1. Jane’s Bondage
They told her there would be days like this. When you sign on to be a spy, one of the first things they tell you is not to get attached to anything. Everything important to you can subject you to some sort of compromise, so to be a good covert agent; you had to deny yourself many of the basic elements that make one human. There was the mission, and nothing else. Unspeakable acts are committed on both sides of the aisle, and it was to be expected. That was the trade-off.
If you get the right assignment, you get to live a pretty luxurious lifestyle. Nice cars, fancy houses, wining and dining, all on the government’s tab, paid for by the good citizens of the US of A. You get the latest weapons, futuristic gadgets, and access to information on most people living in the world today. Everybody had a file on them and all it took was a morbid curiosity and the right motivation for an agent to fuck someone’s life up pretty good. Some asshole cuts you off in traffic? Run his plates, send a red flag to the IRS, boom, he’s getting a call from the auditor. Some innocent schmuck catches you on a bad day? A little re-edit on somebody’s record and suddenly they have an outstanding warrant they never even knew about. One not need be sadistic, amorality was good enough.
But there was a flip side to living a life of being privy to so much power. For starters, the only people with knowledge of your existence are the highest factions of the government. This was handy for bailing you out of the can when you drunkenly whipped up on a gang of thugs that one time, but when it came to work related issues they had no problem just throwing bodies at a growing Commie dictatorship or assassination plot. No records means no accountability. Not like when they send in Marines and have to explain every little detail to the media, fabricate propaganda to placate the masses and chill out their allies. Agents were sent in when the government wanted to bypass all the bullshit and wipe somebody out nice and quiet. This was the blackest of black ops.
Getting caught was the worst thing that could happen to an agent. In this business, death was preferable to capture. The government would deny everything to cover up, which meant an agent was basically at the mercy of his captors. Every agent had at one point or another been exposed to the interrogation sites being run on a global scale, and had born witness, if not actually participated, in what went on at these sites. In case you’re trying to guess, it was sure as hell not mercy. It was the most horrific forms of physical and psychological torture imaginable.
Agent Jane Bond knew all of this going into the job and yet here she was, tied to a wall and stretched out like fucking da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man, trying to piece together what was going on. She kept slipping in and out of consciousness, unable to decipher exactly what kind of drugs they were giving her, but just aware enough to remember some very fuzzy details. She had been in Central America somewhere. It was an ice job on some leftist or rightist something or other who was stirring the pot just a little too vigorously, a woman. What was her name? Her head sagged and bobbed and her last thought before she blacked out was “This is some heavy shit…..”
COLD! Jane awoke abruptly to the sensation of something very cold being stuck in her ass. That would wake anybody up. Confused at first about what to think about, what was happening or why, she took a moment to try and gather her wits about her. When everything came into focus, she kind of wished she could regain unconsciousness. There was indeed some icy rod of some sort being inserted into her ass. Slipping and sliding in and out of her. She was still tied to the wall, naked, and there was an absolute behemoth of a woman sucking on her left tit. She could now tell she was in a room of some kind, and she could see various tools and devices that she could tell were either for sex or torture. Or both. Looking around the room, Jane could start to make out more people. It was dimly lit, but she could make out a few other enormous Amazonian creatures and a few other women. They were in various states of undress, some were staring at her and masturbating, two of the hulks were in the corner openly fornicating, and there was one who was really out of place. A woman, fully dressed in a very fancy three piece suit, was standing, actually leaning against the one door in the place, and she was looking unblinkingly at Jane. She looked familiar, but why? Slowly but surely she was gathering her wits about her. Jane was now remembering what she did and who she was. The mission. What happened to the mission?
“Wh..What’re you doi…” FWAP! The behemoth straight cold cocked her in the jaw without even batting a lash. That’s more like it! Jane was used to that kind of action. Hell, pain was pretty much part of the job. Dishing it out and taking it. Usually with agents, it got to the point where they started liking it. You had to. Aversion to pain was not an option. She decided talking would be a bad idea, but getting rocked in the gulliver brought her fully about. The first thing to do was assess the situation. After that, you start assessing and mentally listing possible avenues of escape. Then you start sizing up any people you can get your eyes on. Figure out who’s in charge, who’s the muscle, who’s the one that is maybe not as bright as the rest. Most importantly at this point, remember that you have information people would kill for, and come to terms with the idea that they are probably going to try to torture it out of you.
The Hulk was running her tongue all over Jane’s body, and not in a sensual way. It was more like a marking of territory than anything else. Her muscles were glistening with sweat as she licked Jane’s thighs. First outside, then working her way slowly to the inside, and the more excited she got, the farther she stuck the cold whatever-it-is up Jane’s ass. Jane started making eyes at the monstrosity fondling her, trying to silently get its attention, flicking her own tongue to entice, get it in close, she began to swivel her hips with the rhythm and getting more and more erotic. The Hulk seemed to like it and started groaning and getting off on Jane’s sensuality, and also the power of having this beautiful woman unable to resist its grotesque advances. “That’s right,” thought Jane, “come closer you sexy bitch, I’ll give you what you need.”
You can read the rest of this story from any of the major book sellers, or also at http://www.vincestead.com or http://www.fun2readbooks.com
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