An underestimation for sure
To not reckon on Barbara Moore
Bergen she knows
She’s on her toes
And planning to even the score
-
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Sexpionage IV
- Thread starter Fossy
- Start date
An underestimation for sure
To not reckon on Barbara Moore
Bergen she knows
She’s on her toes
And planning to even the score
Girl, Taken (6)
Telephone call, Office of Clark O’Shaughnessy, CIA headquarters, Langley, Virginia, 11:40 am (4:40 pm BST), Friday, April 5th 2024
“What? You’re telling me that Moore managed to give you the slip at Heathrow? What the fuck, Agent Townsend? That’s not acceptable! You’ve been trained to not let something like that happen! This will be a blight on your service record!”
“I’m so sorry.”
“What exactly happened?”
“I don’t know. I had her under surveillance on the plane and after we deplaned. Everything seemed to be going well, but she must have caught on somehow, because soon as she cleared customs she bolted and simply vanished before I knew it. Fled in such haste that she left her luggage behind.”
“Of course she vanished! Moore is a pro! But so are you! Or so I thought!”
“Look, I’m sorry! It happened. What do you want me to do now?”
“Well, it’s obvious that Barb is up to something! I thought her story about needing to be with an ailing friend sounded fishy. That’s why I put you on her tail, Townsend.”
“Yessir.”
“But what’s done is done. What I want you to do, Townsend, is hole up in a London hotel … and make sure it’s a cheap one … until I get hold of Roger Moore, my SiS counterpart. I’ve a suspicion that there’s far more to this business than meets the eye, and it’s high time that SiS shares what it knows with us.”
“Yessir.”
Mimi’s Hotel, Frith St, Soho London, 4:40 pm Friday, April 5th 2024
Jason Underwood let out an exultant roar as he climaxed and ejaculated a hot load deep inside Barb’s vagina. Perched on hands and knees on the bed before him as he took her ‘doggie-style’, she squealed in orgasmic pleasure before collapsing forward onto the rumpled bed sheets with him landing on top of her.
“Jeeze Jase!” she cried. “How many times have we done it now?”
“Lost count,” he gasped as he rolled off her and onto his back.
Panting heavily and sheened in sweat, they lay silently side-by-side for a time, holding hands and staring at the ceiling in silence, before he raised himself up on one elbow and said, “Barb, enough is enough. I love this but we need to get serious now and focus on poor Issy.”
“I know Jase!”
“So, if you’re correct about it being Bergen where they’re holding her, we’d best make plans to get ourselves over there.”
“Yes, but only fools rush in. Barta’s doing this to her because it’s you he wants. So, we must avoid serving you up to him on a silver platter. They don’t yet know that I’m involved, so whatever plan we work out … it’s going to have to be me who takes the lead … me who they’ll see … not you.”
“Agreed, but first we need to get over there. In the morning … first thing … we’d better see about booking passage to Bergen. I’m operating ‘dark’ with Roger’s tacit approval, which means SiS has provided me with a false passport. What about you?”
“I’m afraid I’m here now entirely on my own, Jase. Langley thinks I’ve taken personal leave to visit an ailing friend. They know nothing about what’s really going on. So as for a plan of attack, I’ll have to work something up … I don’t know quite what, but I’ll think of something by tomorrow. And speaking of ailing friends, I’ve been meaning to ask, Jase, what’s going on these days with you and Grace?”
“Nothing at the moment. Barb. I’m not in touch with Grace. I only know, because Roger Moore informed me, that she’s left the country and gone to New Zealand with her parents.”
“I see …”
“So it’s just you and me, Barb … and Issy, of course.”
“Okay, but there’s one more thing, Jase. We may not be entirely alone. Seems Langley put a tail on me. I spotted her on the plane coming over. I managed to give her the slip at Heathrow. Right now, she’s probably trying to explain to O’Shaughnessy how that happened. Poor thing. But O’Shaughnessy is like a bulldog. He won’t call her off and it’s entirely possible that she’ll pick up my trail again, if she’s any good at what she does.”
“I see …”
A disused warehouse, East Side, Vågen, Bryggen, Bergen, Norway, 11 am, 7 pm Friday, April 5th 2024
The ropes wind around Issy’s naked body, crisscrossing in intricate patterns, her arms held high, her body stretched. The knots are tied, the cameras are all in place, the spectacle is established, ready for another torture porn movie to be shot. She cannot move her limbs an inch of her own accord.
She hears the boss's voice. He's checking on the equipment now that their captive is secured. She watches him, until he’s satisfied and moves away.
The silent, nameless man steps forward. He brings his hands around her throat and squeezes. It's not gentle, as he closes off her airways within a second, and that's when the panic sets in because his grip is so strong.
His face looks across her, smiling seductively as the bound girl before him struggles against the ropes. Issy knows it won't do any good, but it's a reflex action. A basic instinct because she can't just let him kill her. And then just when she feels her vision starting to cut out, he releases his hold, leaving Issy coughing and spluttering, literally gasping for breath.
“Again,” the boss says.
“What? No. I …” But the silent man's hands close around her delicate throat once more and he presses in just as hard, cutting her off from any precious air. The panic is worse this time, because Issy knows that she won't last as long. Her heart pulses in her head, as his thumbs push hard into her neck.
It’s impossible to twist away as the young girl’s hands clench into fists. She’s helpless as her head lolls and her eyes roll backwards. She’s losing consciousness and opens her mouth to scream but no sound is possible, and then, right at the very edge he releases her leaving the poor girl sucking in heaving breaths, completely filling her lungs with live giving oxygen.
Then. “Again.”
“Fuck. No. Please. You can't be serious …”
But he is, and the man chokes her once more.
And then, as her addled mind drifts, his hands come away, leaving Issy to gasp for a precious breath.
Eventually she looks up at the man in front of her and just waits.
The cameras are still filming, she can see the record light.
“Next,” the boss says, from behind him.
The ropes are loosened and Issy is guided down to the floor, where the positioning of the body binding allow her knees to bend, so that she now kneels before them.
The silent, nameless man reaches into his pocket and pulls something out. It looks like an egg. It's smooth and shining silver. He twists it around the centre and it starts to vibrate.
“God no, please …” Issy anticipates its use, and with a smirk, the man crouches down and pushes it between her legs, the fit tight because of the ropes holding her thighs closed. But it goes in and nestles deeply, and Issy discovers that the ropes have just the right amount of give for him to wedge it in tightly against her clit.
The same man then steps around in front of Issy and pulls his cock out. He's already rock hard. Suffocating her was clearly a huge turn on for him. He grabs a fistful of hair at the back of her head and pulls her face right up against his cock.
“Open Issy and if he feels any teeth, I will personally skin you alive!” The boss instructs.
His tone left the young girl in no doubt about his sincerity.
The silent, nameless man pushed his erection against her lips and then onwards into her open mouth. Issy takes him all the way in and runs her tongue along the shaft, it’s an unavoidable action.
The head of his cock drags along the roof of her mouth again and again and Issy’s lips curl around the shaft, as the vibration between her thighs seems to intensify,
This video will be in the hands of her father within a few hours, and he will watch as she bobs her head back and forth hurtling towards the edge of losing all control. Her slender bound legs shake. The pressure builds and builds inside her until she explodes, shuddering and shaking from the intense waves of unwanted pleasure that cover her.
TBC
Telephone call, Office of Clark O’Shaughnessy, CIA headquarters, Langley, Virginia, 11:40 am (4:40 pm BST), Friday, April 5th 2024
“What? You’re telling me that Moore managed to give you the slip at Heathrow? What the fuck, Agent Townsend? That’s not acceptable! You’ve been trained to not let something like that happen! This will be a blight on your service record!”
“I’m so sorry.”
“What exactly happened?”
“I don’t know. I had her under surveillance on the plane and after we deplaned. Everything seemed to be going well, but she must have caught on somehow, because soon as she cleared customs she bolted and simply vanished before I knew it. Fled in such haste that she left her luggage behind.”
“Of course she vanished! Moore is a pro! But so are you! Or so I thought!”
“Look, I’m sorry! It happened. What do you want me to do now?”
“Well, it’s obvious that Barb is up to something! I thought her story about needing to be with an ailing friend sounded fishy. That’s why I put you on her tail, Townsend.”
“Yessir.”
“But what’s done is done. What I want you to do, Townsend, is hole up in a London hotel … and make sure it’s a cheap one … until I get hold of Roger Moore, my SiS counterpart. I’ve a suspicion that there’s far more to this business than meets the eye, and it’s high time that SiS shares what it knows with us.”
“Yessir.”
Mimi’s Hotel, Frith St, Soho London, 4:40 pm Friday, April 5th 2024
Jason Underwood let out an exultant roar as he climaxed and ejaculated a hot load deep inside Barb’s vagina. Perched on hands and knees on the bed before him as he took her ‘doggie-style’, she squealed in orgasmic pleasure before collapsing forward onto the rumpled bed sheets with him landing on top of her.
“Jeeze Jase!” she cried. “How many times have we done it now?”
“Lost count,” he gasped as he rolled off her and onto his back.
Panting heavily and sheened in sweat, they lay silently side-by-side for a time, holding hands and staring at the ceiling in silence, before he raised himself up on one elbow and said, “Barb, enough is enough. I love this but we need to get serious now and focus on poor Issy.”
“I know Jase!”
“So, if you’re correct about it being Bergen where they’re holding her, we’d best make plans to get ourselves over there.”
“Yes, but only fools rush in. Barta’s doing this to her because it’s you he wants. So, we must avoid serving you up to him on a silver platter. They don’t yet know that I’m involved, so whatever plan we work out … it’s going to have to be me who takes the lead … me who they’ll see … not you.”
“Agreed, but first we need to get over there. In the morning … first thing … we’d better see about booking passage to Bergen. I’m operating ‘dark’ with Roger’s tacit approval, which means SiS has provided me with a false passport. What about you?”
“I’m afraid I’m here now entirely on my own, Jase. Langley thinks I’ve taken personal leave to visit an ailing friend. They know nothing about what’s really going on. So as for a plan of attack, I’ll have to work something up … I don’t know quite what, but I’ll think of something by tomorrow. And speaking of ailing friends, I’ve been meaning to ask, Jase, what’s going on these days with you and Grace?”
“Nothing at the moment. Barb. I’m not in touch with Grace. I only know, because Roger Moore informed me, that she’s left the country and gone to New Zealand with her parents.”
“I see …”
“So it’s just you and me, Barb … and Issy, of course.”
“Okay, but there’s one more thing, Jase. We may not be entirely alone. Seems Langley put a tail on me. I spotted her on the plane coming over. I managed to give her the slip at Heathrow. Right now, she’s probably trying to explain to O’Shaughnessy how that happened. Poor thing. But O’Shaughnessy is like a bulldog. He won’t call her off and it’s entirely possible that she’ll pick up my trail again, if she’s any good at what she does.”
“I see …”
A disused warehouse, East Side, Vågen, Bryggen, Bergen, Norway, 11 am, 7 pm Friday, April 5th 2024
The ropes wind around Issy’s naked body, crisscrossing in intricate patterns, her arms held high, her body stretched. The knots are tied, the cameras are all in place, the spectacle is established, ready for another torture porn movie to be shot. She cannot move her limbs an inch of her own accord.
She hears the boss's voice. He's checking on the equipment now that their captive is secured. She watches him, until he’s satisfied and moves away.
The silent, nameless man steps forward. He brings his hands around her throat and squeezes. It's not gentle, as he closes off her airways within a second, and that's when the panic sets in because his grip is so strong.
His face looks across her, smiling seductively as the bound girl before him struggles against the ropes. Issy knows it won't do any good, but it's a reflex action. A basic instinct because she can't just let him kill her. And then just when she feels her vision starting to cut out, he releases his hold, leaving Issy coughing and spluttering, literally gasping for breath.
“Again,” the boss says.
“What? No. I …” But the silent man's hands close around her delicate throat once more and he presses in just as hard, cutting her off from any precious air. The panic is worse this time, because Issy knows that she won't last as long. Her heart pulses in her head, as his thumbs push hard into her neck.
It’s impossible to twist away as the young girl’s hands clench into fists. She’s helpless as her head lolls and her eyes roll backwards. She’s losing consciousness and opens her mouth to scream but no sound is possible, and then, right at the very edge he releases her leaving the poor girl sucking in heaving breaths, completely filling her lungs with live giving oxygen.
Then. “Again.”
“Fuck. No. Please. You can't be serious …”
But he is, and the man chokes her once more.
And then, as her addled mind drifts, his hands come away, leaving Issy to gasp for a precious breath.
Eventually she looks up at the man in front of her and just waits.
The cameras are still filming, she can see the record light.
“Next,” the boss says, from behind him.
The ropes are loosened and Issy is guided down to the floor, where the positioning of the body binding allow her knees to bend, so that she now kneels before them.
The silent, nameless man reaches into his pocket and pulls something out. It looks like an egg. It's smooth and shining silver. He twists it around the centre and it starts to vibrate.
“God no, please …” Issy anticipates its use, and with a smirk, the man crouches down and pushes it between her legs, the fit tight because of the ropes holding her thighs closed. But it goes in and nestles deeply, and Issy discovers that the ropes have just the right amount of give for him to wedge it in tightly against her clit.
The same man then steps around in front of Issy and pulls his cock out. He's already rock hard. Suffocating her was clearly a huge turn on for him. He grabs a fistful of hair at the back of her head and pulls her face right up against his cock.
“Open Issy and if he feels any teeth, I will personally skin you alive!” The boss instructs.
His tone left the young girl in no doubt about his sincerity.
The silent, nameless man pushed his erection against her lips and then onwards into her open mouth. Issy takes him all the way in and runs her tongue along the shaft, it’s an unavoidable action.
The head of his cock drags along the roof of her mouth again and again and Issy’s lips curl around the shaft, as the vibration between her thighs seems to intensify,
This video will be in the hands of her father within a few hours, and he will watch as she bobs her head back and forth hurtling towards the edge of losing all control. Her slender bound legs shake. The pressure builds and builds inside her until she explodes, shuddering and shaking from the intense waves of unwanted pleasure that cover her.
TBC
Poor Issy’s situation seems most grave
So rightly observes our erstwhile Dave
Rescue will soon be coming
Soon’s they’re done cumming
Barb’ll come up with something brave
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Girl, Taken (7)
Holiday Inn Express London - Vauxhall Nine Elms, an IHG Hotel, 6 pm Friday, April 5th 2024
Vauxhall Nine Elms boasted the only new underground tube station to be built in the last 25 years, designed to put the thriving community around Battersea less than fifteen minutes away from Central London.
Moving smoothly up working escalators, one of the few words of this nature that the British and the Americans shared, was almost a pleasure, as was the noticeable lack of graffiti. Unfortunately, a girl’s skirt did not have to be very short to have a hand stuck up it on a rush hour tube train anywhere in the world, and Vauxhall Nine Elms was regrettably no exception.
Six o’clock of an April evening saw the daylight still around and as the, relatively, fresh air of London’s streets hit Agent Ashley Townsend’s nostril’s when she took in a deep breath upon reappearing above ground, she sighed and looked around her for some signs of the Holiday Inn Express.
“Google it is,” she said to herself making no attempt to disguise her Louisiana drawl. Ashley was a proud girl of the South and had quickly ditched the English accent she used with Barb on the plane, once she knew that her cover had been blown.
Six minutes later, up South Lambeth Road and across to Nine Elms Lane, Agent Townsend was checking into the Holiday Inn Express.
A shaft of strong white early evening sun cut between the heavy curtains as she entered room 202.
She looked around, though there wasn’t much to look at. Decent sized, basic room, ensuite shower room, double queen-sized bed, and a copy of today’s Financial Times, folded, for her on the small round table with the one chair tucked under it – this was London after all.
“I guess you get what you pay for,” she bemoaned, recalling the ninety-two English pounds the one night here had cost her on her Corporate Amex Card.
Stripping off her jacket and unzipping her skirt brought a sigh of relief. It had been a long day and now the shower called out to her, before she headed out to find a meal and glass of chilled Chardonnay.
With her bra now having joined all of her other clothes save for her pink lace girl boxers, Ashley was just about to get naked when her work phone buzzed.
With a sigh she answered, grateful that it wasn’t a video call.
“Agent Townsend speaking.”
“Agent Townsend, Roger Moore here head of MI6.”
Fuck, she almost stood to attention on the spot.
“What do you think of Brazilian?”
What?
“Erm, Sir, I erm, well I actually shave my body, you know my erm, mound, regularly, I actually don’t see the point of …”
“Food, Agent Townsend, Brazilian food.”
Fuck. Fuck, FUUUUUUCCCCKKKK! This assignment was going from bad to worse.
“It’s fine, Sir, I guess,” she answered trying to regain her composure as quickly as possible.
“Good. I’ll see you at the Tia Maria Bar and Grill in one hour.”
Call over. Humiliation complete, and she now had dinner with the Head of MI6.
“Better get that shower missy,” she said to herself “… and don’t y’all forget to shave now.” She smirked to herself as she stepped under the hot water.
A disused warehouse, East Side, Vågen, Bryggen, Bergen, Norway, 9 pm Friday, April 5th 2024
Issy has lost track of time. Her moments are measured by a fading, addled mind and a judgement on the time spent inside the cage and the time out of it.
She had been dragged out once today to make that video, or was it yesterday. She was covered in sticky cum.
The cell is ominously quiet when there’s no one else around leaving poor Issy to stew on her own thoughts. Then she sees movement between the bars of her small caged prison.
Normally, there's at least three of them ‘using’ her. But this time it’s just Felix, one of the original abductors, who has shown up.
“Now I get to fuck you little girl.” He says simply making his intention very clear.
“No, oh God no,” Issy’s pleas were illogical given what she has already endured, but she hasn’t actually been raped so far, and now …
He pulled her out of the cage, and threw her heavily down onto the threadbare mattress that was littering her cell floor, and she landed with a thump leaving her wheezing for breath. Issy hears him exhale as he stands next to her, looming over her prostrate body while reaching into his loose-fitting combats to pull out his cock.
This time it is not about videos or her father, this is simply his own gratification and somehow this is way more scary for the captive girl. Felix strokes himself a few times as he steps around between her already, unwittingly parted thighs, and it’s so obvious that he’s aroused.
Kneeling he grabs her legs and yanks her down the mattress towards him, then lowers his head to her groin.
“Nghhhhhh!” Her response is inarticulate as his tongue presses up against her clit and swirls all around the rapidly engorging nub, finding so much wetness, leaving behind even more.
Issy squirms her ass, her small hands balling fistfuls of the mattress sides as he lubricates her cunt. Felix, without a word, pulls his mouth away and stands up to remove his pants, before kneeling back down again.
Still without a word he spreads her legs wider apart with his large thighs, pushes the head of his cock up against her, and with a hard thrust, he forces his way inside her body.
“Aiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!”
Issy arches throws her head back and lets out a long hard scream.
London Heathrow, Terminal 2, boarding gate area for the 10:35 am SAS flight to Oslo, Norway with connecting flight to Bergen, 9:48 am, Saturday 6th April 2024.
“We’re here Barb, almost on our way, have you managed to come up with a workable plan yet.”
“No, Jase. I’m still trying to get over the ill effects of viewing that dreadful new video Barta sent you this morning showing poor Issy being forced to suck some guy while being helplessly stimulated with one of those vibrating egg thingies. Totally degrading, and meant to be!”
“I know. Barta is doing his level best to goad me into giving myself up for Issy’s sake.”
“And doing a good job of it too. For what it’s worth, Jase, here are my thoughts, First of all, you’re definitely not going to give yourself up to Barta! No matter what! Even if you did, there’s no guarantee he’d keep his end of the bargain and free Issy. More likely, you’ll end up dead and she’d end up as a sex slave in the Middle East or some such place. So forget it!”
“I know, Barb. So what do you propose? I’ve had some thoughts about sending you in posing as a white trash American looking for a sex workers job. You could get inside and locate Issy and then …”
“No, that won’t work, Jase. Barta knows me from when you, me and Grace nearly brought him down last year. As you’ll recall, Grace had tried to get to him then by posing as a stripper … and he saw through that. The same would likely happen to me.”
“Well then, what …?”
“It’s only a half-baked idea, Jase, but remember me telling you about that CIA agent 0’Shaunessey put on my tail … the woman on the plane over here … the one I gave the slip to soon as I landed here at Heathrow?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, O’Shaunessey is very tenacious. He doesn’t give up easily. You can bet he’s been in touch with Roger Moore by now and that together they’re see that she gets back on my tail. Rest assured she’s out there somewhere, but If we can manage to spot and corner her, I’ll bet she can be persuaded to work with us.”
“In what way could she possibly do that?”
“I dunno, Jase. Thats the question. We’ll think of something. Perhaps, we could prevail upon her to pose as the representative of a Mexican narcotics producer who’s come to Bergen to strike up new European deals. Bartas’ organization is only just surviving after what happened last year. He’s got to be looking to get something lucrative going … and he might see and her Mexican connections might be just what he needs ...”
“Perhaps, but we don’t know where she is, whether she’s managed to pick up your trail again or, even if she has, whether we could persuade her to …”
“Wait! Guess who just turned up?”
“Here?”
“Yes, here! See that woman who just walked up to the podium to speak to the SAS gate agent?”
“Yes, but hold on. I thought you said your CIA tail was blond and British. That woman is a brunette, and if I’m not mistaken she sounds as though she’s from somewhere in the American South.”
“It’s her Jase. I can tell. Trust me … it’s her!”
“Alright, Barb. If you say so. What next?”
“We approach her soon as we have an opportunity, either during the layover in Oslo or soon as we can once we’re in Bergen. I have a hunch that we can win her over if we show her those videos of Issy being tortured. And if we can get her on board, we have … however indirectly .. involved Clark O’Shaughnessy and Roger Moore as well.”
TBC
Holiday Inn Express London - Vauxhall Nine Elms, an IHG Hotel, 6 pm Friday, April 5th 2024
Vauxhall Nine Elms boasted the only new underground tube station to be built in the last 25 years, designed to put the thriving community around Battersea less than fifteen minutes away from Central London.
Moving smoothly up working escalators, one of the few words of this nature that the British and the Americans shared, was almost a pleasure, as was the noticeable lack of graffiti. Unfortunately, a girl’s skirt did not have to be very short to have a hand stuck up it on a rush hour tube train anywhere in the world, and Vauxhall Nine Elms was regrettably no exception.
Six o’clock of an April evening saw the daylight still around and as the, relatively, fresh air of London’s streets hit Agent Ashley Townsend’s nostril’s when she took in a deep breath upon reappearing above ground, she sighed and looked around her for some signs of the Holiday Inn Express.
“Google it is,” she said to herself making no attempt to disguise her Louisiana drawl. Ashley was a proud girl of the South and had quickly ditched the English accent she used with Barb on the plane, once she knew that her cover had been blown.
Six minutes later, up South Lambeth Road and across to Nine Elms Lane, Agent Townsend was checking into the Holiday Inn Express.
A shaft of strong white early evening sun cut between the heavy curtains as she entered room 202.
She looked around, though there wasn’t much to look at. Decent sized, basic room, ensuite shower room, double queen-sized bed, and a copy of today’s Financial Times, folded, for her on the small round table with the one chair tucked under it – this was London after all.
“I guess you get what you pay for,” she bemoaned, recalling the ninety-two English pounds the one night here had cost her on her Corporate Amex Card.
Stripping off her jacket and unzipping her skirt brought a sigh of relief. It had been a long day and now the shower called out to her, before she headed out to find a meal and glass of chilled Chardonnay.
With her bra now having joined all of her other clothes save for her pink lace girl boxers, Ashley was just about to get naked when her work phone buzzed.
With a sigh she answered, grateful that it wasn’t a video call.
“Agent Townsend speaking.”
“Agent Townsend, Roger Moore here head of MI6.”
Fuck, she almost stood to attention on the spot.
“What do you think of Brazilian?”
What?
“Erm, Sir, I erm, well I actually shave my body, you know my erm, mound, regularly, I actually don’t see the point of …”
“Food, Agent Townsend, Brazilian food.”
Fuck. Fuck, FUUUUUUCCCCKKKK! This assignment was going from bad to worse.
“It’s fine, Sir, I guess,” she answered trying to regain her composure as quickly as possible.
“Good. I’ll see you at the Tia Maria Bar and Grill in one hour.”
Call over. Humiliation complete, and she now had dinner with the Head of MI6.
“Better get that shower missy,” she said to herself “… and don’t y’all forget to shave now.” She smirked to herself as she stepped under the hot water.
A disused warehouse, East Side, Vågen, Bryggen, Bergen, Norway, 9 pm Friday, April 5th 2024
Issy has lost track of time. Her moments are measured by a fading, addled mind and a judgement on the time spent inside the cage and the time out of it.
She had been dragged out once today to make that video, or was it yesterday. She was covered in sticky cum.
The cell is ominously quiet when there’s no one else around leaving poor Issy to stew on her own thoughts. Then she sees movement between the bars of her small caged prison.
Normally, there's at least three of them ‘using’ her. But this time it’s just Felix, one of the original abductors, who has shown up.
“Now I get to fuck you little girl.” He says simply making his intention very clear.
“No, oh God no,” Issy’s pleas were illogical given what she has already endured, but she hasn’t actually been raped so far, and now …
He pulled her out of the cage, and threw her heavily down onto the threadbare mattress that was littering her cell floor, and she landed with a thump leaving her wheezing for breath. Issy hears him exhale as he stands next to her, looming over her prostrate body while reaching into his loose-fitting combats to pull out his cock.
This time it is not about videos or her father, this is simply his own gratification and somehow this is way more scary for the captive girl. Felix strokes himself a few times as he steps around between her already, unwittingly parted thighs, and it’s so obvious that he’s aroused.
Kneeling he grabs her legs and yanks her down the mattress towards him, then lowers his head to her groin.
“Nghhhhhh!” Her response is inarticulate as his tongue presses up against her clit and swirls all around the rapidly engorging nub, finding so much wetness, leaving behind even more.
Issy squirms her ass, her small hands balling fistfuls of the mattress sides as he lubricates her cunt. Felix, without a word, pulls his mouth away and stands up to remove his pants, before kneeling back down again.
Still without a word he spreads her legs wider apart with his large thighs, pushes the head of his cock up against her, and with a hard thrust, he forces his way inside her body.
“Aiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!”
Issy arches throws her head back and lets out a long hard scream.
London Heathrow, Terminal 2, boarding gate area for the 10:35 am SAS flight to Oslo, Norway with connecting flight to Bergen, 9:48 am, Saturday 6th April 2024.
“We’re here Barb, almost on our way, have you managed to come up with a workable plan yet.”
“No, Jase. I’m still trying to get over the ill effects of viewing that dreadful new video Barta sent you this morning showing poor Issy being forced to suck some guy while being helplessly stimulated with one of those vibrating egg thingies. Totally degrading, and meant to be!”
“I know. Barta is doing his level best to goad me into giving myself up for Issy’s sake.”
“And doing a good job of it too. For what it’s worth, Jase, here are my thoughts, First of all, you’re definitely not going to give yourself up to Barta! No matter what! Even if you did, there’s no guarantee he’d keep his end of the bargain and free Issy. More likely, you’ll end up dead and she’d end up as a sex slave in the Middle East or some such place. So forget it!”
“I know, Barb. So what do you propose? I’ve had some thoughts about sending you in posing as a white trash American looking for a sex workers job. You could get inside and locate Issy and then …”
“No, that won’t work, Jase. Barta knows me from when you, me and Grace nearly brought him down last year. As you’ll recall, Grace had tried to get to him then by posing as a stripper … and he saw through that. The same would likely happen to me.”
“Well then, what …?”
“It’s only a half-baked idea, Jase, but remember me telling you about that CIA agent 0’Shaunessey put on my tail … the woman on the plane over here … the one I gave the slip to soon as I landed here at Heathrow?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, O’Shaunessey is very tenacious. He doesn’t give up easily. You can bet he’s been in touch with Roger Moore by now and that together they’re see that she gets back on my tail. Rest assured she’s out there somewhere, but If we can manage to spot and corner her, I’ll bet she can be persuaded to work with us.”
“In what way could she possibly do that?”
“I dunno, Jase. Thats the question. We’ll think of something. Perhaps, we could prevail upon her to pose as the representative of a Mexican narcotics producer who’s come to Bergen to strike up new European deals. Bartas’ organization is only just surviving after what happened last year. He’s got to be looking to get something lucrative going … and he might see and her Mexican connections might be just what he needs ...”
“Perhaps, but we don’t know where she is, whether she’s managed to pick up your trail again or, even if she has, whether we could persuade her to …”
“Wait! Guess who just turned up?”
“Here?”
“Yes, here! See that woman who just walked up to the podium to speak to the SAS gate agent?”
“Yes, but hold on. I thought you said your CIA tail was blond and British. That woman is a brunette, and if I’m not mistaken she sounds as though she’s from somewhere in the American South.”
“It’s her Jase. I can tell. Trust me … it’s her!”
“Alright, Barb. If you say so. What next?”
“We approach her soon as we have an opportunity, either during the layover in Oslo or soon as we can once we’re in Bergen. I have a hunch that we can win her over if we show her those videos of Issy being tortured. And if we can get her on board, we have … however indirectly .. involved Clark O’Shaughnessy and Roger Moore as well.”
TBC
Davec5299
Magistrate
For dinner she got Brazilian, but for breakfast just rubbery eggs,
If you need a snack in London, then nearby there's always a Greggs.
Agent Townsend, so much greener than grass,
Must surely soon fall on her ass.
To save Issy, Jase and Barb hatch a plot,
That's bound to work well, or maybe not!
For Felix is getting his fill,
Not a drop of his seed will he spill.
They're all doomed, thinks every reader,
Where's brave Grace when you really need her?
(Not a limerick, but it's holiday season!)
If you need a snack in London, then nearby there's always a Greggs.
Agent Townsend, so much greener than grass,
Must surely soon fall on her ass.
To save Issy, Jase and Barb hatch a plot,
That's bound to work well, or maybe not!
For Felix is getting his fill,
Not a drop of his seed will he spill.
They're all doomed, thinks every reader,
Where's brave Grace when you really need her?
(Not a limerick, but it's holiday season!)
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Wonderful DaveFor dinner she got Brazilian, but for breakfast just rubbery eggs,
If you need a snack in London, then nearby there's always a Greggs.
Agent Townsend, so much greener than grass,
Must surely soon fall on her ass.
To save Issy, Jase and Barb hatch a plot,
That's bound to work well, or maybe not!
For Felix is getting his fill,
Not a drop of his seed will he spill.
They're all doomed, thinks every reader,
Where's brave Grace when you really need her?
(Not a limerick, but it's holiday season!)
(Not a limerick, but it's holiday season!)
Poet Dave is off on holiday
But posts a rhyme anyway
Dedicated he is
And a lyrical whiz
What a guy, I have to say!
Better than a limerick!
Girl, Taken (8)
A disused warehouse, East Side, Vågen, Bryggen, Bergen, Norway, 04:00 am, Saturday 6th April 2024.
“You're a whore, Issy. Say it.”
“Fuck you,” She replies through gritted teeth, clenching her fists, summoning up her final reserves of defiance.
Fully expecting to be beaten to within an inch of her life, she waits but nothing happens. She twists her head to see the boss setting the flogger down.
“Alright,” he says. “You're not going to say it. Then, we'll have to show you, and treat you like the whore that you are, Issy.”
“Do your worst, you fucking asshole.” She actually spits at him, as he steps to her front, along with Jerzy and Felix.
Issy has been pulled from her cage and secured arms over her head, body stretched, the position in which she is usually flogged. But this time things seem different.
Barta undoes his pants and takes them off. All three of them stand in front of her entirely naked. Their bodies are muscular, toned, and ready to rape her. Issy stares, her stomach flipping as she mutters. “Oh fuck,” under her breath.
The boss steps forward and releases her wrists from the leather straps, dragging her forward until she is forced onto her knees, surrounded by the three men.
“Pleasure us, whore,” Barta says, his voice gravel, holding his cock to her lips.
With sinking her teeth into the first hard shaft that passes her lips being a sure-fire way to a long and horrible death, Issy opens up and takes him in, and he hardens up quickly in her mouth, as her head begins to bob back and forth.
“Not just me, whore,” the boss says. “You have hands. Use them.”
Felix and Jerzy stand on either side of Barta as Issy reaches up to take their erections into her delicate grip, moving her touch, making them hard too. Barta grabs her hair and forces himself deeper into her mouth, flexing his cock in the back of her throat until she gags. Tears roll down her cheeks as poor Issy gasps for breath.
“Keep stroking them, whore,” the boss commands. “Do what you do best.”
Her throat burns from the brutality of the way he fucks her face, and he doesn’t stop, not for one second … he wants it to hurt her, and he is succeeding. Until, without warning, he tears his cock out of her throat, steps back, and then lies down beside her. With his glistening, saliva coated cock jutting up hard from his body, it's obvious what he expects.
Felix steps forward and pushes his cock into her mouth, as Issy continue stroking Jerzy while Barta manoeuvres himself into a position, lifting her right thigh and leg, until she is straddling him and pulls her down onto his erection.
“Oh, fuck no,” are the words Issy says, but they emerge as a grunt as her mouth is completely gagged as the boss’s length fills her, stretching her cunt wide, thrusting upwards while Felix pumps into her mouth.
Then, just when she is overwhelmed by the sensations, Felix pulls out and Jerzy replaces him, taking his turn to shove his cock down her throat. Nothing gentle. Nothing for Issy’s pleasure or even comfort. It’s not even about their desire, and gratification will be an accidental by-product. This is clearly about sadism and revenge. Nothing more.
“Like that, whore? Being used like that?” the boss asks. Issy can't answer. He doesn't want an answer. She can barely breathe, much less talk. She is being pulverized by his hard shaft as it pushes up hard deep and fast into her over used body.
The poor girl can't take much more. Barta is thrusting up into her while her hair is gripped to ensure the brutality of the face fuck. Her mind can't handle it, and she knows that she’s going to break.
Then Jerzy cums. His breath splutters, his body tenses as he rips his saliva-covered cock from her mouth and strokes it to orgasm into her gasping face. He spills his load all over her forehead, eyes, and chin. And then, as he pants for breath himself, he squeezes out the last drops, and steps back.
Barta ups the intensity. He grabs her and pounds relentlessly into her over stretched cunt until he unloads his seed deep into her womb, leaving only Felix to jerk himself off over her breasts..
As they bundle Issy back into her cage, leaving her broken, she breaks down in tears. Deep, heaving sobs that she can't control.
On board the SAS flight to Oslo, Norway with connecting flight to Bergen, 10:25 am, Saturday 6th April 2024.
As one of the last to board, CIA Special Agent Ashley Townsend made her way down the center aisle toward her seat, taking careful note as she passed of her quarried pair seated together in row 15 … Barb Moore occupying a window seat and Jason Underwood seated alongside her and looking every bit as ruggedly handsome as he appeared in the photo Roger Moore had shown her over dinner the night before.
Having disgraced herself professionally a couple days ago with her CIA boss, Clark O’Shaunessey, by blowing her assigned mission to tail Agent Barbara Moore, Ashley had been pleased to be entrusted with a renewal of the assignment. And absolutely thrilled to be in the service of not only Langley but London as well. This, in her mind, was a huge career opportunity and she was determined to make a success of it!
Claiming her aisle seat one row back she smiled. Luck was with her, she was seated close enough to them to keep them under observation, possibly close enough even to catch a snatch of conversation, and certainly close enough so as to not lose track of them during deplaning. There would be no repeat at Oslo’s Gardermoen Airport of what happened at London Heathrow.
As she buckled in and settled back for takeoff her mind drifted back to the previous evening’s dinner conversation with Roger Moore at the Tia Maria Bar and Grill. She’d been nervous after embarrassing herself when he had phoned to set up the meeting. But she’d managed to get it all together by the time they’d met.
The man was legendary and she adored the attention he lavished on her despite the seriousness of their ‘over dinner’ discussion. She thought it might be nice to work for him someday … maybe even more than just work for him. She was determined to get this right.
************
One row forward, Barb jabbed Jase in his side and rolled her eyes back and to her left to signal that their tail, Ashley Townsend, had taken the aisle seat in the row directly behind them.
Jase responded by showing her the screen on his phone, which displayed a plan of Bergen’s airport. Enlarging the screen he pointed to the location of the Joe and the Juice café bar, and raised his eyebrows quizzically.
Barb grinned, winked and squeezed his knee affectionately.
Joe and the Juice café bar, Bergen’s Flesland Airport, 16:10 pm, Saturday 6th April 2024.
On the connecting flight from Oslo to Bergen, the seating arrangement had been reversed with Barb and Jase seated several rows behind Ashley Townsend. By the time they’d deplaned and made their way to the baggage claim, she had taken up station there, pretending to be searching for something within the bag she’d already removed from the carousel.
She was taken totally by surprise, when after retrieving their bags, they’d walked right up to and accosted her. While Jase picked up her bag, Barb had smiled brightly while hooking arms with her and hissing in her ear, “smile back at me as though we’re good friends and come with us. We’re going somewhere to have a nice little chat.”
Seated across from them in the airport café bar that Jase had identified back on the Oslo flight, Ashley Townsend’s face was white as a sheet having just been shown the videos on Jase’s phone of Issy being tortured and raped.
Barb was doing all the talking.
“Look, Ashley. That’s your name, isn’t it? I know that contradicting Clark O’Shaunessey’s assignment orders is tantamount to career suicide back at Langley, but like it or not we are all in this together now that you’ve been compromised. A sweet young girl’s life is at stake here. You’ve seen her suffering at the hands of those fucking bastards! This is real. They know both Jase and me. They don’t know you. We desperately need your help!”
“I get that, but it’s more than O’Shaunessey whom I’d be in trouble with, you see, as if that’s not bad enough. It’s Roger Moore as well. If what you’re asking me to do goes wrong, And there’s no guarantee that it won’t. I’m finished. Career ruined!”
“Well, the way I see it, Ashley, you’re already most of the way there … two tail assignments blown in one go? Only some heroics at this point is going to save your sweet ass! It’s either work with us or you’re finished. Besides, you’ve seen the videos. It’s the only decent thing to do!”
“Alright. I’m in. What’s the plan?”
“We haven’t got one yet.”
“What?”
“Calm down. We’ll work it out. The man behind what’s happening to Jase’s daughter, Issy, is known as Barta. It’s believed that that’s actually his real name. Did you get a briefing on him from either Clark O’Shaughnessy or Roger Moore?”
“No …”
“That figures. The only way we can get to and save Issy is to find Barta and locate where he’s holding Issy here in Bergen. Neither Jase or I can do it on account of the fact that he knows both of us. No disguise would be good enough to work for either of us. But he doesn’t know you! If you can seek out and get to him …”
“Say no more. I’m getting the picture. I’ll do it, but not before we have a good plan. I’ve just blown two assignments as you well know. And as the saying goes, ‘three strikes and you’re out’.”
“Yes, and when dealing with the likes of Barta, it’s out for good! Thanks Ashley, for agreeing to this. We won’t send you in there until we’ve come up with something good, but there’s no time … for poor Issy’s sake … to dally, so whatever it is, it had better work. He likes women in a bad way. Perhaps something that appeals to that … “
TBC
A disused warehouse, East Side, Vågen, Bryggen, Bergen, Norway, 04:00 am, Saturday 6th April 2024.
“You're a whore, Issy. Say it.”
“Fuck you,” She replies through gritted teeth, clenching her fists, summoning up her final reserves of defiance.
Fully expecting to be beaten to within an inch of her life, she waits but nothing happens. She twists her head to see the boss setting the flogger down.
“Alright,” he says. “You're not going to say it. Then, we'll have to show you, and treat you like the whore that you are, Issy.”
“Do your worst, you fucking asshole.” She actually spits at him, as he steps to her front, along with Jerzy and Felix.
Issy has been pulled from her cage and secured arms over her head, body stretched, the position in which she is usually flogged. But this time things seem different.
Barta undoes his pants and takes them off. All three of them stand in front of her entirely naked. Their bodies are muscular, toned, and ready to rape her. Issy stares, her stomach flipping as she mutters. “Oh fuck,” under her breath.
The boss steps forward and releases her wrists from the leather straps, dragging her forward until she is forced onto her knees, surrounded by the three men.
“Pleasure us, whore,” Barta says, his voice gravel, holding his cock to her lips.
With sinking her teeth into the first hard shaft that passes her lips being a sure-fire way to a long and horrible death, Issy opens up and takes him in, and he hardens up quickly in her mouth, as her head begins to bob back and forth.
“Not just me, whore,” the boss says. “You have hands. Use them.”
Felix and Jerzy stand on either side of Barta as Issy reaches up to take their erections into her delicate grip, moving her touch, making them hard too. Barta grabs her hair and forces himself deeper into her mouth, flexing his cock in the back of her throat until she gags. Tears roll down her cheeks as poor Issy gasps for breath.
“Keep stroking them, whore,” the boss commands. “Do what you do best.”
Her throat burns from the brutality of the way he fucks her face, and he doesn’t stop, not for one second … he wants it to hurt her, and he is succeeding. Until, without warning, he tears his cock out of her throat, steps back, and then lies down beside her. With his glistening, saliva coated cock jutting up hard from his body, it's obvious what he expects.
Felix steps forward and pushes his cock into her mouth, as Issy continue stroking Jerzy while Barta manoeuvres himself into a position, lifting her right thigh and leg, until she is straddling him and pulls her down onto his erection.
“Oh, fuck no,” are the words Issy says, but they emerge as a grunt as her mouth is completely gagged as the boss’s length fills her, stretching her cunt wide, thrusting upwards while Felix pumps into her mouth.
Then, just when she is overwhelmed by the sensations, Felix pulls out and Jerzy replaces him, taking his turn to shove his cock down her throat. Nothing gentle. Nothing for Issy’s pleasure or even comfort. It’s not even about their desire, and gratification will be an accidental by-product. This is clearly about sadism and revenge. Nothing more.
“Like that, whore? Being used like that?” the boss asks. Issy can't answer. He doesn't want an answer. She can barely breathe, much less talk. She is being pulverized by his hard shaft as it pushes up hard deep and fast into her over used body.
The poor girl can't take much more. Barta is thrusting up into her while her hair is gripped to ensure the brutality of the face fuck. Her mind can't handle it, and she knows that she’s going to break.
Then Jerzy cums. His breath splutters, his body tenses as he rips his saliva-covered cock from her mouth and strokes it to orgasm into her gasping face. He spills his load all over her forehead, eyes, and chin. And then, as he pants for breath himself, he squeezes out the last drops, and steps back.
Barta ups the intensity. He grabs her and pounds relentlessly into her over stretched cunt until he unloads his seed deep into her womb, leaving only Felix to jerk himself off over her breasts..
As they bundle Issy back into her cage, leaving her broken, she breaks down in tears. Deep, heaving sobs that she can't control.
On board the SAS flight to Oslo, Norway with connecting flight to Bergen, 10:25 am, Saturday 6th April 2024.
As one of the last to board, CIA Special Agent Ashley Townsend made her way down the center aisle toward her seat, taking careful note as she passed of her quarried pair seated together in row 15 … Barb Moore occupying a window seat and Jason Underwood seated alongside her and looking every bit as ruggedly handsome as he appeared in the photo Roger Moore had shown her over dinner the night before.
Having disgraced herself professionally a couple days ago with her CIA boss, Clark O’Shaunessey, by blowing her assigned mission to tail Agent Barbara Moore, Ashley had been pleased to be entrusted with a renewal of the assignment. And absolutely thrilled to be in the service of not only Langley but London as well. This, in her mind, was a huge career opportunity and she was determined to make a success of it!
Claiming her aisle seat one row back she smiled. Luck was with her, she was seated close enough to them to keep them under observation, possibly close enough even to catch a snatch of conversation, and certainly close enough so as to not lose track of them during deplaning. There would be no repeat at Oslo’s Gardermoen Airport of what happened at London Heathrow.
As she buckled in and settled back for takeoff her mind drifted back to the previous evening’s dinner conversation with Roger Moore at the Tia Maria Bar and Grill. She’d been nervous after embarrassing herself when he had phoned to set up the meeting. But she’d managed to get it all together by the time they’d met.
The man was legendary and she adored the attention he lavished on her despite the seriousness of their ‘over dinner’ discussion. She thought it might be nice to work for him someday … maybe even more than just work for him. She was determined to get this right.
************
One row forward, Barb jabbed Jase in his side and rolled her eyes back and to her left to signal that their tail, Ashley Townsend, had taken the aisle seat in the row directly behind them.
Jase responded by showing her the screen on his phone, which displayed a plan of Bergen’s airport. Enlarging the screen he pointed to the location of the Joe and the Juice café bar, and raised his eyebrows quizzically.
Barb grinned, winked and squeezed his knee affectionately.
Joe and the Juice café bar, Bergen’s Flesland Airport, 16:10 pm, Saturday 6th April 2024.
On the connecting flight from Oslo to Bergen, the seating arrangement had been reversed with Barb and Jase seated several rows behind Ashley Townsend. By the time they’d deplaned and made their way to the baggage claim, she had taken up station there, pretending to be searching for something within the bag she’d already removed from the carousel.
She was taken totally by surprise, when after retrieving their bags, they’d walked right up to and accosted her. While Jase picked up her bag, Barb had smiled brightly while hooking arms with her and hissing in her ear, “smile back at me as though we’re good friends and come with us. We’re going somewhere to have a nice little chat.”
Seated across from them in the airport café bar that Jase had identified back on the Oslo flight, Ashley Townsend’s face was white as a sheet having just been shown the videos on Jase’s phone of Issy being tortured and raped.
Barb was doing all the talking.
“Look, Ashley. That’s your name, isn’t it? I know that contradicting Clark O’Shaunessey’s assignment orders is tantamount to career suicide back at Langley, but like it or not we are all in this together now that you’ve been compromised. A sweet young girl’s life is at stake here. You’ve seen her suffering at the hands of those fucking bastards! This is real. They know both Jase and me. They don’t know you. We desperately need your help!”
“I get that, but it’s more than O’Shaunessey whom I’d be in trouble with, you see, as if that’s not bad enough. It’s Roger Moore as well. If what you’re asking me to do goes wrong, And there’s no guarantee that it won’t. I’m finished. Career ruined!”
“Well, the way I see it, Ashley, you’re already most of the way there … two tail assignments blown in one go? Only some heroics at this point is going to save your sweet ass! It’s either work with us or you’re finished. Besides, you’ve seen the videos. It’s the only decent thing to do!”
“Alright. I’m in. What’s the plan?”
“We haven’t got one yet.”
“What?”
“Calm down. We’ll work it out. The man behind what’s happening to Jase’s daughter, Issy, is known as Barta. It’s believed that that’s actually his real name. Did you get a briefing on him from either Clark O’Shaughnessy or Roger Moore?”
“No …”
“That figures. The only way we can get to and save Issy is to find Barta and locate where he’s holding Issy here in Bergen. Neither Jase or I can do it on account of the fact that he knows both of us. No disguise would be good enough to work for either of us. But he doesn’t know you! If you can seek out and get to him …”
“Say no more. I’m getting the picture. I’ll do it, but not before we have a good plan. I’ve just blown two assignments as you well know. And as the saying goes, ‘three strikes and you’re out’.”
“Yes, and when dealing with the likes of Barta, it’s out for good! Thanks Ashley, for agreeing to this. We won’t send you in there until we’ve come up with something good, but there’s no time … for poor Issy’s sake … to dally, so whatever it is, it had better work. He likes women in a bad way. Perhaps something that appeals to that … “
TBC
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Girl, Taken (9)
Bergen City Hostel, 6:10 pm, Saturday 6th April 2024.
It is already well into the evening when the cab draws to a stop outside the City Hostel in downtown Bergen.
Agent Ashley Townsend looks dolefully out of the window, at the place she is staying, as the cab driver grows ever more impatient, keen not to loiter in this part of town any longer than is necessary.
“Really?” Ashley mutters to herself, recalling the conversation she had with Agent Moore and Major Underwood in the Café bar at the airport, where they had agreed the basis of her cover for the benefit of Barta and his gang.
A white-trash sex worker on the run from her pimps back in Louisiana, and now here in Norway looking for work. So, of course she had to be staying at the cheapest, seediest place imaginable, for authenticity, right?
“Yeah, while you stay at somewhere way comfier! Bitch.” She didn’t like Moore, but nonetheless, she had to buy into what the more Senior Agent said about her having one more chance to make this assignment work. And so here she was.
The taxi driver’s patience finally runs out and he snaps. "Come on, Lady. You gettin' out or what?" Everyone in Norway speaks great English, and so no translation was required.
Ashley looked up at him, his words not really registering, wanting for all the world to tell him to take her back, back home to her safe, comfortable Baton Rouge apartment on Southdowns.
This place is a hostel, just a doorway really, through which the hapless Agent can see stairs going up to another floor.
She has to admit to being scared, but weirdly excited also. And so, taking a deep breath she steps out of the cab, leaning into the front passenger window to pay the driver what she owes. Then, turning, she walks to the small doorway and mounts the stairs. It is a long climb to what passes for the hostel lobby, and hardly worth the effort.
It’s a small square room with nothing decorative about it. The bare wood floor is scuffed and splintered – a complete firetrap, she thinks to herself. Directly opposite the stairway entrance there is a small window in the wall. It is covered with very thick glass and bars over the glass; half way down the opening there is a pass thru slot.
Behind the glass a young, pimply-faced man is sitting, looking expectantly at her. Ashley bends down to speak into the tube, and as she does, his eyes drop down to stare openly at her breasts, cleavage exposed from the low-cut white lycra top under her faux leather jacket.
"I … erm … my name is Ash … erm … Eloise Ryder,” she stutters, remembering the cover name they agreed, “I believe you might have a reservation for me?”
For a long moment he says nothing, does nothing, except to continue to stare at her breasts. Then he tears himself away from the view and turns to the side, rummaging through some papers. It seems to take forever, but finally he turns back to the window.
"Yeah…Miss Ryder," he says, emphasizing the "Miss", "you got number Fifteen. Right down that hall over there." He stands up in his little cubicle and points the way.
He sits back down, picking up a magazine with a naked girl on the front. He seems to lose interest in Ashley immediately, as ‘Eloise’ turns to walk slowly down the dark hallway. She can smell the dirt around her; crumbling plaster, stale urine ... and the unmistakable aromas of cheap sex.
Number Fifteen is at the extreme end of the hall. The door is ajar, and as she pushes it open it becomes clear that there is no lock.
With a groan Ashley drops her bag and looks around. There is a bed, the head board against the wall to her right. Opposite the door is a window … no curtains … which looks out on another wing of the building with windows that can see straight into this room. To her left is a bare wall with a cheap unnumbered print of Don Quixote hanging from it at a jaunty angle, and a doorway leading to the bathroom. At least she has a bathroom, even if the smell from it pervades all around the small room.
Sharing the wall with the door through which she has entered is a small, heavily scratched dresser, with a chipped and cracked mirror. There is no rug or carpet, just bare floor boards. With a loud groan, and a tear or two forming in her eyes, Ashley steps further into the room and closes the unlocking door behind her.
Hotel Norge, Bergenhus, 5807 Bergen, Norway, 7:40 pm, Saturday 6th April 2024
“So, what did you think of the hostel?”
“Sleazy dump,” scoffed Ashley as she entered Jason’s and Barb’s hotel room, brushed past a grinning Jason and set herself wearily onto the foot of the bed occupied by Barb.
“In other words, suits our purpose perfectly,” quipped Jason.
“I suppose so …. Hey! Am I interrupting something here?”
“No, it’s fine,” Barb assured her, sitting up and hastily covering her nakedness with a loose bit of bedsheet.
“Yeah, we’re … uh … finished,” added Jason, hurriedly snatching up and stepping into his pants.
“Hey, take a look in the bag over there on the dresser. See what you think of the sexy outfit I went out and bought for you,” suggested Barb. “Barta and company will absolutely love it … quite convincing! Oh, and Jase darling, when you’re done dressing, see if you can find where the fuck my panties disappeared to.”
“I see that I definitely did interrupt something,” laughed Ashley.
“My bra too, while you’re at it, Jase.”
“Oh no! This won’t do. I can’t wear these tawdry things!” groaned Ashley from across the room, holding up the contents of a brilliant red plastic boutique shopping bag emblazoned with the logo: ‘Hot Stuff - Bryggestredet 14, Bergen’.
“If you’re to be convincing, you’ll have to wear them,” pronounced Barb unsympathetically. “You’re playing at being a white-trash hooker from Louisiana, remember?”
“I hope I won’t have to perform any … what do they call them? Tricks?”
“You may well have to do exactly that,” interjected Jase sternly. “Now listen carefully. Here’s the plan that Barb and I have worked out for you tonight. You’ll go back to the hostel as ‘Eloise Ryder’, wearing the get-up Barb has secured for you. Make sure you’re seen by the guy at reception. That’s a first step in word getting around. Then at around 10 pm or so you’ll make your way over to one of those sleazy night spots Bryggen is known for. Barb and I don’t care which one. Use your best judgement. Pick something suitably disreputable and risqué looking. Go in, and buy yourself a drink. Flaunt your outfit and your looks. Talk to anyone who’ll listen, using the line that you’re new in Bergen, on the run from trouble in America, and looking for action.”
“And where will you two be?”
“Hanging around, posing as a respectable tourist couple out for an evening of bar hopping. We’ll keep a close eye on you. Should Barta bite on the bait … and mind you … he’ll likely use someone else to bring you to him … Barb and I will tail you there.”
“And then what?”
“We’ll think of something … “, offered Barb, her voice trailing off.
“That’s what I was afraid of. Alright. Whatever. Too late to back out, so on with the show. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go in the bathroom now and change into these dreadful things.”
“Modesty has no place in your assignment, Agent Townsend slash Eloise Ryder, “snapped Barb, striking a commandingly official tone. “You’ll do it right here in front of us!”
Madam Fell, Bar and Club, Bryggen 43 5003 Bergen Norway, 10:00 pm, Saturday 6th April 2024
Agent Townsend chose Madam Fells because according to TripAdvisor it was dark and atmospheric inside, with a touch of danger about it but yet came out highly rated enough to seem like it was moderately safe.
Kind of.
But then she had to begin somewhere and Bryggen was the place that Agent Moore had said she needed to be.
And so, wearing the shortest black skirt she, herself, ever seen Ashley walked in through the large doors into the gloomy surrounding inside Madam Fell’s, still feeling more than a little humiliated at having let Agent Moore and Major Underwood order her to undress and the redress as a slut right in front of them.
She was a bitch and, despite his current paternal suffering, he was a bastard. If you asked Ashley, they were well suited as lovers, and that wasn’t a complement.
The skirt wasn't tight, rather it was loose with a kind of knit lace around the bottom, with which she wore black, hold-up stockings and high heels. However, the skirt was so short and you could see the tops of Ashley’s stockings through the 3" band of black lace and more than a little of her smooth, creamy thighs.
The 4" heels completed the look! Ashley had never felt so conscious of how she looked, and as for bending over! If she even moved, you could see her tiny, black lace panties through the uppermost part of the skirt’s lacy fringe. On top, she wore a black bustier with blood-red piping, that pushed her breasts up and out, oh so, invitingly! And to ward off the April night chill, she had a tattered blue denim jacket on.
Every mouth in the bar watered. Every head thinking … I need to eat that pussy tonight!
A disused warehouse, East Side, Vågen, Bryggen, Bergen, Norway, 11:00 pm, Saturday 6th April 2024.
“Throw her back into her cage,” Barta said dismissively. They had each taken a turn at poor, Issy, raping her both vaginally and anally, and now he was bored of her.
“If her father doesn’t turn up soon, she will be disposed of.” He announced, just as Felix walked into the small room that Barta used as his personal relaxation space.
“Boss, there is a new girl out in Bryggen saying that she’s a sex worker on the run from her pimps in America, and is looking for work. Boss you should see her …”
Barta, less inclined to spontaneous sexual excitement than his subordinate, nodded.
“So do you think we should meet this girl?”
“I do yes boss.”
Now the man known as the boss, smiled. “Okay, I will go to the backroom at Bryggen Nightclub, where they will give me privacy. Go find the girl and bring her to me there. Let me see her.”
Felix smiled a huge grin, and headed back out.
TBC
Bergen City Hostel, 6:10 pm, Saturday 6th April 2024.
It is already well into the evening when the cab draws to a stop outside the City Hostel in downtown Bergen.
Agent Ashley Townsend looks dolefully out of the window, at the place she is staying, as the cab driver grows ever more impatient, keen not to loiter in this part of town any longer than is necessary.
“Really?” Ashley mutters to herself, recalling the conversation she had with Agent Moore and Major Underwood in the Café bar at the airport, where they had agreed the basis of her cover for the benefit of Barta and his gang.
A white-trash sex worker on the run from her pimps back in Louisiana, and now here in Norway looking for work. So, of course she had to be staying at the cheapest, seediest place imaginable, for authenticity, right?
“Yeah, while you stay at somewhere way comfier! Bitch.” She didn’t like Moore, but nonetheless, she had to buy into what the more Senior Agent said about her having one more chance to make this assignment work. And so here she was.
The taxi driver’s patience finally runs out and he snaps. "Come on, Lady. You gettin' out or what?" Everyone in Norway speaks great English, and so no translation was required.
Ashley looked up at him, his words not really registering, wanting for all the world to tell him to take her back, back home to her safe, comfortable Baton Rouge apartment on Southdowns.
This place is a hostel, just a doorway really, through which the hapless Agent can see stairs going up to another floor.
She has to admit to being scared, but weirdly excited also. And so, taking a deep breath she steps out of the cab, leaning into the front passenger window to pay the driver what she owes. Then, turning, she walks to the small doorway and mounts the stairs. It is a long climb to what passes for the hostel lobby, and hardly worth the effort.
It’s a small square room with nothing decorative about it. The bare wood floor is scuffed and splintered – a complete firetrap, she thinks to herself. Directly opposite the stairway entrance there is a small window in the wall. It is covered with very thick glass and bars over the glass; half way down the opening there is a pass thru slot.
Behind the glass a young, pimply-faced man is sitting, looking expectantly at her. Ashley bends down to speak into the tube, and as she does, his eyes drop down to stare openly at her breasts, cleavage exposed from the low-cut white lycra top under her faux leather jacket.
"I … erm … my name is Ash … erm … Eloise Ryder,” she stutters, remembering the cover name they agreed, “I believe you might have a reservation for me?”
For a long moment he says nothing, does nothing, except to continue to stare at her breasts. Then he tears himself away from the view and turns to the side, rummaging through some papers. It seems to take forever, but finally he turns back to the window.
"Yeah…Miss Ryder," he says, emphasizing the "Miss", "you got number Fifteen. Right down that hall over there." He stands up in his little cubicle and points the way.
He sits back down, picking up a magazine with a naked girl on the front. He seems to lose interest in Ashley immediately, as ‘Eloise’ turns to walk slowly down the dark hallway. She can smell the dirt around her; crumbling plaster, stale urine ... and the unmistakable aromas of cheap sex.
Number Fifteen is at the extreme end of the hall. The door is ajar, and as she pushes it open it becomes clear that there is no lock.
With a groan Ashley drops her bag and looks around. There is a bed, the head board against the wall to her right. Opposite the door is a window … no curtains … which looks out on another wing of the building with windows that can see straight into this room. To her left is a bare wall with a cheap unnumbered print of Don Quixote hanging from it at a jaunty angle, and a doorway leading to the bathroom. At least she has a bathroom, even if the smell from it pervades all around the small room.
Sharing the wall with the door through which she has entered is a small, heavily scratched dresser, with a chipped and cracked mirror. There is no rug or carpet, just bare floor boards. With a loud groan, and a tear or two forming in her eyes, Ashley steps further into the room and closes the unlocking door behind her.
Hotel Norge, Bergenhus, 5807 Bergen, Norway, 7:40 pm, Saturday 6th April 2024
“So, what did you think of the hostel?”
“Sleazy dump,” scoffed Ashley as she entered Jason’s and Barb’s hotel room, brushed past a grinning Jason and set herself wearily onto the foot of the bed occupied by Barb.
“In other words, suits our purpose perfectly,” quipped Jason.
“I suppose so …. Hey! Am I interrupting something here?”
“No, it’s fine,” Barb assured her, sitting up and hastily covering her nakedness with a loose bit of bedsheet.
“Yeah, we’re … uh … finished,” added Jason, hurriedly snatching up and stepping into his pants.
“Hey, take a look in the bag over there on the dresser. See what you think of the sexy outfit I went out and bought for you,” suggested Barb. “Barta and company will absolutely love it … quite convincing! Oh, and Jase darling, when you’re done dressing, see if you can find where the fuck my panties disappeared to.”
“I see that I definitely did interrupt something,” laughed Ashley.
“My bra too, while you’re at it, Jase.”
“Oh no! This won’t do. I can’t wear these tawdry things!” groaned Ashley from across the room, holding up the contents of a brilliant red plastic boutique shopping bag emblazoned with the logo: ‘Hot Stuff - Bryggestredet 14, Bergen’.
“If you’re to be convincing, you’ll have to wear them,” pronounced Barb unsympathetically. “You’re playing at being a white-trash hooker from Louisiana, remember?”
“I hope I won’t have to perform any … what do they call them? Tricks?”
“You may well have to do exactly that,” interjected Jase sternly. “Now listen carefully. Here’s the plan that Barb and I have worked out for you tonight. You’ll go back to the hostel as ‘Eloise Ryder’, wearing the get-up Barb has secured for you. Make sure you’re seen by the guy at reception. That’s a first step in word getting around. Then at around 10 pm or so you’ll make your way over to one of those sleazy night spots Bryggen is known for. Barb and I don’t care which one. Use your best judgement. Pick something suitably disreputable and risqué looking. Go in, and buy yourself a drink. Flaunt your outfit and your looks. Talk to anyone who’ll listen, using the line that you’re new in Bergen, on the run from trouble in America, and looking for action.”
“And where will you two be?”
“Hanging around, posing as a respectable tourist couple out for an evening of bar hopping. We’ll keep a close eye on you. Should Barta bite on the bait … and mind you … he’ll likely use someone else to bring you to him … Barb and I will tail you there.”
“And then what?”
“We’ll think of something … “, offered Barb, her voice trailing off.
“That’s what I was afraid of. Alright. Whatever. Too late to back out, so on with the show. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go in the bathroom now and change into these dreadful things.”
“Modesty has no place in your assignment, Agent Townsend slash Eloise Ryder, “snapped Barb, striking a commandingly official tone. “You’ll do it right here in front of us!”
Madam Fell, Bar and Club, Bryggen 43 5003 Bergen Norway, 10:00 pm, Saturday 6th April 2024
Agent Townsend chose Madam Fells because according to TripAdvisor it was dark and atmospheric inside, with a touch of danger about it but yet came out highly rated enough to seem like it was moderately safe.
Kind of.
But then she had to begin somewhere and Bryggen was the place that Agent Moore had said she needed to be.
And so, wearing the shortest black skirt she, herself, ever seen Ashley walked in through the large doors into the gloomy surrounding inside Madam Fell’s, still feeling more than a little humiliated at having let Agent Moore and Major Underwood order her to undress and the redress as a slut right in front of them.
She was a bitch and, despite his current paternal suffering, he was a bastard. If you asked Ashley, they were well suited as lovers, and that wasn’t a complement.
The skirt wasn't tight, rather it was loose with a kind of knit lace around the bottom, with which she wore black, hold-up stockings and high heels. However, the skirt was so short and you could see the tops of Ashley’s stockings through the 3" band of black lace and more than a little of her smooth, creamy thighs.
The 4" heels completed the look! Ashley had never felt so conscious of how she looked, and as for bending over! If she even moved, you could see her tiny, black lace panties through the uppermost part of the skirt’s lacy fringe. On top, she wore a black bustier with blood-red piping, that pushed her breasts up and out, oh so, invitingly! And to ward off the April night chill, she had a tattered blue denim jacket on.
Every mouth in the bar watered. Every head thinking … I need to eat that pussy tonight!
A disused warehouse, East Side, Vågen, Bryggen, Bergen, Norway, 11:00 pm, Saturday 6th April 2024.
“Throw her back into her cage,” Barta said dismissively. They had each taken a turn at poor, Issy, raping her both vaginally and anally, and now he was bored of her.
“If her father doesn’t turn up soon, she will be disposed of.” He announced, just as Felix walked into the small room that Barta used as his personal relaxation space.
“Boss, there is a new girl out in Bryggen saying that she’s a sex worker on the run from her pimps in America, and is looking for work. Boss you should see her …”
Barta, less inclined to spontaneous sexual excitement than his subordinate, nodded.
“So do you think we should meet this girl?”
“I do yes boss.”
Now the man known as the boss, smiled. “Okay, I will go to the backroom at Bryggen Nightclub, where they will give me privacy. Go find the girl and bring her to me there. Let me see her.”
Felix smiled a huge grin, and headed back out.
TBC
prtn
Governor
you look quite stunning in this outfit barb
The shoes! Ick!!!
Twonines’ now back, hearty and hale
With fresh new verses, nothing stale
Dave and Barb say
Relief’s on the way
All’s well with this CruxForums tale
prtn
Governor
you're right. I would prefer high heel sandals. Hoping to see her wearing those later in the story.
Girl, Taken (10)
Back Rooms at the Bryggen Nightclub, Bryggen 45, 5003 Bergen, Norway, 01:45 am Sunday 7th April, 2024.
“Straight ahead.” Felix spoke in staccato sounding, clipped words as he instructed the girl along the labyrinth of corridors that lay behind the main facia of the Bryggen Night Club in the seedier part of Bryggen district.
With her heart in her mouth and her breasts almost fully on display as they spilled out of the bustier, which was at least two sizes too small, Eloise Ryder (aka Agent Ashley Townsend) pushed on the door before her.
The hinges creaked as it opened.
“Mind the step Miss,” she was wisely advised, and as she did so the barely dressed girl found herself in a small bar room, with a polished floor that contained a desk, a shabby rug and a leather couch.
Her heart raced as she stared at the couch and then she turned her head with a gasp. There were footsteps behind, as the man who had accompanied her and two more men entered the room and closed the door.
Eloise took deep breaths, to stop herself form hyperventilating, as she anticipated what was about to happen. One of the men moved brusquely past her and slid onto the couch.
Was this Barta? Barb and Jason had briefed her about her ‘mark’. He looked at her and nodded.
“Very nice,” he said, and then added simply, speaking in a low, firm voice. “Take off your clothes.”
Main Bar at the Bryggen Nightclub, Bryggen 45, 5003 Bergen, Norway, 02:10 am Sunday 7th April, 2024.
“Appears they’ve taken the bait,” observed Jason, cocking his head in Ashley’s direction.
Barbara drained the last of the Riesling from her glass and swivelled about on her barstool to catch a glimpse of Ashley being escorted through a door that presumably led to the Bryggen’s back rooms.
“She certainly looks the part in that sleazy outfit and is playing it convincingly too,” he continued. “Wonder how old she is, mid-twenties?”
Barb shot him a look that could kill and signalled the barkeep to refill her glass.
“Yeah, Jase. Mid-twenties is about right. Thinking I’m getting over the hill, are you?”
“No, Barb. Absolutely not!”
“Good. To tell the truth, I know nothing about her. At Langley, as you well know, they keep their agents ‘compartmentalized’. Clark O’Shaughnessy is a firm believer in that. You work primarily within your own team and the less, if anything, you know about others in the service the better. She must have been trained and assigned ten years or so after I was. Until now, I didn’t even know she existed.”
“So, what do we do now?”
“I’ll sit here and wait to see if she reappears through that door. But there’s undoubtedly a rear entrance through which she might emerge too, so I suggest you leave now and take up a position there. Don’t expect anything to happen quickly. It’s likely going to be awhile before we see her again. If Barta is back there and interested enough in her to buy her story, he’s undoubtedly going to want to fuck her before taking her on. We know him well enough to know he will. And that’ll be a test for her and her story. Hopefully she’ll pass muster. We’ve got a lot riding on her.”
“Right. That’s really why I brought up her youthful age, Barb.”
“No, it wasn’t Jase! I saw you checking her out back in the hotel room. But never mind. Just get your ass out back.”
“Right.”
As Barb returned to her drink and Jase made his way out, the stool he vacated was swiftly taken by a tall, ruddy-faced man with a full beard.
“Hei søta, hvordan har du det?” He crooned, placing a large hand on her knee.”
“I’m not your sweetie, and my knee is not a parking place for your big paw!”
“Ho! You understand Norwegian!” he chortled.
“I’ve spent some time living in Sweden … enough to recognize and understand a come-on from a Scandinavian male when I hear one.”
“Allow me then to introduce myself: Politioverbetjent2 Jørgen Hagen, Bergen Police, at your service.”
“Barb Moore, bar-hopping American tourist,” she replied with a grin while gently removing his hand from her knee.
“And your friend who just left in such a hurry?”
“Home to his wife, I imagine. Past his curfew.”
“I see. Look, Barb Moore. This place will be closing soon and a pretty young thing like you shouldn’t be out on the street around then in this part of Bergen. Mind if I walk you back to wherever it is you’re staying?”
“Thanks, but no need. I can take care of myself.”
“Perhaps so. But if you don’t mind me saying so, I’d wager that you and your departed friend are more than a couple of bar-hopping tourists. Here’s my card. If I can ever be of service, call me. And don’t finish that drink. I’ve been watching and think you’ve had enough. Besides, I saw the bartender slip a little something in it.”
“Good bye, Politioverbetjent2 Jørgen Hagen. Thanks for your interest, but I’m dismissing you now.”
Back Rooms at the Bryggen Nightclub, Bryggen 45, 5003 Bergen, Norway, 02:20 am Sunday 7th April, 2024.
Agent Ashley Townsend, aka Eloise Ryder, sex worker, looked at each of the men in turn to see if they agreed with the head man’s order, but they just watched her as he repeated his command, louder and firmer than before.
“Please, don’t do this,” she said, before immediately realising that she had responded as Ashley would, and not in character as Eloise.
The man stepped forward, grabbed her waist with both hands, and pulled her to him. As she looked up at him, their bodies pressed together, she nodded her head and uttered a single word, “Okay.”
His blank expression gave way to a thin grin as he gripped her denim jacket by the shoulders, slid it from her shoulders, and flung it to the floor. Then he stepped back and glared at her.
“Don’t make me do the rest.”
The reality of her situation hit Ashley like a hammer blow and a sudden chill spread through her bones, causing her body to tremble. Chewing on her bottom lip, whilst casting all thoughts of attempting to fight her way out of this predicament to the back of her mind, Ashley reached behind and unhooked the bustier, then brought her hands to the front and held it in place.
She knew she had no choice, but her hands refused to obey, they were locked in front of her, pinning the garment to her breasts. The man stepped forward again, but this time he slapped her across her face with the palm of his hand.
“Owwwww, fuck!” She cried, as she focused on not dropping her hands to slug this bastard in return, staggering backwards, her cheek stinging. She straightened up and, reluctantly, let the bustier fall to the floor. Then, with trembling hands, she unzipped the skirt and let that fall too.
The leer on the man’s face when she stood in the skimpiest of black lace panties and a pair of hold-up stockings left Agent Townsend in no doubt about his immediate intentions.
There was no point in resisting. No one was going to help her. She was in the room now with three men, but for all intents and purposes, she was alone. Yes, she was a trained Agent, but that was when she was Ashley Townsend. As Eloise Ryder she had to be a vulnerable sex worker, trying now to prove her worth and be given a job.
She looked up at the head man. He pointed to her panties. She sighed, then hooked her thumbs into each side, and after a moment’s hesitation, pushed them down and stepped out of them. The stockings quickly followed.
Her training allowed her to remain somewhat detached from what was happening to her, so much so that she had hardly felt herself being pushed down onto her back, and was only barely conscious of the fact that the head man took her right there on the threadbare rug of this dingy backroom.
When he had finished, she lay there, her body leaking his thick seed, looking up at the ceiling through eyes glazed with tears, and she began to wonder. Now that they had violated her, had they finished with her? Would they let her leave, or would they put her to work, or … worse.
The others had left during the rape of her body, and so now she was alone with Barta. As she stared at him, she focused back onto the opportunity this presented. Daring to reach out for her panties, she looked at him and asked, “Are you the one in charge. The one they called Mister Barta?”
TBC
Back Rooms at the Bryggen Nightclub, Bryggen 45, 5003 Bergen, Norway, 01:45 am Sunday 7th April, 2024.
“Straight ahead.” Felix spoke in staccato sounding, clipped words as he instructed the girl along the labyrinth of corridors that lay behind the main facia of the Bryggen Night Club in the seedier part of Bryggen district.
With her heart in her mouth and her breasts almost fully on display as they spilled out of the bustier, which was at least two sizes too small, Eloise Ryder (aka Agent Ashley Townsend) pushed on the door before her.
The hinges creaked as it opened.
“Mind the step Miss,” she was wisely advised, and as she did so the barely dressed girl found herself in a small bar room, with a polished floor that contained a desk, a shabby rug and a leather couch.
Her heart raced as she stared at the couch and then she turned her head with a gasp. There were footsteps behind, as the man who had accompanied her and two more men entered the room and closed the door.
Eloise took deep breaths, to stop herself form hyperventilating, as she anticipated what was about to happen. One of the men moved brusquely past her and slid onto the couch.
Was this Barta? Barb and Jason had briefed her about her ‘mark’. He looked at her and nodded.
“Very nice,” he said, and then added simply, speaking in a low, firm voice. “Take off your clothes.”
Main Bar at the Bryggen Nightclub, Bryggen 45, 5003 Bergen, Norway, 02:10 am Sunday 7th April, 2024.
“Appears they’ve taken the bait,” observed Jason, cocking his head in Ashley’s direction.
Barbara drained the last of the Riesling from her glass and swivelled about on her barstool to catch a glimpse of Ashley being escorted through a door that presumably led to the Bryggen’s back rooms.
“She certainly looks the part in that sleazy outfit and is playing it convincingly too,” he continued. “Wonder how old she is, mid-twenties?”
Barb shot him a look that could kill and signalled the barkeep to refill her glass.
“Yeah, Jase. Mid-twenties is about right. Thinking I’m getting over the hill, are you?”
“No, Barb. Absolutely not!”
“Good. To tell the truth, I know nothing about her. At Langley, as you well know, they keep their agents ‘compartmentalized’. Clark O’Shaughnessy is a firm believer in that. You work primarily within your own team and the less, if anything, you know about others in the service the better. She must have been trained and assigned ten years or so after I was. Until now, I didn’t even know she existed.”
“So, what do we do now?”
“I’ll sit here and wait to see if she reappears through that door. But there’s undoubtedly a rear entrance through which she might emerge too, so I suggest you leave now and take up a position there. Don’t expect anything to happen quickly. It’s likely going to be awhile before we see her again. If Barta is back there and interested enough in her to buy her story, he’s undoubtedly going to want to fuck her before taking her on. We know him well enough to know he will. And that’ll be a test for her and her story. Hopefully she’ll pass muster. We’ve got a lot riding on her.”
“Right. That’s really why I brought up her youthful age, Barb.”
“No, it wasn’t Jase! I saw you checking her out back in the hotel room. But never mind. Just get your ass out back.”
“Right.”
As Barb returned to her drink and Jase made his way out, the stool he vacated was swiftly taken by a tall, ruddy-faced man with a full beard.
“Hei søta, hvordan har du det?” He crooned, placing a large hand on her knee.”
“I’m not your sweetie, and my knee is not a parking place for your big paw!”
“Ho! You understand Norwegian!” he chortled.
“I’ve spent some time living in Sweden … enough to recognize and understand a come-on from a Scandinavian male when I hear one.”
“Allow me then to introduce myself: Politioverbetjent2 Jørgen Hagen, Bergen Police, at your service.”
“Barb Moore, bar-hopping American tourist,” she replied with a grin while gently removing his hand from her knee.
“And your friend who just left in such a hurry?”
“Home to his wife, I imagine. Past his curfew.”
“I see. Look, Barb Moore. This place will be closing soon and a pretty young thing like you shouldn’t be out on the street around then in this part of Bergen. Mind if I walk you back to wherever it is you’re staying?”
“Thanks, but no need. I can take care of myself.”
“Perhaps so. But if you don’t mind me saying so, I’d wager that you and your departed friend are more than a couple of bar-hopping tourists. Here’s my card. If I can ever be of service, call me. And don’t finish that drink. I’ve been watching and think you’ve had enough. Besides, I saw the bartender slip a little something in it.”
“Good bye, Politioverbetjent2 Jørgen Hagen. Thanks for your interest, but I’m dismissing you now.”
Back Rooms at the Bryggen Nightclub, Bryggen 45, 5003 Bergen, Norway, 02:20 am Sunday 7th April, 2024.
Agent Ashley Townsend, aka Eloise Ryder, sex worker, looked at each of the men in turn to see if they agreed with the head man’s order, but they just watched her as he repeated his command, louder and firmer than before.
“Please, don’t do this,” she said, before immediately realising that she had responded as Ashley would, and not in character as Eloise.
The man stepped forward, grabbed her waist with both hands, and pulled her to him. As she looked up at him, their bodies pressed together, she nodded her head and uttered a single word, “Okay.”
His blank expression gave way to a thin grin as he gripped her denim jacket by the shoulders, slid it from her shoulders, and flung it to the floor. Then he stepped back and glared at her.
“Don’t make me do the rest.”
The reality of her situation hit Ashley like a hammer blow and a sudden chill spread through her bones, causing her body to tremble. Chewing on her bottom lip, whilst casting all thoughts of attempting to fight her way out of this predicament to the back of her mind, Ashley reached behind and unhooked the bustier, then brought her hands to the front and held it in place.
She knew she had no choice, but her hands refused to obey, they were locked in front of her, pinning the garment to her breasts. The man stepped forward again, but this time he slapped her across her face with the palm of his hand.
“Owwwww, fuck!” She cried, as she focused on not dropping her hands to slug this bastard in return, staggering backwards, her cheek stinging. She straightened up and, reluctantly, let the bustier fall to the floor. Then, with trembling hands, she unzipped the skirt and let that fall too.
The leer on the man’s face when she stood in the skimpiest of black lace panties and a pair of hold-up stockings left Agent Townsend in no doubt about his immediate intentions.
There was no point in resisting. No one was going to help her. She was in the room now with three men, but for all intents and purposes, she was alone. Yes, she was a trained Agent, but that was when she was Ashley Townsend. As Eloise Ryder she had to be a vulnerable sex worker, trying now to prove her worth and be given a job.
She looked up at the head man. He pointed to her panties. She sighed, then hooked her thumbs into each side, and after a moment’s hesitation, pushed them down and stepped out of them. The stockings quickly followed.
Her training allowed her to remain somewhat detached from what was happening to her, so much so that she had hardly felt herself being pushed down onto her back, and was only barely conscious of the fact that the head man took her right there on the threadbare rug of this dingy backroom.
When he had finished, she lay there, her body leaking his thick seed, looking up at the ceiling through eyes glazed with tears, and she began to wonder. Now that they had violated her, had they finished with her? Would they let her leave, or would they put her to work, or … worse.
The others had left during the rape of her body, and so now she was alone with Barta. As she stared at him, she focused back onto the opportunity this presented. Daring to reach out for her panties, she looked at him and asked, “Are you the one in charge. The one they called Mister Barta?”
TBC