Standing still was good! No back and forth in my butt!
Food was even better!
The tacos were okay, the cake looked surprisingly tasty.
And there was milk, mineral water and juice.
If there had been coffee, it would have been perfect.
For a while, I focused on nothing other than replenishing my depleted energy supply.
I almost sank into this process and lost my attention for a brief moment - also because there was nothing really threatening around me.
Until he suddenly stood in front of me.
A guy. Large. Dark. Grinning broadly.
In a suit that screamed “FBI” even from the farthest distance!
And I was so confused, shocked actually, that I could only stare at him for a few moments!
As I stared for another moment, the guy moved closer to me until he was standing in front of me, almost within breathing distance: “Didn’t your parents teach you that if you don’t learn something sensible, you’ll end up in the gutter?”
He grinned a little wickedly at his stupid joke. “What the hell are you doing here?” I hissed in response, inaudible to anyone more than two steps away from us. And: “How did you get in here?” I also wanted to know from my partner.
Agent D!
My partner, since I was hired by the agency for that job.
My buddy coach, who helped me in the first really hard four weeks of training, to understand the inner workings of the agency and use them accordingly.
With whom I had occasionally ended up sharing a bed after a shared shift.
Which I really liked, from the beginning.
Not just because he had a similarly calm attitude to our non-serving relationship as I did.
He was smart, adorably cunning, (sometimes) funny, with a fantastic body that he was not without talent in using to give mine some great pleasure. “You're not the only one who has done her homework,” he replied just as inaudibly, and moved a little closer to me with the air of a somewhat pushy suitor.
My senses were extremely tense. I noticed every little movement around us.
This was a really dangerous situation, and I couldn't for the life of me imagine why D would take such a risk.
But I also understood that I had to take on my role immediately.
Even if I didn't “officially” have it yet and not even knew what exactly the role of the women in this place would be, aside from what seemed to be obvious.
So I moved a little closer to him myself, which also made our conversation a little safer. “What are you doing here?” I wanted to know again. “Checking on you, C!” he replied simply, “I hate that we don't have a way to communicate, so I came up with this way.”
I was...stunned...and touched! "How....?"
He grinned his mischievous grin: “Firstly, I am here as a customer. At least that's what the local pimps believe. They think I am a rogue G-Man, who’s a little corrupt and a little more in debt.”
I felt dizzy and had real difficulty maintaining my assumed role, which required me to seductively leer at him and pose accordingly.
Which then caused the damn thing in my ass to make itself felt vehemently.
That was a comedy!
However, one whose humour completely missed me. “Does the agency know?” I asked, while being pretty sure what he would reply. “Of course not”, he smiled the answer that I had expected.
Then he became serious.
Very serious.
I could hear it in his voice. His facial expression remained that of the horny suitor. “We don’t have much time,” he said urgently. “You are not yet approved for visitors, I know that much. So I’m going to have to leave as soon as I find out you don’t have a licence.”
I stared at him questioningly:Licence? “I can’t explain all of this to you now,” he continued, putting a hand on my shoulder.
It was supposed to calm me down, but there was a turmoil inside me that just couldn't be soothed. “Listen to me, C,” he said imploringly as he noticed me losing my focus. “The Agency has another agent assigned to Pezak. Here. I don't know who that is. The code name is C2.” “C2? Seriously?" Was the first and probably the stupidest question that escaped my mind. “It doesn’t matter, damn it! I don't know what the Agency is up to. That's why I'm here on my own initiative. All I know is that this game is extremely dangerous.”
He made a small, dramatic, completely unnecessary pause: “Dangerous for you!”
I put a hand on his chest. I needed the feeling of touching something familiar, something safe.
But there was no security. “Damn,” I whispered and used my hand to push him away from me again.
As I would probably do if he, the customer and I, the...unlicensed whore, had discovered that we couldn't get together. “I have a new pair of glasses for you, and I’m taking your old ones with me. The records will help.” He didn't wait. Time was really running out now, and I had the feeling that the guard at one end of the hallway was watching more carefully than I thought was good. “Put them on the table. I’ll exchange them.”
I knew he could do it. He had demonstrated the dexterity of his hands to me often enough. “C,” he said when it was done, and he was already turning away from me and pretending to inspect the buffet. “They offered me to work for them, on occasion. And this shop here is the most expensive whorehouse in the world, and it's called 'No Secrets, No Limits'. You realize what that means!”
In a very fleeting movement he touched my hand again.
I knew it wasn't an accident.
He was really worried. “I'll check on you as often as I can,” he whispered and was already leaving. “Stay brave, love!”
My eyes followed him as he strolled down the aisle and turned to the next girl, who was obviously waiting for customers.
She looked at me briefly. Questioning, curious.
She was probably not informed about the status of the “new” one.
But then she was busy paying her respects to D and didn't pay any attention to me anymore.
I let my eyes wander over the surreal scene while trying to organize my thoughts.
The good things first:
D knew where I was and had found a way to make contact and maybe keep it.
But that brings me to the bad news, already.
This club of criminals apparently was used to hire agents. Which wasn't a big surprise.
The question was: If they had the FBI on their pay-roll, did they also have our agency on it?
How likely would it be that this wasn't the case?
Our agency was playing a double game. With me and possibly with D too! Maybe also with that C2.
...who came up with this code name!
Was that just a stupid joke from operations management, or did it possibly have some meaning!?
Assigning another agent to the same mission was not unusual.
But doing that without informing everyone involved and briefing them together was...extremely shady.
I began to seriously doubt the agency's loyalty to me, and to its agents overall.
D had been right: I was in danger.
And it seemed to be coming at me from multiple directions!
This place was a high-class brothel.
That was hardly surprising.
Still, it was good to have confirmation.
“No limits”, that didn’t sound good.
Possibly I could talk to one of the other women to find out more.
What the “no secrets” meant was pretty obvious given the naked women.
Or was there more to this part of the name?
What I also found remarkable was the mismatch between the number of potential customers and the women in this corridor.
There were 6 doors, and I guessed that would mean six women, including myself and I didn't count, yet.
But there were 15 men.
Were they all customers, or did they have other errands to care about here?
Yet another open question!
What else?
I had no idea how far I had come so far on my path to “Pezak”.
I didn't even know if I had completely lost my way!
Was it common for this organization to require new contacts to first go through a brothel career?
Was this even planned for me? Or was there just no other way to accommodate visitors?
I realized I was starting to lose my temper and instead focused on draining my glass with slow, small sips.
I hated it, but I had to wait.
And for the first time in a very, very long time, I felt like having a cigarette!
I was about to approach a woman that was walking in my direction, when I felt someone touching my shoulder.
Luckily I had enough control over myself not to jump in shock!
I turned around. Nicka!
She smiled her fake smile. “I see you've strengthened yourself a bit! That's good! And I have good news for you. It was decided to take the next step with you now. You are getting closer to your goal.”
She didn't wait for a reaction from me. “Come with me,” she commanded, moving me towards the exit at the other end of the hallway.
She walked fast, without saying a word, with her hand on my shoulder almost pushing me forward.
My body started to tense, partly from the excitement of nearing the next step on my way to the head of the organisation, but mostly from simple fear.
And I had no chance to walk carefully, so that I'd be less intruded by the uninvited visitor in my backyard.
It was the bizarre feeling of being ass fucked really roughly while walking!
And I only hoped our journey wouldn't take too long!
Fortunately, it was only a short walk.
Already after the next door, we entered a corridor that looked the same as the one where my room was.
But there was no one in it.
All doors were closed.
And I made out another major difference:
Two metal plates, bolted to the floor, with rings on them. And a wall-rack with some all familiar equipment.
I knew what that meant, and I started to prepare myself.
Now, my expertise would come into place.
Nicka stopped at the plates and dropped the bag she was carrying. It opened, and I could see a set of cuffs, and ropes. “Only for you, chérie”, she grinned when she saw me staring at her equipment, and then she was back at commanding again: “Get in position. You know the deal!”
I was about to say “No”.
But that would have been the end. The end of everything we've been working so hard for so long.
And probably also the end of me.
So, not much later, I found myself, cuffed and bound to the plates, with ridiculously widely spread legs. “What is that for? Why the punishment? What did I do wrong?”
I asked her when she was done, and tried to add as much fear in my voice as I could.
It wasn't difficult, really.
She laughed very lightly: “Oh, silly...this is no punishment. This is a lesson!” “A lesson in what?” I wanted to know. “A lesson in pain, darling!” She smiled. “But...why?” “Because that's what we do, chérie!”
And with that she left, waving at me without looking back, but with a “Enjoy your education” as goodbye.
The wide spread was a challenge.
And I knew I wouldn't make it long.
After just a few minutes, my muscles began to tremble
I knew I couldn't even go on my knees without support from my hands.
So I bent forward, touched the ground and was quite relieved that I could relax my legs for a moment.
The plug was a real problem now, though.
It had already been a real...pain in the ass when I had been upright. But now it changed into being almost unbearable.
I had to get up for now, and then try again, without overstretching my ankles.
But I heard someone nearing very fast and from an angle that made it difficult for me to see who it was.
A guy...a really short guy!
“Da schau her! Das Fräulein Stoffels übt sich in Leibesertüchtigungen. Sehr gut!” He said in German with an Austrian Accent. (“Look there! Miss Stoffels is doing some physical exercise. Very good!”)
And I was shocked.
He knew my old name. And he obviously knew that my mother language was German.
I was doomed!
And I was trying to move up.
But that dwarf was already behind me, pressing me down with his hand on my back.
“Naa...bleiben's so, Fräuleinchen! So ist's genau wie wir's brauchen!” (“Well... stay like that, miss! That's exactly what we need!”)
------------------------ Disclaimer:
The following pages might be difficult to digest for sensitive minds!
I can only describe what followed very imprecisely, because everything in my memory is mixed into one big black mush.
I don't have many details. Much has disappeared behind a gray fog.
Which I'm pretty grateful for, because I really don't want to remember it too clearly.
All I know is that it happened very, very quickly at first. “Dann schaun wir mal,” I heard the dwarf grunt behind me. (“Then let’s see,”)
And then there was a blow that I had never experienced before and never thought possible.
His hand, or his fist, hit me like a steam ram and my entire weight shifted onto my hands.
I roared.
I felt fingers on my left hand overstretching, dislocating. Breaking?
I screamed.
My whole body was in pain.
I remember my glasses slipping off my nose and falling to the floor.
I also remember trying to pick it up despite the pain.
I couldn't lose it!
Oddly enough, I can clearly remember thinking at that moment that surveillance glasses hadn't actually been a particularly good idea.
It could be taken away far too easily!
But that was the last clear thought I had.
The dwarf had probably provided himself with the necessary tools in the meantime.
I wouldn't have been able to see him even if my eyes hadn't been half blinded by tears.
I couldn't describe what happened next, even if I remembered it more clearly.
Something hit the back of my knee. Like my leg was being cut with a sword.
My brain was unable to process the amount of pain that shot through my body like lightning.
I couldn't even scream anymore because everything inside me stopped functioning.
A second blow followed.
I collapsed, hitting my head on the concrete and hearing my glasses shatter beneath me.
The fact that I can remember it also shows how much I had grown fond of this damn thing.
Then I no longer noticed anything except pain.
A singularity of suffering.
I imagined I understood the pain.
His core. His essence.
But with three blows, the dwarf showed me that I knew nothing.
Not the slightest bit!
Then he was behind me, and my brain released just enough processing power for me to notice him ripping the plug out of me
and immediately replacing it with his cock.
But I had reached the limits of what pain I could perceive.
I didn't feel anything anymore.
I was aware of the quick, thrusting movements within me because my body was being shaken by them.
Nothing else.
And the movements immediately replaced what little of the pain had begun to subside.
I wasn't fucked.
I was tortured.
And there wasn't even enough of me left to whimper for mercy.
I no longer had any understanding of the passage of time.
At some point, as if from far away, I heard a scream and a grunt. I thought I sensed something pouring into me.
But suddenly there were feet, legs... around me.
Impossible to say how many there were.
Then there were bodies. Limbs. Hands. Mouths. Cocks.
Everywhere.
My bonds were cut, but I was unable to move.
The pain had too much of a hold on me.
Just like the grip of the arms and legs that surrounded me.
A liquid was forced into me.
And some pain was replaced.
I wish it had been by apathy.
But it was just a dull lack of will.
And enough awareness to understand the inciting commands that I obeyed.
And also enough to feel them inside me.
Everywhere and without ceasing.
Enough too to feel the blows that joined with my companion pain.
Hard, fast, cutting.
How long it lasted lost all meaning at some point.
Hours? Days? Eternities?
At some point it was over.
I was lying on my back, I think.
I heard a splashing.
And I could smell where it came from.
I must have lost consciousness at some point because I remember the moment I found it again.
Along with memory.
And even though it was only vague and blurry, it was enough to make me want to just go back to sleep forever.
But I woke up, curled up on the cold concrete.
And when I woke up, the pain was back.
Without moving, I tried to locate it.
But it was everywhere.
Less unbearable than my memory had led me to fear, but it still dominated my feelings.
But then my sense of smell woke up, and for the moment that overshadowed the pain.
A smell of dirt, sweat, blood, semen, and urine.
And it came from me.
And more memories invaded my mind.
I managed not to feel disgusted with myself.
But that smell on my skin would bother me for a while.
It was impossible to say how long I lay there when I heard a voice, as if from far away.
The gentle voice of a young woman who spoke to me quietly: “Hanna.”
“Hanna,” I heard again, and then a pause, waiting for a response that didn't come.
A hand touched me very carefully. “It's over, Hanna. You’re safe.” The voice said, and the hand stroked my arm so gently and tenderly that it managed to drive away all other sensations in me for a moment.
Without moving, I carefully opened my eyes.
A very pretty, very friendly face smiled at me. “It’ll be okay,” it said, and “I’ll take care of it.”
The stroking was so intense that I found it irritatingly pleasant.
I was tempted to close my eyes again and just concentrate on that.
But I kept opening them.
The head with the beautiful smile tilted a little and bright blue eyes looked at me. “Good,” I heard, and: “I am EmBee. I'll help you."
M.B., I thought. Strange name.
But there was this comforting touch that was much more relevant.
She waited patiently.
My eyes closed and there was only this hand on my arm.
So beautiful that I felt tears welling up in my eyes.
I didn't fight back against them.
They were good.
And important.
“You have to get up, Hanna,” said the young woman after a while. Still full of patience.
And after another pause: “You need a bath and a bed.”
And how right she was!
But I was...scared!
Scared of the slightest movement.
Scared of how they would mistreat my battered body again.
And maybe I was scared of not being able to move anymore! “I can’t,” I croaked, my throat dry.
Even through my closed eyelids, I could feel her smile as EmBee answered me after a short pause. “The committee treated you badly. But I know you can. And I’ll help you too, Hanna.” “My legs...” I started, remembering what had happened to them.
The gentle hand on my arm was tireless. “We’ll start with the feet, Hanna,” EmBee finally said. “See if you can move her.”
I guessed what she was getting at. And it was good. It would help free me from my apathy.
But I was surprised at how well it worked.
Every movement hurt, but I was used to worse.
Most things didn't feel any worse than a really bad sore muscle.
Even my injured fingers were swollen and stiff, but mobile. This movement really hurt, though. “I’ll help you up, Hanna,” EmBee finally said as we finished inspecting my features.
And so, groaning and at the pace of a 100-year-old, I rolled up and grabbed her hand, which she gave me to help.
I really looked at her for the first time.
And even with wings on her back, her appearance couldn't have been more angelic.
It actually went much better than I had feared.
I groaned softly with every step. But everything...worked.
Painful, sure, but it was the kind of pain that I knew would go away.
I haven't had any injuries more serious than what I've often sustained in sports or combat training.
That was...irritating.
Should it be like that? Was it...intended?
Maybe I could ask M.B?
But first I wanted to get to our destination.
Even if I didn't know where that was yet.
And it would still take me a while until I could really come to myself again.
Our path first took us to an elevator that took us up 4 floors and then opened up to another corridor.
In terms of size and layout, it corresponded exactly to what I already knew.
However, its...condition was something completely different.
It looked like access to luxury apartments.
Everything was sparkling clean and well maintained. High-quality materials shone everywhere.
And magnificent plants grew in expensive-looking clay pots.
So that was 'Level 5', I thought to myself.
M.B. didn't talk much while we were out and about. Just some encouragement amid some particularly intense sighs on my part. And things like: “This way”, “In there”, “Now left…”
But I didn't want any entertainment either. And maybe she knew that.
For the moment, it was enough for me to let her guide me and feel how she helped me stay upright with her amazingly strong arms.
M.B. opened the door to one of the apartments in this corridor.
The first door in a small hallway behind it led into a pretty, somewhat old-fashioned bathroom, in the middle of which was a tub that was already filled with steaming warm water, waiting for me.
I can't put into words the feeling of sliding into this water.
Less pleasant was washing the disgusting remnants from my skin.
And I was very grateful that MB immediately ran fresh hot water afterward.
I was also grateful for having a toothbrush and toothpaste, with which I scrubbed my mouth almost up to my throat for at least five minutes.
And finally I lay in the tub, clean on the outside, letting the heat of the water push away the cold in my soul.
M.B provided me with sweet tea and savory pastries that filled my stomach surprisingly quickly.
And then she finally sat next to me.
She still hadn't spoken much, but now she took my hand in hers and held it. Not tightly, but so that I felt like I could hold on to her if I wanted or needed to. “How do you feel now, Hanna?” She finally asked in her warm, gentle voice, which alone would have been enough to drive any excitement out of me.
'If this woman wants to seduce someone, then they're screwed,' I thought and noticed how, in addition to a comfortable calm, a certain degree of caution was spreading within me. “Better,” I replied after a short pause for thought.
My eyes were closed, and I wondered if I had told the truth.
But, yes, I felt better.
Which, however, was no great feat after the treatment by the “committee”. “Where am I here?” I wanted to know. It was about time that I concentrated less on myself and more on my task. That would help me too. “You’re in my apartment,” she replied cheerfully, and wanted to know: “Do you like it?” “I like the bathroom,” I said honestly, and she laughed quietly.
Then she tilted her head a little again and looked at me as if she knew that I had questions building up inside me. “If you...want to know anything, just ask me,” she finally said encouragingly. “I can definitely answer a few things for you.”
Okay... I thought, closed my eyes again and pretended to think.
Which was actually true.
I had to be careful. Even though my cover had apparently already been blown. Maybe I could still jump on the “D” train and offer myself as a corrupt agent.
It wasn't a particularly nice thought. But at least dealing with it distracted me from remembering the last few hours.
Which is where I got my first question: “This...committee. What is that?" I wanted to know from my hostess.
She nodded as if she had expected the question. “The committee is our executive branch. It carries out the tasks that have been decided or that are prescribed by the regulations.” She said without hesitation or thought.
That was...so far from any expected answer that I could only stare in surprise. But she had enough insight to anticipate my next question and answered it before I could ask it. “The regulations, like all measures, are formulated by the representatives of the society,” she began.
Then she paused for a moment and looked at me with more compassion than I could digest at the moment: “Your...action had several reasons, as far as I know. One was a violation, that's for sure. Someone else will have to tell you the other reasons.”
I was stunned!
What I had to go through had been the result of a - and I couldn't think of a better comparison: A court hearing?
Who or what was this...'Society' that apparently had the three organs of separation of powers?
Should I ask that? With my first question, I had already revealed that I had no idea about the structure of this organisation.
Maybe she would speak on her own without me having to reveal more about myself?
But MB just waited patiently for me.
So I went all out: “Are you also a representative of the society?”
She laughed her pretty, quiet laughter again. “No, no,” she said, “I don’t even have full voting rights. I’m not allowed to have that since I’m the Pezak’s assistant.”
And this answer cost me a lot of my newly regained composure!
I see that 'little yellow duck' in all the forum threads, one of two things: He's a spy or a webcam hidden in his innocent little eyes.
“Pezak's assistant? Then why are you...?”
The question escaped me without meaning to, and I couldn't stop myself until it was too late. “What am I?” She wanted to know with a teasing smile. She knew exactly what was going through my mind.
Then she laughed again, that damn irresistible quiet laugh that reminded me a bit of a very happy child. “Dear, as long as there is no dress code, I am dressed exactly the way I like or think is right.”
She stood up from her stool, giving me the opportunity to take a look at her intimidatingly flawless appearance.
She extended her helping hand again: “I wish I could be there when the Pezak explains everything to you!” she changed the subject, “But now it’s time for you to get some rest.”
She took my hand, which I had automatically extended. “I’ll take you to the bedroom.”
