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Chloe - Dominated and Degraded (lex ludite)
Chapter 17
Half an hour later the prisoner showed no sign of coming out of the comatose state in which he found her. He heaved a sigh, checked his monitor board just to make sure that some gremlin hadn't been screwing with it, and having no other alternative, put in a call to the station chief. Like many members of the Company that had reached their highest rank, his supervisor wanted nothing but smooth sailing until he retired or was given an offer he couldn't refuse. He listened without saying a word as Adams unburdened himself concerning the situation involving this new prisoner who wasn't acting like anyone he'd ever encountered here or any place else. His laconic response to this strange tale was short and to the point; Adam Adams was to wait for him to arrive, and tell no one what he had told the station chief.
While waiting for the old man to make an appearance, the agent checked on his catatonic prisoner. All her vital signs were still well below normal and amazingly constant. He also saw that a particular bruise he'd noted on one of her breasts, obviously made by a pair of pliers, had totally disappeared. He mentally kicked himself for not photographing the woman before he began his tests. Since the setup had taped the entire session, he did have some low resolution visual history that could be analyzed by the pros in Belgium or back at Langley. However in an attempt to cover his ass further, he got one of the high resolution cameras from storage and started snapping away, concentrating on the various marks decorating her bare body.They evidently had a field day working on her jugs and that hairy pussy, which was still well covered with healing gashes, deep welts and burns made by cigarettes and what looked to be a soldering iron. He wondered how far up her cunt they'd used it, but immediately put that sick thought out of his mind for the moment. He did however stick his finger into her fuck box and poked it around to get a sample of anything that might have been pumped into her, such as semen. There was a goodly amount, and so he collected some on a slide and stored that away.
The station chief, Bill Janson, arrived and started to ask questions the moment he saw Adams. The agent walked his boss through the new field interrogation unit, showing him that it was in working order. The older man winced when he got an earful of what the instrument was capable of delivering. His nose wrinkled in response to the terrible smells that emanated from the device. Then he homed in on the language capabilities and questioned Adams on his reasons for programming Albanian and English. Satisfied with the agent's answers he asked if there was any correlation to the prisoner's response to either language. That was something that the younger agent hadn't thought of doing. Naturally his boss immediately decided that he get cracking on that and report any findings to him pronto. He also ordered that their "guest" be put in a safe place and kept under quarantine until they got to the bottom of this mystery. Finally he stared his subordinate in the eye and warned him not to say a word about what had happened here.
Adams decided that he might as well get some entertainment out of this less than exciting task by developing a simple program that would correlate the two languages to the "subject's" reactions. At this point in the game Magda Neta had now been elevated in status, thus her new title. A few hours of writing the program expanded into a few more to debug his effort. It was early evening before he ran the first tape, and nearly midnight before all the tapes had been analyzed for any correlation between her physical reponses and the language she'd heard. At first he could see no connection, which didn't surprise him. After all why would someone like this be fluent in English?
Midway through the tapes he got this eerie feeling that his boss must be psychic. Gradually a correlation to English and her physical responses began to appear. It almost looked as if she was learning the language at some incredible rate while she was being bombarded by all sorts of stimuli. By the time he had looked at the final tape, just before she went into the coma, the correlation was so strong that even a non technical person could have interpreted what was going on. The hair on the back of his neck stiffened. He had stumbled upon something that reeked of big time spying. The only question that remained was for which side was Magda Neta working?
Back at FBI headquarters things were almost back to normal except for the final resolution of the matter involving the agent formerly known as Chloe Starkers. Her replacement was being put through her paces in Bram Bareback's office. It was well after all but the most dedicated agents had gone home to their families, friends and pets. Mavis Watson was the first black female agent to be assigned to Bareback's section. One look at her file, which included a few discrete pictures of the young agent in her birthday suit, posed full front, rear and side, and he knew that she was the leading candidate to take over the duties of Chloe Starkers, who was at present on "medical" leave.
Like her predecessor, Mavis had some sexual issues that worked to her disadvantage. This twenty-something woman was about as close to being a nymphomaniac as anyone who had ever passed through Quantico bootcamp. She had been nailed by half the trainers, all of whom were greatly impressed by her energy and enthusiasm for making the nation strong and free by putting out for its front line personnel who were fighting this private war. To say that Mavis Watson was built was akin to describing Mount Everest as just a snow-capped mountain. However she had a terrible weakness for guys with, shall we say, large sex organs. Worse still, she loved taking those big hunks of meat in every hole.
It was a simple matter for Bram Bareback to have her apartment bugged with the same type of equipment that brought Chloe Starkers to her knees, in more ways than one. In one week she took on fourteen different partners, every one of them well hung. Nine of them nailed her asshole, which in the sovereign state her residence was located, constituted a felony. Naturally this was brought to her attention by her kind and caring section chief who offered her a way out of this predicament. She jumped at the chance, especially after she discovered that he was rather well endowed for a white man.
He and his faithful secretary soon discovered that this agent was cut from different cloth. They tried the old salted coffee routine on her but she merely went to the ladies room and pissed like a cow anytime she felt the spirit move her. Keeping her at her desk with a chain around one ankle proved disastrous as well. She merely brought in a bedpan and used that to relieve herself as her section compatriots gawked. Needless to say this approach was quickly aborted. A compromise of sorts was negotiated between the parties. Mavis agreed to be disciplined after hours on alternate days provided no more tapes were made of her at her apartment. Bareback had all but two cameras removed, so he was still able to enjoy watching his new find do the nasty with an army of well hung dudes, some of whom worked in this very building.
Today, to take his mind off the impending demise of Magda Neta, nee Chloe Starkers, he was having Mavis and his secretary, Adele Rankine, do a hot sixty-nine show for him prior to them jumping his bones. As the two women took turns on top, he focused his attention on the light chocolate skin of agent Watson's heart-shaped ass, decorated with six of the best delivered by Adele's rattan yardstick as she called it. He had been excited tremendously by the way each stroke bit deep into her firm cheeks, neatly cutting in two each globe, then slowly mushrooming into a swollen ridge of flesh. He was always amazed at how that perfect rump could absorb punishment like this and be ready for another dose in forty-eight hours.
It was hard to believe that in less than two hours some faceless, nameless technician working for another part of his organization would push a button and thousands of miles away two of his agents would disappear forever. He could not help but wonder if this event might hinder his rapid rise into the upper echelons of the Bureau. It took Adele's warm, wet mouth wrapping around his cock, which had begun to lose some of its rigidity, to bring him back to the present and the delightful perk attached to this position. Meanwhile Mavis was demonstrating another of her skills by clambering up onto his desk and presenting him with her freshly shaven pussy for some serious gash gobbling. This was one white man who loved to eat black pussy and he would always have a special place in her heart for this characteristic that made him seem almost human.
Special agent Vlad was leaving nothing to chance. He invited himself into the secure facility that housed the central transmitter that communicated with the satellite network covering the areas of interest for the various organizations tasked with uncovering the secrets held by their adversaries. His credentials were impeccable and so he was ushered into the gallery area to witness the command being sent that would cause the embedded kill switch in each agent to be activated. This method of deactivation was a bloodless, almost sterile process, not favored by one such as agent Vlad who firmly believed in the personal touch. The target would abruptly cease to function as the result of what could only be described as a brain hemorrhage. Field agents Starkers and Connover would be permanently stricken from the files.
What had not been taken into consideration was the latent influence of the "quick healer" neurotransmitter cocktail that had been used to enable both agents to survive the brutal torture session prior to their transformation into completely rebuilt people who had no connection physically or mentally to their previous personalities. It took a few seconds for the commands to be coded and sent to two locations on the European continent.
Magda Neta, who was stored in a secured room at the Company's post in Triana, had retreated into a safing mode to avoid being revealed as an agent of the Bureau. Honey Connover, now known as Bella Grobnik, was having sex with a pair of customers in a little town called Sciacca in Sicily, just across from her ultimate destination of Tunisia. Despite the neurotransmitter cocktail, she succumbed, leaving her two customers in a state of shock, more so the one getting the blowjob, who would tell his story for the next ten years to any and all who would listen about his close brush with the hereafter while being sucked off by a dying prostitute.
Adam Adams peeked in to check the status of his prize catch. He paled when he saw her bloodless features, cold and stiff, a faint bluish tinge already beginning to cover them with a blankness signifying death. Her chest was motionless. He searched for a pulse and found none. Frantic, he called for help and one other agent who was occupying the station at that time responded. He too confirmed Adam's worst fear; the mystery woman had somehow passed away, and for all the world it looked as if it was from natural causes. He knew that there would be hell to pay, but that was why he got paid the big bucks, so he thought to himself cynically.
( To be continued )
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