Blonde Bait

Open your fucking mouth wider, he lowered his voice half an octave. I stretched my lips as wide as I could, my tongue pushing out the panties. Before I could spit out the panties, he inserted his pulsating cock, fighting my tongue. To make sure the panties stay inside, he pinched my clitoris, weakening me, then pushing his cock all the way in. He felt the lace material of the panties surrounding the tip of his manhood. My gag reflex kicked in, making me choke a few times. He pinched my nose and deprived me of oxygen, gravity on his side. I fought the urge to bit on his member, endured for thirty seconds, my face flushed, the color changing.

He finally twisted on his back, bounced on the bed, lifted his hands high above him, pushing against the head board. I understood immediately the reverse role play. I sat on his neck, forced him to eat my cunt, and cut off his oxygen supply.

A few more rounds later, when he was on top, I hooked my ankles behind his back, pulling him down. He caught me behind the knees, pushing his shoulders against it, lifting my butt inches above the bed. Finally ready, he entered slowly, then quickly, withdrawing abruptly, only to enter slowly again. I was amazed at his control, noticing from the alarm clock it had been almost two hours since we checked in.

We fucked our brains out until we collapsed. He opened the blinds before we fell asleep. The lights from the city danced on the ceiling. I pinched my nipple gently to make sure it was not a dream. We did not take showers. We fell asleep on wet bed sheets, our fluids mixed with sweat, our legs and arms interlocked, clothes scattered on the floor around the bed. For the first time in my life, I felt my tough exterior melting away. Was it possible for someone like me to experience romance? I had thought I was too jaded, too abused to ever feel anything genuine again.

I woke up the next morning when the sun streamed in and hit my eyes. He was turned to the other side, his breathing regular and slow, still in his dreams. I hope he was dreaming about me. I tiptoed to the shower, hoping not to wake him. Turning up the hot water to as hot as I can endure, I closed my eyes and sat on the floor. I heard the chime of the doorbell.

The rest I had already told you. But before I forgot, I found out they were after me, not Adam. They promised to let Adam go, as long as I cooperated and came alone. I was gagged and shackled. It was not a negotiation. I had no choice but to cooperate. I could only hope they lived up to their end of the bargain. Adam was in the wrong place at the wrong time and did not deserve to suffer or die because of me.

>>>>>

The car came to a stop after crushing gravel beneath it for half a minute. Doors opened and closed. The sound of men stepping out. Another car crunching gravel. More men stepping on the gravel. Get the cunt out of the trunk, he said in Mandarin, sounding almost poetic in a sing-song way. I had not heard this voice before.

Two beeps of remote control lifted the trunk. Still blinded, I could feel the strong sunlight on my skin. The unmistakable stench of a farm hit me like a brick wall. I knew what I was talking about. After all, I grew up in Indiana and got away as quickly as I could. I had to suck a few truckers to hitch hike to the sunshine state.

"You guys tie her up good," an American accent. What was Adam doing here?

"We knew she was dangerous. Thanks to you." A British accent.

"Are you mother-fucking cock-sucking cowards going to let me see who you are or not?" I screamed as they tore off the duct tape from my mouth.

"Why not? She had already seen my cock and could recognize the mole on the side." Adam thought it was funny. Nobody else did. Maybe his joke was too American.

I spat in his face as soon as he tore off the tape from my eyes, painfully taking off eyelashes as well. I squinted at the sun-soaked scene. Adam, dressed in a colorful short sleeved shirt, two buttons undone. A man in a suit. Two other men, in black T-shirts and jeans. They were dressed the same in the hotel room. The only difference was they now carried AK-47s.

My rope was cut, freeing my legs. They lifted me from the trunk and marched me to the only building. When they released me, my legs had been so weakened I collapsed to the floor.

"Looks like your girlfriend is not so tough," the Brit said.

Adam shot back. "She is not my girlfriend. More like a slut who sleeps around. Worse than a whore because she don't even charge for her body. I have better taste than that."

I resisted the urge to pursue this line of conversation. I need to focus on my game plan.

"Adam, you have done your job. Here is the money." He handed over a suitcase. "You can go now."

"Are you sure you don't want me to stick around? I am also good at making people talk." Adam was shameless. "I charge a very reasonable fee."

"Adam, we do not need your further services at this time."

"The fee is negotiable."

'Wang will take you to the airport."

One of the men disappeared with Adam. The car kicked up dust and gravel as it rounded the curve. Only two men left. The Brit and the Chinese man. But he had the AK-47. And my arms were still bound behind, with no chance of bringing it in front because the elbows and wrists were both shackled.

"Strip and search her, mechanical and electronic."

Although not providing much cover, it had been comforting to have the bra and panties on. The Chinese man removed them with a large knife, the Brit now holding the semi-automatic rifle. Naked, my already bound elbows were attached to chains hanging from the ceiling. They were pulled up until my shoulders started to rotate internally. Then my legs were kicked apart until I stood on tiptoes. Ropes were tied to each ankle and secured to pillars on opposite sides.

In that odd position, fingers probed every inch of my body, lingering in every hold, longer than was necessary. No hidden objects were found. It was standard operating procedure not to carry anything incriminating while working undercover.

As for electronic equipment, it was not addressed in the SOP. An electronic scanner, externally looking like those used in airports, but internally more sophisticated, was placed all over her. If she had any working transmitters on her, even if surgically implanted beneath the skin, it would have been detected. The green light on the scanner showed that she did not have any devices transmitting her location.

"All clear," the Chinese man said in military-like fashion, his English accented but clear.

The Brit pulled a chair and sat in front of her. The Chinese man remained standing, taking back the assault rifle.

"I am a professional and you are a professional. So we both know you will tell me what I want to know, either before or after torture. Why don't we skip the torture?"

"Once I tell you, I am of no more use and you will have to kill me. Correct?"

"In this case, not necessarily."

"Going technical on me? I know, you will not kill me. But the Chinese man here will kill me with the AK-47. But you will be an accomplice, equally guilty."

"I see that you are well versed in the law. Very impressive. Indeed, it is very rare for an American agent to be well educated. You have both brains and beauty. You should come work for me." How could he have known I was an agent working undercover? Even Adam did not know.

"You are not getting shit from me. I have been trained to withstand pain and torture."

"One last chance," he said as he removed his jacket and thick leather belt. The Chinese man took his leather jacket and disappeared from the room. We were alone, just the two of us.

He walked around me for another minute, giving me time to reconsider. And letting me anticipate what was to happen. I planned to ride out the pain, sticking to the game plan. I could not afford to let him think I gave up too easily.

Without warning, while behind me, he swung his leather belt on my ass. My body twitched, but I bit my tongue. I could take more before screaming. Game plan game plan, I repeated the mantra over and over.

His next strike was on my back. Because my arms were lifted up behind me, he had to carefully position the belt to connect with my back. It did not have the force of the previous one. I had enough on me to laugh. "Is that all you have? You faggot." I was not sure he understood the American insult. So I repeated, "You faggot and poof."

His next move showed he understood I was questioning his manhood. Holding the belt with his underhand, he swept it up below me, hitting me between the legs and connecting with the sensitive nerve endings embedded in the soft folds of the pleasure zone. Pain shot through my backbone and I yelled uncontrollably.

He laughed for the first time. "Looks like I've found your soft spot, or like you folks like to say, I have found which button to push."

He whacked his belt again and again, striking my cunt repeatedly. But he overdid it. After a few strokes, the nerve became numb and I could no longer feel the pain.

He realized his mistake and lowered my arms. I was able to stand upright, on my soles again, though my legs were still tied and stretched wide apart. He took a fresh rope and looped it round my neck, the ends to the same pillars holding my legs apart. I was stuck in a vertical position.

This time, he used his belt again, whipping me on the breasts. His aim was poor, so my nipples were struck only occasionally. He could seldom hit the same spot. And the belt was too thick to actually break skin. Still, it was painful and I screamed with each stroke. I was able to move my body slightly to ride the hits, but I was becoming weaker, barely able to stand on my own feet.

Sensing that I was about to lose consciousness, he decided to cut the ropes holding my neck and my ankles. I collapsed on the concrete floor, my arms still trapped behind me. Physically, I was too weak to do anything. But mentally, I was sticking to the game plan.

"Are you ready to talk now?" He asked as he kicked my ribs.

I rolled over and decided it was time to talk. "What do you want to know?"

He dragged me by the hair and leaned me against the wall, my hands still tied behind. He tied my ankles and knees together. Then he sat on a chair a safe distance away and began asking questions.

Once I started talking, I told him everything. The disguise every day. The digital pictures. The daily surveillance of Mr. Wong. The agency matching the lunch companions to worldwide databases. Our suspicion the Wong gang was involved in money laundering. The possible connection to terrorist groups.

An hour later, he asked the same questions, but in different order. I gave him almost the same answer, differing only in minor details. I was offered a small sip of water before the third round.

After five rounds, he was satisfied. He reported to his boss with his cell phone and was given further instructions. Two men I had never seen showed up. A rope was again looped around my neck. My hands and legs were freed as a Glock was trained on me. I was made to crawl on my hands and knees. I crawled through the door, it was now dark outside. I was ordered to crawl only on my knees, my hands above my head, on the sharp gravel until I reached the back of a Buick parked several feet away. The trunk was popped open. I was hogtied and thrown inside.

The ride was another two hours or so. This time, I was in the driveway of a large mansion. The rope was cut as I was manhandled out of the trunk. Already naked, I was searched again outside the house, fingers exploring every hole. Another electronic scanner swept over me, front and back, up and down. Handcuffs were applied to my wrists and elbows behind my back before the guns were holstered.

I was brought inside the house and immediately recognized the man. Steve Wong stood up. I was thrown to the floor and forced on my knees.

"It had come to my attention, you little cunt, that you came to my territory and spied on me." Wong spoke perfect British English.

"It had come to the agency's attention your little gang was engaged in money laundering for terrorists. If so, you will be arrested and prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law."

By mocking him, I earned a vicious punch to the nose. The impact sent me tumbling and rolling on the ground before hands held my hair and gripped my elbows, pulling me up and holding me in the kneeling position again. My nose bled and my lips had been cut by the large ring on his middle finger, next to his knuckles.

"Do you think you can insult me by coming into my turf to watch me without asking for my permission?" He spat on my face and I spat back. A backhanded slap to my face, cutting my cheek with the ring.

"The agency is looking for me right now. Your time as a free man is almost up." I knew that would make him mad. And I knew what he liked to do to women. I was sticking to the game plan.

"Tie her upside down in the basement. This bitch needs my special attention." He cracked his knuckles as he said so. His goons immediately dragged me to the basement.

Chains hung from the ceiling and there were protruding hooks on the floor. On one side of the basement was a collection of torture tools. There were mirrors and cameras everywhere. There were also chairs. The basement was designed not just to torture, but also to demonstrate Wong's power to friends and foe alike.

My feet were hoisted to the ceiling and attached to two separate chains. They were pulled up until my head swung six inches off the ground. My bound wrists were tied to a floor hook, the rope pulled until my arms were perpendicular to my inverted body. My elbows were still painfully cuffed together.

Blood rushed to my head and my thoughts became cloudy. I knew I would soon be delusional. Fortunately, Wong stepped into the room before too long. The room was now crowded with dozens of people, all his top captains here to witness the captured American agent.

"Brothers, this American whore has insulted us by entering our jurisdiction. Worse, she has called me names and showed an utter disrespect. If we let her get away with the insults, no other gang would respect us and would try to muscle into our territory." He spoke in Mandarin rapidly, almost too quick for me to grasp all the words. But I got the drift. I was to be tortured until I showed some respect.

"We need to teach her some manners." One man shouted.

"Make her suck cock." Another followed.

"Fuck her in the ass until she bleeds to death."

Steve Wong took control before the gathering got disorganized, "I want her to first apologize to me. Then you can all do to her what you want."

Wong went to the wall and picked up a plier. He made sure I saw it. The metal teeth were cold at first, then white hot as it gripped my tender nipple. When he squeezed and then twisted, I screamed, then yelled, then lost my voice. He released his grip before I became numbed and lost consciousness. The blood flowed back to my left nipple.

"Say sorry Mr. Wong," he demanded.

The plier followed my heaving chest, moved down my cleavage, and touched the tip of my right nipple. He squeezed and then twisted. My body struggled against the clanging chains as my ghostly screams filled the room. Tears and saliva dripped down my hair.

I had no strength to comply until he released the death grip.

"Sorry, My Wong," I said as soon as I recovered my breath.

"I cannot hear you. They cannot hear you."

"Sorry," I shouted as loud as my damaged voice could go. "Sorry Mr. Wong."

As if on cue, everybody in the room clapped and cheered.

I allowed a smile to escape from my lips. I too was celebrating. I had stuck to the game plan and won. When Wong squeezed on both of my nipples, he activated a circuit that switched on a GPS transmitter implanted under my chest. It was not switched on from the beginning because the agency knew the Wong gang was careful, searching and sweeping every captive for electronic bugs before bringing him to the dragon head's hideout in Guangzhou.

But this time we got him. We knew he was going to torture me personally. The insult of being invaded by a woman demanded a personal response. And we knew he liked to hurt women where they were most sensitive. The agency had carefully calibrated the circuits to become active precisely with the pressure of the bite from a plier.

He did not know it yet. His whole did not know it yet. They were celebrating with alcohol for breaking me.

"Tie her to the bed and let's have fun with her all night." Steve Wong ordered.

Within fifteen minutes, SWAT teams swarmed the mansion and the basement. All the top captains of the dangerous gang were arrested and extradited to the United States. After a quick trial, they were imprisoned for the rest of their lives.

I was given a cash reward so large I never need to work again.