SEXPIONAGE IS BACK - The new blockbuster series, "The Scandinavian Mission", starts with a bang today and never lets up. Our brand new Agent, 20 year old Lacey Anderson, gets her first taste of the dangers of Espionage. We hope you enjoy the ride ...
PART I
The Graduate (1)
Somewhere in the UK. Location Unknown …
Lacey trembled as she glanced around. She was in a red metal storage container about 20 feet long and 10 feet wide. Its walls and floor were streaked with dirt, sand, oil, and other filth, and the only light came from a bare bulb dangling from the ceiling. The two men in ski masks stood in a corner, talking in low voices. They wore military style combat pants and ripped sweatshirts, and they spoke in a language Lacey couldn’t identify.
It was the middle of August and the inside of the container was like an oven, and so Lacey’s naked body was slick with sweat in no time. The men finally came over to her, eyes glittering inside their masks as they stared at her breasts, shining with perspiration, and her bare exposed pussy.
“My name is Lacey Anderson …” The girl began to repeat the standard information reveal, but her words were cut short.
“We know who you are,” one man said. “You’re Lacey Anderson, a newly trained MI6 recruit.” He spoke in a low, rough growl like someone who smoked two packs a day, and from that moment on, Lacey thought of him as ‘Smoker’. The second man was taller and his sweatshirt was red, so his nickname became ‘Red Shirt’.
View attachment 1155848
“W-what do you want?” Lacey asked, trying to sound braver than she felt.
“Tell us the name of your training instructor,” Smoker demanded. He had a slight accent, but his voice was so harsh that Lacey couldn’t place it. Middle Eastern? North African?
“Give us the name, bitch,” the man repeated, but Lacey just sat and stared straight ahead.
“How many trainees are in your program?” Red Shirt asked. His voice was high and nasally, but with a similar accent.
“What is the password to your login on the MI6 training web site?” Smoker demanded.
Lacey kept her mouth shut. The first rule she’d learned in her MI6 lecture on surviving abduction had been …
Say nothing. Don’t beg, don’t bargain, don’t lie, and never, ever give away government secrets, no matter what you’re promised. Once you give your captor the information he needs, you become worthless to him.
Smoker and Red Shirt repeated their three questions, in the same order. When Lacey still didn’t answer, Smoker slapped her across the breasts so hard that her chair almost tipped over. She bit her lip and fought back tears as the man chuckled, before reaching out to grab both of the young blonde girl’s nipples. He pulled hard, pinching them until Lacey cried out in pain. Her MI6 lectures had covered this, too;
If you refuse to answer, you’ll probably be tortured. And if you’re a woman, there’s a high probability you’ll also be raped.
The questioning went on for over an hour. Smoker and Red Shirt repeated their questions like robots, and every time Lacey refused to answer, Smoker would attack her breasts. By the time they finally gave up, the girl’s chest was red, swollen, and covered with scratches from Smoker’s ragged nails. The men left her alone for a while after that, switching off the light and slamming the door on their way out.
Once she was alone, Lacey finally let herself cry. She sat there, bound, unable to move and sobbed until she finally got it out of her system, then she took a deep breath and tried to make a plan. The men obviously knew about the training program and were hoping to get enough info from Lacey to breach the bureau’s security system. But since Lacey didn’t know who they were and what country they were from, she had no idea what their end game might be.
The girl sat in the dark, her heart beating so hard she could hear it in her ears. Otherwise, the container was dead silent. No traffic sounds outside, no voices, not even birds or animals. The car ride from where she was taken had taken about an hour, so they could be anywhere within a fifty-mile radius of London. There were plenty of forests within the area … deserted fields, run-down buildings, abandoned farms.
They probably took me out in the middle of nowhere so nobody could hear me scream.
The two men came back while it was still dark outside. When they pulled on the chain to activate the dim light, Lacey saw that each man carried a large duffle bag. The young Agent had wet herself in the chair, and the man she had named Smoker wrinkled his nose and muttered something to Red Shirt. The taller man left and came back moments later with a plastic bucket full of water, which he dumped over the girl’s head. Lacey sputtered and coughed, her wet hair now hanging in thick strands over her face.
They asked the same questions again, and she still refused to answer. Smoker shrugged and unzipped one of the duffle bags, pulling out an ominous device that looked like some type of wand. It had a rubber handle, a thin metal shaft, and a black U-shaped device at the end.
“Don’t feel bad about pissing in the chair,” Smoker said. “We were planning to use water anyway. It makes this work better.”
Before Lacey could ask what “this” was, Smoker turned a knob on the rubber handle and then touched Lacey’s shoulder with the end of the device. She squealed and jerked as the electricity raced through her; it felt like someone had grabbed her in a bear hug and was shaking her like a rag doll. When Smoker pulled the electric prod away, Lacey’s body slumped, her chest heaving.
“What is the name of your training instructor?” Smoker asked. When Lacey didn’t answer, he touched the cattle prod her left breast. “How many trainees are in your program?” Still no answer from Lacey, so he used the prod on the other breast. “What is the password to your login on the MI6 training site?”
The stoic girl still wouldn’t reply, so this time Smoker jabbed the cattle prod between her legs. When the current hit her bare pussy, and pushed between her pliant labia, Lacey screamed and arched her back away from the seat, her toes clenched and her eyes open wide.
Smoker shook his head sadly, then let out a sigh of frustration. “Stupid bitch. Maybe you need to think hard about how much you value your life.”
After they turned the light out and left, Lacey sat shivering in her chair with her teeth chattering. It had to be close to 100 degrees in the container, but the girl couldn’t stop herself from shaking. Her body felt like it was filled with millions of ants, crawling and climbing all over each other. The spots where Smoker had touched her with the cattle prod ached like she’d been stung by a wasp, especially the spot between her thighs, which tingled in a way it never had before.
Lacey had learned about electric shock torture, but the devices she’d studied were larger and more powerful, and she did not think that she would be experiencing the harsh realities of such torture so soon. The prod Smoker had used was obviously battery powered; if she still refused to answer his questions, would he move on to something bigger?
Lacey closed her eyes and tried to rest, which wasn’t easy while she was tied to the chair. All the little aches and pains kept her awake, and at one point she opened her eyes to find the inside of the container lit by a faint glow. She looked up and saw a small grate in the ceiling, with dawn sunlight leaking through it.
I guess that’s why I never ran out of air, she thought
. If only I could get my hands free …
To Be Continued …
