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.
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.
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.
“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 which flutters around it, clamping and unclamping at it.
“Aroused, Powers?” I ask innocently, “that was easier than it should have been…”
I lean in to whisper hoarsely in her ear.
“Your pussy is wet, Powers…”
She writhes and moans and shouts incoherently into the gag.
“Anyone would think you found this kind of treatment a turn on…”
She weeps and grunts and tries to get away from my probing finger which remains embedded deep inside her wet pussy.
“Are you a pervert, agent Powers?”
My question is innocently phrased but the blush that comes from beneath the hood to colour her throat and chest is answer enough.
I lean in and kiss the reddening skin and my tongue flicks across her right nipple. Mmmmm, she tastes delicious.
“Don’t worry, Powers” I tell her, “I am a friend. I will keep your secret.”
She snorts angrily in the tight hood.
“I can go easy on you. We can have fun. I can give you what you want. I can help you.”
“Co-operate” I tell her, my voice low and soothing as my finger begins to ease in and out of her slick pussy.
She growls angrily.
“Oh well…” I say, feigning disappointment, “then I get to play with you until you are ready to do so. Is that fair?”
She shakes her hooded head, the leather creaking as she utters a muffled curse. I smile. That’s fine. I have all the time in the world. I would have been very disappointed in her if she had yielded on the first day.
I withdraw my finger and lick the juices there on the glove. I could have sworn she unconsciously pushed her hips out at me, trying to maintain that contact as I pulled from her. Tut tut Powers…
I cross unhurriedly to the far side of the room where I have laid out my tools on a low table. I take my time, making the selections. I choose a set of nipple clamps and a large vibrator with a wide blunt head shaped like a cock.
I place the vibrator between her thighs and pinch her nipples roughly, making her yelp and shift in the bonds. It makes me smile. I clip the clamps on tight and pull lightly on the chain that connects them. She makes angry muffled noises into the gag.
“You only have yourself to blame, Powers” I tell her conspiratorially. I pull up a chair and sit comfortably between her spread thighs. She is moaning already as I pick up the vibrator and twist the base to turn it on at its lowest setting, a light buzzing noise fills the room and she stills, intent on listening. Her head twists blindly and she makes a small sobbing noise. I wait. Timing is everything. When she begins to relax I place the head of the vibrator against her vulva, pressing gently. She is trying to say ‘no’ again and again into the gag but her attempts are pathetic and muffled. I turn the power up a little higher and move the tool slowly down the length of her slit. I take my time and locate the best places. Only an amateur goes straight for the clitoris. I want to make her wait. To build the anticipation.
I press it against the opening to her pussy, making her lips tremble enticingly. She struggles and groans but she’s helpless. She’s mine and she will be for as long as I decide to keep her. After a while I note that she is pushing her hips out to meet the tool as it travels across her pubis. Now is the time. I use two gloved fingers to open her labia to reveal the clit, hardening in its fleshy hood and press the buzzing cock against it. She would tip the chair over if it wasn’t bolted to the floor. She thrashes and grunts and moans. Her breathing is shallow and constricted by the restricted air into the hood. Two small eyelets are all that there are to allow the intake and egress of air to her heated brain.
She bucks and moans as I yank on the chain which links the clamps and suddenly she is climaxing, her pussy drenched and her body spasming violently as much as the straps will allow…..
The scent of her perfume still lingers in the air as I bask in the afterglow of my orgasm whilst my pussy continues to spasm intermittently. For a moment I am lost in my own inner calm, my skin feeling hyper sensitive to the slightest touch. My nipples feel like they are on fire from the clamps, the cold chain dangles on my belly.
Then reality hits… the shame. My body has betrayed me once more. This woman is a sexual tease, highly skilled in the art of erotic stimulation. I tried not to submit to her attentions, to show resilience to her touch but when her gloved fingers began fondling and probing me the sensations were exquisite.
I hear her heels clicking in the distance and the door slam, I am left alone once more. The numerous leather straps still dig cruelly into my flesh, I attempt to move my limbs but they are held rigid. My hair and face feel hot and sweaty and the pungent smell of leather from the hood fills my nostrils. I try to move my jaw, the huge leather stuffer gag allows very little movement and I find myself gagging on my own saliva. The two horizontal straps around my eyes and mouth add pressure to my skull and the sense of claustrophobia is overwhelming.
Why has she left the room? My heart is pounding again and I am having to focus on my breathing, the nostril holes in the hood constricting my intake of air. My throat feels bruised from being choked last night. I keep thinking about Sergei, wondering whether he will tell the Colonel of my efforts to befriend him. I am sure he enjoyed my flirting with him as he watched me eat and then escorted me to this room. I used all my womanly allure to engage with him, to try to make him pity me. I hope the offer of 15 million rubles for my release will tempt him to let me go. It was a big gamble as was attempting to kiss him despite it repulsing me inside. To make him like me.
I certainly know there is no way I am going to get the better of Sadia, my opposite number in Russian Intelligence. She has a reputation for being a sadistic bitch and a highly revered interrogator so I am baffled by her treatment of me in the chair. Is she trying to seduce me? Has she guessed that I am bisexual? Was the FSB watching me during my mission in Berlin some months ago where I was carrying out surveillance on a mafia member in a BDSM club? My mind wanders back to that night where I attracted the attentions of a mysterious latex hooded woman and for the first time in my career had let my guard down by spending the night with her.
I hear the door open and once more a waft of her perfume enters my nostrils as she approaches me.
“So ready to talk now Powers?” her voice is smooth and silky. I stay silent but feel her move around me, her gloved fingers stroke my naked body, teasing me once more. The leather straps creak as I attempt to move.
“Mmmm, you look so appetising sat there all naked and strapped down with nowhere to go” she mocks. Suddenly I feel her hands on my head and the release of pressure as the tight straps around my eyes and mouth are removed and the lacing at the back of the hood is loosened. As the hood is pulled away my eyes take a few moments to adjust to the light in the room. Sadia looks amazing, I can’t help but let my eyes wander up and down her latex clad body, the rubber clinging to every sensual curve, her severe looking spike boots and hat giving her such a commanding presence. Well of course that’s the idea isn’t it, to make me feel intimidated. I can feel my clit twitching at the sight of her but attempt to remain detached.
“Is that better my dear?” she whispers in my ear whilst gently removing the nipple clamps. “Yes, thank you… Sadia.”
“Ah so you have worked out who I am then Powers? So clever of you. So down to business, I want the location of MI6’s secret nuclear facility.” Her tone is calm and authoritative as I watch her walk over to a low table. She approaches me with a crop, her lips slightly curled as she taps the leather tongue against her latex clad leg. Shit this doesn’t bode well…
I remain silent. She sits once more in front of me, taking the tip of the crop and pushing it to my mouth. “Open your mouth!” she barks at me but I remain still. Her eyes narrow as she grabs my face with her right gloved hand and digs her fingers in my cheeks.
“Bitch, you think you will get the better of me??!” There is real anger in her tone, my heart pounds faster and my throat goes dry.
I close my eyes in an attempt to block out the pain as she starts smacking me with the crop, first my breasts and stomach, working her way down to my inner thighs and pussy. I writhe and thrash against the straps, the crop biting my flesh with each punishing blow. I use all my willpower to remain silent but her treatment of me is really testing my resolve.
She stops and takes a moment to think whilst pinching and twisting my nipples through her gloved hands once more. I must stay strong.
“You realise Colonel that I will never betray my Queen and country whatever you do to me.” I say firmly. My whole body is stinging from the crop but can I feel my clit pulsing?? I am confused with my body’s reaction to this woman’s treatment.
Suddenly the door opens and it is Sergei… Oh no……
He mumbles something to her and I watch as she slaps him in the face and scolds him like a child. He briskly leaves the room. SHIT.
She approaches me again but this time her expression is menacing. “So you thought you could get my second in command to betray me did you Powers??? You stupid slut! I think we need to step up your interrogation to the next level.” Her words fill me with dread but I stay silent.
“These are my knickers from yesterday Powers, I got rather aroused at the sight of your naked body when I abducted you last night. I trust you will enjoy their scent!” With that she grabs my face and forces the damp bundle into my mouth, I thrash and shake my head but she grips it firmly. She ignores my muffled protests as I am forced to savour her sweet musky scent. A cruel smile creeps across her face as she clasps a leather gloved hand over my mouth and then pinches my nose. I CAN’T BREATHE!! Panic sets in, I try to escape her grasp, thrashing once more against the straps but it is useless.
She laughs. “Oh dear Powers, didn’t you enjoy that? I have something in mind for you that I think may loosen that tongue of yours.” She pulls large strips of gaffa tape from a roll and smooths each piece over my stuffed mouth until the lower half of my face is completely covered. A faint sob escapes from my clamped lips.
She returns from her table of tools with an intimidating piece of black latex in her gloved hands. “This Powers is a Russian GP5 gasmask with some added features, I am going to enjoy watching you suffer whilst you wear this” she grabs my hair and pulls the mask over my head.
The sense of enclosure is intense, with my mouth stuffed and taped shut my nostrils suck greedily for air through the small inlet valve at the front. All my senses seem to have intensified. I listen intently to the hiss of my breath as I exhale. The glass lenses are slowly misting up however I watch in horror as she takes a corrugated hose about 2 metres long and slowly screws it to the inlet valve of my mask.
She leans in, her eyes are cold and intimidating. My breathing is now more laboured, the long hose whistles as air passes through it. I hope she can see my pleading eyes, an overwhelming feeling of hopelessness hits me. Now my head is held rigid as she tightens two heavy leather straps around my neck and forehead.
“Powers, you seem a little distracted? Whatever can be wrong?” she moves her chair close to me once more and I feel her gloved hands tweaking and pulling my tender flesh which is still stinging from the crop.
I moan inaudible pleas for mercy though the gag and mask. She laughs callously as she shows me one final tool. What the hell??...
“Powers, this is what is known as a sniff penis attachment, it’s really just a 6 inch hollow dildo with a few breathing holes drilled along its length” she screws it onto the open end of the hose and my attempts at drawing air into my lungs become even more laboured. My heart sinks with the realisation that my only access to oxygen is through a few tiny holes. My breathing becomes erratic, I can feel sweat pouring from my body as I squirm against the leather straps, adrenalin courses through my veins. Never have I felt so terrified.
She relaxes in her chair, spreading her legs wide she unzips the crotch area of her cat-suit. She begins fondling her own nipples through her cat-suit and delights in rubbing the dildo along the length of her slit. My mask exudes her musky scent whilst the taste of her juices still linger in my mouth from the gag.
She takes her time, tilting her head back as she savours the moment, her military hat toppling onto the floor. I writhe in my restraints as she masturbates using the dildo, sliding the tool slowly back and forth into her pussy, her juices coating every inch of it. My head is feeling dizzy, I pant noisily sucking what little air I can through the dildo. Her body tenses as her arousal builds, this sick bitch is getting off on suffocating me whilst pleasuring herself.
“Oh dear Powers, having trouble breathing are we?” A cruel laugh escapes her lips. She shuts her eyes as she continues ramming the dildo into her dripping pussy, thrusting it in and out. She licks her lips and gasps gratifyingly. I watch her body convulse as she climaxes and her juices leak into the hose making her scent ever more pungent through the mask.
Suddenly she leaves the dildo inside her and with a devilish grin peers through the lenses of the mask as I begin to lose consciousness. I am panting uncontrollably, the sides of the mask collapse as I gasp for what tiny bit of oxygen remains in the hose, my head feels heavy and my eyes are rolling. Sadia’s sadistic side has emerged with a vengeance, never could I imagine anyone indeed a woman could bring me to the brink of utter despair.
Just as everything becomes foggy a surge of fresh oxygen fills my nostrils as she unscrews the hose from the mask. The sense of relief is overwhelming, tears fill my eyes as I gulp greedily for air.
As she loosens the strap around my forehead my head begins to clear…“Now Powers, my dear, are you ready to co-operate?” I nod sombrely, I need time to regain my composure and think tactically. Maybe Sergei will have a change of heart and will aid my escape.
Finally her eyes soften, her fingertips probe my pussy once more. She leans in close to the mask to whisper, “So glad you are now willing to talk Powers, my my your cunt is wet again, such a dirty girl.”
“You know Powers… I really enjoyed our night of passion in Berlin… do you remember??”
She freezes, suddenly stock still in her bonds. It’s comedic almost. Her eyes widen in the fogged lenses of the mask. I can almost see the cogs turning in that bright mind.
I turn on my heel and leave as she groans and sags in her tight bonds.
It’s late now and the station is deserted. The corridors are darkened and echo to the sound of my footsteps. I feel safe of course. This is my station. I had it designed and built to my specifications. I am the supreme authority here.
My pussy is still twitching from the interrogation. Her acquiescence at the end was wonderful and has built a solid platform for the arduous debriefing that will follow in the next few weeks. She will be smuggled out to Moscow or one of our gulags for the remainder of it. I wonder if I can arrange to have her at the end. She is certainly sexually interesting to me. As a colonel of the FSB I have the ability to have these things arranged in today’s modern Russia. I stroll along daydreaming off all the things I can do with Powers in my dacha on the Black Sea coast just outside of Odessa.
I turn a corner towards my quarters and am seized in a bear like hold. Strong arms pinion mine and something is held over my mouth. I struggle and twist, seeking an advantage, fingers looking for nerve points or vulnerable joints, but he is an expert and he holds me tight to him as I flail at him. The chemical in the rag over my nose is acrid and it makes me panicky. I cannot exert myself without oxygen and my strength is rapidly running out. I try a backheel kick at his shins which connects and elicits a grunt of pain but it is too little and the area around my vision is blackening. I gulp and swallow a little of the chemical on the rag and suddenly I am losing consciousness. I am dimly aware of my body going limp and my assailant dragging me backwards and through a door before I lose consciousness.
When I awaken I am confused. Nothing makes any sense. My head feels dulled and my body disconnected. I open my eyes and am aware of the steel walls of one of the isolation cells. I have forgotten the tussle. I am bemused but not yet worried. I blink to lose the sleep from my eyes and move a hand to wipe it away. Nothing happens. My hand is trapped against my side. I struggle to raise it, looking down and shock hits me like a bucket of cold water. The reason I can’t raise my hand is because it is in the arm of a restraint. A thick, heavy rubber straitjacket! The straps hold my arms flat across my tummy and further ones over my arms and around both forearms make sure I won’t be escaping. I become aware that my mouth is stuffed. A solid gag fills it and presses my tongue down. A hood is on tight over my head and I am stood, bound to a handcart with straps running the length of my body. My legs are in some kind of single sleeve and I cannot move them. Between my thighs runs a thick strap which pulls up tight and uncomfortably between my buttocks.
I struggle wildly, making the handcart rock a little. What the hell is going on?
I try to shout but the gag reduces my words to plaintive muffled grunts. Suddenly the door opens and there, framed in the steel doorway is Powers!
I shake my head, no!
She has a superior smirk on her lips. I look her up and down incredulously. She is wearing my clothes! She is dressed in one of my rubber uniforms. It fits her well, I note, tight on her, but its sleekness is both alluring and disturbing. I feel my pussy wettening in an almost Pavolvian response to her.
She closes the door and runs a gloved hand over my tightly hooded cheek. I growl and struggle.
“Oh dear…” she speaks, her voice low and not to be heard outside the cell.
“It seems like the game was a double bluff all along, Colonel”
I thrash as much as the bonds allow. I see my name in Cyrillic writing across her chest and it all sinks in. She sees the knowledge dawning in my eyes and smiles, and nods.
“That’s right Colonel” she says, her words jarring against the sweet tone she uses.
She has something in her hand. A small glass bottle. She sprays it into the air and steps into the perfumed mist. I inhale the aroma of my own perfume. Anger suffuses me but I cannot make anything of it. I cannot get free and I am at her total mercy. A shiver runs through me. I recall the sadism I have meted out to Powers and the very real possibility that it will be returned to me.
“Sorry, Colonel” she says as she produces a thick military balaclava and pulls it down over her head. She dons my tight, black leather gloves and goes behind me, her foot depressing the brake on the handcart and pulls it upright.
She moves the cart ahead of her and leaves the cell behind. We proceed down the corridor and towards the entrance of the facility. She meets several soldiers who stand rigidly to attention, saluting respectfully. She ignores them, a study in regal disdain. Is that how I look? Apparently so. They seem to see nothing wrong. I shake my head and grunt into the gag, struggling a little. She makes a couple of patronising comments in Russian, the muffling effect of the balaclava is enough to convince them that it’s me. They are expecting me and it is nothing out of the ordinary to see a helplessly trussed prisoner on a handcart here, being transported around the building.
At the door she waves my id and is passed through with a comment about making sure the prisoner pays for her crimes against the Motherland. She tosses her head and mutters something to the effect that it will be her pleasure to do so. She has studied my laugh well and replicates it perfectly. Unnervingly so.
Outside it is just getting light. Grouse are on the moor and the blacked out Range Rover is there, parked ominously outside the ruins of the old farmhouse. Standing nonchalantly beside it smoking a roughly made cigarette of black machorka tobacco is Segei.
He stands and crosses to us.
He pauses to kiss my straining, gagged lips through the tight hood. He laughs as he pulls away. My bound body strains and struggles to no effect.
“Goodbye Colonel” he says, one hand on my right breast and twisting it painfully.
They manhandle the truck into the back of the vehicle and lay me on my side there, still lashed firmly to it. I strain to see down my bound body to where the traitor Sergei is talking to Powers. I can’t hear them but they laugh and embrace like lovers. Fury rages in me. Impotent fury. But also arousal. Powers is in control now and she will be the author of my immediate fate. But for how long. I will wait and watch. I will use all the wiles at my disposal. I am now her prisoner but I will seek a way to freedom and to punish the traitor.
“Settle in Colonel” she tells me gaily as she closes the back door with a firm clunk moves to the driver’s seat, “it’s a long drive and you’re going to need all of your strength these next weeks”
I rage and growl and threaten her, meaningless curses made gibberish by the thick gag.
“Who knows?” as we drive away she removes the balaclava and our eyes meet in the rear view mirror, “they might let me keep you as a pet after your debriefing. Would you like that Colonel?”
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