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Sexpionage III

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An Edwardian terraced home in the Dyke House Town of Hartlepool, Northern UK

The only sound in the bare stone basement was a faint whimpering coming from the young woman hanging in the centre.

05 - A faint whimpering.jpeg

Sometime before, she had been dragged down to that room, stripped of her clothing, and hung by leather manacles around her slender wrists. Her feet dangled a good foot off the floor. Her shoulders hurt, but mostly it was the pain in her hands that made her whimper softly. The leather wrist manacles were cutting into her flesh and impeding the blood flow until her hands, with fingers still not fully healed from her previous abduction, had turned an ugly shade of purple.

Even though the girl was not large, every bodily pound on her slender frame was pulling down, forcing the manacles to dig into her tender flesh. Tears, creeping down her cheeks, had left their trails, but now her head was bowed and the tears no longer flowed. Having struggled at first, she had found that it hurt much less if she simply hung as motionless as possible. She did not even lift her face when she heard and sensed a presence in the room standing directly behind her.

For a while he said nothing, and the girl felt the stirring of hope within. Was he going to let her down? Also, having lost all feeling in her broken hands, would they ever recover?

“You have made our life very difficult Grace Miller,” came the voice from behind her. It was the one called Omar.

“This is the room in which we killed the whore Dani, do you wish to join her?”

“I … I can’t tell you anything more, why …?”

“Why have we taken you again? Because we can, and because you saw too much of our operation in Amsterdam. Because you and your stupid colleagues did not heed our warning.” He answered his own question.

She said nothing. What he said was true; she had fought against them and discovered their location … and other things besides.

“So now we will keep you here for a few days, have our fun and then dispose of you like the pointless, meaningless cunt that you are Grace Miller.”

His words were harsh, but they meant nothing to Grace. Her life would end here, wherever ‘here’ was, and she let thoughts of her dead lover and colleague, Ekaterina Novikova drift into her mind as she tried to find her ‘happy place’.

Walking around to stand before her, Omar added, “I have seen many young women like you here. Some resist. They are then punished. Soon enough they learn that obedience is far better than punishment. And then we send them out to be abused and raped.”

Still she said nothing. Brushing aside her long brown hair, the brute’s other hand reached up and took her chin into his grip, tilting and twisting until she was forced to look him in the eye.

His face was hard, that of a killer. Dark, hard eyes probed into hers until she wanted to scream. The thin scar running down his chin and the blotched, discoloured skin on the left side of his face, gave evidence that he had lived a violent life. His fingers were rough and strong. She tried to close her eyes, but he shook her head and she could not.

“We should begin,” he said matter-of-factly as the door to the room opened once more and Grace gasped when she saw Markus, the man who had abused, raped and drugged her, walk in.

“I think we will start with this, Grace Miller …” Before his sentence was finished, she was screaming. He had let go of her chin and his strong fingers had grasped her nipples and he was twisting them hard … very hard. Her screams echoed off the stone walls, as Grace tried to twist her body away but the grip was too strong.

With any remaining resolve quickly dissipating, the bound Agent tried to kick out with a bare foot but did no damage. He hardly felt her connection with his thigh, as, with a final, painful twist her abused nubs, he let go.

Moving across to where they hung, ready and waiting, he looked over a selection of whips and other instruments of torture hanging provocatively in the bound Agent’s line of sight. The whip he chose was not the worst. Some of those could rip the flesh off its victim with a single stroke, but the one he picked was only a couple feet long. It was made of braided leather, and at the end of each individual lash was a knot that had been hardened until it more resembled steel than hide. That tip would bite into flesh, but only small bites at a time, prolonging the agony and torment.

“May I?” Markus held his open palm out and, with a nod, Omar handed his collaborator the chosen lash.

Markus grinned and, facing Grace’s exposed front, he stepped back with the whip in his hand.

The girl’s head hung, her chin almost on her chest. She had lost the will to fight, and the agony in her limbs had given way to an awful numbness.

“It won’t be long now Kat and we’ll be together again …” she uttered in a whisper.

“What did the whore say?” Omar spoke. But there was no answer, and in truth he didn’t really care.

Then it began.

The first stroke across her breasts made Grace scream and jerk. Markus watched as the pain flared leaving a long red welt in its wake.

Then the second … which connected viciously across her hips at the level of her mound, leaving a second angry red line on the soft flesh

Across the breasts again. Another scream.

A backhanded cut across the hips.

Grace danced in her bondage, squirming, writhing, screaming out her pain …

“Aiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, stop, no please …” But the words, as she knew only too well, would serve only to inflame the perverted desires of her torturers.

The fifth across the breasts, leaving another line of swollen, red flesh.

Another scream.

The whip lashed out mercilessly … across the tops of her thighs this time.

Then Markus paused to take a breath. Handing the lash back to his boss, Omar turned to replace the implement on the wall upon which it hung, speaking as he did.

“You are very beautiful Grace Miller. We will enjoy you very much.”

The men, both of them, turned and left, leaving Grace trembling as she hung, sobbing out her hopeless cries.

To Be Continued …



MI HQ, SIS Building, Vauxhall, London

Nikko had lasted less than ten minutes with the MI6 interrogation team. Easily found by the fact that he still had Grace’s phone in his jacket pocket, the idiot informant was picked up quickly and now sat, tied to a chair, stripped to the waist, head lolling and blood dripping from every facial extremity.

Jason and his team were on their way to Hartlepool …

An Edwardian terraced home in the Dyke House Town of Hartlepool, Northern UK

Grace’s eyes were darting everywhere as Markus came around behind her and thrust something into her mouth. Grace opened up wide this time and let him insert the device. It was made of rubber and pushed against her teeth, a large gaping ‘O’ with wires connecting the two halves at the back, giving the gag stiffness. It was then fastened with a strap that went around the back of Grace's neck.

The bound girl moved her jaw and found her ability to close her mouth severely reduced. She knelt in the middle of the basement that had become her dungeon, mouth ajar and watched as Markus approached her, hand reaching out to grip her jaw, his exposed cock hardening.

“I missed your succulent cunt Grace Miller, but first I want that pretty little mouth of yours.”

Kneeling, wrists secured behind her back, ankles manacled together, Grace felt totally and utterly helpless.

He stroked his hard-on, making it stand erect and Grace knew what she was supposed to do. She hated this cruel man—hated him! And suddenly, she allowed the overwhelming hatred to bubble up to the surface, exploding. When he thrust his cock into her mouth, Grace did what any woman in her position would do, she bit down hard on him, growling like the feral creature she had become.

At first, she felt the satisfying bulge of Markus’s cock between her rubberized teeth, but then the device sprung open, forcing her jaws apart. She realised immediately that it was designed to protect him against such action. Her assailant grimaced, then laughed, and pulled free.

Moved to her side Markus placed his boot at the back of Grace’s head and pushed her down to the floor, the side of her face was pressed firmly down on the dirty wood, her ass high in the air.

06 - Her ass high in the air.jpeg

The hapless Special Agent tried to move away, but there was nowhere to go, the exposed position kept her ass where he wanted it to be.

This is it, she thought. This is where he rapes me.

Instead, it was worse. She heard a whistling sound, and a bolt of tremendous pain seared her tender rear. Grace screamed through her open mouth, still held wide by the oral device.

“You fucking cunt, try to bite me huh?”

Markus gave her a few seconds to appreciate the pain, then he struck again. He was hitting her so hard with whatever whip he had chosen, that Grace was afraid she would die here in the next few minutes. When he struck her the third time, she passed out, only to awake seconds later to find that nothing had changed.

As soon as her eyes opened, he struck her once more, forcing another guttural cry from her abused body.

She passed out again. Whenever she returned to consciousness, he hit her, waiting until she was fully awake to deliver every blow.

Grace knew she couldn't take much more of this. She begged and cried through the gag, unable to form coherent words.

Time after time he struck her. She lost count, but she had to guess it was twenty or maybe more. Finally, he stopped, leaving his victim on the edge of semi-consciousness. Her whole body burned like fire.

“Now I get to rape you, you fucking cunt …”

She felt Markus kneel behind her. In a second his bulging cockhead was pushing against her open pussy.

He thrust … and Grace screamed long and loud!

To Be Continued …



An Edwardian terraced home in the Dyke House Town of Hartlepool, Northern UK

“They’ll come to save me …” Grace groaned, not believing a word she was saying. The abused Agent knew only too well that her end was very much nigh, here in the scruffy basement …

She was naked, her nose was still bleeding and she tried to wipe her face with her hand. Her body felt sore, bruised, but for now she was not bound … it made it easier to rape her, which Markus and Omar had spent all day doing …

“No one’s coming for you cunt, now shut the fuck up!” Omar growled kicking her and she groaned as his boot collided with her side.

Then Markus threw open the basement door and yelled down the stairs.

“They’re here, fuck … they’ve found us.”


“I don’t fucking know, leave the girls but take this one. Take the fire escape stairs, get up to the roof. We can wait for them there on the back flat piece, shoot it out if we need to, we’ve got plenty of men here.”

“Told you,” Grace mocked with what little resolve she still had. “What are you going to do now? Huh? They’re not just gonna sit there waiting at the doors for you to let them in.”

“I said shut the fuck up Miller.” Omar snarled kicking her again and she cried out feeling her ribs crack. They heard the loud shrill noise of grinders cutting though the window shutters on the ground floor, and then the sound of boots moving fast outside. The man grabbed Grace wrenching her to her feet, dragging her across the room to the stairs in the corner.


“Here we go.” Markus muttered pulling a gun from his jacket and clicking the safety off before placing it against Grace’s head. The wind blew all around them as the scene taking shape was very much that of a last stand. He moved his other arm, his hand against the front of the captive Agent’s neck, his fingers digging into her jaw forcing her to hold herself still. Naked on the roof, beaten, raped and abused, Grace swallowed, feeling the cold touch of the barrel against her temple. Would he really just shoot her, here in cold blood?

And then the helicopter appeared. It rose up from behind the building.

07 - The helicopter appeared.jpeg

“Fucking hell.” Omar said, but Markus barely heard it, he was too focused on what was happening, what was unfolding. It appeared that they were alone, the gunfire from a few moments ago had taken out what men they had here with them, and now the screams of the girls being herded to safety could be heard.

Someone in the helicopter started shooting. Grace yelled, kicking out despite the gun to her head.

Omar yanked his captive to her feet and started dragging her towards the now hovering chopper.

“You don’t stand a fucking chance.” Grace snarled trying to break free, not caring any longer for her own safety. Omar grabbed at her but she got loose stumbling backwards, away from him.

Then …

She heard the gunshot before she felt it. Heard it echo in her ears, reverberate in her head and she frowned, not believing that he had done it, that he had actually pulled the trigger. She looked down, feeling a new pain, a hotter, sharper, more overwhelming pain and then she saw the blood, bright red, oozing, then flowing from the hole in her thigh …

It was wet, glistening in the sun and she fell hard onto her knees. Her breath was coming fast. Really fast. Her heart was pounding, she could feel it. She looked back up. Omar was still there, gun in hand pointing it at her. Pointing it directly at her head now.

“Fucking shoot the bitch!” Markus yelled, but Grace kept her eyes on Omar. Was this how she died, right here, on this flat segment of this shitty house roof at the hands of these monsters? Was this really it?

She stared at the man holding the gun, forcing Omar to meet her gaze. If he was going to do it, if he was actually going to kill her, she was going to make him look her right in the eyes as he did it … as he pulled the trigger.

She opened her mouth to speak, to shout something, anything, but gunshots rang out and then Omar was down. Lying flat on his back, motionless. The helicopter started shooting again.

Grace curled up quickly, huddled into a ball as the need to preserve her own life kicked back in. She glanced up, looking over at Omar. He wasn’t moving. He hadn’t moved an inch since he’d hit the floor. Was he dead, she wondered, hoping that that wasn’t the case because she wanted him to truly pay for what he and Markus had done.

An Agent ran up to her and she frowned realising it was Jason. He rolled her over onto her back and looked at her wound. She could see from his face that it wasn’t good. There was so much blood everywhere, she realised, covering her, covering the grimy bitumen around her too.

“We need a medic here ... NOW!” He yelled into the radio before yanking his belt off and tying it tightly around Grace’s right leg. Another Agent was there then, next to him, he crammed something over the wound pushed down hard.

“Are they …”

“Dead …?” Jason finished the sentence, before adding. “The older guy is, but we have the other one in custody.

So, they had Markus … good. But Grace couldn’t really focus any more. She wasn’t really focussing on any of it. She suddenly felt weak, really weak, and cold too. She blinked, turning her head away, turning to look at Omar’s dead body as they zipped it up in a bag.

“You’re gonna be alright Grace.” Jason said as the emotion welling in his throat threatened to get the better of him.

But Grace shook her head knowing that wasn’t true.

And then she shut her eyes, shut it all out, letting the pain, and the darkness wash over her. Letting her body give into it.

To Be Continued in tomorrow’s final instalment, ‘The Epilogue’…


Rebel Leader
Staff member
“You’re gonna be alright Grace.” Jason said as the emotion welling in his throat threatened to get the better of him.

But Grace shook her head knowing that wasn’t true.

And then she shut her eyes, shut it all out, letting the pain, and the darkness wash over her. Letting her body give into it.
CLIFFHANGER!!! Come on Grace! Pull through!

Great action writing! Vividly drawn and breathtakingly paced.


DESTINY (8) – The Epilogue

The Wellington Private Hospital, St John’s Wood, London.

Grace groaned as she woke, and for the second time in a few days she found herself in hospital. This time her body was in even more pain, more agony than she ever thought possible.

She tried to move but just shifting slightly sent a wave of searing pain through her leg and she gasped.

“Don’t move if you can avoid it, please baby.” She narrowed her eyes looking up and seeing him there.

“Jason?” She muttered.

“Who else did you expect Grace?” Jason replied and she rolled her eyes.

“I think I’d rather have woken up alone, you must be sick of seeing me in a hospital gown.” She said and he laughed. “Not a chance, you’re not getting away that easily Grace Miller, I intend to be the one to pick you up each time you fall.” He stated.

“Is that what this is, a fall?” She replied, shifting again and letting out a whimper.

“You tell me Grace. And I said don’t move. They couldn’t give you anything too strong, so you’re going to feel this for a while.” Jason replied.

Grace huffed.

“Normally they give morphine for this type of injury, but because of your history they were reluctant to give you anything opiate based so you’re stuck with the low-level stuff.”

She felt her eyes widen and stared at him shaking her head. “You’re judging me aren’t you, I know you are Jason, treating me like I’m damaged, like I’m broken.”

“You’re not broken Grace.” He said gently and she shook her head.

“What do you know about it?” She muttered shutting her eyes. He sighed getting up and moving nearer to her.

“You have to learn to trust people.” He said, “Not everyone is out to hurt you.”

“I don’t need your advice, Jason.” She stated. Was she trying to push him away?

“No but maybe you should listen to it every once in a while.” He replied.

“I take it the bullet’s out.” Grace said changing the subject.

“Want to see it?” He asked and she raised an eyebrow as he held it up in the tiny plastic pot for her to see.

“Jeez.” She muttered.

“The good news is there’s no permanent damage beyond the scarring. You’ll have to have some physical therapy of course. Turns out that the guy who shot you wasn’t particularly good at aiming or maybe he was, a few centimetres to the left and he would have got your femoral artery and you’d be in a whole different situation.” Jason explained. She sighed, wondering to herself if it might all be easier if he had got it, if she had simply bled out and got it all over with.

“And you’re gonna be here, with an invalid like me, learning to walk properly again. Yeah, right, Jason Underwood.”

Jason shook his head, attempting to keep the hurt out of his face.

“Miss Miller, you are not getting rid of me, no matter what you say. You’re stuck with me as much as I’m stuck with you.

Grace smirked and turned her head away. “So, you’re saying that you’re always going to be here for me no matter what?”

“This is what I’m saying,” Jason says quietly, and Grace stops breathing, her pulse speeding as he reaches into his front jeans pocket, pulling out a small velvet pouch.

Grace swallows hard as Jase opens the pouch to take out a diamond ring, an exquisitely cut solitaire that looks to be several karats in size. Set in a delicate circle of white gold, it’s simple yet striking …

Stunned, Grace lifts her gaze to meet his.

“Jason …”

“I want you as my wife, Grace,” he says softly, reaching over to pick up her left hand. His fingers are warm and dry on her chilled skin, his gaze shadowed in the dim lighting of the hospital room.

To Grace, it’s as if they’re all alone in the room, as if the rest of the world no longer exists as he slides the ring onto her left ring finger, its cool, metallic weight like a soothing ribbon wrapping around her heart.

Her breath escapes in a shaky exhale.

Oh God. This is happening. It’s actually happening, she says inside her head.

Reflexively, she tries to pull her hand back, but he tightens his grip, refusing to release her.

08 - Grace began to chew nervously on her bottom lip .jpeg

Grace began to chew nervously on her bottom lip and just stared.

“I want to be with you, legally and in every other way,” he says, his lips curving into a wide smile. “Grace Miller, will you please … please, marry me!”


So that brings to a close the latest Sexpionage series. The team will take a short break now to rest and recharge. Thank you for your wonderful support, as always.


An unexpected ending to a great story, Fossy. Is it cynical to wonder how Jase will respond to MI 6`s next sexpot agent when Grace is playing the "little woman" back at home? He does have form after all, leaving his first wife for Kat.
And that, 99 my friend, is a very good point ... but will Grace even accept his proposal?


Rebel Leader
Staff member
“Want to see it?” He asked and she raised an eyebrow as he held it up in the tiny plastic pot for her to see.

“Jeez.” She muttered.

Jeez is right!!!

Grace swallows hard as Jase opens the pouch to take out a diamond ring, an exquisitely cut solitaire that looks to be several karats in size. Set in a delicate circle of white gold, it’s simple yet striking …



Grace Miller, I intend to be the one to pick you up each time you fall.” He stated.

“Is that what this is, a fall?” She replied, shifting again and letting out a whimper.
... a 'Skyfall (2012)'?
Grace swallows hard as Jase opens the pouch to take out a diamond ring, an exquisitely cut solitaire that looks to be several karats in size. Set in a delicate circle of white gold, it’s simple yet striking …
... and @Fossy, you know 'Diamonds Are Forever (1971)' ...even in Sexspionage series ... we hopefully will read!

Happy ending ... romantic ending. @Loinctothslave will love it. Always a pleasure to read your stories, @Fossy.


In preparation for , and anticipation of, the launch of "HAVANA HELL" tomorrow, we are delighted to announce that "SHATTERED", the previous Sexpionage series, is now available in fully illustrated form, via the wonderful CF Archive. Thank you as always to our friend @Madiosi for his diligent work on that front ...

Click here for SHATTERED




HAVANA HELL ... Starring CIA Agent Barbara Moore and MI6 Major Jason Underwood and featuring Grace Miller

Havana Hell (1)

Barn Owl Cottage, New Forest, Hampshire UK.

An early morning walk was always perfect, especially since Grace had stepped down from the service, and this particular morning they caught the sun just as it was coming up over the horizon in a burst of molten orange, splashed out in reflection on the surface of the small brook that ran along the bottom of Barn Owl Cottage.

Jase’s hand clasped that of his fiancée as they walked barefoot along the soft wet grass of their home. She had changed into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, her sandals swinging from her other hand as the damp grass retained the impression of their footsteps.


Grace could not sleep these days. She had too many nightmares haunting her dreams, and so they both needed a good night’s sleep, but right now neither of them cared.

“Well, you were right.” Grace snuck a glance up at her man, smiling at the tousled mess of his hair.

Jase laughed. “Wow, I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard a woman say those words out loud to me.”

She stuck her tongue out at him.

“This did cheer me up babe.”

“Oh, I’m not done cheering you up yet,” he said, stopping and putting his arms around her waist.


“You can’t see it, but…” He touched his finger to her lips. “You’re still chewing gently on that lip, a sure sign that more cheering up is required.”

“Is it?” She asked with a sigh.

He nodded seriously. “And so that means my job isn’t done yet.”

“Well, I guess you’d better get to work…” She felt her mouth curling up into a smirk.

“Agreed.” He leaned in so close she could feel his breath, her eyes closing in anticipation. “I think I’d better start here.” His mouth captured hers, a sweet, gentle kiss, nothing demanding or insistent, but it still made her knees weak.

“That’s a good place to start,” she breathed as they parted.

“But not the best place to finish.” He added. Grace made no reply.

He grinned. “Come on.”

He set off at a pace and she had no choice but to follow him back up towards the house. Inside Barn Owl Cottage, the house that Jason first bought with Ekaterina over three years ago, was large and spacious and utterly quiet.

He led the way, up a flight of stairs, opening a door to the bathroom. “Would you like a shower? Or maybe a bath?”

The tub was huge, black and marble and Grace pondered momentarily before turning to to face her man. “A bath,” she said ...

Jase took some towels out from the linen closet and put them on the marble top. “I’ll get us some breakfast.”

Grace nodded and smiled. Since accepting Jason’s proposal of marriage, in the immediate aftermath of her abduction and brutal violation at the hands of trafficking monsters (see SHATTERED), Grace had been unable to open either her body or her mind to Jason. But he was from the service and he understood. Grace Miller, former MI6 Special Agent, was worth the wait, deserving of his patience.

So, they both knew that whether she had chosen bath or shower, she would be on her own.

Grace ran a hot bath and added the bubbles whilst sitting at the side of the tub. Then, having taken off her t-shirt and shorts, she stepped in and immediately felt herself melting into the water.

I’m dreaming, she thought, floating lazily, eyes closed, her thoughts filled with Jase. She should have been worried about her condition, her mental block, her inability to allow Jason to touch her … and she was, a little. But the man downstairs cooking them both breakfast had stepped into her life and obliterated everything else.

This is crazy, she decided, washing her hair and rinsing it, then running a soft, fragrant bar of soap over her curves. She was imagining him, his hands on her, touching her, but that’s where her fantasies stayed, inside her head. Any relief was always brought about by the touch of her own fingers.

Grace took down the fluffy white robe hanging on the back of the door and wrapped herself in it, making her way downstairs. Jase was in the kitchen, the radio on, an indi-rock station, flipping pancakes in one pan and scrambling eggs in another.

“It smells fantastic.” She curled herself into one of the kitchen chairs, plucking a banana from a bunch on the table and peeling it.

“Can I help?”

“You just sit.” He slid pancakes onto their plates and then scrambled eggs. “I’ll serve.”

She smiled as he put a plate in front of her. “I hope it’s okay.” He nodded at her food, already halfway through his own eggs.

“Yummy,” she agreed, pouring sauce and licking some off her fingers. His gaze was on her, although his fork didn’t stop moving from plate to mouth.

“Can we set a date baby girl?” He asked between mouthfuls.

Grace swallowed her mouthful of food and then looked away, feeling the tears well in her eyes. She wanted to marry this man so very much, but how could she when she couldn’t bear him to touch her.

“Grace? Princess?”

“Maybe we could wait a while Jase,” she said, turning back to face him, her eyes glistening.

He placed a hand on hers. “All you need is time baby, and we have lots of that. Let’s just get married … please?”

She smiled a weak smile just as his phone rang.

Grace stared at the ruggedly protected handset and knew who the call was from.

He looked at her. She looked at him and nodded, she understood.

“You’d better go in if they need you.”

On Board an RAF C-17 Long-range transport Aircraft

Sitting amongst a variety of military cargo being transported across the pond, Jason thought about Grace. He couldn’t even tell her where he was heading. It was his first mission since her abduction … the service had been very generous towards them both. But now he had left her on her own, and he hoped she would still be there when he got back.

Shaking his head to free his mind of such thoughts, he focused on the briefing tablet before him. A black ops assignment, seconded to the CIA, was all that he knew, other than he was to meet Agent Barb Moore with whom he would be working.

Jason chuckled. ‘Barb’ he repeated quietly to himself, ‘Like Barb Wire …’ and he immediately thought of Pamela Anderson squeezed into her skimpy combat gear, which made him chuckle even more.

But when he flicked to the next screen the beautiful brunette staring back at him was way more attractive than Pamela Anderson!

To Be Continued …
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