?

"I said, 'Are you familiar with the methods used to torture a confession out of suspects?"

Ray stops in his tracks and realises, too late, that Turnbull has circled around him and now blocks the exit to the room. He glances to the left and sees that Turnbull has put the tea tray on the table, and there's ice cubes on it along with the teapot and one cup.

He looks back to Turnbull only to see him swinging the handcuffs that Frase had put on him earlier. His eyebrows raise and Turnbull sees that as an invitation to keep talking.

"Yes indeed, Detective. It is a well-known fact that the most successful confession takers in History were known as the Spanish Inquisition. They were able to obtain confessions from the most stubborn of suspects. And in many South American countries they have refined the techniques of the Inquisition to embrace the modern age."

Ray gulps and starts to edge backwards towards the window. * Please Huey, Dewey, be out there to arrest my skinny ass before this maniac gets a hold of me*

Turnbull moves forward. He still talks in a wierdly upbeat voice, like he's talking about, Christ, the weather or curling or...

"Of course, most of these practices are frowned upon in the developed world."

Turnbull pauses and smiles. Ray breathes again.

"And so in the developed world, particularly in Canada, my own nation; we have developed techniques that hide the torture from anything but the most intimate inspection and have the added benefit of being too embarrassing for the suspect to admit to."

He moves forward quickly and Ray, too stunned to react, feels the handcuff click round his right wrist.

"Now, if you would be so kind, Mr Vecchio, to accompany me to the wooden chair that I have placed in the centre of this room. And I must add that before you think to react in your customary volatile fashion; the door is locked, the windows are shatterproof and I would be more than able to break your leg with very little effort."

Ray looks at the bland face in front of him. This must be some huge Mounty joke and no way Turnbull thought this up by himself. Oh yeah, there's a hidden camera somewhere and Fraser's getting his kicks in another room.

Well, they can just find some other chump. No way is he going to play along with this.

"Turnbull, what the fuck do you think you're doing? Take these damn cuffs off me now, goddammit."

Turnbull smiles.

"Oh dear, Detective. I do wish that you hadn't decided to make this difficult. I can see that you are in need of discipline."

With that Turnbull kneels down on one knee, pulls Ray's baggy green pants down and yanks at the cuff on Ray's wrist, pulling Ray off balance so that he is bent over Turnbull's knee. Bare ass up in the air.

"What the fuck?"

Ray is embarrassed as all hell. Shit, maybe this isn't a joke. He feels the first stinging slap of Turnbull's hand and, hell it must be the fear, his cock springs to life, pressing against Turnbull's muscular thigh. A breathy voice slithers into his ear.

"I knew you would enjoy discipline Ray, you just had to have someone show you."

Another hard slap and his cock twitches some more.

"I am not enjoying this you fart hammer."

Another slap, harder than before and Ray has to admit, despite the humiliation and the fact that his ass must now be glowing like he'd sat on a nuclear power station, his cock is more than happy. Hot breath down his neck and Ray shudders. Yeah this is unexpected but like he always says 'he'll try anything once' and if he likes it he can always try it again.

Turnbull's happy, happy voice floods into his ear and sets Ray's teeth on edge. Damn, he was starting to get into it and Turnbull switches himself back into ever so polite Mountie mode.

"Well, if you really don't enjoy this Mr Vecchio; I am quite sure that with my extensive knowledge of BDSM and various other Domination techniques, we will be able to ascertain exactly what will satisfy you...but at the moment we must return to the business at hand. Please accompany me to the chair."

Ray sighs. Maybe with this new part of himself that Turnbull, of all people, had introduced him to, this wouldn't be so bad. Hmmm...intimate and embarrassing, yeah maybe this would be greatness.

"Okay, alright. Let's get into it."

He stands up and is about to reach down to the pants round his ankles when Turnbull tugs sharply on the cuff round his wrist.

"Oh no, Mr Vecchio, they look most fetching where they are."

Ray looks down at his pants, at his legs and at his cock which, it still amazes him, is throbbing huge and painful and back to Turnbull, who again is looking at him with that slightly vacant yet eager expression.

He lets himself be led towards the wooden chair in the middle of the room. Turnbull pushes him so that he is sat in the chair and moving behind Ray, he threads the cuffs through the slatted back and then clicks the other cuff round Ray's left wrist.

Ray's heart starts beating faster as he realises that he can't move without carrying the chair on his back, turtle-style. Turnbull moves over to the table and pours himself a cup of tea. He takes a sip, leans back on the table and groans loudly.

"Tea is a most refreshing drink, Detective Vecchio, also most stimulating."

Ray's eyes nearly pop out of his head. Here he is, bare-ass naked from the waist down, chained to a chair and the Mountie who put him there is having an orgasm over tea?

"Turnbull, just get on with it." Ray shouts, totally frustrated and needing release.

Turnbull calmly puts the teacup down. Slaps Ray hard across the face and pulls the bottom of Ray's sweatshirt over Ray's head so that his chest is exposed but his head is completely wrapped.

Ray is reeling from the blow. He can't see what Turnbull is up to and all he can hear is Turnbull slurp more of the tea. He hears a clink; Turnbull must have put the cup down. Then there is a scraping sound as though someone is scratching their fingernails round a metal bowl.

He can feel breath on his chest and moving down his stomach and over his groin, his cock twitches again. * Turnbull's gonna blow me. *

And Oh Christ that's cold. Bastard's blowing me with a mouthful of ice. Shit, shit, shit. Ray tries to handle the sensations of his cock being erect and wanting release and at the same time wanting to shrink away from the cold. Can't do both. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The mouth moves away and he hears Turnbull spit out the ice cubes.

"Is this more to your liking, Mr Vecchio?"

Ray is gasping for air. He doesn't know if his sensitised body can take much more of this. He keeps quiet.

"And now to the matter at hand. Did you murder Andreas Volpe?"

Ray stops breathing, stunned.

"What?"

"You heard the question, Detective."

He can hear Turnbull slurping the tea.

"No, no I didn't, I mean I don't remember. I was hit on the head."

He feels Turnbull move in front of him again and heat at his groin and ...Oh Fuck! That's too hot. Bastard is blowing him with the hot tea in his mouth. And he knows it isn't scalding, the liquid running down his thighs is just warm, but Ray can still feel the ice and the different sensations are too much. He yelps and then bites his lip. Amazingly, he is still turned on...who'd have thought he'd be so into this...go figure.

The mouth moves away again and Ray is left panting in the chair, even more turned on than when Turnbull was slapping his ass.

He hears Turnbull swallow the tea and then feels a hot tongue at his right nipple, licking, then sucking and then biting down hard. Ray yells incoherently, if he could only see what this wonderful bastard was doing...he wouldn't be enjoying this half so much.

"Do you wish to come, Ray?"

Turnbull says this with his mouth pressed against Ray's nipple and the vibrations shoot right down to Ray's throbbing, abused cock.

"Please." Ray whimpers. And just how in hell was he whimpering because of Turnbull?

"Well then, first things first, Detective. Did you shoot and kill Andreas Volpe?"

Turnbull's voice sounded harder but still absurdly eager to please. Ray just about has the presence of mind to think that this is one of the most effective interrogation techniques he has ever come across...but no way he's going to do it at the 27th with the two way mirror.

"You'll let me come if I admit to it?" Ray can't stand the whiny tone in his voice, can't stand that there are tears running down his face because of the frustration. But decides to look at the bigger picture and if he doesn't come soon, he feels like his dick is gonna explode.

"I couldn't possibly influence you by answering that question Ray."

Ray can hear a smile in the fucker's voice. Turnbull is really getting off on the power trip. Who'd have thought he could be such an evil bastard?

"Well, I did it. Alright. I did it. Now for god's sake, Turnbull..."

He heard another slurp of tea.

"Very good, detective, and now let's see what other cases we can clear up."

Ray groans.

Several hours later

Constable Fraser returns to the consulate, he walks into the main reception room to find his friend and unofficial partner, chained to a chair with his pants around his ankles and a very tired but satisfied expression on his face.

Constable Turnbull, bounds up to him like Dief when he was a puppy.

"I did it. Sir. He confessed."

Fraser smoothes his eyebrow.

"Ah, I presume you used the unofficial interrogation techniques. Very well done, Constable, I believe this is your first success."

"Yes Sir and that's not all. He also confessed to a series of prostitute murders in Victorian London, being a gunman on the grassy knoll and writing the screenplay for 'Excess Baggage'"

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