An Unfortunate Encounter · Part 1 (1/2)
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This is a story I co-wrote with my kinky female friend SadiaX. We take turns adding from the point of view of our own character.
Part One
I love my job with the British Intelligence, I have been part of many successful recon missions over the years. The salary is great and it means I can travel the world. It hadn’t always been easy, my initial 6 weeks survival training with the SAS acquiring all the skills I would need was very challenging, especially the interrogation tactics weekend. I have built up quite a reputation amongst the underworld and have evaded capture on several occasions. My career is my life, I have no time for family or friends but then my role as a British secret agent requires a degree of detachment from emotional involvement. That said, I miss intimate contact with another which proves difficult sometimes owing to my high sex drive.
I am returning from a 5 week mission where we have successfully thwarted a terrorist arms deal, the plane journey back to the UK was over 10 hours and I sit in my car at the airport terminal feeling tired. I begin the long drive home, it’s late and the M3 is pretty empty which will aid my journey home. I keep noticing a black transit some way behind me, it’s been there for several miles. It draws my attention so I turn off at the next exit. It does not follow me. I must be overtired, time to find somewhere to stay the night.
I drive along a deserted B road, after a few miles my headlights catch a swinging “vacancies” sign outside a farm. I pull into the drive and approach the door. I’m given the keys to a chalet across from the farmhouse, the room is cosy and clean. The large pillows adorning the bed look very inviting so I quickly strip off my clothes and freshen up in the bathroom. I breathe a sigh of relief as I pull the crisp cool sheets over my naked body. My trusty pistol is within reach on the bedside table. It does not take me long to drift off to sleep.
Hours later…. What was that??!! I hear a noise and notice the chalet door is slightly ajar. When I turn my head a dark shadow stands looming over me, I grab for my gun but it’s gone. When I look again I feel the cold barrel pressed to my forehead. My training kicks in as I knock the gun away and attack the intruder however my martial arts skills are a little rusty and I’m no match for this dark clothed ninja.
I am thrown to the floor face down whilst my attacker sits on me and puts me in an arm lock. A leather gloved hand clasps my mouth firmly shut and once again the cool steel of the gun barrel is pressed against my head. FUCK What the hell is that…smell??? Rubber???
She’s an easy target, complacent and full of herself. Typical British ‘Intelligence’, an oxymoron if ever I heard one… My comrade waits outside the chalet to keep watch while I take her. She surprises me a little by knocking the gun away as I press it to her face, but she can do nothing to prevent me overpowering her and I kneel astride her pressing my gloved palm to her mouth, her lips move under it, creating a frisson of sexual excitement in me. The skintight rubber of my military bodysuit is creaking slightly and she stops and inhales, her nostrils flaring above the black leather of my hand, clamped tight over her mouth. Her eyes are brown, well a kind of rich reddish brown, and my mind notes this distractedly. The plan for her debriefing shifts in my head.
But to business. She’s a seasoned agent and knows that promises not to hurt her are invalid. She nods slowly, blinking those mesmerising eyes above the hand that gags her. She knows the score here. She tries to say something but it is muffled by the leather and the weight of my palm. She peers at my eyes, dark in the cutouts of the balaclava as if trying to identify me. But, it’s too dark in here and I am already rolling her, naked onto her tummy and reach round behind me for the first cable tie which is slipped through my belt at the back. I jerk her wrists together and slide it around them, pulling it tight and making her wince.
I slap the first strip of tape over her squirming lips from behind, smoothly it down and applying another quickly. The hood is thick, black and opaque. I pull it down over her thrashing head as she makes small, muffled protests. She is terrified and rightly so. She is now in the hands of the FSB and will be betraying her country by this time tomorrow. The hood pulls down over her hair and I knot the cords tight at the base of her throat. I can feel her pulse there, racing as she squirms under my rubber clad bottom. I move quickly. Speed is the essence of a successful abduction. The target must not be given time to think. It must come as a shock and she must be put onto the back foot mentally. Now she is helpless everything can accelerate. I tug her up onto her knees.
She struggles to comply. Her fear is written large in the lines of her body. I urge her onto her feet and she protests, sobbing into the gag. Her body is exquisite; such rich feminine curves and those sweet breasts. The nipples seem so inviting and ready to suck. I pinch them roughly, making her squawk with pain and humiliation.
She reddens from beneath the hood and down across her chest and makes a pathetic effort to cover herself with her upper arms, but of course she cannot and I laugh cruelly. I take her by one upper arm and march her out of the chalet quickly. I say nothing at all, frogmarching her forward fast and stumbling, frightened. Between her thighs is smooth and devoid of hair, I note with interest. My pussy twitches in response.
Sergei is there outside and he holds open the door to the van. Together we bundle her into the van and I kneel painfully on her thighs as I apply another zip tie to her thrashing ankles drawing them together. Then finally one more to her thighs, just above the knee.
She’s ours.
Sergei runs round to the driver’s side door, slamming the rear door and the engine starts. We move quickly away and down the dark track.
The abduction has taken barely two minutes. A clean-up crew will arrive in a moment and sweep all evidence of her presence from the room. Her clothes will disappear and all her belongings. Her phone and laptop will be taken and meticulously decoded by our experts back in Moscow.
She, meanwhile will come with me. Colonel Sadia Federovna Tamaskaya of the FSB. Her opposite number in Russian Intelligence. I relax back against the comfortably padded seat and reach down to touch her between her thighs. She shouts into the gag at the touch of my gloved fingers. I smile. I say nothing. My fingers probe and pinch at her, exploring her vulnerable flesh. She struggles, thrashing and screaming into the gag. Her hooded head seems to be trying to look around. Good luck with that, bitch… the hood is totally opaque. I’ve worn one in training and there is not a chance of her seeing anything.
I spend the rest of the journey finding out more about her body. I pinch her defenceless nipples, I poke her I push her onto her tummy with one booted foot and smile as she struggles when I press my gloved finger between the cheeks of her bottom.
Finally, three hours later we are at the black facility we run here in Britain. When the interrogation is over she will be flown to Russia, but for now, this cabin near the border with Scotland will be her home.
I get out, refreshed and invigorated by the entertainment and stride to the door. It looks derelict but once inside and through the first rotten door, all is of the highest technological advance. I nod to the guards and they go to bring our captive in.
I punch a code into the keypad and a section of the mossy, wall swings open on frictionless hinges and stairs down into the main body of the facility appear. I stride down, arriving at the detention cells. The guard there snaps to attention, recognising me and opens the barred doors. I begin to undress for the next stage of the interrogation and nod soberly to Sergei as he wrestles our captive in and along the corridor. He fixes her in positions her against the barred wall of the cell, swapping the zip ties for heavy shackles. Her wrists are pressed tight against the bars, the chain linking the cuffs threaded through the bars and her ankle chains the same. She remains gagged and hooded.
I am naked now and reach for the tape, pressing it briskly to my mouth and gagging myself. I stroll down to the cell and Sergei presents the hood. I pull it down over my head and he takes me by the hand, leading me towards the cell.
I begin to struggle once we get near and he shouts at me to be quiet, calling me “English bitch” just like we planned. He pushes me against her warm, soft body and applies the same shackles to my wrists and ankles. Mine fixed thus though; my wrists are placed under her arms and the cuffs applied so my hands are against her chest. My ankles are shackled in the same way as hers. My body is necessarily forced against hers. I squeal and struggle and he shouts at me again, warning me to be quiet.
Suddenly we are left alone and I sense her calming. Her body is pressed against mine, her bottom against my stomach. I can feel my pussy getting wet. My breasts press against her back.
I make a sorrowful sounding interrogative moan into the tape of the gag.
What the fuck just happened?? Terror fills every fibre of my body, I am shaking. The shackles hang heavily from my wrists, still sore from the cable ties. The tape is now itching my face which feels sweaty from the tight hood. I keep recounting my steps, why had I not trusted my instincts about the suspicious van I spotted on the motorway. Thoughts are whizzing around my head, my breathing is laboured. Questions questions… why had I not heard my captor at the chalet? My usual encounter with enemies involves huge lumbering thugs but this mysterious ninja seemed, well… light footed.
None of my SAS training had prepared me for such a slick abduction. I had previously experienced mock interrogation which had me tightly bound, hooded and gagged. However I keep recalling the sexual violation I was subjected to whilst being transported. My cruel captor prodding and fingering my most intimate areas, I loathed it but my body betrayed me. My knickers are still damp…
It is true what they say, sensory deprivation does indeed heighten the remaining senses. The pungent smell of rubber during the journey was overwhelming, bizarrely I found the smell arousing. Had there also been a hint of vanilla in the air, perfume perhaps… so many questions… I feel dizzy with trepidation.
Where the hell am I?? I figure it is somewhere rural, the ground felt rough underfoot and I could smell damp grass. The humiliation of being completely naked taunts me and I feel disorientated. The hood clings tightly to my face, my nostrils sucking greedily for air whilst I try to keep my composure. I am dragged along what sounds like a corridor into a room. Rough skinned hands cut off the cable ties and grab at my limbs as I am fettered, the shackles leave very little room for movement and there is a heavy clank as the chains rub against bars.
I can hear screaming? My heart pounds through my chest, I flinch as I sense movement… What the?! I feel the warmth of another person’s flesh pressed closely to my back, I can tell it's definitely a woman, her nipples gently brush my skin. The sound of more shackles and muffled moans. It's seems weirdly comforting to be sharing this ordeal with another.
Suddenly the hood is pulled off, my eyes take a minute to accustom to my surroundings. The cell is bare, its walls are painted black with bright spotlights recessed in the ceiling. A stainless steel toilet and basin are fixed in one corner. It is stark and foreboding. Thick steel bars adorn the wall I am chained to. Any attempt to escape is futile.
I flinch as a man approaches me and begins fondling my breasts. I see his uniform, shiny black rubber with body armour, utility belt and balaclava. The smell of rubber fills my nose once more. His uniform arouses me, like a kinky batman. Shit, I need to clear my head and think about the interrogation tactics I have been taught. The gag is ripped off unceremoniously and I can’t help but let out a pathetic yelp. My lips and face sting as he offers up some water from a bottle. I guzzle it in earnest but spit the last mouthful in his face.
“You British scum!!” My face burns as he slaps it hard. It takes all my effort to show no reaction.
I feel the woman behind me stir, her hood and gag are also removed. We both stand there naked and vulnerable.
“Right sluts, we are not quite ready to interrogate you yet, we are awaiting the arrival of our commander. So in the meantime I’m going to have some fun with you.”
His hands explore my body, his fingers trailing down my belly to my pussy. I look away, my training requires me to stay resilient to touch. I can smell his stale breath, it disgusts me.
“Fuck off!!” I shout in his face, I can’t help myself. I feel so violated but my head is clearing and I feel more ready to tackle whatever lies ahead. I won’t let these bastards grind me down, I WILL serve my queen and country and will not be broken.
“What do you know about MI6’s secret nuclear facility?” I say nothing. Again he asks and I stay silent. My nipples burn as he twists and mauls them.
“Perhaps if I punish your little friend shackled behind you it will loosen your tongue… Colonel Louise Alexandra Powers” he snarls.
I suppose it was no surprize that he knew my name, after all I must have been under surveillance for some time. How could I have not known?? Who the hell was this woman pressed up against me, I could feel her breath on my neck and her dark hair tickling my shoulders. It was rather arousing but I needed a clear head.
He turns his attentions to the woman behind me. Thwack, the leather thronged flogger smacks at her delicate flesh and she squashes against me, her body writhes and thrashes. Her pleas for mercy are ignored.
“Play with her!!” he commands whilst brandishing the flogger in her face. Hesitant fingers begin roaming my belly, I flinch and try to move away but it is futile. Her feminine delicate touch is intoxicating, I have missed intimate contact for so long. MUST STAY FOCUSSED. It’s so hard, her fingers gently stroke my belly then wander up to my breasts exploring them. Without realising I close my eyes and drink in this woman’s touch. She plays with my nipples, they harden like bullets. My pussy feels wet and my clit is twitching.
Voices… “Sergei, come quickly!!!” He leaves us alone, locking the heavy steel door on his way out.
“Who are you?” I ask briskly, I have no idea how long we have before anyone returns.
“My name is Agent Roxy Carmichael, I have heard so much about you Agent Powers and it’s an honour to meet you. Myself and Alex Barnet were carrying out surveillance on a drugs cartel when we were ambushed. Oh god my back feels like it’s on fire from that awful man’s treatment” I hear her quietly sobbing.
I am suspicious, do I detect a slight accent? I have worked with Alex on many missions, we are good friends so her story seems plausible.
“Why haven’t I heard of you before?” I quiz her further, I’m no fool and need to be sure she really is a British agent. She explains that she has only just started as a field agent and it was her first mission after spending many years working in the back office of MI6.
I feel tired, my wrists and ankles are chaffing in the heavy cuffs and my body aches from all the rough treatment.
“So Louise, I wonder, do you know anything about that nuclear facility?” she asks innocently.
“Be quiet Roxy, this room could be bugged, remember your training!!!” I scold her stupidity.
She draws closer to me, once more I feel her breath on my neck, the scent of her skin.
“Oh god, I’m sorry, I’m so frightened, I don’t know what I’m saying,” she whispers in my left ear, her body pressing against mine.
And then it happens… like an ice cold bucket of water being thrown in my face I suddenly realise what is going on here. My body tenses as I feel rage building inside of me.
“So Roxy…” my tone is icy and aloof. “You know I’ve been thinking about my abduction, I have to say it was well executed. However my captor made one very foolish mistake. What do you think that could be?” I sneer.
Silence.
“Perfume, Dior Addict I believe. I smelt it on my captor’s bodysuit as I can smell it on your naked skin!!!! Get your hands off me right now!!!!!!!” I try to grab and kick at her.
She grabs my throat and squeezes it hard, I gasp for air. Once again she draws her face close to me.
“Well well, clever Agent Powers, it seems I have underestimated you. I will have to deploy more severe methods to extract the information from you that I require.” Her voice is sinister and as I struggle my head becomes dizzy from her vice like grip.
“Sergei!” she barks.
Everything goes black.
Powers has seen through my initial ruse, but the game is far from played out. I take my lead from great interrogators before me. We have the luxury of time. Has British intelligence even missed her yet? What are their conclusions if they have? Do they think she may have defected?
I shower luxuriantly before applying my perfume, a dab behind each ear, and tie my hair back in a severe ponytail. From the wardrobe in my luxurious quarters I select a gleaming, highly polished, cat-suit in jet black; one that clings to my curves and emphasises my waist and the flare of my hips. I pull on short, skin-tight, black, leather gloves, easing my fingers in and enjoying the feeling of tightness and power they give me. My military cap is next; adjusted to a precise angle of perfection. I apply scarlet lipstick, pouting in the mirror. Boots next. These are short and to the ankle, with pointed toes and spike heels.
I am ready.
I close and lock my quarters and advance through the base to the interrogation chambers. Sergei is there and snaps to attention as I walk in. His eyes cannot help themselves and roam across my latex covered contours. He has the self-awareness to catch himself and look into the middle distance as he reports.
“The prisoner is in room four as commanded, Colonel, She has been prepared as you instructed.”
He’s a good boy, a useful one as well. He has risen above his humble origins on some farm outside Volgograd to rise fast in the organisation. He knows his limits though and his respect is second to none. He has seen me in a variety of dispositions during his work with me and has never thought he could lay a finger on me.
One day I may take him to bed but for now the Englishwoman is my only focus. She’s intriguing. She has spirit and bravado but our research has indicated certain interesting leanings; certain predilections which arouse me as much as they allow a way in for the skilled interrogator. Skolashnaya has always been my role model as an interrogator. Her use of her own femininity as an interrogational deceit was my earliest study at the Spetznaz School when I progressed from the police to special work.
I check my reflection in the mirror again as I stalk down to room four and open the door.
The room is warm and dark. A solitary naked bulb illuminates the chamber. It reveals a woman. She is strapped very heavily to a chair. She is naked. The straps at shoulders, upper arms, lower arms, wrists, chest, stomach, thighs and ankles are thick leather and buckled tight. They cut into the soft flesh of her body. Immediately I am wet.
Her head is encased in a thick leather hood. It is a gleaming black in the low light. Straps over her eyes and mouth ensure her blindness and muteness. I step into the room, my heels clicking ominously on the tiled floor, making her start in her bonds. A small noise comes, muffled from beneath the hood.
“Good morning Powers, I trust you slept well?”
She makes an angry noise, her head twisting in the hood.
“Your needs have been taken care of? You have eaten and drank? You have used the little girl’s room?”
My voice is silky, a purr, a tease. I know she will have slept poorly if at all and all she will have eaten will be porridge and water. She’s a prisoner, not a guest. She will have been escorted to the toilet and watched closely, perhaps ridiculed or teased as she used it.
Now she is strapped, hooded and gagged and totally at my mercy. I am known in the service as a bitch. Cold and efficient. But I do have a softer side which I can call on when the operation needs it. I may or may not use it with her.
“So…” I step over so I am standing next to her and she flinches as my leather gloved fingers alight on her defenceless skin. I stroke her, letting her know just how vulnerable she is, without hurting her. My hands caress her breasts, lingering on the nipples until they stand up and crinkle hard, before a single fingertip traces a line across the straps and over her stomach to the shaven area between her thighs. I pinch gently at her labia, encouraging them to swell and separate. She is glistening inside, a sweet, shell pink. Her clit is still in its hood but I think I can see signs of life there too.
She thrashes as much as she can in her bonds, but really it’s rather limited. She grunts and tries to draw her arms and shoulders forward to shield herself. I laugh merrily at her attempts. She tries to close her legs but only succeeds in making the straps pull tighter into her thighs.
I lick my gloved forefinger and penetrate her, making her squirm and cry out into the mouth stuffing gag. Her struggles excite me and I feel my own nipples stiffening in sympathy with hers. My pussy is dripping already. My finger works deeper into her pussy wh
An Unfortunate Encounter · Part 1 (1/2)
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