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Fossy

Tribune
Government Plaything (2)


Yulia’s Apartment, Citipark Gardens, Southall, West London



“The fucking hood had a penis inside …” Yulia was regaling her experience to Yemanov, who, far from being sympathetic, was in thrall of her story.

“How big was the cock?”

“What? You wanna know how big the plastic cock was that was fixed to the inside of my leather hood and spent two whole hours deep throating me? Is that what you want to know huh, you fucking pervert!” She cared not for his seniority, not when he was asking for lurid detail like this.

Even Yemanov felt a little guilty given the way his Agent has just responded. But he still managed to move his head in a barely discernible nod.

“You … Are … Fucking … Unbelievable Comrade Yemanov, you know that, right?”

“Eight inches?” He proffered, fishing for an answer to his own question.

Yulia laughed, shook her head and flopped into the easy chair. “More like … I don’t know, it felt fucking enormous!”

Roger Moore had taken the leather bound Yulia to one of Sophisticats private dungeons. There, he had hooked her hand-mits to a ceiling hook, chained the bondage boots she wore to floor bolts, spreading her legs wide, and proceeded to flog her exposed breasts with a single tail lash.

Her handler swallowed hard, and that wasn’t the only thing that was hard as he imagined Yulia bound in the way she described. He moved to the front of his seat, and leaned towards his Agent.

“This might not seem seriously relevant Agent Jelic, but I have a question for you. Did the whole scene excite you? You know, did it turn you on?”

Yulia was about to tear a strip off him, when he held his hand up and cut back in.

“Calm down Agent. Bearing in mind the whole premise of your assignment, I need to know this.” He caught her gaze, raised eyebrows indicating his expectation.

Now Yulia felt embarrassed as she whispered, “Yes.”

“You must speak up Agent, so that I can hear you clearly.”

“YES, YES, YES! Yes, it did turn me on, fuck, it turned me on so much!”

Once he had secured her in the manner desired, Moore had unzipped her cat suit and pushed a wand vibrator inside the already impossibly tight space. The bulbous head had virtually inserted itself inside her pussy, the pliant labia wrapping themselves around the buzzing device, whereupon the constant vibe had driven her insane. All the while he had continued to beat her nipples. It was only after she had been rendered virtually unconscious, overcome by the endless round of Orgasm after Orgasm, that Moore let her down, stripped her bare and fucked her until he spewed the seed from his unprotected cock into her gloriously wet pussy.

Yemanov nodded. “Good, that is pleasing. And so now …”

Yulia took a moment to compose herself. “And now in three days’ time, he has invited me to his country house in the South, in Devon, I think.”

The plan was coming together nicely.


The Country Residence of Roger Moore, Head of the UK MI6. On Dartmoor in the County of Devon.


In the back of Yemanov’s hired Volvo, Yulia was dressed to impress. A short, tight white dress with a deep cleavage hung close to her shapely curves. She checked her makeup one last time in her pocket mirror.

“Are you ready yet?” Yemanov sounded more nervous than his Agent.

“Patience, give me more minutes,” Yulia responded in English a little more broken in accent than normal.

“It’s about time,” muttered Yemanov from behind the wheel.

“Beauty cannot be rushed,” Yulia smiled, as she placed the compact back in her purse. The handler looked at her reflection in the rear-view mirror.

“Got everything?”

“Of course.” She turned her back to him and moved to the back door.

“See you at the rendezvous point in the morning. I will text you as agreed.”

Moore had already made it clear to Yulia that she would be stopping the whole night with him. He had paid Buck Adams five thousand pounds sterling for the privilege of making sure that was the case. Adams was her pimp … and so she knew only too well what that made her!

“You know what you have to do?” her handler asked, his gaze surveying their surroundings. The young woman nodded again and opened the door. She was halfway out of the car when Yemanov’s cold fingers wrapped around her wrist.

“I asked you a question, Yulia,” he said, in a tone that commanded an answer.

“I know what is expected of me.” She shrugged her arm free and left the car, closing the door with more force than was necessary. The night air was still mild, as she hurried towards the house that loomed before her silhouetted against the night’s sky. Behind her, she heard Yemanov turn the car around and drive away.

Under the cover of darkness, Yulia carefully pushed open an old, creaking wrought-iron gate and crossed through a small courtyard unseen. Even in the dim light, she could see that the property silhouetted before her was imposing. It was high on the raised Moorland of Dartmoor, with nothing but trees, foliage and wild animals for company. She hoped that she would be safe here. She had no weapon, no wire and no means of escape!

At precisely ten o’clock, she knocked three times on the large wooden door. A man in a black suit opened it and ushered her in. Without a word, he led her through the entranceway and into a small corridor that opened into the reception hall.

Yemanov had spent the last two days organising everything. For all his sleaziness, Yulia had to admit that when on a mission, he was efficient. While she’d relaxed in her apartment, he’d sorted out the transport, briefed the ‘sleepers’ who were to be on standby and reported back to the centre.

Dressed in a tailor-made dark suit, the forty-nine-year-old high ranking Government official smiled at her. “Come on in Yulia, I am delighted that you could make it.”

Yulia smiled her trained Sparrow’s smile and, attempting to move closer to her host, she missed a step midway through and tripped on purpose. As intended, Moore caught her with ease, and she clung to his rescuing arms far more than was necessary. Through the rich fabric of his suit, she felt strong muscles undulate beneath her fingers as he helped her find her balance.

“Thank you,” she said, in purposely accented English. “I have had nothing to drink and still I cannot walk straight!”

Still half in his embrace, she looked up to thank him and found an unexpected expression facing her. There was no smile on the man’s lips, no warmth to his features. It was as if he’d caught her more out of reflex than out of any real interest. Well, thought Yulia, this could be more difficult than I thought.

Untangling herself, she blinked her wide eyes at him, and placed her hand on his forearm. “Thank you, Mister Moore … Master …” She whispered lowering her eyes.

His voice was deep and cold, as he replied, “You can drop the act; I know what you are,” he pursed his lips and furrowed his brow. “With your tight-fitting dress and seductively pouting face that would drive any man crazy, what are you, Directorate K?”

Yulia struggled and fought not to let her mask slip. How could he have seen through her so quickly? Or had he been warned that someone from Moscow was coming?

“I’m loyal to my country little swallow.” The demeaning nickname and the acerbic tone with which it was said, grated on her nerves, but she fought not to let that show. Giving up on any plans to seduce her mark, she quickly switched tactics and reverted to plan B.

When next she crossed his gaze, Yulia seemed to catch a hint of challenge in Moore’s light-blue eyes. He looked down his nose at her, contempt dripping from his every pore, as two dark suited men, one at either side took a hold of her arms.

02 - Dark suited men appeared.jpeg


To Be Continued …
 

Barbaria1

Rebel Leader
Staff member
His voice was deep and cold, as he replied, “You can drop the act; I know what you are,” he pursed his lips and furrowed his brow. “With your tight-fitting dress and seductively pouting face that would drive any man crazy, what are you, Directorate K?”
Oh Shit, Fossy! I didn’t see this twist coming. You definitely belong in that great pantheon of British spy thriller writers. Kudos!
 

Fossy

Tribune
Government Plaything (3)


The Country Residence of Roger Moore, Head of the UK MI6. On Dartmoor in the County of Devon.



The smile on Roger Moore’s face was sickening, or at least it was for Yulia.

“I … I … don’t know what you are …” Plan B was an attempt at plausible deniability.

Moore put up his hand to silence her. “Stop Agent Jelic, we have you on record, on camera to be precise.” He took out his phone and swiped to the Cam App. Clicking the necessary sequence of buttons the screen burst into life. It showed Yulia’s apartment, and more to the point it showed the stunning Agent in her bed, in her bathroom, naked in the shower and most revealing it showed her in conversation with Yemanov … and the feed had Audio too.

“What the … how?” Yulia couldn’t quite string together the required sequence of words.

Moore smirked. “Your Landlady, the owner of the block, she’s quite quirky for someone so wealthy don’t you find. My team posed as immigration officials and she let us in to check your rooms. It’s funny what people like her will do to avoid being investigated themselves. Of course, when we came out, she was told that everything was in order and so you were under no suspicion from the poor lady. But of course, by then your apartment was bugged and wired.”

Yulia felt sick.

“What do you intend to do?” She asked.

Now Moore’s smirk became a grin. “’Do’ little Swallow? Well, first of all, I intend to use you for the purpose for which you were brought here, and enjoy myself doing so. We can worry about what to do afterwards in due course.”

He paused and an extremely unnerving silence pervaded the room.

“Knees,” Was all he said, and in a second the back of Yulia’s legs had been taken from her, her legs gave way and she fell to the ground in the required manner. The Agent looked up and saw the Head of MI6 fingering his erection through the straining material of his pants. She knew how big he was when fully rigid, his size … the length and girth.

“Don’t worry Yulia, I won’t be putting my cock inside your mouth …”

Thank goodness for a small mercy – the Agent thought to herself. But a small mercy it wasn’t.

“Not without some protection …” Moore reached into his pocket and produced a shiny steel dental gag.

“Oh God, no please …” Yulia’s hair was gripped and her head pulled backwards. At the same time Moore raised his arm and landed a resounded slap onto the side of the poor girl’s face. She cried out and at that precise moment the gag, it’s top and bottom pinched together by thumb and finger, was slipped into her mouth. Upon letting his hold free, Moore released the steel frame to trap her tongue and force her mouth open.

Unable now to make any intelligible sound Yulia’s eyes were wide as she attempted to demonstrate her plea.

But Moore’s rigid erection was already free from its confines and he moved ever nearer to his target. The hapless Agent could see the swollen head glistening with the expectation of its warm, wet envelope. Yulia squeezed her eyes tightly shut.

"Now it's time for me to fuck that pretty mouth,” Moore said.

The Agent opened her eyes to see him standing in front of her, his cock was in his fist and standing at full erection.

Yulia tried to turn her head away, but he grasped her head with both hands and eased his dick into her mouth. With the dental gag firmly in place there was nothing the poor girl could do as he slid into her oral embrace.

Moore began fucking her face, enjoying the sensation of his cock in her perfect mouth.

03 - Moore began fucking her face.jpeg

His balls slapped at Yulia's chin as he slid fully into her throat. Further and further, he pushed causing the girl’s eyes to widen as she gasped and spluttered.

His shaft had already curved around her mouth, forcing her cheek to bulge and was now invading her throat. Yulia gagged. Despite how wide her lips were stretched, she was unable to take a breath. As a trained Sparrow, she was taught to relax and inhale through her nose but that pretty button was now also pushed hard against Moore’s abdomen and the Agent was being suffocated and choked at the same time.

“Feel my size Agent Jelic, so big, filling you, choking the life out of you …”

And he was. Slowly but very surely Yulia was losing consciousness. Her whole body, arms still tightly held in the grip of Moore’s goons, had started to shake and tremble, her fingers stretched out in a desperate flex. As her head was pushed into his body, and the life’s breath taken from her, she began to go limp.

It was then that Moore released her and Yulia gasped in desperation for any breath she could take, long thick globules of foaming saliva dripping down her face, and hanging from the steel frame of the gag.

And then in no time at all he was back inside her, and this time, holding onto her hair in a tight, fisted grip, Roger Moore continued to fuck her mouth.

"Oh, fuck, Agent Jelic, I'm gonna cum!" he cried out as his balls tightened.

Yulia felt his pace quicken. Then tasted the first drops of his sperm just moments before he began pumping his seed in earnest into her throat. She gulped it down to prevent herself from choking, feeling disgusted at being used as a receptacle for his vile semen.

Moore pumped and thrust time after time, until his climax ended. Then he pulled free, leaving Yulia’s mouth to unwittingly dispense with the residual cocktail of cum and saliva, as she spewed it down the front of her dress.

With his wide grin broadening even further, and his hardly softening cock still oozing with lingering juices, he took hold of Yulia’s right forearm. The gasping, still gagged, girl implored Moore to cease whatever it was that he was planning, but stopping wasn’t part of his plan.

As he took control of the girl from one of his goons, a simple nod told the man that now it was his turn.

By the time both of the MI6 officers had raped Yulia’s mouth, and she was laid exhausted and barely conscious on the vintage wooden parkay floor, the steel gag laying by her head, and her mouth flowing with the semen of three men, she did not need to be held any longer …



To Be Continued …
 

Fossy

Tribune
Government Plaything (4)


An Outbuilding on the Country Estate of Roger Moore, Head of the UK MI6, situated on remotest Dartmoor in the County of Devon.


“Agent Jelic ... get up,” Moore landed a kick into the SVR Agent’s ribs. As she groaned and shifted onto her back, her short dress already ridden higher up to bunch around her waist, Yulia felt her hair grabbed in a tight fist and pulled.

“I know I have already seen all you have to offer little swallow, but my men here haven’t and I intend to slowly unwrap you. You will be my gift to them, tonight.”

Moore’s goons exchanged lasciviously mischievous grins.

Yulia felt a chill go down her spine, as she was pulled to her feet and pushed hard against the one man now holding both arms tightly behind her back. Moore stared at her, his eyes lingering on the softly lit, pale skin of the girl’s collarbone as he waited for the Agent to flinch or try and pull away. To his surprise, she didn't, standing before him with her head held high. Roger Moore reached out, and his palms gently cupped the underside of her breasts, just below the low neckline of the dress.

His fingers hooked into the fabric there, and slowly he pulled Yulia's top down, exposing inch upon inch of creamy, luscious cleavage, crowned with hard perky, pink nipples that just pleaded to feel his lips around them … or so he told himself.

Yulia's eyes burned defiantly into this monstrous man, but he didn't hold her gaze for a single second; his attention was taken by the rest of the gorgeous female Agent’s body. Eventually, the fabric crested the bulge of Yulia's chest and lost all of its tension, slipping quickly to rest beneath her now naked breasts … just begging to be pulled down further.

“No bra ... huh, glad to see you obeyed my instructions Yulia.” His words were infused with sarcasm. The message he had conveyed to the girl in preparation for her attendance tonight, was clear; beautiful, yet undeniably slutty. Sexual, with more than a hint of desperation. A magnified, directed sexuality. The fact that her breath was more than a little ragged only amplified the tension, making the Government official reach out unbidden to touch her bare flesh for the first time ... or at least the first time this night. The moment he did he heard Yulia gasp.

“Are you enjoying this you little Russian whore?”

Silence.

“Are you? Answer me!”

Still silence. Moore laughed. “Well, we’re about to find out.”

Yulia wasn’t enjoying it, not one bit, but she could not deny the unwitting physical response of her body to his unwanted attention.

Doing his best to avoid even grazing a knuckle against Yulia's cleavage, Moore slid the dress down further. Yulia felt herself begin to squirm; this was so much worse than simply being naked in front of one man, even when stripping, as she had done in Santiago, Yulia felt in control. The slow, methodical way he was exposing her was humiliating in the extreme. It was directly sexual; she wasn't undressing, or changing clothes, or preparing to dive naked into a mountainous lake. No, she was being undressed, stripped of her clothing … by a man she barely knew and his colleagues.

Yulia hoped that by letting him have his fantasy he would go easy on her in the aftermath. It was, of course, to prove a forlorn hope. Moore slipped her dress down over her hips and let it fall to the floor.

He grinned and his goons followed suit. They all stared.

Yulia was standing only in a brief pair of lace panties and her heels. The thong was the kind of white lace that made him want to take it down with his teeth; so fragile to view, and opaque enough to leave her real treasure to the imagination … for now.

It was then that he resumed eye contact with the Agent. The manner in which she immediately looked away, told him everything he needed to know. Her image was perfect in its eroticism.
“Turn around, Yulia,” Moore instructed, in a malevolent tone so soft it had almost been a whisper, but one that intoned an intent which brooked no opposition.

“Mmmmm I love your scars Yulia. What do you think boys, do you think this little cunt likes to be beaten?”

The goons laughed, but facing them now, Yulia could see how erect they both were under the tight fabric of their pants.

“Do you like it you seditious little cunt?” He spoke quietly directly into her left ear.

“N … no,” she mumbled, her jaw still aching stiff from the dental gag.

“Speak up cunt,” he smirked at his men as he said this.

“N … no, I don’t like being beaten.”

Stepping back, Moore was taking his time and ensuring he drank in all there was to see of her from the rear. He was mesmerised by the highly attractive way her long blonde hair curled around the tightly wound musculature of her back. Yulia’s nubile body was practically a work of art, toned from exercise and training camps, running through the forest near to the Centre … the natural firmness of her youth compounded by such an active regime.

“Shoes.” She knew that the single word instruction meant that her heels were to be removed. The nubile SVR Agent was left facing the men wearing only her panties.

Her lace thong was skimpy in the extreme, and Yulia's bottom was on full display … it was quickly resurrecting Mister Moore’s substantial hard-on.

“Pull them down, finish the job yourself.” They were going to make her take off her own panties.

04 - Pull them down.jpeg

Her frown deepened as she slowly divested herself of the last piece of meagre protection against the prurient interests of this little salacious vignette. Her instincts were screaming in her head, racing through her mind. She wanted nothing more than to lash out. If she was quick, she could probably knock out the man currently running his fingers down her thighs, but she would inevitably be caught out by his colleague, not to mention Moore himself.

Yulia felt her hands ball into fists, ready to attack, as Moore gripped her hips from behind and turned her back around to face him, allowing her to see the lust in his eyes. He seemed wrapped up, not just in her naked body, but in pondering what was to come next.

Moore parted her legs, insinuating his finger between her thighs.

“Nghhhhh, no please,” the Agent’s pleading was nothing more than an incremental turn on for this perverted man. Pulling his digit free Moore smiled. The whole finger, to the knuckle, glistened with juices.

“Look at this, boys, I think she is ready. Take her to the Old Barn.”

Before she could react Yulia’s arms were once again hauled behind her back and she was marched, naked, out into the balmy night’s air.



To Be Continued …
 

Fossy

Tribune
Government Plaything (5)


The Old Barn on the Country Estate of Roger Moore, Head of the UK MI6, situated on remotest Dartmoor in the County of Devon.



Yulia was lying on a bench. Ropes had been tied around each upper thigh and then across to her wrists before being secured to the bench. More bindings cross her legs and ankles preventing her from any significant movement at all. But it was the one wrapped several times around her slender neck that constricted her the most.

She was alone.

As the night wore on the Old Barn became colder, the breath in front of Yulia’s face was visible as it condensed. She had been bound like this for almost two hours and her whole body was in pain. Her nipples were hard and her arms, shoulders, the muscles of her chest ached. Every breath hurt, sending stabbing pain around her ribs. She could feel something between her thighs, opening her, penetrating just enough for her to feel its presence.


The door opened and Roger Moore walked in, flanked by his two henchmen. They moved to surround her, grinning down at the Agent’s nubile frame gloriously naked before them.

"Hello, whore. I do hope you're comfortable." Moore laughed.

As Yulia stared up at Moore, she failed to notice one of his goons pulling a pair of rubber gloves onto his hands.

“You know what Agent Jelic, the reason I have had such a successful career was through remaining aware at all times of my own limitations. Therefore, when I need a specialist job doing, one that I know I wouldn’t be able to carry out as well as it could be done, I seek help.”

He paused and Yulia turned her head away, resting her tear-stained cheek on the bench.

“Agent Benson is ex-Military. Throughout his two tours of Afghanistan, he tortured more people than he cares to recall. But one thing is for sure, in so doing he developed a real sadistic penchant for seeing people suffer. Especially pretty young things like you, Agent Jelic.”

Benson, the Agent wearing the rubber gloves, stepped forward. He covered Yulia’s face with the wet towel he was holding and pressed his hands down so they were on the bench either side of her head. The towel was drawn tightly across her face so that the outline of her nose and lips could be clearly seen.

05- Water filled her nose and the elctrodes came alive.jpeg

At a nod from his colleague the second man began pouring a jug of water slowly onto the towel, moving the stream up and down so it covered both her nose and mouth. Yulia thrashed against her bonds but they remained tight and secure. She tried to turn her head away from the cold water but the towel was held so tightly against her face it was impossible to move. Water filled her nose and mouth as she tried to draw in enough air to breathe.

And then the electrodes between her legs came alive. A length of smooth steel inserted into her pussy was bad enough, but it was the one clipped to her traitorously distended clitoris that she could feel most acutely. When the electricity started to flow, the nasty little electrode bit ruthlessly into her sensitive flesh, the pain rising rapidly to a level that was quickly beyond the endurance of the poor SVR Agent.

Taking in even more water Yulia howled into the towel as the current flowed around her genitals, every nerve burning, every muscle clenching, pain stabbing up into her abdomen as if her pussy was being torn open by serrated knives.

She couldn't inhale at all as the electricity continued to tear at her most sensitive areas. When Benson saw that she was about to pass out he ordered the towel to be torn away allowing the girl to take in precious oxygen. But the damned current was still fizzing away between her thighs wrenching another scream from her tortured body.

Roger Moore stood watching, arms folded, cock hard, with a smile of smug satisfaction on his face.

“This is a kind of interrogation Agent Jelic, but it is one where no information is being sought. No questions are being asked of you. You are here purely for our pleasure …”

Yulia cried out once again. She could smell her flesh burning, her world had become an unendurable hell of suffering.

Finally, the excruciating current flow ceased, and Yulia lay on the bench choking and sobbing, her whole body twitching with the after effects. Her toes still pointed as if in some sort of petrified state, while her fingers clawed helplessly at the bench. The vulnerable girl’s body was still unable to calm itself. Blonde hair hung in soaking wet clumps around her head, her nipple teats solid, and her skin shone with a covering of sweat. The electrodes attached to her genitals felt red hot between her slender, perspiration drenched thighs.

"Please no more' she begged pathetically. "I'll do anything you want, anything, please don't hurt me anymore I'm begging you."

Her begging for respite served no purpose other than to turn these monsters on even more. The nod from Moore to his man Benson was barely discernible.

"No, no, no, please"' begged Yulia as the man with the rubber gloves and his nameless colleague, moved towards her once more. She thrashed and pulled against the bonds securing her to the bench … nothing moved. Her head whipped desperately from side to side, but it was futile and the wet towel was again pressed tightly against her face.

The water was poured and she spluttered and coughed as it filled her nose and mouth. Then Yulia stiffened. Fingers and toes extended, stomach pushing hard against the ropes. The electricity poured through the electrodes sending indescribable pain into her pussy and the little erection of her clitoris. Every muscle was tensed and stretched as she screamed into the sodden towel.

When it was finally over, Agent Jelic slumped back down onto the wooden surface of the bench, coughing and spitting water as she gasped for breath. Her groin felt like it was on fire, her pussy convulsing uncontrollably with the after effects of the shocking current.

"NOOOOOOOO…" Yulia screamed as the men with the rubber gloves and the towel moved towards her once again ... for her ordeal was not yet over!


******

Agent Jelic was virtually unconscious when she was finally freed from the bench. For two hours she had been waterboarded and electrocuted. Her body and spirit broken like never before. Even in those hellish cells in Santiago she had not suffered with such intensity …

Next to the bench was a metal box with an open lid. Its presence looked very ominous.

Agent Benson and his colleague lifted Yulia easily and, without ceremony, dropped her into the box so that she was lying on her back, her arms trapped painfully beneath her. The container was just long enough to fit her upper body inside, so that the top of her head was pressed against one end and her buttocks against the other. The poor girl’s legs were pointing straight up, making it easy for the goons to grab one each and force her limbs back until her knees were pressed to her shoulders, her legs bent and her feet pressed against her upper thighs. More zip-ties were used to fasten her ankles to hooks on the side walls of the box. When they were finished, she was lying in an incredibly uncomfortable position.

The Agent’s arms, trapped underneath her body, taking all of her weight, were already hurting, and having her legs folded and held tightly against her chest made breathing extremely difficult. When forced a large ball gag between her teeth and fastened the strap tightly around her head, Yulia found it almost impossible to either inhale or exhale.

The men gathered round, all three of them, and Yulia watched in horror as they simultaneously pulled down zippers, took their cocks out, and started pissing into the box. The urine splashed over her face and hair, and soaked her body. She tried to turn her head away but they laughed as they followed her head movements with the streams, causing her to choke and gag on the putrid liquid as she gasped desperately for breath with the large red ball stretching her mouth. The warm acrid liquid filled her nose, and when the last man’s golden flow had finally finished, she was lying in a shallow layer of warm piss.

As the lid closed and darkness descended, Yulia heard the padlocks click shut and her tears began to fall …



To Be Continued …













 

Barbaria1

Rebel Leader
Staff member
Finally, the excruciating current flow ceased, and Yulia lay on the bench choking and sobbing, her whole body twitching with the after effects. Her toes still pointed as if in some sort of petrified state, while her fingers clawed helplessly at the bench. The vulnerable girl’s body was still unable to calm itself. Blonde hair hung in soaking wet clumps around her head, her nipple teats solid, and her skin shone with a covering of sweat. The electrodes attached to her genitals felt red hot between her slender, perspiration drenched thighs.

Geez!!! That passage!!!
 

Fossy

Tribune
Government Plaything (6)


The Old Barn on the Country Estate of Roger Moore, Head of the UK MI6, situated on remotest Dartmoor in the County of Devon.



It was several hours later, the dawn was launching it break and the outside world was waking, when the tin box was reopened. Roger Moore peered inside and smirked at the sight before him.

What he saw was feral creature, barely conscious, spit and snot coating her erstwhile pretty face, and yellow, vomit stains coating the ball gag. Her head had lolled to one side, which had most probably been the saving grace in keeping her alive by stopping the poor girl from choking on her own saliva and bile. The small pool of urine was still evident in the bottom of the box, and the savage girl within emitted a vile stench.

06- The tin box was reopened.jpeg

“Oh dear, oh dear …” The Head of MI6 mumbled with mock concern. As his eyes glanced down to her exposed pussy lips, he could see that they were not completely dry. Running his index finger along the still swollen folds he turned to speak with the Agents who once more accompanied him.

“She really is a slut … wake her properly.”

With a grin Agent Benson plugged the bulbous head wand into the socket and moved it towards her pussy.

"MMMMffffff ..." Yulia responded with an entirely unintelligible grunt, her exhausted eyes wide with fear. During the several hours that she had been fastened inside in the tin box, the Russian Agent had lost all sense of feeling, an effect that anesthetised her from the agonies ripping through her body. But now, as the blood rushed back into her limbs at the same time as the stimulation being propagated by the wand, it created the perfect storm of pleasure and pain!

All she wanted was to be set free, but these monsters were clearly not done with her yet. Yulia heard the hum and then, as the buzz flattened out, she knew that the head of the wand was closing in on her pussy.

And then it was there. The Agent’s gag restricted her audible cry as her limbs painfully woke up, and the appalling stimulation cut through her, infiltrating her entire body in one complete sexual tsunami!

She felt Benson circle her mound with the device and then slowly slip that damned head between her legs.

“FKKNNGHHHHH” Even though Yulia was in a lot of pain, the feeling of the vibe on her clit betrayed her masochistic desire. It felt so damned good, and unwittingly she squirmed her body, feeling her thighs tense and involuntarily pull wider against the ties, as her ass squelched around the small pool of putrid piss in which she lay!

"Fuck boss, look at the bitch!” Benson smirked as Moore leaned over the box, turning his nose up at the smell.

“Oh, you like that do you, Agent Jelic?"

There was no response other than a continued cry into the gag by the bound girl, as Benson slid the vibrator along the open slit of Yulia's exposed pussy lips. Moore leaned over to enjoy a better view. The vibrator had parted her lips and he could see her clit, hard and engorged, completely freed from its hood and open to full-on assault from the wand.

Yulia, had been beaten, shocked and bound in an almost impossibly constricted manner, but still she was wet. At a nod from his superior, Benson push hard and slipped the rapidly pulsing rounded head of the wand fully into her pussy.

Yulia’s body stiffened. It was if they had passed 200 vaults through her. Eyes wide she could make no sound as the skin of her mound began to undulate. The men could see her clit becoming even more distended, engorged through the enhanced stimulus, as her thighs began to twitch involuntarily.

Yulia cried into the gag. She could feel an orgasm building up already. It was deep inside her stomach ready to explode … she hated how she felt, but could do nothing to stop it. Oh God, it felt good, soooo fucking good! Once again, Yulia he could not feel her limbs or her aching, stretched mouth … but her pussy was alive!

And then she came!

She was so deeply impaled upon the vibe, that it held itself firmly in place as she thrust her hips upwards as far as the cable ties would allow and let the climax take her momentarily away from the hell in which she was existing.

Moore and his goons watched her excruciating humiliation, though Yulia herself cared no longer. They had taken all she had. She was beyond fighting and would readily tell them anything. They had truly broken her like she had never been shattered before. Even the Santiago hell hole had not been this intensely terrible. She was smashed to pieces, mentally and physically … SVR Agent Ekaterina Novikova, also known as Yulia Jelic, had been destroyed.

“Hose her down, get rid of the stink, remove the gag and then get her out …”

******

Dripping with water a shivering and trembling Yulia was cut free and pulled from the box. Without ceremony she was pushed to a place in the centre of the barn. At first, she stumbled and fell, unable to balance properly after spending so long squashed into her little tin prison. The scattered straw and dirt felt rough under her knees as she felt her arms seized and gripped tightly by Agent Benson, who then proceeded to pull the girl to her feet. Roger Moore walked casually up to where she was being held, raised his arm and punched his fist down hard into her taught, flat stomach.

Agent Jelic’s eyes widened as she took the punch. Her belly had been hit so hard that she doubled over, arms still secured high behind her, and vomited the derisory contents of her stomach onto the floor.

Yulia was gasping for breath but felt her hair pulled hard as she was raised once more to an upright position. Moore cupped her breasts, first the left and then the right, fondling, squeezing her nipples until she squirmed with pain, then he punched her again. He held nothing back, the blow creating a concave dip into the skin of her stomach, as his fist was propelled into her belly.

The SVR Agent groaned but this time the grip on her arms was tight enough to hold her firm. As her chest heaved and drool dribbled from her mouth to run down her chin, she stared at the Head of MI6. With a barely discernible shake of her head, her eyes, now heavy-lidded, pleading silently for him to stop.

Moore smiled a malicious grin as his fingers traced the pale skinned welts and scars that adorned her chest and abdomen, unwanted reminders of past assignments.

“Have you had enough Agent Jelic?”

Yulia nodded.

“Tell me you name, your real name.”

She looked at him. This assignment was burned, her cover was blown, she had no choice.

“I … I … am Ekaterina … Novikova, also known … as … Y … Y … Yulia Jelic.”

“Good girl. And who do you work for?”

“I … I am … an Officer in the Russian Foreign Intelligence Service.”

“The SVR?”

Yulia nodded.

“Tell me why you are here.”

This time Yulia looked at him and just stared. Without any allowance for thinking time, Moore punched her once again, as powerfully as before, and in the same spot. A brutally hard fist slammed deep into her upper stomach, pushing in and penetrating below her ribs. She let out a choking gasp, eyes wide and watering as spit flew from her mouth, along with the breath of her body.

This time Moore gave her a moment to recover and then repeated the question. “Why are you here Ekaterina Novikova?”

“T … to … compromise … y … you, turn you and … m … make … you an information ass … asset for the Motherland.”

Moore turned and paced a few steps away from the naked and beaten girl.

“Who is your handler? Is it the man in the recordings from your apartment?”

Now this was getting hard. Revealing her own cover was one thing, but another Agent … Yulia averted her eyes to gaze down at the dirty floor.

“Throw her back in the tin for a couple of hours, this time let her have a few of our rodent friends for company …”

Now the girl looked up. “What? No … no … please … I beg you …” Her knees had folded from under her and she was being held up only by the hands gripping her arms.

Roger Moore smiled. “Then tell me who he is.”

With a deep breath Yulia replied, her voice now a little more steady, “He is called Lev Yemanov. He is also an SVR Agent.” The girl looked up into the eyes of her captor and added, “Are you going to kill him.”

Moore laughed. He had this gorgeous creature right where he wanted her.

“That all depends on you my little swallow.” As if on cue Agent Benson held up a photograph for Yulia to look at.

“Do you know who this is?”

The girl’s eyes widened and her head shook. “Oh my God, no please, you can’t …”

“Who is it. Tell me.”

In a quieter voice Yulia almost whispered, “It’s my Mother.”

“And this?”

She looked at the next picture, a solitary tear rolling down her cheek, as she answered, “My sister … please, don’t hurt them.’

The Head of MI6 laughed once more. “Hurt them? We don’t do things like that. You’re in the UK now, Miss Novikova.” He leaned in to her face and said in a malevolent tone, “But I know many people that would hurt them, and I have money to pay those people with.”

He stepped away again.

“But it doesn’t need to be like that. Your family can be left completely alone, Yemanov can remain your handler and you will not just keep your life, but live it in relative luxury here in the UK as my mistress …”

She looked up at the man before her. What was this most senior of UK Government Officers actually saying to her?

“All you have to do is agree to become a double agent. Work for me. Yemanov won’t know, the Centre in Moscow won’t know … you will tell them I have been turned and you will feed them the information I want you feed them.”

Now there was a pause. No one spoke. Moore had said his piece, and he hoped she would see sense. Not only did he want this gorgeous girl as his own Agent, he was also desperate to enjoy her masochistic desires by installing her as his Mistress. A guilty, but very pleasurable, secret away from the domestic mundanity of his wife and children …

“What’s it to be Miss Novikova, will you work for me?”

She stared into his eyes. The pain of her time here and the threat now held over her family rushing though her mind, and she nodded.

“Yes … I will.”



FIN

So our girl has been turned, or has she? Join us here next week for the exclusive serialisation of "The Secrets that we Keep"

Thank you so much for your continued support ...
 
Last edited:

Fossy

Tribune
The Secrets that we Keep (1)


Lombard Street, Financial District, London, UK



Yulia stood on the sidewalk staring up at the long, historic white office building, trying to swallow the pounding of her heart in her throat. People weaved around and jostled her, a few of them swearing, most of them just giving her a quick, annoyed glance before hurrying on to get to wherever they were going. It was Rush Hour in London City.

This was it. She had come this far, and now she had to trust The Head of the UK’s Foreign Intelligence service, MI6 … more specifically, her lover, and boss, Roger Moore.

She clutched a red folder to her chest as she followed a woman in a grey pinstriped suit through the revolving glass door. Yulia’s finger tips were pink hued from folding and refolding the edge of the dossier back and forth, over and over, on the subway. She had missed her stop … twice … and was already forty-five minutes late for this appointment. Fuck!

She felt extremely underdressed, even in her matching grey business suit, as she stood in the lobby and dug out the business card tucked into the front pocket of the red folder:

Julian Sands
Head of Derivatives
Bank of Moscow
London Branch
4, Lombard Street
London
EC3V 9HD


Fifth floor. She slipped between bodies into the elevator, pressed further and further toward the back as more people squeezed inside. Yulia attempted to see around the shoulder of a navy-blue suit, straining to see if the number 5 was lit up on the ‘Floor Pad’. She felt too nervous to open her mouth and ask, but surely someone in this crowd had to get off on the fifth floor?

But when the doors finally opened at floor five, she found herself stuck, rooted to the floor. She rode the elevator on as far as floor seven, hugging her folder and chewing on a cuticle, until it started back down again, stopping once more at five. This time she managed to make an exit, excusing herself as she pushed through the crowd of bodies, until she was standing in front of a receptionist's desk, breathing in the unfamiliar but unmistakable smell of this smart office, like cleaned leather or a new carpet.

"Hi, there." The blonde behind the counter was cute, her eyes smiling at Yulia. "How can I help you?"

"Julian Sands." Yulia cleared her throat, taking a step toward the desk. "I had an appointment at nine, but ..."

"He's waiting for you." The blonde picked up the phone, still smiling, and dialled.

"Julian? Your nine o'clock is here. Do you want …?" She paused, listening. "Okay."

Putting the phone back in the cradle, she stood, smoothing the lines of her dress-skirt. "He's in the middle of a short briefing, but he says he'll be out in five minutes. Do you want some coffee while you wait?"

Yulia shook her head, spotting chairs over against the wall. "I'll just..." She edged her way over and tried to make herself as small as possible in the seat, trying hard not to fidget as she watched the office activity. She thought about asking for the bathroom to check her appearance in a mirror, but instead just smoothed her long, blonde hair with her fingers, catching a glimpse of her reflection in the glass next to an office door. Yulia adjusted the straps on her black heels and crossed one knee over the other, pressing the curling edge of the folder flat with her fingers, trying to smooth that, too.

"Yulia?" It was his voice, she recognized it immediately from their brief phone conversation.

"Julian?" She stood, taking his extended hand, blinking at his grip, warm and firm, his hand swallowing hers. This was a man used to shaking hands. She noticed the grey-green of his eyes and the way they crinkled at the corners when he smiled at her.

With the office door closed behind them Yulia smiled as he pulled out a chair for her to sit down.

“Is this it?” His words were brief and to the point. Yulia nodded.

“And you are certain it is genuine?”

Again, the Agent nodded, adding “Yes, it is from the Head of MI6 himself. It gives details of a Technology Company in St Petersburg who are manufacturing advanced Microchips for distribution throughout the UK and America.

Sands nodded, lost in thought for a moment. Then his eyes looked up and he smiled the most charming smile. “This is good intelligence Agent Novikova … the Centre will be pleased.”

01 - This is good intelligence Agent Novikova.jpeg

******

As she left the building to head back out into the bustle of London City, Yulia breathed a huge sigh of relief. Roger had assured her that this intel was authentic, if it wasn’t then her cover as a double agent working primarily for MI6 would be blown before it had even started. The company in question, M-Tech, was indeed building chips for the West and Moore said he was happy to sacrifice them for the benefit of her cover. He had better have been telling the truth!

“Did you see him, Julian Sands?” Yemanov was trying his best to get his bulky frame into step with his Agent as she breezed across the busy road heading towards Bank Underground Station.

“I did, and what I had to give him will be of great use to the Motherland.”

Yulia’s handler smiled a self-satisfied grin upon hearing her words. “You know Yulia, I have never quite come across anyone like you before.”

She turned to look at him, her head angled a little as if to ask him what he meant.

“You went through hell during that first appointment with Moore, but you endured whatever it was he did to you …” Yulia had never shared with her handler the details of the electrodes, the waterboarding and the Tin Coffin (see Government Plaything), “… and you gained his trust, or compromised him in whatever way you did …” Yemanov paused and grinned at his Agent, “… and the actual Head of MI6 took you as his lover and became our asset. You really are amazing.”

Yulia smirked and shook her blonde mane. What Yemanov did not know is that she was the one who had been turned. It was she who worked for Roger Moore and MI6, not the other way around, and she would be divulging her first intel, betraying the Motherland to her ‘self-styled’ Master, this very evening.


To Be Continued …
 
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