Author's webpage: http://home.centernet.de/~silke/montfanfic.htm
Author's disclaimer: The Sentinel and wonderful characters belong to Pet Fly Productions, Paramount, and UPN. This story is pure fiction, intended to entertain (sort of) its readers.
Author's notes: Surfing the 'net for some computer info for a friend of mine I found a Supreme Court bulletin (?) regarding strip searches. The idea was born immediately. Thanks to Taleya and Chris // indicate thoughts. Montserrat's warning: It's gross. For those of you who are about to have a fit already, I can tell you Blair does NOT die, Jim is NOT the bad guy, the bad guys are the bad guys. Rated 'R' for content, h/c, humiliation, angst. For those of you who want to be spoiled scroll down to read an additonal warning. Montserrat's additional warning: This story contains *non-consensual* activities like a rectal exam, an enema and stomach pumping. The bad guys do it - not Jim. Feedback's always appreciated.
Cascade International Airport was busy as always. Planes from all over
the world poured into the city every few minutes; airline names like
"Delta Airlines", "Lufthansa", "British Airways" or the more exotic ones
"Malaysia Air" were announced through the speakers, directing passengers
to the gates in question. Chaos dominated. Couples, families - stressed
parents with bleating kids - whistling tourists, grim businessmen and
bouncing anthropologists roamed through the long corridors.
Blair Sandburg was happy; eagerness and warm anticipation driving him
forward to the US customs area.
"Ooops, excuse me, sir," he laughed as he bumped into an elderly
gentleman. The man threw the young man with the long hair and the impossible
clothes a bewildered glance and mumbeld something like "hippie freak"
as Blair stormed by.
"Excuse me...thanks...ma'am? May I... thanks." Fiercely holding onto
his small backpack, Sandburg weaved his way through the mass of passengers
coming in on flight # 438 from Lima. He was not exactly pushing to the
front of the queue, nope, that would be rude and not at all
Sandburg-like. Blair was just making sure he was one of the first people
to arrive at customs.
"Uhhhh, thank you so much," he flashed another smile quickly passing
by an intoxicating blonde SUPERmodel. In another lifetime he would've
looked - at least - or made sure he'd 'accidentally' bumped into her
- just to apologize, of course. Blair grinned, glancing at his watch.
How things could change, he mused, uttering another "I'm sorrryyyy, thanks!"
He was romantically involved with someone and did not 'need' to survey
the wide-ranging offers. Certainly, he could still look and sometimes
he had to stop himself from staring at someone else's butt, however,
he didn't play the field anymore.
'Someone else's butt?' Blair thought, adding another bounce to his step.
Jim's butt is the one you love the most. His but... among other things.
Oh, yeah, among other things. The young anthropologist stopped in his
tracks as he reached the relatively short row at US customs. He had nothing
to declare and, holding his passport in his right hand, he hoped to be
doing more than just staring at Jim's ass soon.
Another look at his watch revealed he was early. Jet stream had
quickened their flight, reducing the actual travelling time from
thirteen to only eleven hours. There was not much difference, thirteen
or eleven hours was still a long, exruciatingly boring time when you
had to share a cramped airplane seat with a fat ol' lady who thought
you needed a disgusting pat on the knee every half an hour. Blair shuddered
and absent-mindly rubbed his stomach. The food on the plane had left
a lot to be desired. Jim would've probably loved it, Blair grinned
remembering the detective's addiction to junk food.
His lover would not be around for another two hours to pick him up, Blair
concluded, frowning slightly at the suspicious looks he received from
two officers at the customs booth. The young man smiled
reassuringly.
Dancing from one foot to the other, Blair looked around. His gaze wandered
over signs and blinking adverts - the usual airport stuff. His eyes met
the two officers again who apparently were watching him now. The young
police observer smiled again. //Be nice to people in a
uniform.//
5.43 p.m.
Jim would most likely be bored to death in the office by now, awaiting
his lover's return with the same hunger and passion as Blair did. Opening
his backpack, Blair fumbled for his cell phone. //Surprise, Jim, I'm
here//, he grinned broadly as he started punching in the numbers.
"Excuse me, sir?" A male voice suddenly grabbed his arm in a strong grip.
Startled, Blair's hand opened and the telephone dropped to the floor,
the number not completely dialed.
"Hey! What do you think you're doing?" he exclaimed. Turning his head
he stared into the determined eyes of one of the customs officers he'd
seen before.
"Would you please follow me?" the man asked politely. However, his voice
and face showed he wasn't game for anything jokes.
"Why?" Sandburg tried to bend down to pick up his cell phone but the
grip on his arm was too strong, each finger digging deep furrows that
would probably bruise.
"Please, come with me," the officer ordered.
A few passengers threw them curious looks as Blair sighed and
reluctantly followed the man. ....was dragged along would've been a better
term, he thought.
"Officer... Charles?" Blair deciphered the black name tag on the man's
uniform. "Could you please tell me what this is about?" He waved with
his passport. "My name's Blair Sandburg and..."
Officer Charles snatched the document out of his hands. "If I were you,
punk, I'd shut up now or things get even worse," the man gritted out,
his former politeness vanished like a snowflake in the sun.
"You have no right..." Blair protested, the anger at this treatment audible
in his voice.
Charles steered him towards a door with the sign "US customs -
authorized personnel only".
"We have every right, you little hippie freak," Charles cut him off.
"Be glad that you're not in some Far East country where people like you
easily lose their hand for drug smuggling."
The door opened and quickly closed behind them.
"Drug smuggling?" Blair shouted, his face showing utter disbelief and
- shock. "What the hell are you talking about?" He tried to twist his
arm away from the iron grip but no avail.
Without any explanation, Charles led him down another corridor.
It was certainly not the first time in his life that Blair Sandburg was
scared. However, as he followed the officer into a large room he felt
helpless like never before. He'd done nothing illegal.
But who would believe him?
Blair tried to exercise the breathing technique he'd taught Jim years
ago. Concentrate, close your eyes, breathe in, hold it, exhale, relax.
Several times the young man breathed audibly but the state of relaxation
refused to set in. Opening his eyes again, he shuddered at the sight
of the cold white ceiling that greeted him. Tiles covered it the high
surface and the walls, giving the room the uncomfortable touch of a hospital.
In a way, it was.
A voice spoke to him. "Since you refused to cooperate, I'm afraid we
have to do it the hard way, as the movies describe it so perfectly."
Blair turned his head to one side with difficulty, feeling the motion
tug slightly at the harsh leather holding his arms and upper body to
the cold examination table. They'd asked him to remove his clothes, and
he'd complied fearing 'worse' as Officer Charles had promised. A man
who'd introduced himself as "Dr. Michael Spencer" had asked idiotic questions
about his trip to Peru, his reasons 'why Peru', about his so-called contacts,
and, finally, about the drugs he'd smuggled. The whole
situation was screaming ridicule and Blair was positive he would soon
wake up from his nightmare and find himself snuggled into Jim's loving
arms.
However, as the doctor directed him to the table, asking him to lie down,
Blair's hope had faded. John, a totally no-nonsense male nurse had strapped
him down and Blair's heartrate had sped up considerably
wondering what the FUCK was going on.
That was where he was now. He was scared.
Blair worked on his breathing. "Listen, doctor, I didn't smuggle drugs
or anything else into the US or any other country," he tried again. "I'm
an anthroplogist."
"Mr. Sandburg, I'm just doing my job here. I'm employed by US customs
and when they say you used your body to smuggle illegal substances into
the country, I have to provide the evidence," Dr. Spencer explained.
He nodded towards the nurse.
"I'm not CONSENTING," Blair protested, as he felt John's hands touching
his left leg.
"Would you please spread your legs and put them into the stirrups?" The
order was soft but determined and Blair shuddered.
"No."
It was the most humiliating, vunerable position a human being, male or
female, could be forced into. Blair let out a shaky breath as John roughly
complied with the doctor's orders. When he refused the man forced his
clenched legs apart and secured him into the stirrups, dragging more
restraints over to hold them in place. His most private parts were exposed
now. Sandburg flinched as a cold hand touched his ass.
"I advise you to relax, young man, otherwise this can be painful," Dr.
Spencer said.
Directing his eyes towards the ceiling again, Blair didn't blink as a
gloved finger probed his anus. His internal muscles involuntarily clenched
against the digit. The finger was pushed inside, exploring the area,
trying to find something that everyone should know wasn't there. Brushing
against his prostate, Blair hissed. The pleasure such a
movement would usually evoke in him didn't come.
The anthropologist sighed in relief as the finger was removed, his eyes
still riveted on the ceiling.
"Try to think of something nice." Dr. Spencer's voice was lacking the
enthusiasm such a statement should hold. "This might be uncomfortable
now."
"You're gonna be in a lot of trouble," Blair tried a weak threat. He
clenched his hands into fists as he helplessly forced his body to relax
as much as possible. He smelled the unmistakable odor of KY lubrication.
Lots of it. A hard, cold and now-slick-with-jelly instrument probed his
opening again. His sphincter muscle fought the intruding object but with
a steady pressure his anus was stretched and, then, gradually dilated.
Blair gasped as he tried to twist his body away from the white-hot, painful
intrusion.. "You're not gonna find anything," he breathed out heavily,
closing his eyes against the image he must present right now. Legs wide
and spread, medical tools sticking out of his ass, visible for everyone.
And he knew the humiliation wasn't over yet. He'd recently read a report
about a Supreme Court bulletin regarding the legal issue of search stripping
a suspect. Funny, how fate intervened. The police observer wondered briefly
if he should mention it.
"Prepare the E-76." Dr. Spencer's next order sent goosebumps over Blair's
naked body. The male nurse nodded and disappeared out of Blair's range
of vision.
"What are you gonna do?" Blair demanded to know, as the prodding and
probing at his rectum ceased. The instrument was removed but the
uncomfortable sensation of being stretched remained. His internal muscles
clenched and unclenched, and Blair felt like the cool air of the examination
room was creeping inside him.
The relief was only short-lived as the sound of running water reached
his ears.
"Mr. Sandburg, we're gonna flush you out and see if my manual exam missed
anything," Dr. Spencer announced.
//'Jim, where are you?'// Blair thought miserably. He was truly not someone
dwelling on self-pity but he'd never felt so helpless, so dependent on
someone's non-existent mercy, before. He was going through this ordeal
knowing he had nothing to hide. He was innocent, damnit!
The doctor gave another order. For the third time since this hoax had
started, the most private orifice to Blair's body was penetrated against
his will. The young man hadn't looked, had turned away his gaze in disgust
and hidden beneath fear as the preparations for the enema he was about
to receive proceeded.
//'Jim,'// Blair inhaled deeply, as a big nozzle was deftly inserted.
//'I love you, Jim. I wish you were here. I really would grant you many,
many stops at Wonderburger if you could hold my hand right now.'// The
enema solution rushed into his body and spread its warmth through his
bowels.
It was not like he was a total novice to this kind of treatment. He and
Jim had done it a few time together, a sensual cleansing before making
love. But now all erotic or possible passionate thought was literally
drowned by humiliation. Closing his eyes, Blair let his thoughts flow,
escaping from the impersonal examination room and travelling to a place
where his good thoughts merged.
Jim was sitting beside him now. The Sentinel gently held his hand, smoothing
back the hair that fell into his sweaty forehand. Warm, loving eyes
glistered with compassion, and Jim moved the hand to his lips, kissing
his fingers, each time Blair moaned.
"Try to relax, my love," the older man whispered, pressing Blair's hand
against his cheek. "You gonna be alright."
The next moan became an outcry of pain, as the pressure in his
intestines built up. The first cramp hit and Blair threw a desperate
glance at his lover.
"It hurts, Jim," he groaned, his hand squeezing Jim's for support. The
doctor didn't stop the flow. The water surged through his body, a violent,
relentless wave of pain accompanying the stream.
Carefully, Jim placed his other hand on Blair troubled stomach. He could
feel the strong contractions as the young man's muscles struggled against
the invading water. The Sentinel started a gentle rubbing. "Try to breathe,
Blair. I know, it hurts, but it'll be over soon."
"JIM!" Blair shouted clenching his hand into a fist. The spasms came
faster now, as his rectum was filled beyond capacity.
"Easy, buddy, easy...." Tears shone in Jim's blue eyes as he suffered
each cramp like a physical blow.
Suddenly, the tortured muscles weakened with the effort to accept the
whole bag of water. Blair's rectum relaxed and he felt the liquid leaking
out again, pouring onto the table, down to the floor. Like a helpless
baby Blair sobbed in humiliation as water and trace of feces tickled
down the table. "Please stop IT," he pleaded, tears running down his
face. "Please, I cannot ...take anymore."
He turned his head to seek comfort and support from his lover's smiling
face.
Jim was gone.
The image had faded, replaced by the cold tiles and the determined face
of Dr. Spencer and the nurse. Blair whimpered at the loss of the mental
straw he'd desperately grasped.
Jim Ellison's gaze shifted from the time-table of arrivals to the huge
clock at the other end of the gate. To make sure his sight didn't play
tricks on him, the Sentinel checked his watch. He shook his head. Blair's
plane had touched down about 90 minutes ago.
Walking over to the information desk Jim smiled at a young female clerk.
"Excuse me, Miss?"
She raised her head and flashed him a sweet smile in return. "How can
I help you, sir?"
"I'm expecting a friend who was on the flight back from Lima," Jim explained.
"It apparently landed long ago and I was wondering if there's a message
for me? Jim Ellison."
"Just a moment, Mr. Ellison," the young woman replied. "I'll check the
computer."
The man nodded, watching her typing an array of numbers, keys and words
into the keyboard. After a minute she frowned and shook her head. "I'm
sorry, Mr. Ellison. Here's not message for you. Do you want me to check
the passenger list?"
"No, that won't be necessary, thanks," Jim turned around and walked into
the large open area of the terminal. He knew Blair had been on the plane.
They'd talked on the phone before the student had boarded the aircraft
in Lima.
Maybe he was in one of the restaurants waiting for Jim to locate him
in the crowd? The Sentinel sighed deeply and looked around. The hope
to catch of his lover with his enhanced vision shattered after several
minutes of intense concentration in all directions.
//Okay, Chief//, Jim thought giving up the visual contact. //Only you
can make me conduct one of your experiments in a building crowded with
thousands of people.// With a few long strodes Ellison reached a sitting
area. He sat down with his back to the crowd and closed his eyes. Extending
his sense of sound was risky, yes, even dangerous, considering what a
starting airplane engine could do to his sensitive hearing. Reaching
the level of full concentration and complete relaxation, Jim searched
for the one sound that matched his Guide's heartbeat.
The long plastic tube was forced through his nose, winding its way through
his throat into his stomach. Blair's head tilted back forcibly for the
procedure, adding to the feeling of absolute forced submission.
They were about to extract the contents of his stomach - darn airline
food - and as Blair fought the reflex to swallow and gag at the same
time, the moan he managed to squeeze out carried a name.
One syllable, three tiny letters.
"...jim..."
Big gluggy sounds as the contents of his stomach were forcibly removed
by relentless suction, seemingly draggin all the air from his lungs...
Surprisingly, the ordeal didn't last that long. After a few minutes,
the suction was complete and the tube was withdrawn. Blair gagged as
the urge to vomit threatened to overwhelm him. With is stomach empty
though, there was nothing he could bring up. So, his already abused muscles
spasmed with painful dry heaves.
Dr. Spencer covered the bowl with the ugly remains of his recent lunch.
He nodded towards John. "I need a complete analaysis on the substances."
Turning back to Blair, his face softened a bit at the sight of the hurting
young man on the table.
"If you told us right from the beginning what you've swallowed this procedure
would've been much easier." He tried a few comforting words. Changing
gloves, the doctor stepped closer to the table again. Blair eyes widened
in fear.
John, the nurse, left the room.
"I'm going to check your skin and muscles for any recent injuries," Dr.
Spencer informed.
"Touch him again and I'll snap your neck with my bare hands!" A male
voice growled from the door.
Blair let out a sob of relief as Dr. Spencer whirled around, giving him
a good view at an outraged Jim Ellison standing at the entrance to the
examination room. Nurse John stood beside him, his features totally miserable
like he'd just lost his favourite toy.
"Excuse me? Who are you?" the physician exclaimed. "This is an
examination to determine the abuse of drugs and smuggling said drugs
from a foreign country...."
"I'm Detective James Ellison," the male voice growled dangerously. "This
man is my partner. Take.Those.Straps.Off.Him/." Pulling his weapon from
the holster at his back, Jim pointed it at the doctor. "NOW."
As the straps came free, Blair struggled to sit up. He just stared at
his lover, grateful for the simple fact he knew that man.
Jim waved with his gun. "You." He pointed at John. "Join your buddy over
there." Realizing the situation had suddenly become deadly serious, the
two men obeyed Ellison's orders.
"We have reason to believe, Detective, that this man smuggled...." Dr.
Spencer started but Jim cut him off.
"Chief?" He stepped over to the table where Blair was sitting, his eyes
riveted on him, almost sparkling with relief. "You okay?" Jim asked gently.
He grabbed Blair's clothes from a nearby chair. "Can you dress yourself?"
Blair nodded mutely. He slid from the table, fumbling for his underwear
and pants, fighting the urge to retch in sudden blessed relief as the
terrified adrenaline of the last few hours vanished.
Jim groped for his cell phone, his gun still pointing at the medical
clerks. He punched in a number and waited. His attention wavered from
his captives to his young lover. With trembling hands, Blair put on his
underwear. The back of his legs were wet with moisture. Jim clenched
his jaws.
"This is Jim Ellison," the detective spoke into the phone. "I need some
backup at the airport." Listening to the voice on the other end of the
line. "Thanks." He turned towards Blair who'd managed to pull a
sweatshirt over his head. "We're out of here soon, Chief."
The anthropologist nodded again and moved closer. The haunted look in
his eyes spoke volumes of the things that must have happened to him under
the hideous cover of "law" and "justice". Jim reached out and pulled
the young man against his side.
"Everything's gonna be alright," the older man promised and tenderly
rubbed Blair's arm.
"I...," Blair's voice was hoarse, almost inaudible. "I-- knew you'd come."
A tremor ran through his body. He tried a faint smile before his eyes
rolled back into his head and he collapsed into Jim's arm.
The tea pot whistled softly. Preparing a cup of tea for his lover, Jim
looked over at Blair who was huddled on the couch. The young man had
curled himself into the warm quilt, but Jim could still see slight tremors
running through the smaller man's frame. It probably wasn't the cold
that made Blair shiver, Jim thought grimly as he poured the hot water
into a cup.
Blair hadn't said much during the drive back to the loft. The short statement
he'd given to Jim had only revealed the clinical facts of his ordeal
at customs. As adrenaline was wearing off now, shock set in and Jim had
considered briefly takeing him to a hospital. The thought was dismissed
quickly though figuring the anthropologist wouldn't feel up to another
session of probing and prodding.
Walking over to the living-room area, the Sentinel set down the steaming
cup of tea.
"I made some tea," he announced smiling a bit embarrassed at the
redundancy of the statement. "Guess that's pretty obvious, huh?"
As Blair slowly sat up and uncurled his body from his position, Jim handed
him the cup. "It's chamomile. I thought it might have a soothing effect
on your stomach."
The explanation was met with a comprehending nod. "Thanks," Blair croaked
out. He blew on the tea and took a tiny sip. Wincing as the hot liquid
ran down his sore throat, Blair set the cup back on the table. "I should
let it cool at bit."
"Throat still hurts?" Jim asked sympathetically, sitting beside his partner
on the couch. He gently placed an arm around Blair's shoulders and pulled
him against his body. Blair willingly accepted the comfort, his arms
encircling Jim's waist as he snuggled deep into the loving embrace.
Blair nodded again and mumbled something Jim couldn't make out.
"What was that, buddy?" The detective shifted his position so that Blair
was comfortably lying against his chest. With one hand he groped for
Blair's hand, while his other started a gentle rubbing of Blair's stomach.
"I said, 'like everything else'," Blair repeated sighing deeply at the
soothing little circles Jim's hand drew.
"I know you probably don't wanna hear this, but don't you think we should
go to the hospital to make sure...," Jim suggested carefully, immediately
sensing the new-born shivers ravaging the smaller body he held. "Shhhh,
it's okay. I'm sorry, I know..."
"You did the same thing back-back there," Blair whispered, covering Jim's
hand on his stomach.
"What do you mean?" Jim questioned. He placed a short kiss on the mass
of curls, never ceasing the tender massage.
"When... when....the doctor administered the.....," Blair bowed his head,
the memories rushing back to him with a vengeance. "...my stomach was
cramping and I imagined you were there to rub the pain away." He shuddered
and Jim tightened his hold. "Like now."
Jim had already felt the slight muscle contractions, noticing the increase
in Blair's breathing as well. "I'm so sorry, love, that you had to go
through that," Jim spoke softly into Blair's ear. "I wish I'd been there
earlier."
Blair looked up at him. "No. Don't go there, Jim. There was no way you
could have known what was happening." He opened his mouth invitingly
as the older man bent down and placed the gentlest kiss on his lips.
"Let me wish, okay?" Ellison smiled sweetly.
"How did you know what was going on?" Blair asked after a moment of silence.
"I heard you," Jim said, the sound of Blair's pained moan of his name
still reverberating through his head. "I thougth you were trying to conduct
one of the famous Sandburg experiments and make me search for you in
the crowd of people." Jim swallowed. "I could hear your racing heartbeat
and tuned in to the other sounds surrounding you. I
heard-everything."
"I'm sorry, Jim," Blair apologized, stilling Jim's hand and squeezing
it strongly. "I'm sorry you had to listen to... It must've been gross."
"Oh god, Chief, I just heard the sounds, but you....you...you...suffered
through it." Jim closed his eyes momentarily. "You don't have to
apologize. It wasn't your fault."
"I felt so helpless, Jim," Blair admitted, the hoarse voice coloured
with starting tears. "They .... just grabbed me with no real reason to
believe I was a drug smuggler. Maybe my clothes and my hair led them
to suspicion but.... how could they do that to someone at all? I mean
nobody deserves such humiliation."
Jim didn't say anything, just listened to Blair's pain-stricken
recollections.
"It... they took control of my body, Jim, robbed me of the basic bodily
functions a human being has. Somehow it felt like a mental..." A sob
escaped Blair's throat, "...rape."
"They had no right, Chief," Jim murmured. "Not with you, not with any
other person coming in from any foreign country. It's against the law
and I swear they'll go down for that."
"You think so?" Blair shifted his body and took the cup of tea again.
"That would be nice." He sipped the warm drink and leaned back to rest
against Jim's strong body. He was safe now.
//I'll see to it.// Jim vowed.
The End.