Terrorist Kidnapping
by Unknown
(WA-571)


FOREWORD 

She choked back a scream and her face turned pale. I left the cigarette on 
her bare boob until I could smell burning flesh, and then I removed it to 
take a look at my handiwork. 

A round, charred spot was on her otherwise perfect tit, smoke still coming 
from it. It must have been terribly painful, but she didn't even have tears 
in her enormous eyes. Not yet. But she soon would. 

I lit another cigarette and now held two. Holding one in each hand, I 
brought them down on her twin tits at the same time, making two more charred 
black circles on their perfection. 

I held them down this time until I saw involuntary tears form in her eyes. 
But she was brave. Very brave. 

She must have wanted to scream in agony, but she held it in. And I wondered 
if she was keeping her mind on something else, trying to ignore what was 
happening to her. 

If she was, I didn't think she'd be able to keep it up long. No one could 
keep it up long. 


CHAPTER ONE 

I landed at Orly and headed for my safe house in Paris. As usual, I wasn't 
recognized, although at least four major organizations have men posted at 
every airport in Europe just to note my arrivals and departures. Their only 
problem is there is only one photograph of me in existence, and I have had 
extensive plastic surgery since that was taken. 

My plastic surgery was my primary reason for being in Paris. Dr. Ronet, who 
had performed the surgery on me, had died under mysterious circumstances the 
previous day. I was afraid that someone had gotten to him with my 
description. And that someone might now have a description of my new 
appearance. 

I am the world's major terrorist, the most wanted man in the world. 

My name is Carlos. The plastic surgery had been performed six months before. 
At that time, I was slightly overweight, had a prominent nose and ears, a 
mouthful of perfect white teeth, chubby cheeks that gave me a child-like 
appearance that belied my thirty-six years, dark, straight hair and green 
eyes. 

Now all that had changed. I had lost all my excess weight on a strict diet 
which I was still adhering to. My nose had been reduced to a smaller, 
thinner version. My ears had been pinned to my head. My teeth, which I had 
been quite proud of, had been transformed so that now lots of gold flashed 
when I smiled wide. Gold I did not need, except to change my appearance. My 
cheeks, as a result of dieting and having four teeth removed, now were 
suitably indented. My dark, straight hair had been given a permanent to make 
it very curly, and my green eyes, as a result of tinted contact lenses, were 
now as dark a brown as my hair. In addition, I now sported a mustache. 

In short, I looked totally unlike the pictures circulating of Carlos. I had 
even changed my walk and modified my mannerisms. I would defy anyone, even 
my closest aides, to recognize me anymore. Which is the way I wanted it. 

My new passports and identity papers all bore the name of Philipe Bordeaux; 
my occupation: writer. 

Only two people saw me before and after the surgery who knew me to be the 
same person. Dr. Ronet and his wife who had assisted him as nurse. I had 
trusted them. I had trusted them explicitly because they were both aware I 
would have killed them if they had betrayed me. Which is the most effective 
way of gaining trust that there is. 

I do not keep empty safe houses as is the custom of most espionage 
organizations. I simply set up girls in every major city. Girls who are in 
love with me and always make me welcome when I'm in town. 

And I rotate the girls quite often. Rotate them or eliminate them. What's 
one less girl on the streets of Paris or Cairo or Rome? The drop in 
population is not even noticeable. 

I opened the door to my flat with my key. I had not expected Lisette to be 
home at that hour, but as soon as I entered I heard voices. 

And one of the voices belonged to a man. I stepped quietly into the flat, 
closed the door softly behind me and locked it, then made my way stealthily 
down the hall to the one bedroom. The bedroom Lisette had taken such 
pleasure in decorating in pink and white checks. 

The bedspread was still in pink and white checks with lots of ruffles, and 
on top of that pink and white spread was naked little Lisette with an 
equally naked man. 

He was fucking her in the ass, something Lisette always claimed to be afraid 
of. 

But she didn't appear to be afraid of it anymore. She was squealing with 
delight, her little pink and white ass thrusting itself back on the man's 
large cock. 

I removed my gun from under my arm, aimed it carefully at the man's head, 
and fired. With the silencer on, Lisette didn't notice at first that her sex 
partner was dead. He crumpled over her back, but she must have thought he 
just came very fast, because she was still moaning and squealing and trying 
to get him to continue fucking her. And I momentarily wondered if a man lost 
his erection when he died. But then he fell out of her and my question was 
answered. He does. 

Her pink and white spread was fast becoming pink and red and white. Lisette 
turned around to see why he had stopped so suddenly, saw the gun, saw me, 
and then began to scream. 

"Shut your mouth, slut," I warned her, pointing the gun in her direction. 

"But why? Why, Philipe? Why did you shoot him? He wasn't doing you any 
harm." 

"I told you never to bring a man here." 

"But you knew I would. You must have known. How long do you think I can go 
without sex?" 

"No one asked you to go without sex. I only told you not to do it here, 
cunt." 

"So I made a mistake? Did you have to kill him for that?" 

"I don't want anyone to know I stay here. No one but you. I trusted you, but 
I see I was wrong." 

"You could have trusted him. He was my brother. I trust him completely." 

"Your brother? You were being fucked in the ass by your own brother? I find 
that disgusting." 

"But it's not incest if it's in the ass. That's what he told me." 

"You wouldn't let me fuck you in the ass, but you allow your own brother 
to." 

Another betrayal to add to the list. "You can fuck me in the ass. Go 
ahead-fuck me. It is still warm from my brother whom you killed. Go oh, 
Philipetake your revenge on me that way. Humiliate me. Fuck me in the ass in 
front of my dead brother." 

How did she know that something that bizarre would appeal to my baser 
instincts? But then that was why I had picked her, because in ways her mind 
worked just like mine. I didn't even remove my pants. I pulled her ass over 
so that I wouldn't have to get up on the bloodstained bed, then pulled out 
my now hard cock and shoved it in her waiting, receptacle. 

And it was still warm from him. Warm and eager. She began squealing again, 
just as she had been doing when he entered the room. 

Squealing just like the pig she resembled. That's all she was, a pig slut! 
And she would have to die. 

But for the moment I would use her ass to relieve myself of the frustrations 
I was feeling at having my safe house desecrated. 

Despite her brother fucking her, her ass was still tight and clenched around 
my cock in a most satisfactory way. 

I looked up and saw that I was reflected in the mirror over her dresser. I 
could quite clearly see myself fucking Lisette in the ass. As always, my new 
appearance surprised me. 

After thirty-six years of seeing yourself look one way in the mirror, it is 
a shock to look into a mirror and see a stranger. And I still looked like a 
stranger to myself. 

My cock, however, was exactly the same in appearance as it had been 
previously. And it was working well, too. It always worked well in 
emergencies. It was moving swiftly in and out of her ass, pounding up 
against her. I was trying to hurt her, trying to do it with more force than 
she could sustain, but she had no trouble taking it. She was delighting in 
it. The slut! The dirty little bitch! 

Why I tend to trust women more than men I will never know. Because there was 
never one born who wouldn't betray a man. Not one. Women do not know the 
meaning of honesty, and they are beyond being taught. 

But they have their uses, and sex is primary among them. 

But Lisette's use would soon be at an end. 

THE END before the end, I chuckled to myself, although puns are not normally 
my mode of thinking. 

Her ass was squeezing my cock so tight it felt like it was in a vise. But it 
didn't feel like torture. Unless exquisite pain constitutes torture, and I 
don't believe it does. The inside of her ass was incredibly soft. So soft 
and so tight. The combination was irresistible to my cock and I felt my 
balls beginning to .rumble and knew that soon I would be shooting my load 
into that firmly rounded little ass of hers. 

The French women have exquisite asses. It is generally their best feature. 
Their tits are either too small or too large, their legs short and stumpy, 
their faces more often than not sharp featured. But their asses are their 
piece de resistance. 

A French ass is one of the wonders of the world. And this particular wonder 
was about to get me off. I felt my balls clench, felt my cum began its 
journey up my prick, then it shot out into her tightly-filled asshole, 
seeping around the edges of my cock and dripping out onto her thighs. 

And even as I was coming, even in that moment when thoughts generally flee, 
I was planning what to do with sweet, deceptive Lisette next. 

As I plunged in my cock for the final thrust, I was undoing my belt and 
pulling it out of my trousers. Then taking the end with the buckle in my 
hand, and simultaneously removing my cock from her asshole and replacing it 
in my pants, I lashed out at her tender ass with my hard leather belt and 
left a welt an inch thick across her white ass. 

"Oh, that's marvelous," she squealed, thinking it part of the sex act. 

I lashed again and again, the third time drawing blood, and she began to 
change her mind about how marvelous it was. 

She rolled over on the bed and sat up, her lips formed into a pretty pout. 

"Are you punishing little Lisette?" she asked me with a lisp. 

"Tell me how many men know about this place, you bitch," I said to her. 

"No men, I swear. Just my brother. He was visiting from the provinces and I 
said he could stop by. That's all, I swear. I wouldn't lie to you, Philipe." 

I slashed her across her small tits with the belt, and when she covered them 
with her arms to protect them, I slashed her across the face, drawing blood 
on one cheek. 

"Don't disfigure me, please. I'll turn over and you can spank me some more, 
Philipe. But don't hit my face, please." 

As though she was going to be able to use her face for anything once I was 
through with her! "I trusted you, Lisette, and you betrayed me. You will 
never betray me again!" 

"Never, I swear. Anyway, I do not have anymore brothers. Jean-Claude was the 
only one and now he is dead. And I do not even cry for him. You were right 
to kill him. But not me, Philipeplease not me!" 

Women will go to any degrading lengths to save their own necks. They will 
lie, cheat, promise anything. They have no pride. No dignity. They are like 
animals, like dogs, willing to do anything if you throw them a bone. 

Lisette was not in for anymore bones. Lisette's dog days were at an end. 

She was not even worth the time it would take to properly beat her. And to 
what end? I couldn't leave her alive. 

I picked up my gun and aimed it at her head. 

She looked scared, then mystified, then playful, as though it were a joke. 
And then, after the gun went off, she just looked dead. 

I left the bodies where they were, wiped off all the places I had touched, 
although no one had my fingerprints as of yet, and then I left the flat. 

I would need a new place to stay and that would mean a new girl. But I could 
take care of that in the evening. At the moment I had to visit the doctor's 
wife and find out what I could. I rented a car, an inconspicuous Fiat, and 
drove to the doctor's office. There was a sign on the door saying it was 
closed down for the doctor's funeral. Which I should have realized. I guess 
I wasn't thinking as clearly as I should have been. 

I bought a newspaper, found out where the funeral was being held, then drove 
the few miles outside of Paris to where the graveside service was in 
progress. 

I wasn't at all sure the doctor's wife would recognize me. In fact I was 
quite sure she wouldn't. I was much thinner, my hair was curly, etc., etc. I 
looked entirely different from the last time she had seen me, even though 
the doctor had wrought considerable changes in me at that time. 

She looked much the same although much sadder. 

She was one Frenchwoman whose parts were all as good as her ass, and her ass 
was a perfect piece of sculpture. Even dressed all in black she managed to 
look vibrant and alive. She was petite and dark with the exquisite face of a 
knowing madonna. I could see the green of her eyes across the grave site, 
and saw her look up at my arrival. 

I nodded my head, and she nodded in return, although I could tell she hadn't 
the slightest idea who I was. 

There were many people there. The doctor had been well-known and had many 
friends and seemed to all be in attendance. And there was also the police, 
of course. He had been stabbed to death in his office, the papers reporting 
it as the work of a maniac. He had suffered over a hundred stab wounds to 
his body. He had bled to death, of course. 

The priest was intoning over the grave and he seemed to go on and on. Clouds 
were beginning to cover the sun and it felt like rain was imminent. It seems 
that it always rains at a funeral. Perhaps it's fitting. Who wants to attend 
a funeral on a beautiful day? 

It seemed to take forever before the grave was being filled in and the 
funeral party finally turned to go. 

I tried to get near to the widow, but she was surrounded, and I felt it was 
not the right moment anyway. 

But I followed the cortege of cars out of the cemetery and then singled out 
the car she rode in and followed that back into town. 

The doctor had lived in a lovely old house enclosed by a wall. Once inside 
that wall it was hard to believe I was in the middle of Paris. 

The rain that had been threatening was now coming down in a steady grey 
drizzle as people made their way up the path to the house. I joined them. 
Once inside the house it was almost like a party. Maids were circulating 
with trays of sandwiches and male servants were handing out drinks. The 
atmosphere was subdued, but then it had only begun. I was sure that after a 
few drinks a few would even dare to laugh out loud. 

I had to get the widow alone. I knew it would probably be hours before her 
relatives and friends left her alone to her sorrow. It might not even 
happen. But I was determined to wait it out. It was imperative that I speak 
to her before I made my next move. But how does one get a grieving widow 
alone? The widow was seated on a loveseat of mauve velvet with a steady 
stream of people stopping by for a word of condolence with her. She had an 
air of helpless fragility that I knew was deceptive. As I remembered her she 
could be a very tough lady. 

And I didn't believe her mask of grief, either. Oh, the doctor was a fine 
man, a well respected man, and I am sure his death caused her pain. But the 
good doctor had been at least thirty years her senior and I was sure that 
combined with that pain would be a feeling of relief. She could now live her 
own life. 

I had a drink, consumed a couple of the sandwiches, and waited until the 
people offering their condolences to her had drifted away and only an older 
woman, probably her mother, remained standing by her side. 

And then I walked over, the proper degree of sorrow on my restructured face. 

I bowed over where she sat, took her proffered hand and put my lips to it, 
then told her that I had been saddened by the news of her husband's untimely 
death. 

Green eyes surveyed me beneath dark lashes. "Have we met?" she asked me 
directly. 

"Just once, Madame, you would not remember." 

She gave me a doubtful look. "I do not think I would forget." 

In any other circumstances I would have construed that remark as being 
flirtatious. But with her husband just put beneath the ground, her mother by 
her side, it didn't seem likely. 

I shrugged, not wanting to seem to push the acquaintanceship. 

She was eyeing me carefully, my face, my hair, my physique. As though she 
was looking for something, some similarity to someone she had once met. 

I didn't think she would get the connection. I looked totally different. She 
might be thinking that her husband had performed plastic surgery but that my 
body would be the same. But not even that was the same. And yet there seemed 
to be something about me she recognized. 

"Did you wish to speak to me?" she asked. 

"This is not a good time." 

"No, noI have nothing but time now and this is as good as any other. Would 
you care to talk in the library?" 

I nodded, a surge of elation going through me at the thought that I could 
take care of my business immediately. 

I followed her down a long hall, then up a short staircase to where a study 
filled with books was located. She seated herself on a leather couch. I took 
a seat across from her in a chair. "What did you wish to speak to me about?" 
she asked, still looking me over in a studied way. 

"Would you mind my asking questions at a time like this?" 

"That would depend on your questions. I must apologizeI do not know your 
name." 

"Philipe Bordeaux. And the questions pertain to your husband's death." 

"Ah, you are not an inspector, are you? I thought I had finished with them, 
at least for the moment." 

"No." I decided to tell her some of the truth. "I was one of your husband's 
patients." 

"Ah, then I saw you, too, perhaps." 

"Yes." 

"What is it you wish to know?" 

"If anything was taken when your husband was killed." 

"You mean money, drugs, things like that?" 

"No. I had in mind files, pictures, things like that." 

"Yes. But that information was not given to the newspapers. Actually, only 
one file, only one set of pictures was taken." 

"Do you know whose?" 

"Yes, I do." 

"Might I inquire as to a name?" 

"No. I would not even reveal that to the police." I had the information I 
wanted and yet I didn't get up to go. I was trying to figure out what my 
next move should be. If she didn't recognize me, then no one looking at the 
picture would, because I looked quite different now. All they would really 
know was that Carlos had had plastic surgery. It wouldn't do them that much 
good. 

But what of this woman? If she figured out who I was, then she could 
identify me as Carlos. But would she? Probably, under certain circumstances. 
Women will reveal anything if the circumstances are right. 

I didn't think she would reveal the information to the police. But the 
people who had stolen the file and pictures might contact her. And they 
would have ways to make her reveal what she knew. 

What a waste it would be to kill her, but I didn't really have any 
alternative. And it would have to be done soon. They were probably only 
waiting for the mourners to leave, for her to be alone once again. 

"What will you do now?" I asked her. 

"Nothing. There is no information I can give them." 

"I meant with yourself. You do not look the type to just lapse into the role 
of widow. You're far too beautiful for that." 

She displayed no false modesty, which I liked. 

"May I speak to you in all honesty?" 

"Please do," I told her. 

"I do not feel like a widow. I just suddenly feel free. And I'm not sure how 
to handle that freedom." 

"You mean you feel alive?" 

She nodded. "Never more so. And it makes me feel guilty." 

"I think when someone dies it tends to make us feel more alive." She shook 
her head. "I am not making myself clear. I feel more alive now than I have 
felt in some years. My husband made me feel old. Now I feel young again. I 
feel all kinds of things I haven't felt in years." 

I suddenly understood what she was trying to convey to me. She was feeling 
horny. An uncouth word, perhaps, but it fits the feeling. Her husband's 
death had revived in her her desire for sex. 

And I think she was extending an invitation to me. 

But I would have to handle it carefully, not scare her off. "You look that 
way," I told her. "You look alive, vibrant. You are the most sensuous 
looking woman I have ever seen. I could not keep my eyes off of you at the 
cemetery. Forgive me if I offend you ... " 

"Not at all," she said, a direct look in her green eyes. "That is exactly 
how I am feeling. Sensuous. With no means of doing anything about it." 

"Surely you must have many admirers." 

"They would be shocked so soon after my husband's death." 

"I would not be shocked." There was a long silence between us as our eyes 
met. And she was indeed everything I had said to her. She was easily the 
most sensuous woman I had ever met. She had a look about her that belonged 
in a bed. A look that was too private to go out in public. I felt a stirring 
in my loins that came with the knowledge that I would have her. Probably 
that night. 

She didn't say another word. She got up, came over to me, and reached out 
her hand. I took it and let her lead me down the hall to another staircase 
that led up to the master bedroom. The room she had slept in with her 
husband. Her husband not yet cold in the ground. 

 CHAPTER TWO 

It was a perfectly appointed room, but it wasn't sensuous in any way. Just 
furnished in perfect taste as befitted a couple with their money and place 
in society. 

But I can make love in any surroundings if my partner is right. And she was 
absolutely right for me at that moment. 

She closed the door to the room and turned to me, lifting her face to mine. 

I pulled off her widow's veil and dropped it onto the floor, then put my 
arms around her and closed my mouth over hers. 

She seemed desperately hungry for my kisses. Her mouth parted immediately 
and her tongue darted inside my mouth, moving around, exploring every inch 
of it. 

I grasped her tongue and sucked on it, and she moaned with pleasure, then 
pressed her body hard against mine, molding it to mine. 

Her tits were flattened against my chest, her cunt revolving around my now 
hard erection. I moved a leg between hers and lifted it so that it pushed 
hard against her cunt, easing her passion there, relieving her itch. 

But that just spurred her on. She seemed starved for sex and I hoped I'd be 
able to satisfy that passion. 

She drew her tongue back into her mouth and mine followed. Then she began to 
suck on my tongue like it was a cock. Roughly, as though she was trying to 
tear it out of my mouth. 

I moved away from her body a little and began to unbutton the low row of 
tiny buttons that went all the way down the front of her dress. Her skin 
against the black fabric looked very white and fragile, but I didn't treat 
her like she was fragile. It's not my way and I thought she had probably 
gotten enough of that from her husband. 

I began to pull her dress down over her shoulders and she stood back to let 
it fall to the floor. 

She was wearing a full contingent of underwear, all of it black. And all of 
it sexy. Her white tits were swelling above the black lace of her full slip. 
I pulled the slip over her head, revealing her black lace bra and panties 
and her black garter belt holding up black silk stockings. 

She looked more like a model in a man's magazine than a bereaved widow. 

She was so lovely I just wanted to stand and look at her for a minute, but 
she was too impatient for that. Too impatient to even allow me to undress 
her. 

She reached around her back, making her tits thrust forward, and then 
unhooked her bra, which joined her other clothes on the floor. Her breasts 
were perfect. Of the exact same size, which is unusual to find, each with a 
large, pink nipple surrounded by puckered rose skin. They gently bounced on 
her chest as she brought her arms back around and began to remove her 
panties. 

As she bent down to lift her feet out of her panties, her tits swayed gently 
and I reached down and cupped them with my hands. But she didn't allow me 
even that. She moved back and began to remove her garter belt, but I stopped 
her. 

"No, leave it on. That and the stockings. You look very exciting in them." 
She smiled up at me in surprise and I assumed her husband had not liked to 
see her like that. If that was true, he had had no imagination. 

She knelt down in front of me and reached for my fly. "Now let me see you, 
Philipelet me see what you have." 

But she didn't wait for my permission. 

She unzipped my fly and had my hard cock out before I could say a word. 

She looked at it as though stunned, then looked up at me with a questioning 
look. 

I'm proud of my cock, as are most men, I'm sure, but I had never seen it 
stun anyone before. Her reaction was flattering, perhaps, but too unusual to 
suit me. 

"What is the matter, my dear?" I asked her. "Were you expecting something 
else?" 

She shook her head in confusion. "No, it's just that I recognize it." 

She recognized my cock? Impossible! I had never had sex with the lady. 

"As far as I know its picture has never appeared in the tabloids," I joked 
with her. 

"No, I recognize it in person. I've seen it before. Somewhere. It will come 
to me...." I was beginning to think her husband's death had affected her 
mind. 

"You are Carlos!" She said this with a stricken voice. 

I was rather stunned at that, but I hid it. "As I told you, my name is 
Philipe. And it's just occurred to me I don't know your given name." 

"Chantal. It's Chantal. But I know you are Carlos, it's no use denying it. I 
thought there was something familiar about you, but you are so different. 
Far different from the man who left here after my husband operated on him. 
But I don't forget cocks. I haven't seen that, many in my life. And I happen 
to have a photographic memory." 

"My dear, cocks do not look that different from each other." 

"I have only seen three, but they all have been unique. Why do you deny it? 
You can trust me." 

Trust is so easily given and so difficult to maintain. 

"Could you tell me under what circumstances you saw my cock? I swear I would 
remember if we had ever made love." 

"You were undressed during the operation with a sheet over your body. During 
the operation you got an erection, which is not uncommon when one is under 
an anesthetic. My husband made a joking remark to the effect that you must 
have a monster between your legs, and before he could stop me I had lifted 
up the sheet to take a look. Please forgive meit was a terrible invasion of 
your privacy. But I was so impressed by it. It is twice the size of my 
husband's. And I have never forgotten it. And, it embarrasses me to tell you 
this, but I often fantasized about it after that." 

It really did not matter that she knew who I was because I was going to have 
to kill her in any case. 

But this was one adversary I hated to see die. I put my hands in her silken 
hair and caressed her head. "Yes, Chantal, I am Carlos. And if you didn't 
recognize that I needn't have any fear of those pictures that were stolen. 
Do you mind being made love to by a terrorist?" 

"Mind? You have been my hero ever since then. I have followed all your 
exploits, read all the books about you, dreamed about you so often you 
seemed like a friend to me. Only I pictured you differently." 

"Are you disappointed with my new appearance?" Of course I was looking for a 
compliment. She certainly couldn't have preferred me overweight. . "No, just 
unnerved a bit. I guess I don't have to ask if it's been successful. You're 
still at large, obviously." 

"So you fancy terrorists, do you?" 

She gave a nervous laugh. "Does that sound sick? I guess I see you as a 
romantic figure, a modern day Robin Hood. You must get that reaction from 
lots of women." 

I smiled. "I never tell women who I am." 

"I see." 

"I'm afraid it's not really advisable in my business." 

"How does one get in your line of business?" 

"That's very involved, very complicated. Why are we having a discussion when 
we could be in bed enjoying ourselves." 

"There is no hurry. You can stay as long as you like. But I'm serious, 
Carlos. I am bored with life, too intelligent to be just a wife. Couldn't 
you teach me the business?" 

"You mean it, don't you?" She nodded. And I thought about it. I liked her 
style, her intelligence. And I hated having to kill her. I could use a good 
female agent. It would be worth a try. If it didn't work out I could have 
her eliminated and I wouldn't have to do it myself. 

I smiled down at her. "I will make a deal with you, Chantal. If you please 
me in bed, I will bring you into the group." 

She laughed. "Then I am as good as in!" 

And with that, she took my distinctive, easily-recognizable cock, and began 
to lick it all over with her tongue. As she did so, I removed my jacket, my 
tie and my shirt. I then kicked off my shoes and unbuttoned the top button 
of my pants. But I was still wearing underwear, so I moved her head away for 
a moment while I divested myself of my shorts and socks, then let her get 
back to her enjoyment. 

Not that the enjoyment wasn't mutual. Now that I was totally naked, she 
moved behind my cock and put her mouth over my balls, one at a time, gently 
sucking on them and making me feel unsteady on my legs. I backed up against 
the bed to steady myself and allowed her to continue. 

She was adept, though I'm sure she hadn't gotten that knowledge from doing 
it to the doctor. 

Her tongue was rough on my balls. She cradled them in her mouth, rolling 
them about, making them wet and warm. 

I felt like getting onto the bed to be more comfortable, but I liked the way 
she looked kneeling in front of me. And I had the feeling she had never 
before knelt in front of a man. 

Her mouth and tongue were busy, and she held onto my hairy thighs as she 
caressed me, moving her hands up and down my skin, warming me wherever she 
touched. When my balls were satiated with her ministerings, she began to 
lick my cock up and down the shaft with long, wet, rough strokes. She held 
it up by the head, licking it underneath, following the veins with her 
tongue. And when she had licked it all over, it was wet and sticky with her 
spit. 

Is there a man on earth who doesn't like to have his cock attended to by an 
eager, wet mouth? I doubt it. I am certainly not one. Women are certainly 
not good for much, but that is one thing that they excel in. If they care 
to. And this one certainly seemed to care for it. I wondered briefly if she 
really regarded this as a testing ground and whether she was doing a better 
job of it because she wanted to be a female terrorist. But I didn't think 
so. And didn't really care anyway, the result was the same. 

No, I think she had something going for my cock. I think she had since the 
first time she had viewed it. Else why romanticize me all this time? My face 
must have been a mess when she last saw me; it was my cock she truly 
remembered. 

She put her mouth over the head of my cock and moved her tongue in the slit, 
licking it out, then sucking on just the head. 

She was going slow and easy which was fine with me. I can keep an erection 
indefinitely when I want to; there was no fear of my coming precipitously. I 
stroked her hair and murmured to her. "Yes, little Chantal, I think you 
might make a splendid terrorist. Certainly any man would want to tell you 
his secrets. But are you cold-blooded enough? Can you be heartless and 
cruel? Are you totally without a conscience? Because that is what terrorism 
requires of one. You will no longer be the good doctor's wife. You will be 
wanted and hunted down throughout the world. And perhaps killed. Killed like 
your husband was killed. Can you bear that thought, Chantal? Can you endure 
with that knowledge?" 

She didn't even flick an eyelash while I talked to her. She moved down on my 
cock, taking about half its length in her mouth, and then she began to suck. 

She sucked the way men dream of being sucked. Her mouth was warm and soft 
and wet, she kept her sharp little teeth off the tender skin of my cock, and 
she sucked voraciously. And all the while her hand was gently cupping my 
balls. 

Sensations were pouring out of my cock to all parts of my body and I was 
forming a thin sheet of sweat all over. She was making me burn, this one. 
Burn with desire for her, and it had been a while since I had felt like that 
with a woman. 

I can fuck without feeling it, of course. I can fuck without feeling 
anything at times. But then something happens like this, some woman makes me 
feel again, and the other times fade into nothing, which is what they really 
were anyway. 

She was steadily moving down on my cock, taking more and more of it into her 
mouth. Devouring it the way one devours excellent French cuisine. And her 
husband just buried hours before. But she wasn't defiling his memory; I 
think she was adding to it in a way. 

My cock hit the end of her throat and she paused for a moment, making a 
slightly gagging sound. Then she plunged ahead, trying to take it even 
further down her throat, much further than it could possibly go. 

And it felt so marvelous. So marvelous beating up against the obstruction. 
Like fucking her would feel. 

And then her mouth began to move up and down my cock, faster and faster, and 
all the while she continued sucking and licking and banging it against her 
throat. I think she was eager for me to come in her mouth, but she was going 
to be disappointed. I wanted to come inside of her, possess her that way. 
Another time I would let her suck me dry. 

I sat down on the edge of the bed and she moved in closer to me. And I 
reached down and cupped her tits with my hands, feeling their warm softness. 

And then I took her hard nipples between thumb and forefingers and began to 
pull on them, and she moaned at that. Moaned and sucked me even harder. 

Do all men yearn for a woman's breasts? I think so. And I think it has 
little to do with our mothers, which is the popular theory, I think. I think 
it has more to do with their forbidden nature. When we are children we are 
not to view them naked. It is not allowed. And later we can see, but we 
aren't supposed to touch. And so many girls make us pay for even a glimpse, 
that when we are finally grown and we are offered them freely, we think some 
momentous good fortune has come our way. Something we are not yet worthy 
enough to receive. 

Tits have a mystique about them for most men, and I am not immune to that 
mystique. I like my mouth on a tit, hard and grasping. I like my hands on 
tits. I like to fuck between good-sized tits. I like the feel of them 
rubbing all over my naked body. 

And I liked to look at the pure perfection of Chantal's tits. They were 
works of art. And they looked so untouched. So very untouched. 

I squeezed a tit in each hand, not too gently. I wanted her to really feel 
it, really become excited by my touch. 

I rubbed them roughly with my calloused palms, chafing her fragile skin, 
putting my mark on her. I wanted her to be mine. At least for the moment. 

And then suddenly I had had enough of her sucking on my cock. It wouldn't 
get any better unless I came, and I wasn't going to come just yet. 

I leaned back on the bed and lifted her up on top of me so that her tits 
were dangling in my face. And then I began to suck on the nipple of one, 
tasting of its sweetness. "Yes, yes," moaned Chantal. "Oh, yes, Carlos, do 
it to me like that. But suck harder, as hard as you can." 

It is easy to deduce things from the way women make love. I could tell her 
husband had been gentle with her and she hadn't been able to tell him to be 
different. 

But with me, who was a terrorist after all, she felt more free, less 
inhibited. She expected me to be rough as part of my profession. And perhaps 
they do go together. 

I bit into her tits as I sucked on her nipples, and she begged and moaned 
for more. 

As I was sucking on her tits, I moved down my hand to her pussy and saw that 
it was wet and ready. 

Juices were creeping over the edges of her pussy lips, into her soft, fine 
pubic hair, and I pushed my fingers inside of her, wanting to feel the 
softness of her cunt. 

She moaned and squirmed, moving her hand down on my fingers, trying to get 
them further inside of her cunt. 

I obliged her by shoving most of my hand inside of her, then exploring her 
inside. 

She felt tight, exceedingly tight for a married lady. She felt almost 
virginal. 

And I was sure that her ass was virgin territory. And I wondered how she 
would take to an invasion of that district of her anatomy. 

But I would find out. I would find out everything about her. She was an 
extremely passionate woman. Her cunt was going crazy around my fingers, 
thrusting over them, moving around, trying to get them further and further 
inside of her. She lusted to be consumed and couldn't seem to wait any 
longer. 

I pulled her all the way up on the bed, her marriage bed, then rolled her 
over and mounted her. 

Her eyes were closed, her head was moving, convulsively from side to side, 
her mouth was moaning and crying out. 

I aimed my cock at her cunt and plunged inside of her, and her legs went 
around me tightly and her fingernails slashed down my back. She wrapped 
herself so tightly around me that I was all the way inside of her, hitting 
up against the back of her passage. She clung tightly around my cock, her 
tight cunt, clenching it as hard as her mouth had done. 

I began to move in and out of her, in and out, satisfying her desire and my 
own. 

It felt good to be in a hot, eager cunt. One that wanted my cock as much as 
I wanted to be inside of her. 

She was crying out, coming already, coming over and over again as I fucked 
her. 

And I had hardly begun. I moved faster, building up speed, and harder, much 
harder. I was driving her into the mattress with the force of my fucking, 
making her bed creak from all the exercise being performed on it. 

And I briefly wondered what her guests must think of her long absence. And 
wondered what the expressions on their faces would be if they knew the widow 
was upstairs getting her brains fucked out by an international terrorist. 
And all on the day of her dear departed husband's funeral. 

She was like an animal in heat, urging me to fuck her harder and harder, and 
I complied as best I could. We were well suited to each other in bed. Both 
of us were passionate animals. Both of us with our hot Latin blood. 

She seemed to be as insatiable to fuck as I was to fuck her. Our bodies hit 
against each other over and over, trying to merge totally, our parts 
meshing. 

And then I surprised myself. I felt my balls begin to clench, signaling that 
I soon would come. But I never came that soon. I could usually fuck for 
hours. But his incredible woman was making me feel fifteen again. Yes, 
that's exactly how I felt. Like a boy again. A boy with his first woman. 

That's how excited she had gotten me. As the cum drove through my shaft and 
erupted into her cunt, I increased the speed of my fucking, the force of my 
fucking, and Chantal was screaming in ecstasy and I was finding it hard to 
breathe. 

It was the most powerful orgasm I had ever experienced without the aid of 
drugs. I was totally straight, and yet that woman turned me on like an 
electrical charge. 

I was afraid I might become addicted to her. She had addictive properties, 
that merry widow. 

"Did I pass the test?" she whispered in my ear as I collapsed on top of her. 

"Was that all you were thinking about?" She laughed. "No, that wasn't all. 
In fact I quite forgot about it in the heat of the moment." 

"Can you disappear right now?" I asked her. 

"Now? You mean this minute?" 

I nodded. She broke into laughter. "How marvelous. I will just disappear on 
the day of my husband's funeral. I will not have to suffer through all the 
calls, I will not have to write endless letters of thanks, I will not have 
to answer any more questions by the police. I will not have to do a thingI 
will cease to exist, no?" 

"Yes. I'll get new identity papers for you. But for now, can you somewhat 
disguise your appearance?" 

She grinned. "Just watch me." And she went through a very remarkable 
transformation. So remarkable I wondered for what reason she had ever done 
it before. But for whatever reason, it showed she was devious, and that was 
a quality she'd need in her new line of work. 

She put on a pair of panties, but no bra. Then she slipped into a pair of 
skin-tight jeans and a T-shirt that showed off her bare boobs. Then she made 
up her face with lots of eye makeup and blush and a vivid shade of bright 
red lipstick. But the real change came next. She got a blonde wig out of her 
closet and placed it over her own hair. And voila, she looked totally 
different. Like some cheap streetwalker or maybe, if one was giving her the 
benefit of the doubt, an artist's model. 

We walked down the stairs, right past her mother and the guests, and no one 
at all recognized her. A couple of people gave her second looks, but that 
was only because she looked so out of place in the house. 

And then we booked a room together in one of the middle priced hotels, and I 
made a couple of phone calls to get her new papers and a passport. 

Her new name was to be Corinne Carrere. 

We set to work on a more subtle transformation for her. I didn't really want 
anyone who looked like a streetwalker in my organization. It didn't take 
much to make her look different. Casual clothes alone would make her 
unrecognizable to most of her friends as she had always dressed in designer 
originals with the kind of elegance only the French can manage. 

She plucked" her straight, dark brows until they were arched, then cut her 
long dark hair into a short, shaggy cut before dying it a reddish brown. 

When she was through, she really looked quite different as well as looking 
younger and much less French. She could have passed for a university 
student. I think she was happy with the way she looked, too. She kept 
looking at herself in the mirror, running her hands through her short, 
shaggy hair, and laughing. She had thrown away widowhood and gained a second 
chance at life. 

"I'm a new person," she said to me with a laugh. 

"Yes. Are you happy?" 

"Very happy! Will I have to kill people?" 

"Probably. Will you be able to do it?" 

"I feel able to do anything! Anything at all! I feel indestructible." 

I hoped that was true. But even if she would be destroyed, at least she had 
gained a lease on life which she hadn't had a few hours previously. 

 CHAPTER THREE 

The eldest son and heir to the royal throne of one of the most powerful 
royal families remaining in Europe was getting married to his lady. 

At the moment I needed publicity and a vast amount of money in order to 
finance my new venture. 

I thought that kidnapping the prince and his bride would fill the bill. 

Prince Hector and Lady Moira were being hailed as a fairytale couple, their 
pictures frequently shown on the covers of the world's leading news 
magazines. The Price was a handsome lad, blond and tall with a regal 
bearing. Lady Moira was petite and brunette with the sunniest of smiles. It 
made me almost puke when I looked at their pictures. I find nothing romantic 
about young love, especially young love among the upper classes. 

There were two distinct phases of the kidnapping plan. 

Phase one involved the actual mechanics of the kidnapping. Phase two 
involved finding two people to I substitute for the Prince and Lady. Two 
people who would pass close inspection. 

And that part wasn't hard to do. Neither the Prince nor the Lady had 
distinctive features. Lots of young men and women could successfully pass 
for them. 

We looked over many possibilities, finally narrowed it down to the two 
finalists, then went to work making them look identical to the Prince and 
Lady in every way. 

Pictures of the Lady's wedding dress had been published prior to the 
wedding, and we had an identical one made up at probably a tenth of the cost 
of the original. The young couple were given lessons in using the proper 
accent, in deportment, etc., in the hopes that the substitution wouldn't be 
discovered for at least an hour after the kidnapping took place. We wanted a 
chance to get the victims out of the country before they were missed. 

This was going to be Chantal's first caper as Corinne. She was really 
excited about it and couldn't wait for the happy day. 

The whole world seemed to be waiting for the happy day. 

And when the happy day arrived, it arrived with rain, which must have pissed 
off all the wedding planners mightily. 

The kidnapping went off as planned. We had the limousine containing the real 
prince and his bride. And our substitutes were speeding off to the wedding 
reception. I was driving the limousine with Corinne by my side. Before the 
royal couple even knew what was happening, so engrossed were they with each 
other's eyes in the back seat, we had pulled into a parking lot, and I 
turned around in the seat and pointed a gun at the prince. Corinne had Lady 
Moira covered. 

"Out of the car, folks," I ordered. 

"How dare you pull such a stunt," gasped the prince. He was apparently just 
as stuffy as the rest of the family. 

Moira began to cry. "You're spoiling my wedding day," she sobbed. 

But they got out of the car and into the panel truck I had waiting. 

As I drove to the airport, Corinne was making them change their clothes in 
the back of the truck. Which must have been embarrassing for the virginal 
bride. When they stepped out of the back of the truck to board the private 
Cessna I had chartered, they looked like a couple of ordinary students. The 
public never having seen either of them in regular people's clothes, I 
didn't think there would be a chance in hell that anyone would recognize 
them. 

We headed for Libya where I had been promised a large villa and full use of 
the local police. 

As soon as I arrived in Libya, I sent Corinne on to the villa with the 
prisoners and I went down to the local police station to use their telex 
machine. I sent telexes to all the major wire services telling them of the 
kidnapping, telling them who had done it, and announcing the ransom of two 
billion pounds sterling to be placed in an unnumbered Swiss bank account. 

And then I joined Corinne and the happy couple at the villa. Corinne really 
took to the work of a terrorist. By the time I arrived, she had them both 
stripped naked and tied up, side by side, to the wall. The servants must 
have helped her, she couldn't have done it all by herself, but she had a 
proud look on her face when she greeted me and I nodded my approval to her. 

I looked over the naked body of the prince with interest. He was more 
modestly endowed than I would have expected from someone of such an 
illustrious royal family who were noted for their dozens of progeny. And 
Moira was rather short changed, too. Her tits were small and innocuous, but 
she did have a virgin cunt to be toyed with. 

"Why do you have them tied up naked?" I queried Corinne. 

She grinned at me. "I wanted to have some fun with them. Get some experience 
in torture." 

I nodded agreement. "Don't get carried away and kill them, though. We do 
want that ransom. 

"I won't kill them. They might wish they were dead when I'm through with 
them, but I certainly don't intend killing them." 

I drew up a chair and sat down, lighting a cheroot and ordering a brandy 
from the servants. 

"All right, Corinnelet's see you do your stuff." 

She was magnificent. In the space of a moment she had turned from a lively, 
lovely woman into a venomous creature with evil pouring out of her green 
eyes. Corinne walked over to where Moira was tied up and slowly untied her. 

"Since this is your wedding night," she said to the girl, "I feel you should 
be instructed in sex. I assume, of course, that you are pure." 

"Of course I'm pure," said Moira, blushing a becoming pink. 

Untied, the girl was trying to cover her tits and cunt with her arms, but it 
was a losing battle. 

Corinne's eyes went to Hector's furious face. "Tell me, Hector, how do you 
feel about getting your cock sucked?" 

Hector's fury mounted. "How dare you address me by my first name." 

"Very easily," said Corinne. "But you didn't answer my question. Do you like 
getting your cock sucked? Did you anticipate having your bride do it to you 
on your wedding night?" 

Hector appeared too angry to speak, but he managed somehow. "I find you 
totally disgusting! People of royal blood do not behave like animals in 
bed." 

"What a shame," remarked Corinne. "You miss out on a lot of fun. But I think 
Moira ought to learn how anyway, just in case she has a lover someday who 
likes to get his cock sucked." 

She looked over at me. "Would you oblige me by allowing your cock to be used 
in the demonstration?" 

I figured I could get turned on by having my cock sucked by a future queen. 

Corinne grabbed Moira's arm and pulled her over to me, then shoved her down 
on her knees between my legs. 

"Open his zipper and pull out his cock," she ordered the girl. 

"I will do no such thing," said Moira with more spirit than I gave her 
credit for. 

Corinne hauled off and slapped Moira across the face several times, leaving 
the girl's face red and swollen. 

"You will do exactly what I tell you to do. I hold your life in my hands and 
it wouldn't bother me one bit to snuff out that life. I detest royalty!" 

"You harm her and you'll die," threatened Hector. 

"An idle threat," said Corinne, "since you are tied up and I am the one in 
charge." 

"You French were always a barbarous race," snarled Hector. 

"At least we know how to make love," countered Corinne. 

The girl was still refusing to unzip my fly so I reached down myself and 
took out my cock. 

Moira took one look at it and averted her innocent eyes. 

Corinne laughed. "Take a look at what a real cock looks like, Hector. If you 
were really royal yours would look like that." 

I pushed Moira's head aside for a moment so that the price could get a good 
look at my cock. He was looking and having a lot of trouble believing. 

"He's some kind of a freak," the prince muttered. 

"Bullshit," I countered. "I'm just average size. You're just exceedingly 
small." Corinne looked over at the prince. "You would never have made your 
bride happy on her wedding night with a cock the size of yours, anyway. And 
when she learns what a real cock feels like, she'll never be happy in bed 
with you. Think about that, Hector. Think about being married to her for the 
next fifty or so years and how in all that time you'll never once satisfy 
your wife in bed. She will, however, know how to give you a good cock suck." 

"All right, bitch, start sucking his cock," said Corinne. The virgin was 
still refusing. Corinne grabbed her around the neck. "Now listen to me good, 
Lady. If you don't start sucking his cock at once, I'm going to knock out 
all your teeth. And after that, if you still refuse, I'm going to put a gun 
to your husband's head and blow it away!" 

"I can't. I just can't do such a disgusting thing. I'd die if I had to do 
something like that." 

"You'll die if you don't," said Corinne. 

The girl still hesitated, but the prince spoke up. 

"Do it, darling. Nothing they do to you or make you do could possibly be 
degrading to you. You are being forced to do it. It is better to live, my 
love." 

Nobly spoken, I thought to myself, and it seemed to do the trick. Moira 
opened her mouth, put it over my cock, then closed her eyes so she wouldn't 
have to see what she was doing. Typical English behavior. They would have 
probably spent their wedding night with the lights out, too. So they 
wouldn't have to see the disgusting acts their bodies were performing. 

Moira had a look of great distaste on her face, but she wasn't doing a bad 
job on my cock. She got the sucking part right away, although at the moment 
she was only sucking the head. 

Hector was watching her, his face expressionless. And then I saw what was 
happening. I had almost missed it because his cock was so small. But it was 
now slowly risingat the sight of his bride's sucking my cock! 

Very interesting. The boy must be a voyeur. 

He was missing a lot by leaving the lights out during sex. 

"Explain to her how to do it, Corinne," I said. 

Corinne looked down to see how Moira was sucking my cock. "Move your head up 
and down on it, bitch. Bring it all the way back to the end of your throat." 

The girl didn't get it right away so I began to move back and forth in my 
chair, pushing my cock in and out of her mouth. 

She got the idea quickly after that. I stopped moving and her mouth took 
over. And she was a fast learner, too. Either that or she had had some 
previous experience. I looked over at Hector. "Your bride's all right. She's 
giving me one of the most professional blow-jobs I've ever had. Methinks 
this lady is not as virginal as one would suppose." 

Hector's look could have killed me. "How dare you slander my bride?" 

"And look at you," I said to him. "You've got a hard-on from watching the 
virgin suck me off. That is really disgusting, Hector, you know that?" 

Corinne turned around to see Hector's boner. "It doesn't look any bigger 
when it's erect." 

Moira blushed at the remark about Hector not looking any bigger. And even as 
she blushed her sucking increased in tempo. 

I looked down and saw that she had her eyes open now. And there was a gleam 
in those eyes. 

The virgin was enjoying sucking my cock! "That's right, honey, you're doing 
a great job," I told her, patting her on the head. "Yeah, that's the waytake 
it all the way down, oh, yesyes, that is so good. You are pretty talented 
for a lady, you know that?" 

Corinne walked over to Hector and took a close look at his cock. "You sure 
didn't get lucky in that department, did you? But it's large enough to suck, 
and I'm in the mood to suck cock." 

Corinne knelt down in front of Hector and put her mouth over his cock. His 
entire cock. It was that small. "Don't you dare suck my royal cock," said 
the prince. Moira took her head off my cock and looked around. She was so 
angry that Hector was getting his cock sucked, she turned back to mine and 
started to do it even harder and faster. 

Corinne has a mouth like a sucking machine and she brought Hector off in 
about half a minute. Hector screamed out when he started to come, and I 
could tell that my own cocksucker was furious. She began to suck my cock so 
hard I was afraid she'd wear it out. 

"You know something, Philip?" Corinne asked me. 

"What is that?" 

"Royal cum has no taste at all. It's like water! How do you suppose they 
have all those babies?" 

"I imagine the wives all have lovers," I said, and Corinne shook her head in 
agreement. Corinne came over and pulled Moira's head off my cock. "That will 
be enough. You've had your first lesson. Now I think we should break the 
royal cherry, are you in agreement, Philip?" 

"Bring a white sheet so that we can prove her virginity to her husband," I 
said to Corinne. 

The girl was a noted horsewoman and I had a feeling her cherry had been lost 
years before and she probably didn't even know it. 

"I will have your head for this," Hector said to me with an ineffectual 
glare. 

I ignored him Moira sat with her head buried between her legs. I didn't know 
whether she was consoling herself or waiting for the next round. 

Corinne came back with a white sheet which she spread in the center of the 
floor on the rug. 

Then she grabbed Moira and dragged her out into the center of the sheet, 
positioning her so that Hector would have a good look at his bride's being 
fucked for the first time in her life. 

Moira was crying now. "Oh, pleaseplease don't rape me. They will pay any 
ransom you want, I'm sure, but please don't rape me." 

I got up and stood over her. "You'll enjoy it even more than sucking my 
cock, I assure you," I told her. 

I saw no need to undress in front of them. I straddled Moira, positioned my 
cock at her entrance, then lifted her legs off the floor and shoved my cock 
deep into her tight cunt. 

But it was wet. The bitch had gotten hot sucking on my cock. 

"You're nice and wet in your pussy, aren't you? That's nicevery nice. I'm 
glad you were so ready for me." It was so tight in there, like a vise around 
my cock. And the girl was in no pain, not crying out, in fact she was 
developing a glazed look in her eyes like women who are being carried away 
by passion often do. 

I began to fuck her hard, thrusting in and out of her cunt, hitting up 
against her uterus with furious strokes. And she was loving it. The royal 
slut was fucking loving it! 

And Hector, the loving husband, was getting another hard-on from watching 
his wife having her virginity taken by a better man. 

"Don't bother, Hector," said Corinne. "I don't feel like sucking that little 
worm again." 

The "little worm" made Hector's erection retreat. 

Corinne came over while I was fucking Moira and began to suck at one of the 
girl's tits. "My God, get that lesbian away from me," screamed Moira in 
horror. She wasn't horrified by being fucked by she couldn't take a woman 
sucking on her tit. What a warped mentality! Moira tried to shove Corinne 
off her, but Corinne knocked the girl's head back on the floor and from the 
crack it made, I figured she'd be compliant for a few minutes. 

Hector was watching it all, his cock erect, sweat breaking out all over his 
skinny body. Poor girl, she would never have been happy with him as a 
husband. We would be doing their doomed marriage a favor when we killed 
them. Or rather when Corinne killed them. I was going to extend that 
privilege to her. 

They weren't going to be killed because of the ransom not being paid. I was 
certain that condition would be complied with. 

No, it wasn't that. They had to die because they could describe me. Me and 
Corinne. And I didn't want to have to go through plastic surgery again. 

But the girl, at least, would have a good time before her demise. And 
perhaps Hector would, too, if Corinne got bored enough. Poor boy, he was 
being rather ignored. 

Moira was moaning now in ecstasy. She was thrusting her tit further into 
Corinne's mouth and shoving her cunt at my plunging prick. 

We were turning her on, teaching her the jobs of sex. And the girl was no 
virgin. At least there was no blood. 

I was beginning to wonder if the girl was as innocent as the papers had 
stated. There must have been an indiscretion somewhere. 

I fucked her for a long time, the prince watching all the while. And then I 
withdrew from her pussy, moved out of the way, and pointed out the 
immaculate sheet to her husband. 

"As you can see, Hector, your blushing bride was no virgin." 

Hector turned his head away from the sight. 

"I was a virgin, I was," protested Moira. "I probably broke it riding horses 
when I was younger. But I've never been fucked beforenever!" 

The prince blushed at the use of the word "fuck" coming from his beloved's 
innocent mouth. "You expect him to believe that?" sneered Corinne. "Girls 
have been using that same story for years and everyone knows it is not 
possible to lose your cherry riding a horse. What nonsense!" 

Corinne moved back off the sheet and I reached down and rolled over the 
girl. 

"I have a hankering for an ass fuck," I said to Corinne. 

"Oh, good idea. She's sure to be a virgin thereall the English are." 

"Oh, my God," moaned the prince when he saw what I was going to do to Moira. 
Moira, the bitch, wasn't protesting at all. She was acting like we had her 
held down and were forcing her, even though no one had a hand on her at the 
moment. 

I pulled up her ass so that she was on her knees, then I knelt between her 
legs. 

This was going to be difficult without lubrication, especially with my cock 
being so large. 

"You have any Vaseline?" I asked Corinne "I have hand lotion in my bag." 

"Let me have it." 

She brought it over to me and I thought it would do just fine. I rubbed a 
lot of it on my cock, then rubbed some on her tiny, puckered asshole. 

Then I pressed the head of my cock to her hole, grabbed her tightly around 
the things, and plunged inside of her with one sure stroke. She screamed 
like she was being killed, and I would guess it was painful all right, but I 
also knew in a minute the bitch would be loving it and couldn't wait for the 
prince to see the miraculous change in her. 

God, but her hot hole was tight. Ten times tighter than her cunt, and much, 
much softer. It wrapped itself around my cock like a cotton press, and I 
moved more deeply inside of her. Her screaming was diminishing the further I 
got in. By the time I had hit the end of her channel, she was merely 
moaning. And I didn't think that moaning had much to do with pain. We 
certainly weren't torturing her, that was for sure. She was loving 
everything we did to her. she enjoyed sex far too much to be a lady. 

"How can you do such a beastly thing," groaned the prince. "You are no 
better than an animal. Yet even animals don't bugger each other. You are 
totally depraved, do you know that?" 

"Haven't you ever gotten into an ass, Hector?" Corinne asked him. 

"I would not do such a dastardly thing!" Corinne pulled down her pants and 
pointed her ass at the prince. "Not even to mine? It's wonderful in the ass, 
Hector. Especially for someone as small as yourself. Your cock would be lost 
in a normal pussy, but you'd be able to feel it in an asshole." 

Hector, blushing profusely, turned his head away from her ass. His cock was 
waving around in enjoyment of the sight. 

I was plunging in and out of her asshole relentlessly. I had decided I'd get 
off in there. I wanted to drop my cum in a lady's ass just once! "Why don't 
you fist-fuck Hector in the ass?" I asked Corinne. 

She wrinkled her nose at me. "No thank you!" 

I laughed at that. I hadn't thought there was anything she wouldn't do. Well 
I wasn't going to do it to him, that was for sure. Fooling around with men 
just is not my thing. Corinne was backing into Hector's cock. And while 
Hector wasn't watching, his cock seemed to have no aversion to going into 
Corinne's asshole. At least it didn't appear to be moving out of the way. 

And she didn't even need hand lotion to get it inside. She just steadily 
backed into it until it was in up to the hilt. 

And I heard a deep groan come from Hector. 

"Hey, doesn't that feel terrific?" Corinne asked him. 

"Ahhhhhhhhh," said Hector, which could mean anything. 

"Isn't it tight and warm and soft and nice in there? Much better than a 
cunt, isn't it? And Moira will love you fucking her there. See how much 
she's enjoying it with Philipe!" But Hector wasn't watching Moira anymore. 
His eyes were suddenly riveted to Corinne's rounded ass. He was watching 
with wonder as his cock slid in and out of her delicious looking ass. He was 
almost drooling at the mouth. 

I'll tell you, we were doing the two of them a big favor. Their wedding 
night would never have been as much fun without us. Every young couple 
should take along a more experienced one on their Wedding night. It would 
probably make for a lower divorce rate. 

Hector came long before I did. With an almighty yell, he shot his sperm into 
Corinne's ass, though she told me later she couldn't even feel it. 

And then Corinne came over to speed me up. "Come on, Philipe, I'm getting 
hungry. Why don't you finish up and we'll get ourselves some dinner." 

I began to fuck faster and harder in Moira's ass, letting go of my self 
control so that I could soon come. 

"We'll leave the lovebirds alone for a while to talk over all their new 
sexual experiences," Corinne said to me with a smile. 

That probably was interesting to hear, too. I wonder what the two of them 
did say to each other when they were alone? I'm sure they outwardly forgave 
each other, but inwardly they both must have been seething with anger and 
jealousy. 

I picked up the tempo of my fucking until I was moving so fast I felt like I 
had St. Vitus Dance. And then finally I came, exploding into her depths, 
shooting so much cum inside of her that it oozed out of her hole and ran 
down her legs. 

I pulled out of her, wiped my cock off with the still white sheet, then put 
it away in my pants. 

Corinne took Moira over and once again tied her up beside Hector, then the 
two of us went downstairs to see what was for dinner. 

 CHAPTER FOUR 

The royal couple was subdued when we returned from dinner. 

They weren't looking at each other, they weren't speaking. Perhaps they had 
become overcome with hunger, but I doubted it. 

Corinne carried a riding crop in her hand which she had found hanging in the 
hallway downstairs. 

She untied Moira, handed her the riding crop, and told her she wanted to see 
her beat her husband with it. 

Moira, with another show of spirit, threw the riding crop to the floor. "I 
will never do that!" she stated. 

Corinne shrugged. "Then how about sucking his cock?" 

Moira fell to her knees. "It would be a pleasure to suck the cock of the man 
I love. The only man I have ever loved. The only man I ever will love." 

"Just suck it," said Corinne, bored with the impassioned speech. 

Moira put her mouth over the limp cock of her husband and began to suck on 
it voraciously. 

But I guess nothing happened, because she took her mouth off it and looked 
up at Hector. 

"You won't get excited by my mouth because I have been defiled, is that it, 
Hector? I no longer appeal to you?" 

"No, it's not true. I'm sorry. I don't know what's the matter with me." 
Moira got to her feet. "I know what's the matter with you. You don't find me 
sexually appealing. You find that woman sexy, but not your own wife!" 

And with that, she picked up the riding crop and began to strike out at 
Hector with it. 

"Please, Moira," he begged, "give it another try. Please don't beat me." 

But even as he said it I saw his cock start to grow. 

Moira saw it, too. "I see. You get hard from a whipping but not from your 
wife's loving mouth!" 

"He's a masochist like all Englishmen," said Corinne, finding the whole 
thing funny, as was I. Moira was like a little devil with that whip. She 
whipped him across the face whenever he spoke, she whipped his chest until 
red welts stood up all over it, and then she moved down to his cock. 

"No, not that!" screamed Hector. 

"It is good for nothing else," said Moira, hitting him across his cock with 
the riding crop. 

And the prince's face lit up with undisguised pleasure at the first whipping 
on his prick. He loved it. He really was a masochist. 

As far as that went, Moira was looking pretty sadistic. They might make the 
perfect couple after all. 

"Yes, yes, whip me there," gasped the prince. 

Moira, in a fury, increased the speed of her whipping and concentrated it 
all on his poor little cock. 

And when his cock was all bloody and bruised, she turned to Corinne. "Cut 
the bastard down so that I can whip his rotten ass." 

Corinne gladly obliged, and when he was untied, Moira ordered him to stand 
with his chest to the wall. 

He obeyed her with alacrity. She began to whip his ass with precision and 
cold-bloodedness and I was wondering what kind of monster we had produced in 
her. 

Large red welts were rising on his skinny white ass, and soon his ass was 
covered with them. 

Then she did a really nasty thing. She turned the riding crop around in her 
hand and shoved the handle deeply into his asshole. 

He screamed and it must have hurt like hell to have that rough, hard leather 
pushed inside of him with such force. 

But while he screamed he also began to shove his ass back against the handle 
of the riding crop. 

What a weird marriage those two would have had. 

"You dirty, rotten, scum," muttered Moira. "To think I married such a 
worthless shit." I wondered if the queen had beat him as a child, but then 
dismissed the notion. It had probably happened at the private military 
academy he had attended. They were notorious for turning boys into 
submissives. 

Moira was shoving that handle in and out of his ass with deadly force and 
speed and I was very glad it wasn't my ass that was getting it. 

Actually, I have never had anything larger up my ass than a woman's finger, 
and at the time I had thought that too large. But to each his own, and if 
Hector really enjoyed it.... 

Corinne was watching them with amusement and looked over at me and winked. 
"And they think the French are depraved. Just look at those two go at it!" 

Quite right! The French are only depraved in utterly delicious ways, as 
Corinne had taught me. 

Two servants came into the room carrying a TV set, and they plugged it in 
and turned it on for us. It seems the switch had been discovered, the wire 
services had relayed the news of the ransom, and the queen was now appearing 
on television to make a plea for her son and his bride. 

It was facing Hector and Moira so that Hector could have the added pleasure 
of seeing his mother's face as he got fucked in the ass. And he didn't turn 
his head to the other side. He watched the queen with fascinated eyes. 

"What would she think of you if she could see you now?" I asked Hector, and 
he groaned in reply. 

The queen for once had lost her cool and I thought I detected tears in her 
eyes, but it might just have been bad reception. 

Her lilting voice was pleading that the loving, innocent couple not be 
harmed in any way. That they be treated with all the dignity they were 
entitled to. That they be accorded every courtesy. And she even said she was 
sure the kidnappers would be honorable men. 

She was very naive, I'll say that for her. About a lot of things. 

Moira was totally ignoring the TV. She was getting a lot more viewing 
pleasure out of her husband's ass. In fact, I was thinking she would 
probably make a pretty good terrorist, and I bet I could have recruited her, 
too. All I would have had to promise her was plenty of men to whip. She 
probably would have joined us in a shot. 

But I didn't really want her. Passionate, wrathful young ladies do not make 
good terrorists unless they are used for suicide missions. 

And anyway, I wouldn't trust her and she could identify us. 

I guess her arm finally began to tire, because Moira pulled the handle out 
of Hector's ass and threw it on the floor. 

Then she turned around and bent over, her ass pointing at Hector. 

"Turn around you worthless piece of shit and kiss my ass," she ordered him. 

Hector slowly turned around, his eyes still on the TV screen. 

"And quit watching your mama!" 

Hector turned his eyes to Moira's inviting ass, then leaned down and planted 
a kiss on one of the cheeks. 

"Not there, idiot, kiss my asshole!" 

He pulled her ass apart with his hands, then bent over once again and placed 
a kiss on her asshole. 

"Now suck on it. And lick it out. And don't stop until I tell you to!" She 
really had Hector toeing the line. She should have been queen herself. I bet 
if she were queen there wouldn't be any problems with the labor unions. 

Hector began to suck on her asshole, making loud slurping noises that I 
found rather disgusting. 

And then it quieted down and I assumed he was licking it. 

"Stick your tongue insideclean it out!" she yelled at him. 

Then more quiet except for Hector's soft moans of enjoyment. 

He was a real pig, that prince. 

"Why did I ever marry a fool like you," she murmured, shaking her head in 
consternation. 

Poor girl. If she had thought of that sooner she wouldn't be so soon to die. 

But I'm sure by that time that death would have been preferable to her than 
being married to Hector for a lifetime. 

Anything would probably be preferable to that. 

As for Hector, he never would have been fit to rule a nation anyway. He just 
didn't have the strength for it. A king should at least be assertive. 

When he had cleaned out her asshole to her satisfaction, Moira turned around 
and kicked him hard in the stomach, sending him flying across the floor. 

She followed after him, kicking him all over, really being brutal to the 
poor guy. 

She was in a rage like I have ever seen. A guess that saying about a woman 
scorned is true. He couldn't get it up for her and now he was going to pay 
for it. 

That was all right for me. If she ended up killing him, all the better. 

"I'm going to fist-fuck the son-of-a-bitch," Moira muttered, and ordered 
Hector to roll over on the floor. 

From the smile on his face I could see that Hector thought that a splendid 
idea. He had his ass all poised and waiting for the first blow. 

"Can I use some of your hand lotion?" Moira asked Corinne. 

Corinne handed her the bottle and told her to help herself. Moira poured 
hand lotion out and spread it thickly over one arm and hand, then put some 
more on Hector's ass. 

Then she began to shove a couple of her fingers up his asshole. I figured 
she'd be able to manage it. Her hand and arm weren't all that big. 

And oh, was Hector going to love it! 

She got two fingers in, then three, then four, then she finally managed to 
wedge the thumb inside, too. 

Hector was moaning with delight. 

I watched as she shoved her entire hand up his ass to her wrist. Then I 
guess she made a fist, because Hector suddenly let out a terrific moan. 

Then her arm began moving inside of him. I hadn't known an ass was that 
deep, but she managed to get her arm inside almost to the elbow before she 
stopped. Then she began to move her hand and arm in and out of his ass like 
a plunger. She fist-fucked him so hard she had him moving all around the 
floor. And he was crying out with pleasure the whole time, urging her to do 
it harder, do it faster, do it deeper. 

I don't think the poor fool had ever enjoyed sex so much. Perhaps he was a 
fag and hadn't known it. 

But then he had enjoyed having Corinne suck his cock, 'too. 

"Oh, fuck me harder, fuck me harder," yelled Hector, and Corinne and I 
stifled our laughter. Moira was deadly serious. She didn't have even the 
flicker of a smile on her face as she single-mindedly fist-fucked her new 
husband. And she was more brutal with her fist than she had been with the 
riding crop. 

If Hector had lived to see the next day he wouldn't have been able to sit 
down. 

That ass of his was getting more action than it deserved! 

When her arm finally gave out, she removed it, wiped it off on the sheet, 
then led Hector back to the wall and tied him up. 

I turned to Corinne. "Are you going to finish them off now?" I whispered to 
her so that they wouldn't hear and panic. 

She nodded her head. 

"How arc you going to do it?" 

"I'm going to cut their throats." 

"Fine. I'll wait for you in bed." 

My last view of them was Corinne tying a triumphant Moira back up against 
the wall. 

A while later Corinne came to me with blood on her hands and that excited 
me. 

I wouldn't even let her wash off. I grabbed hold of her and tumbled her onto 
the bed, then lifted her skirt, took out my cock, and plunged deep inside of 
her. 

She took her hands and wiped the blood off on my face. "I've done it, I've 
killed two people," she said in a low voice. 

"Did it excite you?" I asked her. 

"Very much." 

"In what way?" 

"I'm embarrassed to tell you." 

"Did you come when you did it?" 

"How did you know that?" 

"I know the feeling. It's happened to me. You'll get over it in time." 

"I don't want to get over it. It was the most exciting moment of my life. As 
their blood spurted out all over me, I came and came and came." 

And she was still coming. She was coming from being fucked with their blood 
still on her. With their deaths on her hands. 

And I was excited by the thought that I was fucking a killer. A killer of my 
own making. I was driving deep inside of her and my body was on fire. I 
could smell cum and pussy. And blood. I could smell lots of blood. And it 
was making my temperature rise and my heart pound and it was doing the same 
for Corinne. 

"You're wonderful, wonderful," I murmured to Corinne. 

"Am I a good terrorist?" 

"You're a marvelous terrorist." 

"Will I get to kill more people?" 

"Many more." 

"How many more?" 

"How many did you have in mind?" 

"Could I hijack a 747 and kill them all?" 

"That sounds rather bloodthirsty, my dear." 

"How about the Olympics?" 

"Corinne!" 

"I need more blood, more and more blood." 

Had I given birth to a fucking vampire? 

"Cool it, Corinne. Don't get carried away. There's more to life than blood! 
There's fucking, and you're going to screw this one up if you don't shut up 
and let me get on with it." 

"Sorry." 

"That's all right." 

She settled down then, but I could see her mind was going a mile a minute 
and it was blood she was thinking about. 

But her thinking didn't interfere with my fucking as her talking had. We 
fucked most of the night. She was insatiable, couldn't get enough of it, and 
I was carried along with her enthusiasm. Yes, I quite outdid myself that 
night. It was a night to remember. 

The next morning we were informed that the money had been deposited to the 
Swiss bank. We supervised the servants as they disposed of the bodies in the 
sea, and then Corinne and I flew off to Switzerland for a little rest. We 
deserved it, I thought. Particularly Corinne. 

 CHAPTER FIVE 

One of Mossad's top female field agents had been captured and I was asked to 
go to Beirut to interrogate her personally. It was hoped that she could be 
broken to the point where she would agree to work as a double agent for us. 

Her name was Naomi and I had been coming up against her for years. But we 
had never met. 

At times she seemed to be my nemesis, but no more. Now we had her and she 
would never be a threat to me again. 

I flew to Beirut, leaving Corinne in Switzerland to have herself a vacation, 
and was met at the airport and driven out of town to the PLO compound. 

Naomi had not as yet been interrogated; it was something I specialized in 
and they had been waiting my arrival to begin. I was given a large office, 
men were put at my disposal, and the first thing that I requested was that 
Naomi be brought to me for an interview. I wanted to meet this infamous spy 
in person before getting down to particulars. 

I had expected an Amazon, I guess, because when she was brought before me my 
first thought was how small she was. 

My second was of her child-like appearance. I knew Naomi must be pushing 
thirty as she had been around for a long time, but the diminutive girl who 
was brought before me looked more like a schoolgirl. Which might have been 
one of the reasons for her fantastic success. She looked like no one's idea 
of a spy. 

She was perhaps slightly over five feet tall, and couldn't have weighed a 
hundred pounds. Long, straight dark hair fell down her back from a center 
part, her hair framing an innocent face of great sweetness. Large dark eyes 
took up most of her face, but her small pink mouth, at the moment having a 
stubborn look to it, was also perfectly formed. 

She was dressed in army fatigues so I could only guess as to her body, but 
she was shapely for such a small girl. 

I stood up when she entered and even bowed to her. She nodded her head and a 
gleam came into her eyes. 

"So we meet at last," she said to me in a soft voice. 

I smiled. I wasn't surprised that she had immediately known who I was. She 
had probably been counting on being interrogated by me. 

"You're not what I expected," I told her. "Nor are you. I had heard you were 
... overweight." 

I laughed. "I was. I lost it all chasing after you." 

"And now you have me." 

"Yes." 

"I could save you a lot of trouble, Carlos." 

"I wish you would." 

"Nothing could induce me to become a double agent." 

"I believe you." 

"But you're still going to try." 

"Of course." 

I sent for tea for both of us, offered her a cigarette which she accepted, 
then sat down with her and reminisced about old battles we had waged against 
each other. Her child-like exterior belied an intelligent mind and it was a 
pleasure to talk to her. She was as knowledgeable as me about the various 
terrorist organizations and was as well versed in their history. 

"You must be older than you look," I finally said to her. 

"Much older." 

"I assume you must be close to thirty. I know I've known about you for 
years." 

She laughed. "Closer to thirty-five is more like it." 

"That's impossible." 

"When you lead a good life, Carlos, you stay young." 

"And plastic surgery also helps, right?" She laughed at that and didn't deny 
it, but she actually had no signs of having had a face lift. And at that age 
she wouldn't need it, anyway. No, it was her small size and her innocent 
face that made her look years younger than her age. 

When the tea was finished and the pleasantries over with, I had to get down 
to business. And it was with a certain sense of reluctance that I did so. I 
had waited so long to meet her. I admired her immensely. And now I was going 
to reduce my most notable adversary to either an animal or a vegetable. And 
those results were not appealing to me. 

I asked her one more time if she wouldn't consider working for us. 

"That's totally impossible, Carlos. I know what you have to doget on with 
it." I called in two guards and told them to remove her clothes. One of the 
first ways to break down a prisoner is to make them face you naked. It 
immediately placed them on a level below you psychologically. 

She stepped back from the guards and looked at me. "I'll remove them 
myself," she said to me. 

I nodded to the guards that they might leave, then I watched her as she 
began to remove her clothing. 

She didn't do it slowly in order to drag it out. Nor did she seem 
selfconscious about it. She could have been in the privacy of her own 
bedroom so casually did she undress. She took off the shirt first, and she 
was wearing nothing beneath it. And her tits turned out to be a nice size 
for so small a girl. The nipples were large and brown and were framed by 
overly large aureoles in a deeper, duskier shade of brown. They stood out 
pertly from her chest, slightly bouncing from her motion. 

As I was admiring her tits, she was unzipping her pants and pulling them 
down, stopping to kick off her combat boots and socks first. After her 
pants, she pulled down her panties and kicked them aside. 

She had the slim hips of a "boy, a bristly patch of pubic hair, and slim 
legs. 

I shook my head sadly. What a lovely body to have to torture. And I feared 
that although I might easily be able to break her body, her mind was a 
different matter. She had a strong, intelligent mind and I feared she would 
be a match for me. 

"What happens first?" she asked me with a defiant look in her eyes. "Do you 
make me suck your cock? Is that the first item in humiliation?" 

"Is that the first one you use?" I asked her. 

She laughed. "In case you hadn't noticed, Carlos, I don't happen to have a 
cock." 

"I meant your group, not you personally." 

"At times. It depends on the prisoner, of course." 

"Of course." 

"Well, what is it to be?" That hadn't been first on my agenda, but now that 
She had mentioned it I knew that I very much wanted her on her knees in 
front of me sucking my cock. Yes I very much wanted that feeling of power 
over her. 

I pushed my chair back from my desk and motioned for her to come behind the 
desk. 

She got down on her knees obediently between my legs, then looked up at me 
with a grin. "How do you know I won't bite it off?" 

"I like my sex rough," I told her, confident that she would do no such 
thing. Before she could bite it hard I would have smashed in her face, 
anyway, and we both knew that. 

Without any prompting she reached up and began to undo my pants. My cock was 
already in a semi state of erection just from the thought of having my 
adversary suck it. 

As she drew it out, it attained its full size. 

"Formidable," she murmured, reaching out her tongue and licking off the 
pre-cum fluid that was seeping out of the slit. 

"So that is what the cum of Carlos tastes like," she said to me, licking her 
pink lips. 

"Does it please you?" 

"Don't expect answers like that from me Carlos," she said to me. "You're 
torturing me, j we're not making love." 

"Sometimes it's hard to tell the difference." 

She obviously didn't agree with that because she ignored it. 

She began to lick my cock and I watched as her small, fast-moving tongue 
darted in and out of her mouth as she licked me all over until I was soaked 
with her saliva. 

"Licking the cock of Carlos," she murmured. "I never thought it would come 
to this." 

"Nor did I, if that's any consolation." 

"It's not." 

She was taking it much better than I would have under the circumstances. 

If things were reversed and she were interrogating me, I would be very 
humiliated if she had forced me to lick out her pussy. 

Not that I wouldn't be delighted to do it under more normal circumstances. 
Her hair fell forward over her face as she licked my cock, and the long 
silky tendrils tickled my cock. It was beautiful hair and I was sure she 
must be proud of it. And as soon as she had sucked my cock, I would have her 
head shaved. It is well to remove from prisoners things which they take 
pride in. 

I wanted to put my hands on her soft tits as she licked me, but I was afraid 
to do so. I was afraid to feel how wonderful she felt. I did not want to be 
tempted by this woman any more than necessary. 

She was putting her mouth over the head of my cock now and I saw how it 
stretched out her small mouth. 

She didn't close her eyes. She didn't act in any way as though what she was 
doing was distasteful to her. And her mouth over my cock felt wonderful. She 
began to suck on it and I saw her cheeks being sucked in as she did so. And 
what a feeling it was, made more powerful by the fact of who she was. 

A common streetwalker could probably have sucked as well, but it wouldn't be 
the same. Knowing the famous Naomi was sucking my cock was making me hotter 
than usual. And I knew that I would force her to swallow my cum. I wanted to 
know that my cum would eventually be in her blood stream, a part of her. And 
I was sure that that would bother her if sucking my cock didn't. 

She was moving down on it now. Further and further. Taking more of it in 
that small mouth of hers than I would have thought possible. . 

And she didn't let up a moment on her sucking. She kept up the pressure all 
the while she drew it back further and further into her throat. 

And her tongue was not idle, either. It was moving over my cock, keeping it 
wet, its roughness doing incredible things to my sensitive skin. I was 
relaxed. Totally relaxed. I had to be to come while she sucked me. I wasn't 
going to hold back at all. 

And the idea of her sucking me was enough stimulant, anyway. I would never 
have dreamed that one day the notorious Naomi would be sucking my cock. And 
apparently enjoying it. 

She was resting her small hands on my thighs now, no part of my cock left 
out of her mouth. 

She had it in further than I thought it would go. She had a long neck for 
such a small girl, but it hadn't looked that long. 

It was hitting up against the back of her throat, sending shivers of 
pleasure throughout my body. 

I found that I was breathing harder, that sweat was breaking out on my face 
and chest, making my shirt stick to my body. She was getting to me in a way 
few women ever did. In her own way she was far more sexy than Corinne. 
Probably due to her look of innocence. And, of course, knowing who she was. 

I was being sucked by a celebrity. And that's a heady experience. Her head 
was moving fast as her mouth went up and down my cock with ever increasing 
speed. 

My cock was enclosed tightly between her lips, and she was careful to do 
nothing more with her teeth than lightly graze the sides of my cock. 

Her tits were bouncing and her hair was swinging from the exercise she was 
getting sucking me off. "You're a good little cocksucker, you know that, 
Naomi? Now, nowdon't take offense at that and stop. Just keep it up. You're 
doing a wonderful job of it and don't think I don't appreciate the effort 
you're taking. And I know also that you're thinking 'Fuck you, Carlos', and 
I know that you wouldn't be sucking my cock under any other circumstances. 
But for the moment you are and for the moment I'm enjoying it very much. You 
are making my cock feel on fire, and it's no easy thing for someone to do 
that to me." 

I could see she didn't appreciate my discussing her cocksucking while she 
was busy doing it, so I desisted. But then I had a brilliant idea. I reached 
for the phone on the desk and ordered a photographer to come to my office. 

A couple of minutes later he arrived. And while Naomi continued to suck my 
cock, I had the photographer take several pictures of her from different 
angles. Just of Naomi with her mouth on my cock. My face was not to be in 
the pictures. If I did that, I'd have to have plastic surgery again. 

But photos of Naomi sucking cock circulated around would do no good to 
Mossad. They would be furious at the adverse publicity. 

They would completely discredit her as a spy. Unless, of course, she agreed 
eventually to be a double agent. Then the pictures would be destroyed. 

The photographer left to develop his film and the sucking continued. Almost 
involuntarily my hands moved to her head to feel the silkiness of her hair. 
I wanted to feel it once before it was shaved off. But so that she wouldn't 
think it a sympathetic gesture, I pushed her head harder over my cock 
forcing it in even further. 

She made a noise in protest, and I removed my hands. I would let her do it 
at her own pace. God knows, she was doing a marvelous job of it. My cock was 
tingling like a thousand little tongues were moving over it, like it was 
being held in a soft, wet vise. The effect was incredible. She was making me 
so hot I wanted to moan and cry out, but I couldn't give her that kind of 
satisfaction. I felt myself getting hotter and hotter, my balls getting 
tenser and tenser, and then I felt the familiar rumblings of my cum starting 
to explode up through my cock and into her mouth. 

I jerked in my chair as I came, holding onto the arms, trying to control 
myself. But it wasn't much use. I was coming in a tremendous explosion and 
selfcontrol is impossible to maintain at times like that. 

Her mouth was still moving on my cock and continued to move until my orgasm 
was over and my cock was back to normal size. Then she looked up at me, her 
eyes wide, her pretty little pink mouth pursed, then the bitch spit all of 
my cum out at my face, leaving thick globs of it all over my skin and 
dripping down on my shirt. 

I was so mad I literally saw red! 

I slapped her hard across the mouth with the back of my hand, so hard she 
cut her lips on her teeth and I could see blood on her mouth. The defiant 
look was back in her eyes and I was relieved to see it. I would not have 
liked to continue with what I had to do if she had been sweet and loving to 
me after sucking my cock. I am not, after all, an unfeeling monster. I am 
just a man. 

I stood up, kicking her body aside, and strode over to where her clothes 
were on the floor. I picked up her shirt and wiped my cum off my face, then 
ripped her shirt into strips with which to bind her. 

I drew a straight-backed chair out into the center of the room, ordered her 
to sit in it, then waited for her to obey my order. 

The fun and games were over apparently. She wouldn't say a word, just sat 
there on the floor and ignored me. 

But that small girl was no match for me. I dragged her over to the chair, 
threw her down in the seat, then tied her arms behind the back of the chair 
and her ankles to the legs. 

"I'd rather you didn't make this difficult, Naomi," I told her seriously. 

"Fuck you, Carlos!" 

"Such nasty talk from such a sweet mouth." 

"Pretty mild talk considering who I am," she countered. 

I called for two guards with razors, then had then shave off every hair from 
Naomi's lovely head. 

I could see that this was getting to her. She held her mouth shut very 
tightly as the strands of hair dropped to the floor all around her. And she 
looked totally different with a bald head. Not nearly so appealing. I had a 
mirror brought in and held up so that she could see how she looked. But she 
refused to look, merely closed her eyes and spit at the mirror. 

"You look like a victim of a concentration camp," I said to her. 

"I feel like one," she said to me. 

I stood in front of her, looking down at her still defiant face, then I 
slowly lit a cigarette. 

"I'd offer you one, Naomi, but you'll no longer be smoking. And I won't be 
smoking all of this one." 

I took a long drag on it. "It will be used for other purposes." 

"I got your meaning, Carlos. You don't have to rub it in." 

"But that's exactly what I'm going to have to dorub it into your soft skin. 
Do you want your skin covered with cigarette burns, my dear? Wouldn't it be 
so much easier just to join us? Think what a team we would make, Naomi. You 
and I." 

"You don't have a fucking chance in hell of that, Carlos." But she was 
wrong. There's always a chance. She had never been captured before, and 
until it happens to you, you never know how much torture you can take. Some 
spies who think they'd die before they'd talk, are some of the first to 
talk. And everyone talks eventually, but sometimes by then what they can say 
is not useful as their brains have deteriorated too much by then. 

I hoped that wouldn't happen with Naomi. 

It would be such a waste if someone with her intelligence was reduced to a 
vegetable. 

"Do you have a death wish, Naomi?" 

"Don't be stupid!" 

"Do you fancy being a martyr?" 

"You know damn well I don't." 

"How will you feel when the pictures of you sucking cock are circulated?" 

"I probably won't even care by then, wouldn't you say, Carlos?" 

She was right. If it came to that, she probably wouldn't. 

"Is there anyone you would like your hair sent to, Naomi?" 

"Don't be stupid!" 

"No lover back in Israel?" 

"Since when do spies have time for lovers. You are out of the ordinary in 
that way, Carlos." 

"I'm sure you've had your share." 

"Only in the line of business. I've never been fucked by anyone but the 
enemy." 

"How sad." 

"Don't sing sad songs for me. I can live very well without the love of a 
man. Men are all traitorous with women, anyway." 

I laughed. "Exactly my sentiments about women." 

"Which goes to prove that the two sexes are totally unsuited to mix with 
each other. They will never get along." 

"You sound so cynical." 

"What did you expect? I'm not the child I might appear to be, you know." 

But somehow she didn't appear such a child anymore with her head shaved. 

"Do you have family, Naomi?" 

"Cut out the crap, Carlos, and get on with it. I can stand your torture 
better than your sentiment." But I truly doubted that. And I knew I could 
prolong the talk no longer. But something in me wanted to make contact with 
the human Naomi before I had to reduce her to something inhuman. 

I took one last look at those big, brown eyes, that small pink mouth, the 
exquisite body, then I took a deep drag on my cigarette until the end was 
red hot. 

And then I placed the burning end on the soft skin of her right tit. 

 CHAPTER SIX 

She choked back a scream and her face turned pale. 

I left the cigarette on her bare boob until I could smell burning flesh, and 
then I removed it to take a look at my handiwork. 

A round, charred spot was on her otherwise perfect tit, smoke still coming 
from it. 

It must have been terribly painful, but she didn't even have tears in her 
enormous eyes. 

Not yet. But she soon would. 

I lit another cigarette, and now held two, not exactly in the manner of Paul 
Henreid, but a close approximation. Only my gesture lacked any feeling of 
romanticism, I'm afraid. Holding one glowing cigarette in each hand, I 
brought them down on her twin tits at the same time, making two more charred 
black circles on their perfection. 

I held them down this time until I saw involuntary tears form in her eyes. 
But she was brave. Very brave. 

She must have wanted to scream out in agony, but she held it in. And I 
wondered if she was keeping her mind on something else, trying to ignore 
what was happening to her. 

If she was, I didn't think she'd be able to keep it up long. No one could 
keep it up long. I took deep drags on the cigarettes again, this time 
simultaneously and almost choking on the amount of smoke that went down into 
my lungs. Then in a quick succession, I made a circle of burn marks around 
each nipple. Her brown puckered skin surrounding her nipples was not black 
and smoking, and I saw her turn paler still and the tears beginning to run 
down her cheeks. 

"You bastard," she muttered, "you lousy bastard." 

"You would do the same to me," I told her calmly. More calmly than I was 
feeling. I much prefer torturing men to women. Torturing a woman is like 
picking on a child. They are so much smaller and defenseless. 

Her tits were no longer lovely. They were growing uglier by the minute and 
would never be perfect again. 

They would always have the scars of the burning unless she had extensive 
skin grafts done on them. But I doubted it would ever come to that. 

Burns are painful, but they're not excruciating. But it would get to that. 
The types of pain I would inflict on her would get worse and worse. 

My cigarettes were getting used up fast. I had to light two more for my next 
move, and she watched me now with hunted eyes. 

I then made wider and wider circles of burns around her tits until their 
entire surface was wall to wall burns. Except for her nipples. I hadn't come 
to her nipples yet. Her body was beginning to lose its appeal to me, and 
that was good. It is difficult to torture a body you lust for in any way. 
And I had felt myself lusting for hers. For her mind and her body. 

And I would destroy them both. 

"No one will want to suck on your tits anymore, Naomi," I told her. 

"I can live without that. In fact I prefer it." 

"You hate men that much?" 

"Some of them." 

"Are you a lesbian? I hadn't heard of that." 

"No, I'm no lesbian. But neither am I that crazy about sex." 

I lit two more cigarettes and she seemed to flinch as I did so. "You're 
going to get lung cancer from all that smoking," she quipped, and I saw that 
she was stronger than I had thought she'd be. She could still make jokes 
with her tits burned all over. 

"I'll blame you if I do," I told her, and he even managed a small, sad 
smile. 

And then I brought those lighted cigarette ends down on her large, erect 
nipples, and held them there while the smell of burning flesh filled the air 
as did also, finally, her screams. 

And when I lifted them away and saw what a burnt mess I had made of her 
nipples, I didn't blame her for screaming. 

Although I could see she was blaming herself for what she must have 
considered a weakness for a spy. She, better than most, should know that all 
spies scream while being tortured. All human beings scream when being 
tortured. That's a sure sign of their humanity. The ability to feel pain. 

"Must I continue this, Naomi? Must you go through even more torture? You 
will capitulate in the end, anyway. Why put yourself through all of this?" 

She stuck out her stubborn lower lip. "I will never capitulate. Never!" 

"They all do. You know that as well as I do." 

"I'm different, Carlos. I will be dead before I capitulate." 

I shook my head sadly. "That's what they all think." 

"Would you give in so easily?" 

"I really don't know. I don't like to think I would, but I have no way of 
knowing, having never been captured." 

"What's the matter, Carlos, is it bothering you to do this to me?" 

"A little. More than I like." 

"Don't let it bother you. I would have done the same to' you with joy. With 
enthusiasm." 

"I don't believe that." 

"It's true. I would burn your cock until you had nothing left of it. And 
then I would spit on it and laugh!" 

I confess to losing a little sympathy for her after hearing that. 

I lit two more cigarettes and the smoke was really beginning to bother me. 
But there was one more place I really wanted to burn. 

I knelt down in front of her chair, held both cigarettes in my mouth, and 
opened up her pussy lips with my hand. 

Then I looked up and saw her watching me with mounting horror. 

She was pink and wet and lovely inside. 

I located her clit, enclosed it its sheath of skin, then leaned down with 
the cigarettes still in my mouth and aimed them at her clit. One of them hit 
it dead on and her screams were horrific. Blood curdling. And I supposed it 
would feel to her like being burnt on my cock head would feel to me. And 
just the thought of it made me shudder. 

I held the cigarette to her clit, the other one held against the pussy lip, 
until the cigarettes went out from lack of oxygen. 

Her screams were deafening and she was writhing in the chair so hard I was 
afraid she would tip it over. 

I threw the cigarettes on the floor and looked at her. Her face was that of 
a person being crucified. 

"Please, Naomi, listen to reason. I don't want to do this to you. Work with 
me, please? You will be treated well." 

"Bastard," she hissed, her eyes rolling around in her head. "Worthless piece 
of scum. I would never work for youI loathe terrorists. All I want in life 
is to rid the world of your kind. And you're the worst of them, Carlos, the 
lowest of the low!" 

What was it going to take to break her spirit? She seemed to have little 
regard for her body or for her sexual organs. 

What did mean something to her? What would she most feel the loss of? I 
couldn't figure it out. With me it would be my cock, there was no question 
about it. But she had lost the use of her clit, and she didn't seem to care. 
What meant something to her? Did anything? 

Her eyes? Would I have to blind her? But then she would be no use to us if I 
did get her over to our side. 

Her tongue? Her power of speech? I doubted that. I think the loss of her 
tongue would still leave her defiant. 

A leg? An arm? Two legs? Two arms? 

What was the point? I would have to do as much damage as I could to her body 
and then start on her mind. It was her mind that I had to control. 

Usually physical torture will reduce a prisoner to submissiveness. It didn't 
seem to be having that effect on Naomi. 

I was very tired of smoking. So tired of it I thought of giving it up 
entirely. 

I called in the two guards and had them take her to the room which was set 
up as a torture chamber with all the necessary paraphernalia. 

I hadn't thought I would use that room, but I had changed my mind. I gave 
them orders to manacle her to the wall with her face to the fall, then I 
went down to the dining room to get a cup of coffee and a roll. I needed a 
little surcease from the torturing. Torturing went against my basic nature. 

When I finally entered the torture chamber, Naomi was quietly hanging from 
the wall. 

"Are you ready to proceed?" I asked her. 

"Don't talk to me, motherfucker. Just do your worse. And know thisI care 
little what you do to me." I had realized that already. But I still wanted 
her body in a weakened and painful condition before I started on the 
psychological torture. 

I like to work with the bullwhip. When I was a boy in Chile on my father's 
ranch, I became quite adept at its use, and I still prefer it to all other 
whips. I not only like the way it tests my skill, but it is also the most 
painful, the most dangerous of whips. 

I am so good with the bullwhip that I can put out a person's eye with one 
flick. But I wouldn't be doing that to Naomi. I would let her keep her 
mournful eyes. I wanted to be able to look into them at her moment of 
capitulation. 

I took down a bullwhip from the rack on the wall and hoisted it in my hand. 
It had a good feel to it. A good weight. 

I swung it around my head, then cracked it a few times in the air. I saw her 
flinch at each crack of the whip. She knew what was coming. 

I love the sound of the crack of a bullwhip. I did it a few more times, just 
to tease her, then with one quick movement of my arm, I brought it down 
across her back. 

There is no fooling around with a bullwhip. 

Some whips don't even leave a mark. The bullwhip, on the contrary, left a 
long, red welt across her slim back. 

She didn't make a sound, not a scream. But her body shuddered when the whip 
came down on it. I struck again, leaving a red welt about an inch below the 
first. I did it to her all the way down her back until she was striped 
evenly like a zebra. And I am so adept with the bullwhip that I can hit 
again in exactly the same place. 

Which is what I did next. 

I whipped her over and over on her back until each perfect welt broke open 
and formed a bloody line across her back. 

Still she didn't scream, but I knew she was conscious from the way her body 
moved with each stroke of the bullwhip. 

"The bravest of the brave, is that what you aspire to?" I asked her. 

But she wouldn't answer me. She had decided to withhold her mind from me at 
that point. 

Which is what I probably would have done myself in her position. It would do 
her no good to keep on speaking terms with her tormentor. I moved down to 
her small, round little ass. The only sexy place on her body left unmarked. 

And I had a sudden unbidden urge to fuck that pretty little ass of hers. 
Fuck it before it became to ugly to fuck. 

I wish that thought hadn't come to my mind, because once there the only way 
to deal with it was to do it. 

And I hadn't wanted to mix sex with the torture. It seemed to easy. Fucking 
someone tied up didn't really appeal to me. And yet that rounded little ass 
did. My cock was getting aroused by the thought of it. And once aroused, I 
hated not to appease it. It always stood by me, and I wanted to do the same 
for it. 

I unzipped my fly and advanced to where she was tied. Yes, I could fuck her 
ass quite easily just standing behind her. 

I took my hands and parted her ass cheeks, and saw her squirm. She was 
wondering what I was doing, but she refused to ask. 

But she would soon find out. And perhaps she would find it a welcome 
surcease from the torture. 

Or perhaps she would find it even worse torture! "I'm going to fuck your 
ass, Naomi," I told her. "That pretty little ass of yours. The only thing 
left of you that is pretty. That would inspire passion in a man. And I'm 
going to fuck it just once before I destroy it."" She made not a sound, not 
a protest, although I could see her ass muscles clench up, making her soft 
buttocks hard. 

Her puckered little asshole was winking at me as I pressed the head of my 
hard cock up against it. Her ass muscles clenched up even tighter as I 
pushed against her asshole with my cock. I didn't get in, she was holding it 
closed too tightly, I forgot subtlety and rammed it inside of her, causing 
the outer edges of her opening to bleed a little. Nothing compared to how 
much her back was bleeding, though, and she should at least get some 
pleasure from this. A nice interlude between the torture. 

Once my head was inside of her the going was easy. It's just that first part 
where the cock head has to get inside the tight sphincter muscle that is 
difficult. After that the going gets easy. 

I slid my cock all the way in until I hit against the back of her tunnel. 
Then I rested a moment, flexing my cock, before starting to fuck her. 

Again my cock felt the pleasure of a soft asshole. In many ways I prefer it 
to a pussy. 

Being dry, it creates a friction against the sides of my prick as it moves 
in and out that makes it more stimulating and makes my cock hotter. 

And it's so much tighter. The tightest thing I have found into which I can 
insert my cock. And tightness counts, indeed it does. Yes, there is much to 
be said for tightness. 

I began to move it in and out slowly, savoring the tight feeling, the 
friction against my skin. And relishing the way my head felt beating up 
against her flesh in the back of the channel. Then I speeded it up, moving 
in and out of her quickly. And I noticed that her muscles had relaxed now, 
in fact her ass seemed to be straining back towards my cock, although that 
might have been wishful thinking on my part. 

And she couldn't move very much the way she was shackled. I really did hope 
I was giving her some pleasure. Why I was being so kind to my nemesis was a 
mystery to me, but in some way the girl had touched me. Perhaps it was her 
mind, seemingly as strong as mine. Or her bravery. I admired her. She was a 
worthwhile adversary. 

And her ass was a worthy receptacle for my cock. And this time she wouldn't 
be able to spit my cum in my face. She would take it and it would reside in 
her ass. At least for a while. 

It isn't as exciting to fuck a motionless ass as it is to fuck one that is 
thrusting itself on your cock. But it still was a pleasure. And it was 
stimulating me almost to excess. It had started with Chantal, I guess. I was 
becoming more passionate than I had been in years. Few women in the last 
years had tempted me or interested me enough to work up much enthusiasm. But 
suddenly I had found two in a row and my passions seemed suddenly to be at 
their greatest height. And I hoped that they would level off soon. I was 
much too busy to spend as much time on sex as I had been lately. It was just 
a drain on energy better used for business. 

But this was part of the business at hand and I wasn't going to deny myself. 
And I wanted the pleasure of always being able to remember that I had fucked 
the ass of Naomi. Naomi the martyr, perhaps. At least if she got her way. I 
was moving in and out of her quickly now, and fucking her as hard as I could 
while standing up. I was putting all my weight on every stroke and really 
ramming my rod into her. 

And I could see that her breathing had quickened. She was enjoying it. I 
didn't know if she could get off on it, but she was excited, anyway. I 
thought for a moment to test her, to reach around and see if her cunt was 
wet. 

But then I remembered how I had burnt her clit and I no longer felt like 
reaching around and seeing. And she deserved more dignity than my doing 
something like that. 

Although why I was thinking in terms of dignity for a prisoner, I really do 
not know. But despite the high regard in which I held the woman, despite the 
fact that I had developed real feelings for her, none of that had or would 
interfere with what I had to do to her. 

I was too much the professional for that. My cock was feeling ecstatic with 
the action it was getting in her asshole. It was getting hotter and hotter, 
and my balls were beginning to throb from the pressure of the buildup of 
cum. 

But I didn't want to come yet. I was enjoying my respite from torture too 
much. I needed the release but I wanted to wait for it. 

But my cock was no longer obeying me as it had in the past. It seemed to be 
developing a mind of its own. 

And now it wanted to come. And nothing was going to stop it. I felt it 
happening. I felt myself beginning to come. And I grabbed her around her 
bloody waist and pumped it all into her ass in fast, hard strokes, moaning 
with the intensity of my orgasm. 

And then I continued holding onto her body as I waited for my body to get 
back to normal. 

And it took several minutes. The orgasm had really shaken me. I was panting, 
the sweat was pouring off my body. 

My limp cock slipped out of her asshole and I stepped back, still breathing 
heavily. 

I longed for her to tell me that she had enjoyed it, but she didn't say a 
word. 

Her body didn't move, her breathing seemed normal, and she refused to give 
me any satisfaction. 

I replaced my cock in my pants and once again picked up the bullwhip. 

And then I made a bloody mess of that rounded little ass I had just gotten 
so much pleasure from. 

I whipped it and whipped it, relentlessly, over and over again, until it 
resembled a bloody pulp. And then I moved down to her thighs, crisscrossing 
them with red bloody welts. I whipped the softness in back of her knees, her 
curved calves, her slim ankles, and even her narrow feet. 

All of her body was defaced now except for her head and her neck and her 
arms. 

I didn't want to whip her neck as it would have been too easy to break it, 
and then the fun would all be over. 

Her face could wait until later. 

But I took the bullwhip to her arms and left them also, like her legs, 
striped with bloody welts. 

And then I replaced the whip on the wall, unshackled her, and allowed her to 
slump to the floor. 

Her eyes still gazed at me defiantly. 

"Give it up, Naomi," I pleaded with her. "Accept that I will break you. Make 
a deal with me, Naomi. Please see reason." 

"Never, you bastard!" 

I had expected no less, but I had to make the plea. 

"You know what comes next, my dear. Your mind is next. And no amount of 
bravery will withstand that. You know that as well as I do." 

"Don't you call me your dear, you supercilious bastard! And I don't believe 
you. I think my mind will withstand anything. And I'm willing to put it to 
the test." 

That was that, and there was nothing more to be said. I wanted her in pain, 
but I didn't want her dying from having her wounds becoming infected. 

So I called for the doctor and had him put antiseptic on her wounds and 
salve on her burns. 

And then I had the guards take her to a specially constructed cell. One in 
which a glaring light bulb burned in the ceiling night and day. 

One with no window so that she would soon lose all conception of time. 

One where a specially devised hole in the ceiling sent down drops of water 
at irregular intervals. 

One with no furnishings whatsoever, just four walls and a cold cement floor. 

She would have no mat to sleep on, no bathroom facilities, nothing to look 
at, nothing to do. 

And then I waited to see how long she could take it. 

 CHAPTER SEVEN 

For three days she remained perfectly rational. 

On the fourth day I noted the first signs of disorientation. We were feeding 
her at odd hours. Sometimes breakfast lunch and dinner would be hours apart. 
Sometimes they would follow each other by a matter of minutes. One day food 
was withheld altogether. 

On the fourth day she no longer showed suspicion at the intervals in which 
the food was brought to her. 

She smiled for the first time at the guard, and the smile was empty. 

And she began to talk to herself. 

I couldn't hear what she said, but her lips were definitely moving. Not all 
the time, but once in a while. 

Up until the fourth day she had urinated and defecated in one corner of the 
cell. 

On the fourth day she did it where she sat, and then didn't move. On the 
fifth day she was not only talking to herself, she was carrying on a two 
part conversation. And at different points of the conversation she would 
laugh. The cell had had to be cleaned up because the doctor said that her 
body wastes might cause infection in her sores. So she was given a bowl in 
which to perform those functions. 

She used the bowl, but then she began to eat out of it. The bowl had to be 
taken away from her and clean-up of her cell had to be at regular intervals. 

On the sixth day she did nothing all day but stare at the light bulb in the 
ceiling. 

She didn't move, she didn't talk to herself, she refused the meals brought 
to her. 

She simply stared at that bulb all day and she seldom even blinked. 

Her mind was definitely going but I wanted to give it a little more time. On 
the seventh day she also refused food but instead of staring at the light 
bulb she remained on thefloor in the same position all day with her eyes 
shut. She could have been sleeping. She could have been unconscious. She was 
totally inert. 

On the eighth I had her brought to my office. She had been cleaned up first, 
but she looked like hell and had a disagreeable odor about her. 

Her eyes had lost their defiant look. They were blurred and she couldn't 
seem to focus on anything. 

She stood in front of my desk listlessly, her head hanging to one side. She 
didn't appear to see me at all. And yet I was certain that she could. 

"How is it going, Naomi?" I asked her in a kind voice. 

She appeared not to hear me. She didn't even blink. "I have to assume you 
cracked sooner than I had expected. I thought with a mind like yours you 
would have lasted weeks. But already I've won you. Although it is yet to be 
determined just what I won. Perhaps you are good for nothing now." She still 
stood there as though she were still all alone in her cell. 

I went around the desk and brought up a chair for her, then lowered her 
gently into it. 

Her wounds were healing nicely and she didn't seem to be in any pain sitting 
on her mutilated ass. 

I began to speak to her in a low, soothing voice. The kind of voice someone 
would use when trying to hypnotize a subject. Which is rather what I was 
trying to do. "Listen to me, Naomi. Listen to me carefully, my dear. You are 
with a friend. A friend who cares for you. You are my pet now, Naomi. My 
little house pet. You are a little puppy dog, my dear. My own, sweet, 
friendly little puppy dog. I would like you to bark for me, Naomi. I would 
like you to bark for me just like a dog. Would you do that for me, my dear?" 

Defiant eyes turned in my direction. "Fuck you," she intoned, suddenly 
taking on the posture of the old Naomi. 

After that first stunned moment, I leaned back in my chair and sighed. 

"All right, Naomi, so you're still going strong. Even you are not 
indestructible. You will succumb in time. Why not make it sooner rather than 
later?" 

But she had effectively tuned me off and I had her taken back to her cell. I 
had her moved to a different cell. This one was in the shape of a three foot 
cube so that she couldn't stand nor lie down except in a fetal position. And 
rather than having a light bulb hanging from the ceiling, this one was in 
total darkness. 

The kind of darkness one is seldom ever in. Not a bit of light could enter 
it. I had her kept there for five days with only bread and water brought to 
her once a day. It was also only cleaned out once a day, and during that 
time she was put in a sack where there was also no light. 

At the end of that five days I once again had her brought to my office. 

Her eyes were blinking from the unaccustomed light. And she wasn't able to 
stand up straight her muscles were so sore. 

Once again I brought her a chair and seated her in it. 

I looked closely at her eyes. I didn't want her fooling me again, but I 
could detect no reason in those eyes at all. And certainly no defiance. But 
then she had fooled me before. 

"I see you survived the black hole of Calcutta," I joked with her, watching 
closely to see if there would be a gleam of amusement in her eyes. 

There was none. "Naomi, my dear, we are not going to let you die. You are 
not going to be a martyr. The best you can hope for is ending up quite 
insane, and I don't understand why you would choose that over collaboration. 
Do you really want to end up crazy? Is that your ambition in life? Use your 
head for once. If you work for us as a double agent, at least you will be 
free. And you can always just disappear, you know. We couldn't possibly keep 
an eye on you all the time. I just don't understand the kind of reasoning 
that would prefer to end up a vegetable or crazy." 

She didn't move a muscle or say a word. Her eyes stared straight out into 
space. 

"You've proved your point, Naomi. You have a strong body and a strong mind. 
And you are as brave as anyone I have ever seen. Braver in fact. You have 
withstood the torture better than any ten men put together. Why don't we 
call a truce? Won't you shake my hand and join me for a roast beef dinner?" 

She turned her head and looked me straight in the eye. But instead of 
looking defiant this time, her eyes only looked sad. "Never in a million 
years, Carlos," she said to me, then wouldn't speak another word. 

I called the guards and had them take her to a private room with adjoining 
bath. And I ordered a female guard to stay with her. I wanted to start 
getting her body back to health. I had other plans for her mind. 

I conferred at length with the doctor about the possibility of administering 
shock treatments to her. He assured me that they would make her amenable 
without damaging much of her intelligence. A little, perhaps, but then she 
had a very high intelligence and could stand to lose some of it. 

And if I rendered her amenable, she could still be a good spy for us. 

I gave her three days in which to heal her body and fatten herself up. On 
the third day I had her brought once again to my office. She was clothed now 
so I couldn't see all of her body, but she looked in fairly good shape. The 
doctor had said her wounds and burns had healed nicely. There would be 
scars, of course, but that was all. 

And even her hair was beginning to grow in. It was only dark fuzz at the 
time, but she was beginning to look human again. And her eyes once more held 
the familiar gleam. 

I had tea brought to us and then I offered her a cigarette. 

She refused it, saying that since she had done without them for so long she 
thought she'd give up the nasty habit. "And I think you smoke too much, 
too," she added playfully. 

She had recovered so quickly I was amazed. I hoped I would never find out, 
but I seriously wondered if she had held up better than I would have. And I 
thought she probably had. I think that physically, at least, women are far 
stronger than men. Mentally I really don't know. But she had held up better 
mentally than any man I had seen tortured. 

"How do I rate a private room and bath?" she asked me. 

"I wanted you fully recovered before the next phase." 

"And when does that begin?" 

"Right after this conversation." 

She eyed me warily. "I suppose you will tell me what it is to be just to 
punish me the most thoroughly." 

I nodded. "Of course. It's to be shock treatments." 

She looked totally stunned and disbelieving. "That isn't fair!" 

Which was a ridiculous thing to say. What is ever fair about torturing 
political prisoners? 

"Do you still believe I can't break you?" 

"Not alone you couldn't. With the help of that machine I'm certain that you 
will." 

"Does that bother you?" 

"Not the fact that you did it, no. Just the fact that I'll never be the same 
person again. 

Yes, that bothers me, as you knew it would." 

She had finally lost her confidence, but that was understandable. No one 
could withstand electric shock treatments. 

"How are you feeling?" I asked her. 

"Do you really give a shit?" 

"In spite of what you might think, I truly like you, Naomi. And admire you. 
And for a while there even desired you." 

"Well, I'm not masturbating anymore," she quipped. 

I almost regretted having ruined her clit. But perhaps even that was 
healing. There was nothing left to talk about after that and I had her taken 
back to her room to be prepared for the shock treatments. 

The doctor came in later to inform me that the shock treatments had gone off 
on schedule and that the patient was resting quietly in her room. He said 
that she would be able to be questioned that evening. 

The rest of the day I spent restlessly. I found I had lost my concentration 
and even my appetite. It's a scary feeling to be able to reduce a person's 
mind and the knowledge that I had was bothering me. 

I guess I respect the mind far more than the body, because the punishment I 
had inflicted on her body hadn't bothered me to any degree. 

That evening I went to Naomi's room to see her. 

She was sitting up in bed, a vacant smile on her face, her dull eyes looking 
at me in bewilderment. 

The doctor had told me that she would appear worse at first than she would 
eventually be, but I hadn't expected such a change nevertheless. 

I drew up a chair to her bed and took her small hand in mind. 

"Hello, Naomi, do you know who I am?" 

"Of course I do. You're Carlos." 

Well, at least she hadn't turned into a total idiot. 

"How are you feeling, my dear." 

"A little dizzy, but I don't know why. Perhaps it was something I ate." 

She didn't appear to remember anything about the shock treatments, which was 
just as well. 

"We want you to get better quickly. There's lots of work to do." 

She looked confused. "Work? What work?" 

"Indoctrinating you, my dear. You're coming to work for us." 

She wasn't so out of it that she didn't look suspicious when I said that. 
And I hoped that she wouldn't need more shock treatments. 

But then she gave me a sweet smile. "You and I are going to work together, 
Carlos? What a team we'll make." 

"Yes, I think we will. The two of us together could never be stopped." 

"Carlos, may I ask you a personal question?" 

"Certainly." 

"Have we ever made love?" 

I laughed. "Wouldn't you remember if we had?" 

She wrinkled her forehead. "I would think so, and yet I've been dreaming of 
making love with you and it seemed so real." She was almost bald, her eyes 
had lost that defiant look I had loved, her body was scarred, she was 
weakened and nothing at all was sexy about her, and yet, even at that 
moment, my cock was beginning to come to life and I knew I wanted to fuck 
her. And if she had been dreaming of it, then she must want it too. 

"Would you like that dream to come true?" I asked her. 

She nodded and pushed the sheet off her body. I locked the door to her room, 
then took off my pants and walked over to her bed, my cock thrusting out 
before me. 

I didn't want to see her scarred body. I wanted to spare myself that sight. 

I pushed her nightgown up to reveal her pussy, but I didn't want to have to 
look at those lovely tits I had mutilated with my cigarettes. 

I didn't have to see her clit in order to fuck her, but I was curious about 
that aspect of the torture I had done. 

As she watched me with wide eyes, not stopping me in any way, I parted her 
pussy lips and looked inside. 

And amazingly enough, her clit seemed to be intact. I couldn't know whether 
it had lost all feeling, but it looked pink and healthy. 

With a sigh of relief, I knelt between her legs, took my cock in my hand, 
and found the opening to her cunt. 

She lifted her ass to meet me, helping me to get deep inside of her on the 
first thrust. 

And then she closed her eyes and gave a moan of contentment. "Yes, it feels 
right with you inside of me, Carlos." It felt right to me, too. Her soft, 
moist pussy was pulsating around my cock, and as I began to move in and out 
of her, she moved with me, lifting her legs off the bed so that I could get 
further and further inside of her pussy. 

"Yes, Carlos, yesfuck me, Carlos. All I want is to be fucked by you." 

"Don't worry, I'll fuck you," I assured her. I had her, I had Naomi doing 
what I wished, and I wasn't sure I liked it. I wasn't sure someone that 
amenable would be of any value. She would probably be that way with the 
other side, too. It might be that after all my work on her mind she might 
after all have to be eliminated. 

That saddened me as I was enjoying fucking her. It felt good to have my hard 
cock inside of her, moving around, giving us both pleasure. 

She was crying out with her pleasure and I began to fuck her faster, wanting 
her to come. Wanting her to be whole in that regard. 

For someone so recently in shock treatment, she was moving faster and 
faster, getting quite carried away with the sex. 

She put her hands on my ass and urged me to move in more, consume her with 
my cock. 

I moved faster and faster, the sweat pouring off my body. 

She gave a high scream, and then her body began to convulse and I could feel 
her cum on my prick and her cunt closing and unclosing over my cock. 

She was coming and it was a powerful orgasm. She was writhing beneath me, 
moving her cunt against me as fast as I was fucking her. 

She kept coming and coming, never stopping, just coming and coming over and 
over again. 

She was as sexual an animal as I was, despite what she thought on the 
subject. And I couldn't believe she held sex in such low disregard. 

Perhaps she had only said that to annoy me. She was loving my fucking her, 
wanting more and more, having multiple orgasms around my prick. 

She looked up at me with those large eyes of hers. "Come in me, Carlos. I 
want to be filled with your cum." 

I nodded. "Yes, I won't pull out. I want to come inside of you as much as 
you want it, Naomi." She was so excited she was thrashing around on the bed. 
One hand was on my back, scratching me with her fingernails, the other was 
moving wildly around, now here, now there. 

I was concentrating on fucking her, not paying any attention to what she was 
doing. I was getting ready to come and it was going to be explosive. 

And then I felt it start and I cried out, then began to fuck her faster and 
faster as the cum began to surge upwards to my cock. 

And without knowing how it happened, she suddenly had a knife in her hand 
and had it shoved against my chest. Despite the fact that I was starting to 
come and was in no condition to think clearly, I managed to deflect the 
knife from the part of my chest over my heart, and when the blade went in it 
only cut my side. It was painful and I was now coming in earnest, but I got 
the knife out of her hand, flung it across the room, and then fucked her 
until all my cum was spent and I was back to normal. 

As soon as I had taken the knife from her, her body had stopped rising up to 
meet mine. She was inert, totally unfeeling as I pumped the cum into her 
cunt. 

When I had finished, I got off her on the bed and looked down at her 
hatefilled eyes. 

I could see the knife on the floor. It was an ordinary dinner knife that she 
had probably stolen when food had been brought to her. Which meant that 
security was rather lax. 

But it could have done a great deal of damage if I hadn't deflected its 
thrust. 

And then Naomi would have been the victor. 

I wiped my cock off on the bed sheet, then put it away in my pants. And 
vowed that that would be the last time I ever took it out for that bitch. 

Naomi had finally lost her appeal for me. 

"Nice try," I told her, inspecting my side to see the damage. But she had 
barely broken the skin and the bleeding had already stopped. 

She turned her head on the pillow so that she didn't have to look at me. 

"So the shock treatments didn't have their desired effect. Well, we'll just 
have to send you back for more." 

"Why don't you just kill me?" she screamed at me. "If you were a man you'd 
take that knife and plunge it through my heart." 

"You're not getting off that easily, my dear. You will continue to have 
shock treatments until you are as gentle as a lamb. And then you will be my 
slave." 

"Never," she muttered through clenched teeth. "I'll see you in hell first, 
Carlos!" 

I turned and left the room, too angry with her to deal with her at the 
moment. 

I went and spoke to the doctor and told him what had happened. 

"You should have realized she wouldn't have changed her loyalties that 
suddenly," he told me, and he was right. I should have realized that. 

"I want her to have more treatments," I told him. "Fine, we'll try again 
tomorrow. But I have a feeling with that one all we're going to end up with 
is a hopeless retard. I don't think you'll break her mind while she still 
has a shred of intelligence left." 

He seemed to have as high an opinion of her intelligence and loyalty as I 
did. 

That evening I held a meeting with all the concerned parties. 

I told them that Naomi would probably end up as no use to us at all, that 
she would just be a simple child when we had finished with her. But it was 
decided that for propaganda purposes, if nothing else, there would be great 
value in her coming over to our side. We could give her prepared speeches to 
make and have numerous pictures of her taken with different terrorist 
groups. 

She would have some value, after all. And so we decided to continue with the 
shock treatments and see what happened. 

 CHAPTER EIGHT 

The second series of shock treatments affected Naomi's speech. It became 
slow and slurred and it was difficult to understand her. She also became 
listless and was refusing much of her food. 

But she was still able to convey to me, in no uncertain terms, that she 
would not deal with terrorists. She had all the makings of a martyr. I was 
only surprised she had not gone on a hunger strike, but she had probably 
assumed correctly that we would merely have fed her intravenously. The third 
series of shock treatments rendered the desired effect. When I visited Naomi 
hours after she had sustained them, she was a totally different person. And 
this time she wasn't faking it. 

Once again I drew a chair up to her bed and took her hand in mine. It was 
unsteady. In fact she seemed to be trembling all over. This time it was 
taking her body longer to recover from the shocks. 

"How are you feeling, Naomi?" 

She opened her mouth to speak, couldn't, then swallowed and tried again. 
"Not so good," she finally managed to say. 

"You'll feel better soon, my dear. Do you know who I am?" 

She looked me over carefully, then shook her head. 

"I'm your friend Carlos." 

She wrinkled her forehead. "Carlos?" She made it sound unfamiliar. 

"Yes, Carlos. You work for me." 

"I'm sorry I'm sick. Am I missing work?" 

"That's quite all right. You'll be well soon and then we'll get back to 
work." 

She seemed to accept that without question. 

And after that, everything was easy. 

Naomi not only joined us, that was exactly what she wanted. She was never 
able to be a double agent as I had envisioned, but her publicity value was 
great. But I had lost all interest in her once she had lost all capabilities 
as an adversary, and I flew back to Switzerland to see Corinne. 

Corinne was eager to see some more action and we decided the time was ripe 
for an outrageous hijacking. 

Hijackings had slacked off in the past months and airport security was once 
again becoming lax. 

But we didn't want it to be just an ordinary hijacking. We wanted it to be 
special and audacious. Corinne was the one who finally hit upon the idea to 
hijack a plane carrying a special United Nations delegation that was 
traveling from Zurich to Lebanon in order to try to find a peaceful solution 
to that country's problems. 

It was perfect for us. Particularly since it didn't suit me to have Lebanon 
in a state of peace for even a few days. I wanted to maintain the turmoil 
there for a long time to come. And then, one day, that country was going to 
be mine. 

It was Corinne's idea to have Naomi along on the hijacking. I had told her 
in detail about the girl and expressed my doubts as to her capabilities for 
being along on the mission, but she managed to talk me into it. 

She said that pictures in the papers of Naomi hijacking a plane would be 
wonderful publicity, and I had to agree. 

Corinne and I disguised ourselves for the mission. Not in any great depth, 
but just enough so that if our pictures were in the paper, we wouldn't be 
recognizable. 

We also took along a young PLO recruit, Halim Magid. 

The hijacking of the plane went smoothly. Corinne was in the cockpit with a 
gun trained on the pilot and co-pilot. 

Halim had rounded up the stewardesses and locked them into one of the 
bathrooms, where it must have been very crowded. 

Naomi was along for show more than anything else. I marveled at how good she 
looked. Her hair had now grown in about. three inches and it was curling 
around her face in a most becoming way, making her look even younger than 
before. Her eyes had lost all their old sparkle, but she was still extremely 
appealing. She was walking up and down the aisles of the plane, trying to 
keep the passengers calm. 

We moved all first class passengers except for the contingent from the U.N. 
back into second class, left Halim there covering them all with a gun, and 
then, while Corinne supervised the direction the plane was taking, which was 
directly to Libya, Naomi and I concentrated on the U.N. delegates. 

I wasn't interested in ransom. All I was really interested in, other than 
the attending publicity, was to break up the peace mission. But I also 
wanted to humiliate the delegates and their wives so that they would never 
forget what had happened to them and so that they would have horror stories 
to tell when they were released. 

There were twelve delegates with their wives and the first thing I did was 
have them all switch seats so that each delegate had a strange wife beside 
him. There was no reason for them to worry about the new seating 
arrangement, and they did it without argument. 

Then I made a little announcement to the effect that each female seat 
partner was now to take off all her clothes and suck the cock of the man 
beside her. 

There were a lot of bewildered looks being passed amongst them, but I don't 
think they were really taking me seriously as of yet. 

I walked over to where a good looking blonde woman was seated next to a 
portly older man and held my gun to the woman's temple. "I was quite serious 
in my request," I informed her. "I want you, and all the other ladies, to 
quickly remove all your clothing and to start sucking cock. You have until 
the count of ten to comply. If you don't, at the count of ten I'll shoot 
your head off. And then the next one. And then the next until all of you are 
quite dead. And all over a silly little thing like a simple request to suck 
cock." 

I said it all in such a conversational tone that some of them still weren't 
taking it seriously. But as soon as the click was heard of the safety being 
removed from my gun, and as soon as I began counting, the blonde rapidly 
began removing her considerable layers of clothing. 

She turned out to have a very lovely body. Large, full tits, rounded hips, 
and pubic hair as blonde as that on her head. Her long legs were shapely and 
I got a stirring in my cock just from looking at her. 

The man beside her obliged her by removing his own clothes, and he didn't 
seem to be suffering any fits of agony over what was going to happen to him. 
In fact he was having difficulty keeping a smile off his face and his cock, 
when it was removed, was large and hard and fully ready for the lady's 
mouth. 

The other women were also removing their clothing. They were of different 
ages and different nationalities, but not one of them looked too bad 
unclothed. 

The blonde seemed to be hesitating, so I pushed the gun harder into her 
temple. 

"Get on with it. It won't kill you." 

"I've never sucked a cock before," she murmured, blushing a becoming pink. 

"Then it's about time you learned. I'm sure your husband will appreciate 
your learning a new trick for the bedroom." 

"You are really disgusting, do you know that?" she had the nerve to say to 
me. 

"I find it disgusting that you don't suck your husband's cock for him," I 
told her. "Doesn't he eat your pussy?" 

She looked properly horrified and I couldn't tell whether it was over my use 
of the word pussy or what I had inferred that he did to her. 

"My husband is a gentleman," she informed me. 

"Ah, I see. A gentleman and not a lover. Well perhaps he will improve after 
today's flight." 

I shoved her so that she was on the floor of the plane between the portly 
man's legs, then I told her once again to start sucking. 

I looked around and saw that most of the women had began sucking their 
partner's cock, and I was pleased to see how things were progressing. 

Over the steady hum of the plane all that could be heard was the slurping 
noises of cocks being sucked and the groans and grunts of the men who were 
being blown. The blonde seemed to be getting the hang of it. Her mouth was 
about halfway down on the cock and her cheeks were properly sucked in. And 
from the expression on the man's face, he, at least, was satisfied. 

"Do I come in her mouth?" he asked me. 

"Most certainly. We would not want to mess up the plane." 

He nodded, a big smile on his face. 

The woman's eyes looked stricken when she heard that and I would have to 
make sure she actually swallowed it. Very soon cries and screams, albeit 
muffled, were to be heard around the plane and Corinne came to report that 
most of the man, although they had tried to appear reluctant about getting 
sucked, had already come and were looking pretty happy and content. The 
women, she said, didn't appear so happy. 

"It will be their turn next," I told her, the next event already in my mind. 
I watched as the blonde kept sucking the man's cock. He was pushing it in 
and out of her mouth on his own, not content with her slow pace, and she was 
trying frantically to keep up with him and not have her teeth knocked out. 
He was really getting carried away and pushing at her head the whole while. 

He let out an enormous grunt, then his face turned red and I could see that 
he was shooting off in her mouth. 

And she was dutifully swallowing it, although a trickle of the fluid could 
be seen running out of the corner of her mouth. When all the cocks had been 
sucked and all the cum had been consumed, I announced that all the ladies 
would get fucked in the ass as soon as the men were able to get it up again. 
And it was up to the ladies to get the men's cocks up again. And I was only 
going to allow them twenty minutes to do so. 

Not all of the delegation was taking it well. Several women were crying. A 
number of the men seemed terribly jealous that their wives were sucking 
strange cocks, even though they hadn't seemed to mind their own sucked by a 
strange woman. 

I figured that a good percentage of the marriages would break up as a result 
of their being caught in this hijacking. 

Well, it was a lost cause. None of those guys were able to get it up again 
in the required twenty minutes, so I had to change strategy. 

I finally announced that in reciprocation for the cock-sucking, the men 
would now eat pussy. 

And more than one woman got a gleam in her eyes at that announcement. 

And more than one man looked like he was ready to puke at the suggestion. I 
will never understand why so many people are so reluctant to try all the 
different pleasures of sex. These people were lucky they had been hijacked; 
they were going to learn things they would never have known before and 
experience pleasures beyond their wildest dreams. 

It was the men's turn to kneel on the floor of the plane and the women 
draped themselves in the seats in different ways in order to let the men get 
at their pussies. 

I took a walk around to see all the different pussies, and one thing I 
immediately noticed was that they were all, without fail, wet and ready. And 
not one woman was complaining over the order. Almost at the same time, 
twelve men's faces went down on twelve wet pussies and once again the sound 
of wet mouths was heard. 

And the moaning this time was fierce. 

I could hear women pointing out to the men that they not only had clits but 
they wanted them sucked, and men looking mystified as they tried to find the 
elusive clits. 

But the women made sure that they found them, even going so far as to point 
them out with their fingers. 

And very soon women were experiencing multiple orgasms for probably the 
first time in their lives. And the men didn't seem to like that capacity in 
the women. I could have let it continue for hours. The women could have just 
continued coming indefinitely as the men ate their pussies and sucked on 
their clits. But after a while it began to get boring to watch and I decided 
we needed something new. 

It occurred to me that public masturbation would probably be the most 
embarrassing thing for them to have to do. 

And so, while the pussy licking was still going on, I announced that 
everyone was to get back in the seats and phase three would begin. 

The women gave me disgruntled looks at that. They had been quite content to 
be eaten for the rest of the flight. 

The men looked relieved for the most part. They also looked pretty silly 
wiping all the pussy juice off their faces. "Come on, men, let's start 
beating meat around here," I yelled at them. "And you women, you know what 
to do. Just continue doing to yourselves what the men were so kindly doing 
for you. Let's see those fingers start moving!" 

Women sitting in their seats masturbating isn't that erotic to watch. They 
just looked kind of silly sitting there playing with themselves. 

But the men really looked ridiculous. Like a bunch of boys jerking 
themselves off. 

Hands were moving quickly up and down different sized cocks. And everyone, 
men and women, were furtively glancing around to see if anyone was watching 
them. I was beginning to be bored with the whole thing and was glad when I 
was told that the seat belts were to be fastened for the landing in Tripoli. 

Dozens of reporters and photographers were on the scene to record the event. 
And we let Naomi get all the publicity. The following day her picture would 
appear on the front page of every major newspaper in the world leading the 
passengers out of the hijacked plane. 

We allowed all the passengers except the U.N. delegation to continue on 
their way, also the pilots and stewardesses. All we wanted were the 
delegates and their wives. They would be held for ransom of a sort, but not 
monetary. They would be used to exchange for political prisoners in several 
different countries, particularly some IRA prisoners who were staging a 
hunger strike. 

The good Colonel provided us with a villa and police assistance and we 
hustled the delegation right over there. 

The first thing we did was take away all their clothes. Then we locked them 
up together in one room to await our decision as to what to do with them. 

The activity on the airplane had whetted my appetite for sex and I was 
wondering if Corinne would be agreeable to having a threesome with Naomi as 
the third party. 

When I asked her, she was more than willing, saying the French loved having 
sex in threes. I left Halim to get himself some food and a rest, and Corinne 
and I and Naomi looked around the villa until we found a bedroom with a bed 
large enough to accommodate the three of us. 

I didn't even have to ask Naomi if she was agreeable. By that time she 
unquestioningly did anything I asked. 

I took off my clothes, expecting them to follow suit, but when I turned back 
to see if they were ready, I saw that Corinne was slowly taking off Naomi's 
clothing. 

And I wondered if she'd be shocked by the scars all over the girl's body. 

They had healed up fine, but the marks were still there. All the small round 
scars on her tits from my cigarette burns, all the marks the whip had made. 
I took a look at her nipples and saw that on them the scars didn't show up. 
And even while I was wondering if they could still become erect, I saw that 
they were growing larger at Corinne's touch on her skin. 

Naomi seemed to be turned on by having Corinne undress her, and when she was 
fully naked, she began to take off Corinne's clothing. Corinne's body, as 
usual, was perfection, and I saw Naomi staring at it in awe. The two seemed 
to like each other, at least sexually, because I saw that Corinne was 
aroused, also, her nipples rising taut from her tits. 

Naomi reached up and cupped Corinne's tits with her hands. 

"You're so beautiful," Naomi said to her. 

"So are you, You have a lovely body." 

I was beginning to feel a little left out. The two of them seemed immersed 
in each other. 

I went over and lay down on the bed, my hands behind my head, waiting for 
them to notice me. 

Which they didn't immediately do. 

Naomi bent down and began to suck on one of Corinne's tits, and Corinne held 
the girl's head in her hands, pushing it harder over her tit. 

Naomi seemed thirsty for that tit and I could hear the noise of her 
suckling. 

And as she sucked on it, I saw Corinne reach down and put her fingers into 
Naomi's cunt and feel her. 

"Come here, girls," I said to them. "This was supposed to be a threesome." 

They both kind of laughed at that, but I think they were annoyed I had 
interrupted them. 

But they came over and joined me on the bed, one on either side of me. 

I was wondering what to do first when that decision was taken out of my 
hands. 

Naomi got between my legs, which were spread apart, and put her face down to 
my crotch. 

Corinne straddled my head, dipping her pussy down for me to eat. 

Naomi began to lick my groin. All over me. 

In the cracks of my thighs, over my balls, stopping to suck on them for a 
bit, then up and down the length of my cock, then back into the crack of my 
ass and finally to my asshole. 

She-rimmed it with her tongue, getting it all wet, and I was moaning from 
the pleasure of it. Then she began to stick her tongue into my asshole and 
move it around, and it felt so good I could feel my cock getting overly 
excited. 

And then, while she still had her tongue in my asshole, she began to suck on 
the outer edges of it with her mouth as though she were trying to turn my 
asshole inside out. 

And from the way it felt, I was wishing she could really do it. 

What Naomi was doing to me was so distracting that I wasn't doing much of a 
job of Corinne, which she pointed out to me in no uncertain terms. 

And so I began to concentrate on Corinne's lovely cunt. 

It was wet with juices and lovely inside and I first went for the clit, 
moving the skin down the sides and taking the clit itself into my mouth. 

She had a large clit, one you could really get your mouth around, and I 
sucked on it with enthusiasm. She started to come at once and soon her 
juices were pouring down over my waiting face. I knew her clit got sensitive 
while she was coming, and so I moved further into her cunt and began to lick 
at it with my tongue. I liked the taste of her pussy, found it very erotic, 
and I liked the feel of her walls on my tongue. 

They were convulsing from her orgasm and moved against my thrusting tongue. 

Naomi was making my lower regions go crazy with lust. 

I hadn't realized how sensitive my asshole was until she began to work at 
it. 

I guess she couldn't get her tongue inside my asshole as far as she wanted, 
and she soon moved a wet finger inside instead. 

She pushed it in as far as it would go, and then she began to finger fuck 
me. 

It was an incredible sensation and I increased my eating of Corinne's pussy 
in thanks for what Naomi was making me feel. 

But it wasn't enough. I wanted more than just one of her fingers and I began 
to move my ass against that finger, trying to convey to her what I wanted. 
And my obedient slave obeyed. 

She slowly shoved in a second finger, and two was even better than one. She 
moved them both in and out, fucking that tender area, and I thought I would 
explode with lust. Corinne was still coming in my mouth and I was giving her 
cunt a real workout. And then Naomi shoved a third finger up my asshole and 
I shuddered from the pleasure of it. 

And then four, so that everything but her thumb was up my ass. And I was 
beginning to wonder if her entire hand would fit. And as soon as I had 
thought of it, I was dying to know. Dying to have it tried on me. Dying for 
a new sexual experience. 

She was probably ahead of me in my thinking because very soon I felt the 
thumb being eased inside of me and I tried to relax my ass muscles to make 
it easier for her. 

It felt incredible having her hand inside of my ass. Filling up an area that 
was unused to such attention. 

And then she began to ease her hand up inside of me. As far as the wrist and 
then still further. 

And she hit up against something that gave me a shock because it seemed to 
be directly connected to my prick which was now wildly throbbing over her 
hand being in my ass. 

I didn't know what the connection was, but it sure as hell was there. 

My cock was throbbing from the action being done on my asshole. 

It felt like she was getting half her arm up my asshole, and I guess she 
was. And it felt absolutely incredible. It was so good I could barely stand 
it. 

And then, when she had me filled up with her hand and arm, she began to move 
it in and out of me, fucking me with her hand. I don't know if it did 
anything for her arm, and I doubt that it did, but it sure as hell was doing 
things to me. I had a feeling it was going to make me come and I couldn't 
understand how that was possible. 

Corinne moved off my mouth, obviously satiated, and looked around to see 
what Naomi was doing. When she saw, her eyes widened. 

"She's fist-fucking you," she said to me in awe. 

"I don't know what it's called, but it sure as hell feels good," I told her. 

"Naomi looked over at me with a smile. "Glad you like it. It's sometimes 
used as torture, I have heard, but I could never imagine why. I don't know 
anyone who doesn't like it." 

"You can add me to the list," I told her. "Fist fuck my cunt," said Corinne. 

"I'd kill you with my fist," I said to her, making a fist and showing her 
the size. 

"I want you to try," she insisted. "And anyway, what a lovely way to die." 

"Corinne, it just isn't going to fit. You aren't that large down there." 

"Try," she said to me firmly. 

She positioned herself so that I could get my hand at her cunt and I started 
to try what she had suggested. 

I moved my four fingers into her cunt easily, it was wet and open already. 

And then I moved my thumb behind my hand and tried to insert the rest of my 
hand inside of her. 

I could get it in up to my knuckles, but then it wouldn't go any further. 
The size of her cuntal opening just wouldn't allow it. 

"Keep trying," she said to me, "it feels marvelous." 

"I'm telling you, it won't fit." 

"I'm telling you it will. Force it!" 

"I might really hurt you, Corinne." 

"I don't care. I like a little pain." 

"This could be more than a little." 

"Since when are you so squeamish, Carlos. Just go ahead and do it!" 

I swear to God I thought I was going to shatter her pelvic bones. 

But I did as she said. I just kept shoving and shoving and finally it popped 
through and I had my entire hand up her cunt. 

And then I slowly made it into a fist. 

I moved the fist into her cunt until it was up against her uterus and then I 
stopped. 

"Oh, God, that feels marvelous," Corinne moaned. 

"It doesn't hurt?" 

"Sure it hurtsI love it! Now start fucking me with ithard!" 

I could understand how she felt. The hand in my ass hurt somewhat but also 
felt marvelous. 

Poor Corinne, she didn't have anything up her ass. But she'd get her turn. 

I began to move my fist in and out of Corinne's cunt, taking it easy at 
first. 

But she was pushing her cunt over it hard, trying to urge me on. 

Her pussy juices were flowing over my hand, making her passage well 
lubricated and making it easier for my fist to move in and out. 

Naomi must have been having a more difficult time as my ass would be dry. 

Corinne had an orgasm almost immediately, and it felt strange to feel her 
cunt spasming around my arm, tickling my hairs. I began to fuck her harder 
and faster, knowing that was what she wanted, and she began to scream and 
move uncontrollably around on the bed. It was driving her into ecstasy what 
I was doing to her cunt with my fist. More ecstasy than she had ever shown 
over my prick. But I guess bigger is better, and my arm and fist were a lot 
larger than my cock. 

My cock was throbbing from the ass-fucking I was getting and I still 
couldn't understand that. My balls were clenching and I knew I would come, 
and I was going to spurt up in the air, getting everything wet. 

When I began to moan, Naomi must have sensed what was happening, because 
leaving her fist in my ass, she leaned her face around and took my hard cock 
in her mouth just in time to catch all the cum spurting out. 

When I finished coming, I no longer wanted her hand up my ass, so I pushed 
it away and concentrated on fist-fucking Corinne's cunt. 

Naomi came up on the bed to watch and decided she wanted her cunt fucked by 
my other arm. 

"You're much too small, Naomi," I told her, knowing that she was indeed 
quite a bit smaller in the cunt than Corinne. 

But she insisted, and because I didn't want to show special favoritism in 
bed, I had her put her pussy in place and I began to insert my hand inside 
of it. 

I tried and tried but there was no way I was going to get it in. It was 
simply much too large. "But I want to be fist-fucked too," cried Naomi. 

Corinne looked over at the girl. "Come over here, Naomi. I'll do it to you 
and my fist will fuck." There was some shuffling around on the bed, and the 
next thing I knew Corinne had gotten her considerably smaller fist up 
Naomi's cunt and now they were both happy as larks, both being fist-fucked 
up their cunts. 

We kept it up for hours and the two of them were utterly insatiable. After I 
had fucked both of them in the cunt and both of them in the ass, I was worn 
out and they were going strong. 

When I finally left the room with the hopes of getting something to eat, the 
two of them were doing sixty-nine. 

I slept by myself that night and left them to their pleasures. 

 CHAPTER NINE 

We were betrayed by the good Colonel of Libya. 

The one who had helped to finance our operation for years. 

It wasn't for political reasons that he betrayed me. His politics were the 
same as mine. 

No, it was because he was crazy. Many people know he's crazy, of course, but 
since he is able to function quite well despite his craziness, it has been 
overlooked. 

And so I forgive him. Because he really wasn't responsible for what he did. 
But when the terms of the ransom had been met, i.e. all the political 
prisoners had been released and flown to the designated destination, and we 
were to release the hostages while the television cameras rolled, Corinne 
and Naomi and Halim and I were captured. 

In the last few moments we had alone together, I told Corinne to tell them 
the truth. 

To tell them about her husband's having done plastic surgery on me and of 
how I forced her to join me with threats on her life. I knew Naomi would be 
all right. 

Halim would probably be questioned, then used in an exchange of prisoners. 
But if they found out who I was, I was as good as dead. And they would find 
out as soon as they began to question Naomi as she no longer had the 
capacity to lie even if she had wanted to. 

The CIA, when they found out who they had in captivity, had me flown to 
their headquarters in Langley, Virginia, and then to a private house far out 
in the country. 

It looked like an elegant estate on the outside. The inside was a marvel of 
the computer age. It was the most perfectly set up place for interrogation I 
had ever seen. And I promised myself that if I got out of there alive, I 
would copy it down to the last detail. 

It was a very strange set-up at first in that they were treating me like an 
honored guest. 

I was given a suite all to myself that was luxuriously furnished and had 
every amenity except for a window or a door that I could open. It was air 
conditioned, and new, fresh air was continuously piped in. I had my own 
color TV, an extensive stereo system, a fully stocked kitchen, numerous 
books to read, and anything else that I might desire except freedom. 

There was even a silver box on the coffee table in the living room that 
revealed an impressive quantity of pure, uncut coke for my enjoyment. I 
decided to treat it as a vacation for the time being. I was left completely 
alone the first few days, although I was certain they were monitoring my 
every move through some means. I was sure there was a crew of people 
watching me at all times. 

I was totally innocuous, doing nothing to entertain their viewing pleasure. 

I ignored the TV and spent most of my time reading some of the books 
supplied me. 

I also ate well, because I'm not a bad cook, and I got more sleep than I had 
gotten in years. 

All of which I found surprising in that I would have thought they'd start 
off by trying to weaken me. 

Although maybe they were planning on making me an offer I couldn't refuse 
and wanted me to be in good health when I accepted. I also wondered if 
perhaps they were drugging me or had previously drugged the food in the 
kitchen, but I didn't think so. I felt as alert as ever and I didn't even 
touch the coke they had left me. 

On the third day the most beautiful blonde in the world entered my suite and 
locked the door behind her. She came at an opportune time, which I'm sure 
they knew. I was merely reading a book on the living room couch and growing 
rather bored with the whole arrangement. When I say she was the most 
beautiful blonde in the world I am quite serious. She was total perfection 
from her breathtakingly beautiful face right down to her feet. 

Her hair was long and wavy and of a honey blonde. Her eyes were grey and 
framed by black lashes and dark eyebrows. Her nose was small and straight, 
her mouth wide and sensuous, and that was only her face. 

She had tits that literally billowed out of the low-cut top she was wearing 
and they stood out without the aid of a bra. 

She had a narrow waist, rounded hips, and the longest, loveliest legs I had 
ever seen. 

That I wanted to get into her cunt goes without saying. I was at half mast 
just from looking at her. 

I crossed my legs so that she wouldn't notice and waited for her to speak 
first. After all, I hadn't invited her there. 

"I'm Susan," she said to me in a throaty voice. 

The name was much too plain to suit her and I told her so. She laughed and 
the sound was deep and sexy. "I'm usually called Honey." 

That suited her! 

"Are you an agent, Honey?" I asked her. 

"Yes. And this is my first assignment." 

"I'm your first assignment?" 

She nodded her head. 

"And what are you assigned to do to me?" 

She batted her eyes at me and giggled. "Whatever you want me to do to you." 
I understood by then what little intelligence the girl had and realized that 
she wasn't an agent but bait. An agent had to be intelligent and they didn't 
waste good agents on sexual assignments. This one was merely going to be 
used as bait on me and afterwards, when her value was gone, would probably 
be disposed of. 

Which seemed an awful shame. They could at least have tried implanting a 
decent brain in her head so that the body and face didn't have to go. 

"What would you like me to do to you?" asked Honey. 

"Would you care for a drink, Honey, or perhaps some coke?" 

I opened the silver box and her eyes lit up. "I've never seen so much snow 
in my life," she said in awe. 

I rolled her a piece of paper to use and she began to snort the coke as 
though she were starving for it. 

And then, in a decidedly euphoric state, she began to take off her clothes 
so that I could see the whole package. The tits were as I had imagined them 
to be-monstrously large, but then I have nothing against monstrously large 
tits unless they hang down flat, and hers did no such thing. Her pussy area 
was one mass of fluffy blonde pubic hair and I had a sudden urge to tickle 
my nose in its depths. But I controlled myself. I wanted Honey to do all the 
work, that's what she was getting paid for. 

She went over to the stereo, put on some God-awful rock music, and began to 
dance around the room to the music. 

She looked delicious and moved her hips in such a way that she looked like 
she'd be a great fuck, but the music was giving me a headache so I finally 
got up and turned it off. 

Honey pouted. "I love that group!" 

"Then take the album with you when you leave," I told her. The idea of a 
free album excited her as much as all the free coke. I left her for a moment 
and went out to the kitchen to mix myself a scotch and water. She had only 
been there a few minutes and already Honey was driving me to drink. 

I came back with the drink and settled myself back down on the couch. I even 
picked up the book I had been reading. Honey didn't know what to do. I guess 
she had expected me to fall down dead at the sight of her naked body. 

"What do you want Honey to do?" she asked me with a lisp. 

"Do whatever you want, Honey," I told her. 

"Do you want Honey to suck your little cock?" Little cock? She'd pay for 
that remark. "No thanks, Honey." She was really pouting now. "Do you want 
Honey to give you a massage all over your body?" 

That didn't sound like such a bad idea but I didn't for one moment think she 
really knew how to give one. 

"I'll pass on that, Honey." 

She put her hands on her hips and gave me a mock glare. "You're not being 
nice to Honey." 

"Honey's being a pain in the ass," I told her with my own imitation lisp. 

Honey stamped her foot. "Honey wants to be fucked." 

"Then go fuck yourself." She was now in tears of frustration. She stood 
there for a moment, pretending to be thinking, and then she turned around 
and bent over so that I got a good view of her splendid ass. 

"Honey loves to be fucked in the ass." 

"Obviously, it looks like a truck could fall in there," I told her. 

Now she was crying real tears. "Honey doesn't like you at all!" 

"It's mutual, Honey." 

"Why? All the men like Honey. What's the matter with you, you a fairy or 
something?" 

Typical of your average sex symbol. If you don't like them it makes you a 
fag. 

"Honey, I just don't like stupid women," I explained to her. "You are very 
nice to look at but looks just aren't enough. I happen to like brains, too." 

"If you're pretty you don't have to be smart," Honey explained to me. Which 
is probably something her mother drilled into her head when she was younger. 

"For me you do," I told her. And after that I ignored her. I went on reading 
my book while Honey sat on the floor and sulked. I wouldn't let her play the 
stereo, I wouldn't let her put on the TV, and obviously she wasn't capable 
of reading a book. So she had nothing to do but snort coke. 

Two hours later she left in a daze. The following day they tried it again. 
The door opened as I was once more reading a book and an exact duplicate of 
Honey walked into the room. I knew it wasn't Honey at once because she had 
an intelligence gleaming out of her eyes. 

"What are they doing, cloning Honeys?" I asked her. 

She laughed. "Something like that." 

"And you're the one who got brains." 

She nodded. 

Then she also disrobed, and her figure was the duplicate of Honey's. 

"What would you like first?" she asked me in a sexy voice. 

"You could fix me a drink," I told her. 

"Scotch and water?" 

I nodded. They had me monitored well. 

She came back with the drink and one for herself, then sat down next to me 
on the couch. 

"I'd love to suck that notorious cock of yours, Carlos," she said to me with 
a sexy smile. 

"It's taking a vacation at the moment," I told her. 

"Oh, come on. What's a little suck?" 

"I'm not in the mood." 

"What's your problem? I'm not stupid like Honey." 

"No, but you remind me of her." 

"And you're going to hold that against me?" 

"Absolutely." 

"You're a prick, you know that?" 

"So I've been told on occasion." She got up off the couch, spilled her drink 
in my lap, then put on her clothes and left in anger. 

I changed my pants, sponged off the couch, and went back to my book. 

The next day, covering all bets, they sent in a fag. He left in about ten 
seconds. 

I didn't know why they were so concerned about my sex life The next day one 
of the top agents paid me a visit. A man this time. 

I offered him a drink, he accepted, and then we sat down to talk. And I was 
interested in hearing his offer. I had never been made an offer by the CIA 
before. 

He came right to the point. "We'd like you to work for us, Carlos." 

"That's very generous of you," I told him, lighting a cigarette. 

"You'd definitely be valuable to us. I'm sure you know how valuable." 

"I know." 

"I'd like to make you an offer if you have no objection." 

"None at all," I assured him. 

"Good. Well, what we have in mind is making you head of a branch in Europe 
that is going to be essentially anti terrorist." 

"You mean seek out and kill all my old friends." 

"Exactly." 

"Go on." 

He was looking hopeful at my attitude. "We can offer you a salary of 
$100,000 a year plus an expense account, full medical and dental insurance, 
life insurance, and pension plan. Also, after two years, you'd qualify for 
our profit sharing plan." 

"Do I also get a secretary?" 

"Of course." 

"Well, that's a very generous offer, Sir, and I'd like to say yes to it, but 
I'm afraid I'm going to turn it down." 

He looked suitably aghast. "Might I ask your reason?" 

"It doesn't interest me." 

"For what reason?" 

"Many reasons." 

"Is it the money?" 

"Well, I'm certainly used to making more than that, and I don't have to pay 
taxes on what I make, but it isn't just the money." 

"What else is it?" 

"I don't think I could stand being honest." 

He looked surprised. "Hey, we're not honest. We're CIA." 

"I thought you guys were on the up and up these days after all those 
congressional hearings." 

"No, that blew over and now we're back to our old ways." 

"Look, I just don't find your offer appealing. But I've enjoyed talking to 
you," I said, hoping he'd take the hint and leave. I was in the middle of a 
very exciting spy novel and I wanted to find out how it ended. 

He got up to leave, shaking my hand at the door. I was glad to have some 
privacy again. That night I was in bed sleeping when I felt someone crawling 
in bed with me. I hoped it wasn't my previous visitor, but when I felt bare 
boobs being pressed up against my back, I relaxed. 

"That better not be you, Honey," I whispered in the dark. 

"Thanks a lot, Carlos," came the voice of Corinne. "You've forgotten me 
already?" 

I turned around and took her in my arms. "What are you doing here? Why 
haven't they released you?" 

"I didn't want to be released. I love being a spy. If I can't work for you 
anymore, I'll work for them. They made me a good offer." 

"And I'm part of it?" 

"No. They just thought the fact I was working for them might influence you, 
although I told them I didn't think it would." 

But I wasn't interested in offers at the moment. I was more interested in 
her warm body pressed up close to mine. 

I moved a hand over one of her tits and closed my mouth over hers, shoving 
my tongue in her mouth and my fingers in her pussy at the same time. 

She moaned contentedly and moved her hand to take hold of my hard cock. 

"Just like old times, huh, Carlos?" she murmured into my mouth. But I didn't 
really want to talk. I wanted to devour her lovely body. 

She had one arm flung around my neck while she began to move the skin up and 
down on my cock. 

I moved a hand down to her ass and played with her little asshole. She 
wiggled around, showing her pleasure. 

I felt like a lot of foreplay that night. I was really getting bored with 
all the sleep and rest I had been getting and felt like spending the whole 
night making love. 

And no one could watch us because we were in the dark. I moved my mouth off 
hers and lowered it to suck on one of her tits, my finger now moving inside 
her asshole and my other hand digging hard inside her pussy. I had her going 
like crazy and she was coming already. 

All she could do was hold on to my cock as I spread the passion throughout 
her finely tuned body. I could play that woman's body like an instrument. I 
knew everything that drove her wild, all her sexual responses. 

Touch her tits and she was ready to fuck. Put a finger in her pussy and she 
would come. Stick a finger up her asshole and she would scream with delight. 
She was wonderful to play with because I couldn't make a mistake. She was a 
finely honed sex machine and I knew which buttons to push. 

She wasn't bad with my body, either, but at the moment I wasn't giving her a 
chance. And I had her so hot and excited she hardly knew what she was doing, 
anyway. 

"Oh, Carlos, Carlos, you must join the CIA," she implored me. "Is this an 
act or what?" I asked her. 

"No, you know it isn't. But I'll never find another man who makes me feel 
like this. I'll die without you to make love to me." 

"I'm sure there are lots of other men who can satisfy you." 

"Oh, I hope that's true, but I doubt it. You're absolutely perfect for me. 
You always have been." 

Actually I felt pretty much the same about her. Sexually we were very evenly 
matched with the same voracious appetites. 

The only thing wrong was that the idea of making love to a CIA agent wasn't 
very appealing to me. The CIA just doesn't have a sexy image. I had never 
made love with her in total darkness before and it was interesting. I had 
always enjoyed watching her when I made love to her, but now I was learning 
to enjoy touch and sound as well. I could tell by the intensity of her moans 
just how much I was making her feel. And the sensations of touch were 
wonderful. 

Her skin all over was incredibly soft and supple, but there were certain 
areas of her body that were softer than others. The inside of her ass, of 
course, and the walls of her pussy. But also low down on her back and behind 
her knees and the skin on the inside of her thighs. 

And the different tastes of the different parts of her body. I was learning 
to know and recognize them all. 

When I finally plunged my cock inside her pussy and began to fuck her, we 
were both so hot and ready that we exploded together almost the instant I 
had entered her. 

And when it was over, and we lay satiated in each other's arms, she asked me 
one again if I would join the CIA. 

"Quit beating a dead dog," I told her. 

"What other option do you have? Death?" 

"I'm not afraid of dying." 

"But for what? You're not dying for a cause. You've always been in it for 
the thrills." 

"When the thrill is gone, I'd just as soon be dead." 

"Come on, Carlos, there is more to life than thrills." 

"Like what?" 

"Like sex." 

"I probably had my quota of that long ago." 

She laughed. 

"Anyway," I added, "I won't be worrying about sex when I'm dead." 

"It would be that bad to work for the CIA?" 

"I can't stand the CIA. I don't want to be one of those flunkys." 

"They told me of their offer to you. I thought it sounded very generous." 

"Yes, and after I dispose of all the terrorist groups for them, they'll 
eliminate me." 

"But you could accept their offer and then disappear." 

"The room is bugged, Corinne." 

"Sorry." 

"I thought of that but the idea of more plastic surgery isn't all that 
appealing." 

"Jesus, you prefer death to plastic surgery?" 

"Corinne, I'm not interested in their offer and that is that. I'm glad you 
accepted theirs to you, but I'm not interested. And I think you'll make a 
wonderful spy for them." 

"I'm really looking forward to it." 

"You can seduce all the enemy spies." 

"I know." 

"You'll be terrific." 

"Thank you for saying so, Carlos." 

"And someday you can write the book of my life." 

"I don't know anything about you." 

"Nobody does. You can make it all up." 

"Carlos?" 

"Yes?" 

"Let's fuck again." 

She finally got the idea. Fucking beats talking any day or night of the 
week. 

 CHAPTER TEN 

After Corinne left, they left me alone for a couple of days, and then, out 
of nowhere, they transferred me to a small cell where they took all my 
clothing from me. 

I preferred it as this was something I knew how to deal with. My mind and my 
body had been getting lazy in that suite. 

But an empty cell would make me sharp again. 

I spent my time equally divided into three parts. 

The first part was sleep which I would need to keep healthy. 

The second part was exercise. I spent hours on calisthenics and yoga 
exercises, and after a few days in the cell my body was in better shape than 
it had been in years. The third part was exercises for my mind. I practiced 
my foreign languages, recited poetry, did mathematics in my head, devised 
elaborate escape plans, and outlined my autobiography. 

By the time they came for me to take me to their Americanized version of a 
torture room, I was ready for them. 

This was something familiar; something I could easily deal with. They had 
sophisticated equipment but it didn't scare me. I was going to get to pit 
myself against Naomi's bravery. I had wondered if I could hold up as well as 
she did, and now was going to be my opportunity to find out. 

But Americans just don't have the right attitude towards torture. They 
really don't enjoy doing it. They almost apologize for it. They sent Honey 
to do it, which was a real laugh. I guess they wanted to give her the 
opportunity to get revenge for my having scorned her, and I knew I had 
really pissed her off with my indifference. 

But Honey was just not bright enough to have a devious mind, and a good 
torturer just has to be devious. 

Honey spent the first few minutes making fun of my body. Which just shows 
how stupid she was. It would have been different if I had been deformed in 
some way and embarrassed by my body. But I had nothing to be embarrassed 
about so I just laughed at her efforts. 

"You're going to be real sorry you didn't take me and didn't take their 
offer," Honey said to me, her lisp now missing and the pout no longer on her 
face. 

"No I'm not." 

"That's what you think, smartass. When I get through with you, you're going 
to wish you're dead." 

"Shit, you mean I have to fuck you?" 

The pout appeared once again. Why, oh why, had they sent this stupid girl to 
do a man's job. 

Having had no success so far, Honey decided to give me a little 
psychological torture, Honey style. 

She tied me up to the wall, and I didn't try to get loose. Then she did her 
version of a belly dance in front of me, trying to turn me on. 

She was unsuccessful. My prick was no more aroused by it than my mind. 
Someone as dumb as Honey is just not sexy. 

"I didn't want to have to do this," she said to me as she got a whip from 
the equipment closet. It was a bullwhip and she didn't have the slightest 
idea how to even hold it. 

"I'm going to whip your ass," she yelled at me from across the room. 

"That'll be a good trick since my ass is against the wall," I pointed out to 
her. 

Once again she pouted. "You know what I mean!" 

"It's difficult to know what you mean, Honey, when you're so inarticulate." 

She didn't know how to take that since she had no idea what inarticulate 
meant. Which made me laugh. Which made her madder than hell. 

She made a move to hit me with the bullwhip and it circled back and caught 
her around the throat, leaving a red mark on her throat which must have 
stung. I laughed again and she became more infuriated. 

"You son-of-a-bitch, you quit laughing at me. You're the one tied up and I'm 
the one with the whip." 

"And so far you're the only one who has been whipped," I said to her. 

She tried again and again, and even though she improved to the extent she 
wasn't whipping herself anymore, she couldn't land the whip anywhere near my 
body. 

"Honey," I instructed her, "try a smaller whip. It will be a lot easier for 
you." 

"Don't you tell me what to do, you bastard," she said to me, but she put 
back the bullwhip and got out a riding crop. 

She moved in close to me, the crop in her hand, and then whipped me across 
the chest with it. 

And as soon as she saw the welt she left on my chest, she burst into tears. 
"Oh, my God, did that hurt you?" 

"It's supposed to hurt, Honeythat's the whole point of torture." 

"But I really didn't want to hurt you." 

"It's okay. I can take it." 

"No, I can't do it," she cried out, throwing the riding crop on the floor. 
Then she knelt down in front of me and started to suck my cock. 

I couldn't believe either her stupidity or the stupidity of the people who 
had sent her to torture me. 

I knew the CIA was fucked up, but I hadn't known it was that fucked up. 

Despite the fact that Honey didn't turn me on, her mouth was turning me on, 
and she got my cock hard in nothing flat. 

And she did have some talents. She could sure as hell suck a cock. But I was 
disappointed that I wasn't going to find out, just for my own knowledge, 
just how much torture I could endure. 

Honey was sucking on my cock so hard that for a man who likes gentle sex, it 
might have constituted torture. 

She was even biting down on the flesh occasionally, and grazing her teeth 
against the skin, but I didn't mind. It felt terrific. 

And she had sucking power that wouldn't quit. Up and down she went, her 
blonde head flashing in the air, strands of it tickling my balls. 

She reached down and cupped my balls in her hand and began to gently massage 
them, and the combination of the sucking and the massaging was devastating. 

And then her other hand went around to my asshole and began to play with it, 
ending with her sticking a finger up me. And that did it. The combination of 
the sucking and the massaging and the finger-fucking really set me off and I 
started to pump cum in Honey's mouth as I exploded in a wild orgasm. 

When she was finished, she looked up at me with a smirk on her face, cum 
dripping out of her mouth. 

"See? I did it!" she said to me in triumph. 

"That's what you were sent in here to do? Suck my cock?" 

"I was sent in here to torture you." 

"Honey, that wasn't torture. In fact it was a lot of fun." 

"Really?" 

"Really." 

"You enjoyed it?" 

"Sure. You're a real cocksucker." 

"Gee, thanks. No one ever said that to me before." 

"But you're lousy at torture." 

"I knowI flunked the course." 

"Then why did they choose you to torture me?" 

"Because they knew I wanted to get even with you." 

"And did you?" 

"Sure, I sucked your cock, didn't I?" 

I would never understand her logic. 

"How else are you planning on torturing me?" I asked her. 

"I thought I'd make you fuck me." 

"Make me fuck you? You can't rape a man, Honey." 

"Why not?" 

"Because you can't make a man get an erection if he doesn't want to." 

"Why not?" 

"Because you just can't." 

"I just made you get one when I sucked you." 

She did have a point there which I conceded. 

"Honey, give it up. If you're not going to torture me, send someone in who 
will." 

And someone did come in and I was led back to my cell. Where Honey was led 
I've never found out, but I never saw her again. 

Poor Honeythe CIA must be very hard up to be recruiting the likes of her. 

She wasn't even smart enough to be a model! 

That night I was taken from my cell, given some clothes to dress in, and 
then taken to a large office where a distinguished-looking man stood up and 
shook my hand. 

"Would you care for coffee? A drink?" he asked me. 

"No thanks. Just make your next offer and get it over with." 

"How about a cigarette?" I thought about it. I hadn't smoked in a few days 
and hadn't particularly missed it, but as soon as I saw him light up one for 
himself, my good intentions vanished and I accepted his offer. 

"Listen, Carlos, we'd really like you working for us. I have another offer 
and this time I think you'll see reason. Like your friend Corinne." 

"I'll listen to it," I told him. 

"That's all I ask, son. That's all I ask." 

"Well," I said after a minute, "what is it?" 

"What?" 

"The offer." 

"Oh, yes. The offer. Well, what we're prepared to offer you, and it took a 
lot of talking to get permission for this, is $500,000 a year and all 
expenses. Plus profit sharing and the rest." 

"Same job?" 

"Of course, that goes without saying. Your only value to us is in capturing 
all the known terrorists and putting an end to terrorism in today's world." 
It sounded like a prepared speech to me and I wasn't interested anyway. The 
only thing I found interesting about today's world was terrorism, and he 
wanted me to get rid of it. Well, he could forget that. 

"I'm afraid I'm still not interested," I told him. 

"That's half a million dollars a year!" 

"Yes, I know. But I have millions in banks in Switzerland. I don't need 
money. Or profit sharing. Or major medical and dental. Or the CIA!" 

I was escorted out of his office and back to my cell and I was grateful to 
be alone once again. CIA personnel are not good company. 

They are all stupid! A week later I was taken out of my cell, given a 
tailor-made suit to put on complete with silk shirt and tie and Italian 
shoes, then taken from Langley to Washington D.C. in a limousine. 

It was the first time in weeks that I had seen daylight and the outdoors. I 
settled back in the car and enjoyed the scenery as we sped through the 
beautiful countryside of Virginia and then into the city. 

I had never been in Washington D.C. before but had seen it depicted in 
enough movies that I felt familiar with the buildings that we were driving 
by. Most of them I recognized and could name. 

I had no idea where we were headed and didn't bother to ask. It really made 
no difference to me. I was merely enjoying the ride. 

When we pulled up to the White House my escort looked at me expecting me to 
look surprised, I guess. But I wasn't. Nor was I very interested. I assumed 
that pressure was going to be put on me from the top. Presidential advisors 
would be dragged out to make me offers, nubile secretaries would perhaps be 
put at my disposal. Typical CIA tactics all. 

But I wasn't interested in any of it. I had always done exactly what I 
wanted with my life and it suited me perfectly. I was too old to change. If 
I couldn't be Carlos the terrorist anymore than I didn't want to be anybody. 

As soon as we entered the White House I was taken to the office of the 
President, the ultimate boob himself. 

The President seemed to be in awe of me, but I certainly wasn't of him. 

He was seated behind his desk in the oval office when we entered and he got 
up and shook my hand. 

I sat down in the chair on the other side of his desk without being asked 
and lit a cigarette. I even blew smoke continuously in his face after I had 
ascertained that he didn't smoke. 

But nothing I did seem to annoy him. 

"I've been hearing a lot about you," he said to me. 

"I'm sure you have, and none of it good." 

"On the contrary, I find your life fascinating. It would make a wonderful 
movie." 

Showing just what kind of mentality the man had. "Were you thinking of 
filming it?" I asked him. 

He laughed as though I had told a hilarious joke, but I didn't join him in 
the laughter. I was waiting to see what the idiot wanted of me. 

"I understand you've been giving the CIA a bad time." 

"They deserve a bad time," I told him. 

"I'd like to see that organization put back on its feet again." I looked 
doubtful. "That would be a little difficult when you allow them to be 
investigated and censured by Congress. Undercover agencies work best when 
they are truly undercover." 

"That's exactly the way I feel," he told me. "What's the good of having 
spies if you have to tell everyone all about them. Kind of defeats the 
purpose." 

I nodded in agreement. 

And then he made me an offer I couldn't refuse. He looked me straight in the 
eyes as though trying to show that he could be trusted. "I am offering you 
the job of director of the Central Intelligence Agency." 

He waited for me to fall out of my chair in surprise. 

I didn't, and he was vastly disappointed. 

"Well?" he asked me after a moment. 

"I think you're crazy." 

He chuckled. "Crazy like a fox. You have the most devious mind in the 
worldwho could possibly be a better choice?" 

Well, he was right in that. I would be the best person he could get. 

And suddenly the idea began to appeal to me. It began to appeal to me so 
much I began to laugh out loud. 

He joined me and soon we were both laughing so hard we were almost falling 
out of our chairs. 

And that's the story of how I became the director of the CIA. Me. Carlos. 
The most infamous terrorist in the world. 

And I'm having the time of my life! 


THE END
