horsttesten
Onlooker
As the plot continues to unravel
it seems to be about time travel
10:45 am or pm, a typo or a glitch
looking forward to the next pitch
as the story continues to bedazzle
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Sexpionage IV
- Thread starter Fossy
- Start date
it seems to be about time travel
10:45 am or pm, a typo or a glitch
looking forward to the next pitch
as the story continues to bedazzle
horsttesten
Onlooker
My comments may seem nit-picking
but for me the story is real-clicking
I not only look ar what is said
I really read it and create a movie in my head
I hope the future brings more whipping
but for me the story is real-clicking
I not only look ar what is said
I really read it and create a movie in my head
I hope the future brings more whipping
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Hey Hors, although we did have a flip back in time to reveal the 'code phrase', the 10:45 should have been pm not am
We'll double and triple check now as we enter the finale stretch ... thanks for your support my friend, it genuinely is appreciated ...
horsttesten
Onlooker
Hello Fossy. My comment was obviously about the pm am thing "10:45 am or pm, a typo or a glitch" not about the flip back to 4pm. The flip back is actually a great ploy. Following the story closley it seems obvious now that Hagen was wrong with his assumption about the SWAT team "They’d undoubtedly returned to the station." it seems more likely that they listened to the transmission of the voice activated necklace and somehow reacted. But I have speculated enough now. It is up to you to continue telling the story.Hey Hors, although we did have a flip back in time to reveal the 'code phrase', the 10:45 should have been pm not am
We'll double and triple check now as we enter the finale stretch ... thanks for your support my friend, it genuinely is appreciated ...
Horst
Did the SWAT team really go home
or did they go to Barta's dome
the plot takes an interesting twist
which is not to be missed
waiting to find out where SWAT will roam
Girl, Taken (20)
Outside the disused warehouse, East Side, Vågen, Bryggen, Bergen, Norway, 12:45 am Monday 8th April 2024
Feeling a bit queasy after being drugged earlier that evening, Bergen Politibetjent2 Jorgen Hagen leaned against the wall of a building a short distance from the disused warehouse in which Barta and company held Jason Underwood and his daughter Issa, along with CIA agents Barb Moore and Ashley Townsend. And now, adding to Hagen’s angst and guilt, Barta apparently had also managed to capture his young and inexperienced subordinate, Maja Jenson, as well.
But there was yet another issue contributing to his unease. The police swat team that, according to plan, he was to lead on a raid of the warehouse, had given up and dispersed after waiting until midnight for him to appear.
He knew that he had to make a decision. He had to decide whether to call the team back, which could take precious time, or to go into that warehouse alone, which might be foolhardy and end disastrously.
And it was then, at that moment of agonizing indecision that his phone buzzed. Digging it out of his pocket, he opened the radio transmission app and stared at the screen as the device more or less instantaneously converted Maja’s words to text … a text that began with the device activating code words ‘purple haze’ and continued: “over the power you wield here, Mister Barta … the power to determine whether the people you have under your control live or die … is scary … but also really turns me on. I’m dripping wet just kneeling here before you and your crew and all my friends!”
What was happening inside that warehouse was clear. His inexperienced but apparently brave and resourceful Maja was reaching out to him as she put herself … and apparently her body … on the line … in order to both buy time and signal the need for immediate action.
Suddenly galvanized, Hagen made an on the spot decision.
He opened a call to the police station and ordered the startled officer who answered the call to assemble the team as quickly as possible and proceed thereafter to conduct an immediate fully armed assault on the warehouse.
Then he forced himself, hard as that might be, to wait in place for a full 45 minutes in order to allow the swat team time to assemble and get on its way to the warehouse before springing into action.
A disused warehouse, East Side, Vågen, Bryggen, Bergen, Norway, 12:48 am Monda 8th April 2024
Maja, instead of moving to Barta, moved to where Agent Moore was prostrated. Falling to her knees she moved her mouth towards Barb’s face and said, for everyone to hear, “Barbara my darling girl, I’m so sorry we are both involved in this but before I give my mouth over to Mr Barta let me taste you one more time.”
Barb’s eyes were wide with surprise and no little admiration for this young police officers daring bravery.
Then the young Politibetjent1 spoke quietly into Barb’s ear, “We need to buy time so kiss me Agent Moore, just go with it.”
They kiss, and the whole room was mesmerised.
Barta grinned, his erstwhile intention to shoot someone seemingly forgotten, for now at least, as he observed the ‘action’. Issy, with a ringside view, also watched as Barb and Maja kissed, and they did it so properly, like they both really meant it, as if their lives depended upon it … which of course, they did.
But, of course, a man like Barta couldn’t just watch. So, while Maja’s plan seemed to have worked in essence by diverting attention away from killing anyone, her intention to keep herself and the others away from the filthy clutches of Barta and his gang was not quite as successful.
“You think I’m willing to have a back seat while you bitches fuck?” He laughed, the question was rhetorical, the answer obvious.
The boss reached for his belt and pulled it away. Then, he dropped his pants and tossed them aside as well.
“So, I’ll be fucking you,” he said, glaring at Politibetjent1 Jensen, “ … and it won’t end until Agent Moore gets you off. Make this little cunt cum Agent Moore while I'm fucking her and it will be over for you both all the sooner.”
Barb wondered what the words ‘it will be over for you both all the sooner …’ really meant, but she smiled a weak smile up at Jason, and reflected on the fact that at least he and Issy were being kept away from the humiliation. But she was dragged back into the here and now when she glanced across at Maja and saw that the horrified look on her face was a picture of disgust.
Barta stepped forward and growled, “Time to get started, my little kurva …”. He stroked himself several times, got hard, then, positioning his erection, pushed it inside Maja, now arranged on all fours.
“Ohhhhh!” The young police woman gasped as Barta pushed all the way inside her, and she was fucked for only the second time in her young life.
Barb looked up at Barta’s face. His eyes were closed and he looked more like he was grimly doing his duty than enjoying the nubile body he was raping, but he quickly settled into a rhythm, sliding easily in and out of her wet, open pussy.
Agent Moore moved to the side of the pumping male body and reached down between Maja 's legs to rub her clit. Barta 's thrusts pushed the younger girl back and forth, but there was little stimulation between her slender thighs. The violated girl seemed limp and lifeless.
Barta began To fuck Maja harder, faster and deeper as he became lost in the act. Barb, frustrated from Maja’s lack of response, removed her touch and then, needing to make things work, moved closer to where the monster was penetrating his victim. Using the residual juice from Maja’s pussy that Barta 's cock was distributing all over the smooth fleshy area, Barb collected up a healthy amount of release onto her middle finger, and then, while rubbing Maja’s clit gently with one hand, and with Barta brutally pounding away, she coated the entrance to Maja’s asshole with the slick juice-coated finger.
Before even getting inside the tight aperture, Agent Moore gets a response.
Maja inhaled with a new found desperation.
Fuck!
Barb pushed a finger inside the younger girl’s tight hole, unlocking a forbidden passion. A long, loud groan oozed across the policewoman’s lips as Barb pushed a little deeper, and then with each new millimeter of penetration the violated girl responses multiplied.
And it was when Barb reached knuckle deep that Maja’s nubile body tensed, convulsed and her arched back beautifully.
The movement brought a similar response in Barta who, as Maja is climaxed under Barb’s touch, fillled the young girl with his seed as she cried out from the intensity of her unwitting climax.
The whole room was totally enthralled. The only sound that could be heard was the gasping of Barta and Politibetjent1 Jensen, as they both tried to recover their breath. Although Maja managed to look up through the shroud of her long, sweat drenched hair and smike at Barb.
Barb nodded back, almost imperceptibly, the mutual understanding signed and sealed.
Time had moved on but there is still no sign of the swat team or Hagen …
“That’s the first time I’ve ever been fucked in a dark and dirty warehouse …” Maja muttered softly to herself, knowing that her necklace would have picked up every single sound since she activated it … humiliating or otherwise.
Barta threw beers round to his gang, ordered that the girls all be strung up again. and it appeared that a respite has been won ... for now.
Outside the disused warehouse, East Side, Vågen, Bryggen, Bergen, Norway, 01:37 am Monday 8th April 2024
Checking the time again, Hagen grunted with satisfaction. He’d waited for the full 45 minutes. The swat team had just signalled that they were on their way … that they’d be arriving shortly.
Time for action! Without waiting for the team to appear, he withdrew the Heckler & Koch P30 semi-automatic pistol from the holster beneath his jacket, paused to take a deep breath, and then sprinted down the alleyway in the direction of the unused warehouse.
Much to his surprise, on reaching the entrance to the ramshackle old building, he found the door unlocked. He pushed at it gently, hoping to move it quietly. At that he succeeded and was able to slip inside without raising an alarm.
Standing quietly in the entryway so as to accustom his eyes to the warehouse’s dark interior … the only source of light coming from a partially ajar door at the far end of what appeared to be a large open storage space cluttered with debris of all sorts.
While it was difficult to see, the building was alive with sounds … the sounds of men shouting, the rapid fire zing and crack of what sounded like whips, and the wail of female voices crying out in pain and anguish.
Picking his way across the littered warehouse floor, Hagen made his way to that partially ajar door, and edged it slowly and gently further open … enough to look beyond it.
And what he saw, made him gasp in consternation.
He was right in thinking he’d heard the sound of whips, for there in the center of the space beyond the door, a circle of large and brutish looking, half-dressed men were busily engaged in mercilessly flogging four naked women, all bunched tightly together so as to face outward, wrists bound high overhead to a single large cleat affixed to an ancient ceiling beam.
He recognized poor Maja, who was turned towards him as he first looked in. Despite the shocking horror of the scene, he couldn’t help but allow his mind to linger, however briefly, over how stunning she looked in no clothes, nor to notice the shiny wet cum smeared about her sex and inner thighs.
But any thought of her loveliness and the depravity of what she’d subjected herself to in order to buy a little time vanished, as a whiplash caught her straight across her chest, causing her breasts to bounce and sway wildly, the force of the stroke also causing her to turn away.
And as, the sweating, screaming foursome rotated slowly about before his eyes, sped on by a flurry of lashes from all sides, he made a quick attempt at identifying each. There was Barb Moore, whom he by now easily recognized … and a pair of younger women, one of whom he knew had to be Underwood’s daughter Issy. The other must be that captured American agent, Ashley Townsend.
Also noted was the fact that there were two men in the room not taking part in the whipping of the women.
Jason Underwood could be seen off to one side, sitting on the floor, naked and bound at hands and feet, watching the scene … helpless anger and disgust painted all over his face.
The other was standing not far away, his back turned to Hagen. He was naked to the waist, arms crossed over his chest, head thrown back as he roared his laughing delight at the scene before him.
And that one has to be Barta, Hagen concluded.
And without further thought the policeman boldly entered the room, swiftly covered the short distance to where Barta stood, and pressing the muzzle of his Heckler & Koch P30 against the base of the criminal boss’ skull, loudly declared, “Police! Hands up, all of you, or I blow a hole in Mr. Barta’s head and splatter his fucking brains from here to kingdom come!”
TBC
Outside the disused warehouse, East Side, Vågen, Bryggen, Bergen, Norway, 12:45 am Monday 8th April 2024
Feeling a bit queasy after being drugged earlier that evening, Bergen Politibetjent2 Jorgen Hagen leaned against the wall of a building a short distance from the disused warehouse in which Barta and company held Jason Underwood and his daughter Issa, along with CIA agents Barb Moore and Ashley Townsend. And now, adding to Hagen’s angst and guilt, Barta apparently had also managed to capture his young and inexperienced subordinate, Maja Jenson, as well.
But there was yet another issue contributing to his unease. The police swat team that, according to plan, he was to lead on a raid of the warehouse, had given up and dispersed after waiting until midnight for him to appear.
He knew that he had to make a decision. He had to decide whether to call the team back, which could take precious time, or to go into that warehouse alone, which might be foolhardy and end disastrously.
And it was then, at that moment of agonizing indecision that his phone buzzed. Digging it out of his pocket, he opened the radio transmission app and stared at the screen as the device more or less instantaneously converted Maja’s words to text … a text that began with the device activating code words ‘purple haze’ and continued: “over the power you wield here, Mister Barta … the power to determine whether the people you have under your control live or die … is scary … but also really turns me on. I’m dripping wet just kneeling here before you and your crew and all my friends!”
What was happening inside that warehouse was clear. His inexperienced but apparently brave and resourceful Maja was reaching out to him as she put herself … and apparently her body … on the line … in order to both buy time and signal the need for immediate action.
Suddenly galvanized, Hagen made an on the spot decision.
He opened a call to the police station and ordered the startled officer who answered the call to assemble the team as quickly as possible and proceed thereafter to conduct an immediate fully armed assault on the warehouse.
Then he forced himself, hard as that might be, to wait in place for a full 45 minutes in order to allow the swat team time to assemble and get on its way to the warehouse before springing into action.
A disused warehouse, East Side, Vågen, Bryggen, Bergen, Norway, 12:48 am Monda 8th April 2024
Maja, instead of moving to Barta, moved to where Agent Moore was prostrated. Falling to her knees she moved her mouth towards Barb’s face and said, for everyone to hear, “Barbara my darling girl, I’m so sorry we are both involved in this but before I give my mouth over to Mr Barta let me taste you one more time.”
Barb’s eyes were wide with surprise and no little admiration for this young police officers daring bravery.
Then the young Politibetjent1 spoke quietly into Barb’s ear, “We need to buy time so kiss me Agent Moore, just go with it.”
They kiss, and the whole room was mesmerised.
Barta grinned, his erstwhile intention to shoot someone seemingly forgotten, for now at least, as he observed the ‘action’. Issy, with a ringside view, also watched as Barb and Maja kissed, and they did it so properly, like they both really meant it, as if their lives depended upon it … which of course, they did.
But, of course, a man like Barta couldn’t just watch. So, while Maja’s plan seemed to have worked in essence by diverting attention away from killing anyone, her intention to keep herself and the others away from the filthy clutches of Barta and his gang was not quite as successful.
“You think I’m willing to have a back seat while you bitches fuck?” He laughed, the question was rhetorical, the answer obvious.
The boss reached for his belt and pulled it away. Then, he dropped his pants and tossed them aside as well.
“So, I’ll be fucking you,” he said, glaring at Politibetjent1 Jensen, “ … and it won’t end until Agent Moore gets you off. Make this little cunt cum Agent Moore while I'm fucking her and it will be over for you both all the sooner.”
Barb wondered what the words ‘it will be over for you both all the sooner …’ really meant, but she smiled a weak smile up at Jason, and reflected on the fact that at least he and Issy were being kept away from the humiliation. But she was dragged back into the here and now when she glanced across at Maja and saw that the horrified look on her face was a picture of disgust.
Barta stepped forward and growled, “Time to get started, my little kurva …”. He stroked himself several times, got hard, then, positioning his erection, pushed it inside Maja, now arranged on all fours.
“Ohhhhh!” The young police woman gasped as Barta pushed all the way inside her, and she was fucked for only the second time in her young life.
Barb looked up at Barta’s face. His eyes were closed and he looked more like he was grimly doing his duty than enjoying the nubile body he was raping, but he quickly settled into a rhythm, sliding easily in and out of her wet, open pussy.
Agent Moore moved to the side of the pumping male body and reached down between Maja 's legs to rub her clit. Barta 's thrusts pushed the younger girl back and forth, but there was little stimulation between her slender thighs. The violated girl seemed limp and lifeless.
Barta began To fuck Maja harder, faster and deeper as he became lost in the act. Barb, frustrated from Maja’s lack of response, removed her touch and then, needing to make things work, moved closer to where the monster was penetrating his victim. Using the residual juice from Maja’s pussy that Barta 's cock was distributing all over the smooth fleshy area, Barb collected up a healthy amount of release onto her middle finger, and then, while rubbing Maja’s clit gently with one hand, and with Barta brutally pounding away, she coated the entrance to Maja’s asshole with the slick juice-coated finger.
Before even getting inside the tight aperture, Agent Moore gets a response.
Maja inhaled with a new found desperation.
Fuck!
Barb pushed a finger inside the younger girl’s tight hole, unlocking a forbidden passion. A long, loud groan oozed across the policewoman’s lips as Barb pushed a little deeper, and then with each new millimeter of penetration the violated girl responses multiplied.
And it was when Barb reached knuckle deep that Maja’s nubile body tensed, convulsed and her arched back beautifully.
The movement brought a similar response in Barta who, as Maja is climaxed under Barb’s touch, fillled the young girl with his seed as she cried out from the intensity of her unwitting climax.
The whole room was totally enthralled. The only sound that could be heard was the gasping of Barta and Politibetjent1 Jensen, as they both tried to recover their breath. Although Maja managed to look up through the shroud of her long, sweat drenched hair and smike at Barb.
Barb nodded back, almost imperceptibly, the mutual understanding signed and sealed.
Time had moved on but there is still no sign of the swat team or Hagen …
“That’s the first time I’ve ever been fucked in a dark and dirty warehouse …” Maja muttered softly to herself, knowing that her necklace would have picked up every single sound since she activated it … humiliating or otherwise.
Barta threw beers round to his gang, ordered that the girls all be strung up again. and it appeared that a respite has been won ... for now.
Outside the disused warehouse, East Side, Vågen, Bryggen, Bergen, Norway, 01:37 am Monday 8th April 2024
Checking the time again, Hagen grunted with satisfaction. He’d waited for the full 45 minutes. The swat team had just signalled that they were on their way … that they’d be arriving shortly.
Time for action! Without waiting for the team to appear, he withdrew the Heckler & Koch P30 semi-automatic pistol from the holster beneath his jacket, paused to take a deep breath, and then sprinted down the alleyway in the direction of the unused warehouse.
Much to his surprise, on reaching the entrance to the ramshackle old building, he found the door unlocked. He pushed at it gently, hoping to move it quietly. At that he succeeded and was able to slip inside without raising an alarm.
Standing quietly in the entryway so as to accustom his eyes to the warehouse’s dark interior … the only source of light coming from a partially ajar door at the far end of what appeared to be a large open storage space cluttered with debris of all sorts.
While it was difficult to see, the building was alive with sounds … the sounds of men shouting, the rapid fire zing and crack of what sounded like whips, and the wail of female voices crying out in pain and anguish.
Picking his way across the littered warehouse floor, Hagen made his way to that partially ajar door, and edged it slowly and gently further open … enough to look beyond it.
And what he saw, made him gasp in consternation.
He was right in thinking he’d heard the sound of whips, for there in the center of the space beyond the door, a circle of large and brutish looking, half-dressed men were busily engaged in mercilessly flogging four naked women, all bunched tightly together so as to face outward, wrists bound high overhead to a single large cleat affixed to an ancient ceiling beam.
He recognized poor Maja, who was turned towards him as he first looked in. Despite the shocking horror of the scene, he couldn’t help but allow his mind to linger, however briefly, over how stunning she looked in no clothes, nor to notice the shiny wet cum smeared about her sex and inner thighs.
But any thought of her loveliness and the depravity of what she’d subjected herself to in order to buy a little time vanished, as a whiplash caught her straight across her chest, causing her breasts to bounce and sway wildly, the force of the stroke also causing her to turn away.
And as, the sweating, screaming foursome rotated slowly about before his eyes, sped on by a flurry of lashes from all sides, he made a quick attempt at identifying each. There was Barb Moore, whom he by now easily recognized … and a pair of younger women, one of whom he knew had to be Underwood’s daughter Issy. The other must be that captured American agent, Ashley Townsend.
Also noted was the fact that there were two men in the room not taking part in the whipping of the women.
Jason Underwood could be seen off to one side, sitting on the floor, naked and bound at hands and feet, watching the scene … helpless anger and disgust painted all over his face.
The other was standing not far away, his back turned to Hagen. He was naked to the waist, arms crossed over his chest, head thrown back as he roared his laughing delight at the scene before him.
And that one has to be Barta, Hagen concluded.
And without further thought the policeman boldly entered the room, swiftly covered the short distance to where Barta stood, and pressing the muzzle of his Heckler & Koch P30 against the base of the criminal boss’ skull, loudly declared, “Police! Hands up, all of you, or I blow a hole in Mr. Barta’s head and splatter his fucking brains from here to kingdom come!”
TBC
horsttesten
Onlooker
The plot went stranger than I thought
time for some serious whipping it bought
that's an interesting twist
I did not imagine to exist
Our heroes are in a spot best described as fraught
time for some serious whipping it bought
that's an interesting twist
I did not imagine to exist
Our heroes are in a spot best described as fraught
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Girl, Taken (21)
SIS HQ, South bank of the River Thames in Vauxhall, London. Office of Chief of the Secret Intelligence Service of the United Kingdom, Roger Moore, 12:55 am (UK Time) Monday 8th April 2024
“It’s Langley calling again, Chief.”
Roger Moore, looking up from the paperwork on his desk at the stunningly attractive girl on night duty in the outer office, smiled grimly and asked, “O’Shaughnessy again?”
“Yessir.”
“Alright. Put him through.”
“Yessir.”
“Clark. What a surprise! It’s almost an hour since your last call!”
“Sorry Roger. Just wondering whether there’s any news. It goes without saying that I’m worried about my people, especially my rookie agent, Ashley Townsend … but Barb Moore too!”
“There is some news. I just checked with the duty officer at police HQ in Bergen. Seems the swat team has arrived on the scene once again after standing down earlier. But there also appears to be some confusion … as Hagen has apparently gone off into the warehouse without backup!”
“And the team is going in now?”
“Soon, I hope. Like typical Scandinavians, they’ve decided to hold a meeting and discuss the matter first.”
“Shit! Call them back, Roger, and light a fire under their asses!”
“I’ll do what I can, Clark.”
A disused warehouse, East Side, Vågen, Bryggen, Bergen, Norway, 01:50 am Monday 8th April 2024
For a few ominously silent seconds everything stopped. The men who had been enjoying tormenting the strung up captive girls with whips stood stock still. Even Barta stiffened, momentarily, but Jørgen Hagen had let his heart rule his head and once again he had acted recklessly, and as soon as Barta was threatened, there was a gun at the head of each girl.
“Drop the weapon,” It was Barta himself speaking.
Hagen looked around. The four girls, including his own Maja Jensen, were hung naked to the ceiling, their nubile bodies covered in angry lash marks. The man on his knees, also naked, he knew to be Major Jason Underwood.
“Faen,” Hagen uttered. He was well and truly fucked. He couldn’t risk the lives of the girls he had come to save and so, slowly, he laid the Heckler & Koch P30 down onto the ground, and then raised his hands in the air.
“Fucking pig,” came a disparaging male voice as the Politioverbetjent felt a hard bang to the back of his neck and he fell to his knees, his head spinning, his vision unclear.
“Jørgen!” Maja called out, concern etched into her tone, and as soon she had said the name of her superior, then the young police woman realised that, by revealing her fond familiarity with the more senior male officer, she had made a big mistake.
“Let that bitch down and bring her to me.” Barta was once more issuing his instructions.
“Please, don’t hurt her …” Hagen pleaded for the colleague for whom his feelings ran further than they should.
Barta chuckled. “Oh, we won’t hurt her, you fucking pig, because you’re going to fuck her!”
The boss picked up Hagen’s gun and, moving to the policeman, he held the weapon to his head and clicked off the safety.
“You must be a fucking stupid pig. Did you really think you could take me down on your own? Crawl to him little bitch,” he commands, once more addressing Maja. “Strip him, make him hard and then get on your hands and knees ready for him to fuck you …”
“Oh my God, please no …” Hagen was beside himself, but Maja, lashed and beaten beyond the edge of any reason, simply looked first at Barta and then at Jørgen Hagen, and slowly got onto her hands and knees and began to crawl.
A disused warehouse, East Side, Vågen, Bryggen, Bergen, Norway, 02:05 am Monday 8th April 2024
With the muzzle of his own gun pressed against his head, Hagen watched as his naked young colleague crawled toward him on her hands and knees.
His gaze lifted momentarily to beyond Maja’s slowly approaching form to the three women behind her … the two American agents, and Underwood’s daughter … still strung up, clustered together, arms overhead, bodies crisscrossed with whipmarks. The two American’s eyes were glued to what was about to happen next. The daughter seemed indifferent. She’d seen and experienced too much depraved brutality to care.
His attention returned to Maja, who had by then halved the distance separating her from him. She was moving slowly, head down … one might think of it as a crawling shuffle, he thought to himself.
Oddly, some questions came to mind. He caught himself wondering what it was she might be thinking and feeling. He was her immediate superior on the force … was she feeling unspeakable dismay and shame at being forced into having sex with him, of all people, in this way? Had she any feelings of attraction towards him of the kind he had for her and did his best to suppress given the social formalities and taboos of their on-the-job relationship.
She was young, and he imagined sexually inexperienced, given the fact that she’d revealed to him one day over coffee in the station canteen that her ambition to be a policewoman … and a very good one too … had been an all consuming preoccupation … almost an obsession that had literally taken over her life totally before joining the force. She said it was all she ever thought of each and every day … she’d scarcely had a life outside her studies and training.
And now he was about to fuck her … forced to carry out the act here on this filthy warehouse floor … in front of all present.
There was no choice in the matter. He knew it and so did she.
He also knew he could and would do it. He’d observed her dangling breasts, swaying gently from side to side, as she crawled ever closer, and had felt his own growing arousal.
He’d often imagined something like this … stretched out on a bed, with Maja crawling over to him, after having just undressed while he watched, before joining him on the bed. She slowly … quietly … without a word … attending to the removal of his pants and underwear, a slight frown of concentration on her face. Followed by a look of curious interest and an intriguing smile as she regarded what she had uncovered. She then straddling him and leaning way forward, inviting him wordlessly to take her pendulous breasts in his hands and to caress and kiss them while sucking and nibbling at her hardened nipples.
But now his fantasy was playing out for real, not in a bed somewhere private, but here and now in this dangerously dingy place. For she was doing exactly what he’d imagined. Pushing him back onto his backside, removing his pants, straddling him and offering herself to him in exactly the way he had so often fantasized.
“See!” Chortled Barta, standing back to give the couple space. “See!” What have I always said to you guys! Nobody does sex better than these dumb Norwegians! Must be all those centuries spent alone in the fjords and mountains with their sheep!”
Nervous but enthusiastic laughter from his thugs. Nobody dared to not laugh when Barta says something intended to be funny.
As Hagen began to suck, lick and nibble at her proffered breasts, as Maja intended him to do, she reached back to stroke him … although that was hardly needed, and she was clumsy at it besides.
“Sorry,” she hissed. “I’m not very experienced at this.”
“Don’t worry, it’s alright,” he whispered as he raised his hips and, with her hand guiding the way, slipped easily into the warm moist welcome that awaited him.
Slowly at first and then more quickly and rhythmically things began to happen. He could feel her panting breath on his face, and could hear her litany of little gasps and moans … softly at first … but then ever louder and more insistent.
To him it felt damn good, as their mutual excitement mounted, almost so good as to cause one to forget about the circumstances under which it was taking place.
All eyes in the room were fixed on the copulating couple. Even Issy was now looking on. It had become a truly mesmerizing performance.
And so transfixed were all present, that no one heard the police swat team enter the warehouse and signalling one another for quiet as they stealthily approached the open door to the back room.
TBC
SIS HQ, South bank of the River Thames in Vauxhall, London. Office of Chief of the Secret Intelligence Service of the United Kingdom, Roger Moore, 12:55 am (UK Time) Monday 8th April 2024
“It’s Langley calling again, Chief.”
Roger Moore, looking up from the paperwork on his desk at the stunningly attractive girl on night duty in the outer office, smiled grimly and asked, “O’Shaughnessy again?”
“Yessir.”
“Alright. Put him through.”
“Yessir.”
“Clark. What a surprise! It’s almost an hour since your last call!”
“Sorry Roger. Just wondering whether there’s any news. It goes without saying that I’m worried about my people, especially my rookie agent, Ashley Townsend … but Barb Moore too!”
“There is some news. I just checked with the duty officer at police HQ in Bergen. Seems the swat team has arrived on the scene once again after standing down earlier. But there also appears to be some confusion … as Hagen has apparently gone off into the warehouse without backup!”
“And the team is going in now?”
“Soon, I hope. Like typical Scandinavians, they’ve decided to hold a meeting and discuss the matter first.”
“Shit! Call them back, Roger, and light a fire under their asses!”
“I’ll do what I can, Clark.”
A disused warehouse, East Side, Vågen, Bryggen, Bergen, Norway, 01:50 am Monday 8th April 2024
For a few ominously silent seconds everything stopped. The men who had been enjoying tormenting the strung up captive girls with whips stood stock still. Even Barta stiffened, momentarily, but Jørgen Hagen had let his heart rule his head and once again he had acted recklessly, and as soon as Barta was threatened, there was a gun at the head of each girl.
“Drop the weapon,” It was Barta himself speaking.
Hagen looked around. The four girls, including his own Maja Jensen, were hung naked to the ceiling, their nubile bodies covered in angry lash marks. The man on his knees, also naked, he knew to be Major Jason Underwood.
“Faen,” Hagen uttered. He was well and truly fucked. He couldn’t risk the lives of the girls he had come to save and so, slowly, he laid the Heckler & Koch P30 down onto the ground, and then raised his hands in the air.
“Fucking pig,” came a disparaging male voice as the Politioverbetjent felt a hard bang to the back of his neck and he fell to his knees, his head spinning, his vision unclear.
“Jørgen!” Maja called out, concern etched into her tone, and as soon she had said the name of her superior, then the young police woman realised that, by revealing her fond familiarity with the more senior male officer, she had made a big mistake.
“Let that bitch down and bring her to me.” Barta was once more issuing his instructions.
“Please, don’t hurt her …” Hagen pleaded for the colleague for whom his feelings ran further than they should.
Barta chuckled. “Oh, we won’t hurt her, you fucking pig, because you’re going to fuck her!”
The boss picked up Hagen’s gun and, moving to the policeman, he held the weapon to his head and clicked off the safety.
“You must be a fucking stupid pig. Did you really think you could take me down on your own? Crawl to him little bitch,” he commands, once more addressing Maja. “Strip him, make him hard and then get on your hands and knees ready for him to fuck you …”
“Oh my God, please no …” Hagen was beside himself, but Maja, lashed and beaten beyond the edge of any reason, simply looked first at Barta and then at Jørgen Hagen, and slowly got onto her hands and knees and began to crawl.
A disused warehouse, East Side, Vågen, Bryggen, Bergen, Norway, 02:05 am Monday 8th April 2024
With the muzzle of his own gun pressed against his head, Hagen watched as his naked young colleague crawled toward him on her hands and knees.
His gaze lifted momentarily to beyond Maja’s slowly approaching form to the three women behind her … the two American agents, and Underwood’s daughter … still strung up, clustered together, arms overhead, bodies crisscrossed with whipmarks. The two American’s eyes were glued to what was about to happen next. The daughter seemed indifferent. She’d seen and experienced too much depraved brutality to care.
His attention returned to Maja, who had by then halved the distance separating her from him. She was moving slowly, head down … one might think of it as a crawling shuffle, he thought to himself.
Oddly, some questions came to mind. He caught himself wondering what it was she might be thinking and feeling. He was her immediate superior on the force … was she feeling unspeakable dismay and shame at being forced into having sex with him, of all people, in this way? Had she any feelings of attraction towards him of the kind he had for her and did his best to suppress given the social formalities and taboos of their on-the-job relationship.
She was young, and he imagined sexually inexperienced, given the fact that she’d revealed to him one day over coffee in the station canteen that her ambition to be a policewoman … and a very good one too … had been an all consuming preoccupation … almost an obsession that had literally taken over her life totally before joining the force. She said it was all she ever thought of each and every day … she’d scarcely had a life outside her studies and training.
And now he was about to fuck her … forced to carry out the act here on this filthy warehouse floor … in front of all present.
There was no choice in the matter. He knew it and so did she.
He also knew he could and would do it. He’d observed her dangling breasts, swaying gently from side to side, as she crawled ever closer, and had felt his own growing arousal.
He’d often imagined something like this … stretched out on a bed, with Maja crawling over to him, after having just undressed while he watched, before joining him on the bed. She slowly … quietly … without a word … attending to the removal of his pants and underwear, a slight frown of concentration on her face. Followed by a look of curious interest and an intriguing smile as she regarded what she had uncovered. She then straddling him and leaning way forward, inviting him wordlessly to take her pendulous breasts in his hands and to caress and kiss them while sucking and nibbling at her hardened nipples.
But now his fantasy was playing out for real, not in a bed somewhere private, but here and now in this dangerously dingy place. For she was doing exactly what he’d imagined. Pushing him back onto his backside, removing his pants, straddling him and offering herself to him in exactly the way he had so often fantasized.
“See!” Chortled Barta, standing back to give the couple space. “See!” What have I always said to you guys! Nobody does sex better than these dumb Norwegians! Must be all those centuries spent alone in the fjords and mountains with their sheep!”
Nervous but enthusiastic laughter from his thugs. Nobody dared to not laugh when Barta says something intended to be funny.
As Hagen began to suck, lick and nibble at her proffered breasts, as Maja intended him to do, she reached back to stroke him … although that was hardly needed, and she was clumsy at it besides.
“Sorry,” she hissed. “I’m not very experienced at this.”
“Don’t worry, it’s alright,” he whispered as he raised his hips and, with her hand guiding the way, slipped easily into the warm moist welcome that awaited him.
Slowly at first and then more quickly and rhythmically things began to happen. He could feel her panting breath on his face, and could hear her litany of little gasps and moans … softly at first … but then ever louder and more insistent.
To him it felt damn good, as their mutual excitement mounted, almost so good as to cause one to forget about the circumstances under which it was taking place.
All eyes in the room were fixed on the copulating couple. Even Issy was now looking on. It had become a truly mesmerizing performance.
And so transfixed were all present, that no one heard the police swat team enter the warehouse and signalling one another for quiet as they stealthily approached the open door to the back room.
TBC
horsttesten
Onlooker
Finally in comes SWAT
Barta expecting it not
can Hagen finish
while Barta looks on swinish
or will SWAT disturb the lot
Barta expecting it not
can Hagen finish
while Barta looks on swinish
or will SWAT disturb the lot
Girl, Taken (22)
Office of Clark O’Shaughnessy, CIA headquarters, Langley, Virginia, 7:30 pm (US time), Friday, April 5th 2024
“Your call to London has gone through, Mr O’Shaughnessy,” reported the girl in the outer office with a wave to him through the open doorway.
“Thanks, Patty.”
“Good evening, Clark. It’s still evening in Langley, right? Calling for the latest update, are you?”
“Yes, Roger. With two of my people in imminent danger, you can hardly expect me to leave you alone.”
“No, quite right. And I do have something to report. I’ve just been in touch again with police headquarters in Bergen and have learnt that their swat team has now entered the warehouse where we know Barta has our people … both yours and mine … held captive.”
“And …. ?”
“That’s all I know. The Norwegian police are maddeningly slow and methodical. They apparently are adverse to rushing into anything. My source at police headquarters tells me that I’ll be informed of developments as they occur. And it’s now been nearly a quarter of an hour since we’ve last spoken.”
“Damnation! How can they be so slow? Lives are at stake here!”
“I know, Clark.”
“I’m especially concerned, I’ll have you know, for Agent Ashley Townsend. I’m feeling quite guilty for having sent such a young, just out of training, girl on such a dangerous mission. It wasn’t supposed to turn out this way. Her original orders were merely to tail Barb Moore to London and report back to me on what the devil Barb was up to … abruptly taking leave like she did. Sounded very fishy to me from the get go. So I sent young Townsend off without formal recognition and support, and she’s ended up a captive of the likes of Barta! I should have known better!”
“You’ve every right to be concerned, Clark. I met Townsend briefly here after Moore gave her the slip at Heathrow. A young and inexperienced girl, as you say. Easily flustered, but overall level headed and earnest, I dare say. And certainly very brave!”
“Thanks for saying, Roger. I guess there’s nothing I can do on my end but worry. I’ll ring off for now, but will be sitting here by the phone!”
“Right. You’ll know what happens soon as I do.”
A disused warehouse, East Side, Vågen, Bryggen, Bergen, Norway, 02:30 am Monday 8th April 2024
Maja was … what was she? Humiliated, degraded, scared, but also … no, please, surely not. As her superior officer’s cum oozed from her open and used pussy she felt more than a little content. Turned on even, as if all that really mattered was Jørgen’s cock between her thighs.
Barta however was way beyond just a little bit turned on, he was raging with lust, and already imagining hours of fun with his gang of captives, as he forced them into ever more degrading acts before killing them all one by one.
“Alright boys, string Moore and the girl cop up again, and get the daughter down. It’s her turn now!”
These words caused Jason to look up, wide eyed and staring.
Issy was almost lifeless as she fell in a beaten heap to the ground. In the days that she had been held captive the young girl had been raped, whipped, humiliated, electrocuted and was now numb to pretty much anything and everything, except this.
“No, you can’t …” Jason’s words were heartfelt but he also knew that they were spoken in vain, and then he felt it happen.
"Well, well, well," Barta smirked. "It seems that daddy has the hots for his slut daughter. Look at that hard on!"
Issy opened her eyes and saw that her captor seemed to be correct. Her dad’s penis was stiffening before her eyes, its slow but sure growth unmistakeable.
Jason shook his head in denial. "No. You're wrong, please, please don’t do this." he said, trying to sound convincing and failing miserably.
“Leave them alone. Rape me again, any which fucking way you choose. Then snuff me out, if it gets you off.” Barb spoke, in a desperate attempt to divert Barta’s attention and stall for time by offering herself up.
He grinned wickedly in response as he regarded Barb thoughtfully … hanging helplessly, twisting about, pressed tightly against the naked bodies of Maja Jensen and Ashley Townsend.
But all Barb got for her desperate attempt to divert his attention was to have her head yanked violently backwards by the hair and a glob of thick spit running down her face and off of her chin.
“I have plans for you cunt, do not worry about that,” he growled at her before turning his attention back to Issy and her father.
"Come on, slut," Barta commanded. "I am not waiting here for the fucking fun of it, you disgusting little whore. Get on your knees and crawl to daddy.”
Issy drew strength from reserves she didn't know she had. "Fuck off," she said.
"What?" Barta looked genuinely shocked at her dissent.
"I said no," Issy replied.
With a sigh, Barta drew his Glock, moved to the beaten and hanging Ashley Townsend, put his gun to her temple and shot her dead!
“Noooooo!” Jason yelled.
Barb was immediately covered with Ashley’s blood and brains. The young, rookie CIA Agent hung lifeless, her head fallen to her chest with skin flaps and bone fragments hanging loose from the side of her head.
“Now crawl to him little cunt!” Barta instructed Issy once more.
And so, Jason watched his daughter creep nakedly across the floor, getting ever closer to him, and much to his shame found that he could not stop his traitorous cock from growing into a fully blown erection.
A disused warehouse, East Side, Vågen, Bryggen, Bergen, Norway, 02:38 am Monday 8th April 2024
To the six members of the Bergen Police swat team, the sharp report of a gun-shot coming from one of the warehouse’s back rooms, along with Underwood’s plaintive cry, was both startling and electrifying. Some stood frozen in place, others fumbled with the safeties of their weapons. None had ever fired a shot in anger, though they’d all gone through the requisite training together and theoretically knew what to do.
But in the absence of their leader, Jørgen Hagen, who’d prematurely gone into the warehouse and vanished from sight, they hesitated, looking from one to another for inspiration and direction.
Meanwhile, in that back room the unspeakable threatened to become a reality, as Issy crawled towards her father and knelt in front of him.
“Issy, don’t!” He protested, shaking his head ruefully.
“I love you dad. It’ll be alright.”
“Stop stalling and do it!” Growled Barta, moving over closer to Barb and pressing the muzzle of his Glock to her forehead … already splattered with Ashley Townsend’s blood.
“Shit!” gasped Jason.
“I’ve no choice, Dad,” Issy intoned softly as she slowly reached out with one hand, eyes half closed. The stakes were enormous and she knew it.
“Things would never be the same for you without Barb.” Issy added quickly, as she took a firm grip.
And it was exactly at that moment that Polisbetjenant1 Kari Andersen … the youngest member of the police swat team and close friend and academy classmate of Maja Jensen … let out a war hoop, held her Heckler & Koch MP5A3 assault weapon at the ready and charged across the warehouse toward the door to the back room.
Her rush forward galvanized the rest of the swat team, hesitant until that moment, to follow suit.
Barta and his crew heard them coming and, while startled, still managed to draw their weapons.
A thunderous firefight ensued, in which the element of surprise benefited the police. When the firing subsided, the scene was one of devastation and grisly carnage.
Barta and all five of his henchmen lay dead or dying amongst a scattering of shell casings on the concrete warehouse floor. The police suffered two wounded and one dead. The dead officer was Polisbetjenant1 Kari Andersen, taken down almost immediately after heroically leading her fellow officers on a headlong guns-blazing rush through the doorway into the back room.
Amongst the hostages, Jason Underwood emerged without a scratch, Issy having thrown herself at her father, knocking him down, covering him with her body, and absorbing the bullets that might otherwise have taken his life.
She died in his arms.
Barb Moore and polisbetjanent1 Maya Jensen, escaped serious injury as they hung nakedly together, along with Agent Townsend’s corpse, from the cleat on the ceiling, shielded from the police fusillade by Agent Townsend’s body. Both sustained minor flesh wounds … nothing serious. Policbetjanent2 Jørgen Hagen, acting quickly, probably saved them both from life-threatening harm by using his feet, as he lay bound on the floor beneath his daughter’s body, to spin the dangling girls’ away from the incoming police fusillade.
“Ambulance! Ambulances! Call for medical assistance! Officers down!” Shouted Hagen, struggling to sit up and take charge.
TBC
Office of Clark O’Shaughnessy, CIA headquarters, Langley, Virginia, 7:30 pm (US time), Friday, April 5th 2024
“Your call to London has gone through, Mr O’Shaughnessy,” reported the girl in the outer office with a wave to him through the open doorway.
“Thanks, Patty.”
“Good evening, Clark. It’s still evening in Langley, right? Calling for the latest update, are you?”
“Yes, Roger. With two of my people in imminent danger, you can hardly expect me to leave you alone.”
“No, quite right. And I do have something to report. I’ve just been in touch again with police headquarters in Bergen and have learnt that their swat team has now entered the warehouse where we know Barta has our people … both yours and mine … held captive.”
“And …. ?”
“That’s all I know. The Norwegian police are maddeningly slow and methodical. They apparently are adverse to rushing into anything. My source at police headquarters tells me that I’ll be informed of developments as they occur. And it’s now been nearly a quarter of an hour since we’ve last spoken.”
“Damnation! How can they be so slow? Lives are at stake here!”
“I know, Clark.”
“I’m especially concerned, I’ll have you know, for Agent Ashley Townsend. I’m feeling quite guilty for having sent such a young, just out of training, girl on such a dangerous mission. It wasn’t supposed to turn out this way. Her original orders were merely to tail Barb Moore to London and report back to me on what the devil Barb was up to … abruptly taking leave like she did. Sounded very fishy to me from the get go. So I sent young Townsend off without formal recognition and support, and she’s ended up a captive of the likes of Barta! I should have known better!”
“You’ve every right to be concerned, Clark. I met Townsend briefly here after Moore gave her the slip at Heathrow. A young and inexperienced girl, as you say. Easily flustered, but overall level headed and earnest, I dare say. And certainly very brave!”
“Thanks for saying, Roger. I guess there’s nothing I can do on my end but worry. I’ll ring off for now, but will be sitting here by the phone!”
“Right. You’ll know what happens soon as I do.”
A disused warehouse, East Side, Vågen, Bryggen, Bergen, Norway, 02:30 am Monday 8th April 2024
Maja was … what was she? Humiliated, degraded, scared, but also … no, please, surely not. As her superior officer’s cum oozed from her open and used pussy she felt more than a little content. Turned on even, as if all that really mattered was Jørgen’s cock between her thighs.
Barta however was way beyond just a little bit turned on, he was raging with lust, and already imagining hours of fun with his gang of captives, as he forced them into ever more degrading acts before killing them all one by one.
“Alright boys, string Moore and the girl cop up again, and get the daughter down. It’s her turn now!”
These words caused Jason to look up, wide eyed and staring.
Issy was almost lifeless as she fell in a beaten heap to the ground. In the days that she had been held captive the young girl had been raped, whipped, humiliated, electrocuted and was now numb to pretty much anything and everything, except this.
“No, you can’t …” Jason’s words were heartfelt but he also knew that they were spoken in vain, and then he felt it happen.
"Well, well, well," Barta smirked. "It seems that daddy has the hots for his slut daughter. Look at that hard on!"
Issy opened her eyes and saw that her captor seemed to be correct. Her dad’s penis was stiffening before her eyes, its slow but sure growth unmistakeable.
Jason shook his head in denial. "No. You're wrong, please, please don’t do this." he said, trying to sound convincing and failing miserably.
“Leave them alone. Rape me again, any which fucking way you choose. Then snuff me out, if it gets you off.” Barb spoke, in a desperate attempt to divert Barta’s attention and stall for time by offering herself up.
He grinned wickedly in response as he regarded Barb thoughtfully … hanging helplessly, twisting about, pressed tightly against the naked bodies of Maja Jensen and Ashley Townsend.
But all Barb got for her desperate attempt to divert his attention was to have her head yanked violently backwards by the hair and a glob of thick spit running down her face and off of her chin.
“I have plans for you cunt, do not worry about that,” he growled at her before turning his attention back to Issy and her father.
"Come on, slut," Barta commanded. "I am not waiting here for the fucking fun of it, you disgusting little whore. Get on your knees and crawl to daddy.”
Issy drew strength from reserves she didn't know she had. "Fuck off," she said.
"What?" Barta looked genuinely shocked at her dissent.
"I said no," Issy replied.
With a sigh, Barta drew his Glock, moved to the beaten and hanging Ashley Townsend, put his gun to her temple and shot her dead!
“Noooooo!” Jason yelled.
Barb was immediately covered with Ashley’s blood and brains. The young, rookie CIA Agent hung lifeless, her head fallen to her chest with skin flaps and bone fragments hanging loose from the side of her head.
“Now crawl to him little cunt!” Barta instructed Issy once more.
And so, Jason watched his daughter creep nakedly across the floor, getting ever closer to him, and much to his shame found that he could not stop his traitorous cock from growing into a fully blown erection.
A disused warehouse, East Side, Vågen, Bryggen, Bergen, Norway, 02:38 am Monday 8th April 2024
To the six members of the Bergen Police swat team, the sharp report of a gun-shot coming from one of the warehouse’s back rooms, along with Underwood’s plaintive cry, was both startling and electrifying. Some stood frozen in place, others fumbled with the safeties of their weapons. None had ever fired a shot in anger, though they’d all gone through the requisite training together and theoretically knew what to do.
But in the absence of their leader, Jørgen Hagen, who’d prematurely gone into the warehouse and vanished from sight, they hesitated, looking from one to another for inspiration and direction.
Meanwhile, in that back room the unspeakable threatened to become a reality, as Issy crawled towards her father and knelt in front of him.
“Issy, don’t!” He protested, shaking his head ruefully.
“I love you dad. It’ll be alright.”
“Stop stalling and do it!” Growled Barta, moving over closer to Barb and pressing the muzzle of his Glock to her forehead … already splattered with Ashley Townsend’s blood.
“Shit!” gasped Jason.
“I’ve no choice, Dad,” Issy intoned softly as she slowly reached out with one hand, eyes half closed. The stakes were enormous and she knew it.
“Things would never be the same for you without Barb.” Issy added quickly, as she took a firm grip.
And it was exactly at that moment that Polisbetjenant1 Kari Andersen … the youngest member of the police swat team and close friend and academy classmate of Maja Jensen … let out a war hoop, held her Heckler & Koch MP5A3 assault weapon at the ready and charged across the warehouse toward the door to the back room.
Her rush forward galvanized the rest of the swat team, hesitant until that moment, to follow suit.
Barta and his crew heard them coming and, while startled, still managed to draw their weapons.
A thunderous firefight ensued, in which the element of surprise benefited the police. When the firing subsided, the scene was one of devastation and grisly carnage.
Barta and all five of his henchmen lay dead or dying amongst a scattering of shell casings on the concrete warehouse floor. The police suffered two wounded and one dead. The dead officer was Polisbetjenant1 Kari Andersen, taken down almost immediately after heroically leading her fellow officers on a headlong guns-blazing rush through the doorway into the back room.
Amongst the hostages, Jason Underwood emerged without a scratch, Issy having thrown herself at her father, knocking him down, covering him with her body, and absorbing the bullets that might otherwise have taken his life.
She died in his arms.
Barb Moore and polisbetjanent1 Maya Jensen, escaped serious injury as they hung nakedly together, along with Agent Townsend’s corpse, from the cleat on the ceiling, shielded from the police fusillade by Agent Townsend’s body. Both sustained minor flesh wounds … nothing serious. Policbetjanent2 Jørgen Hagen, acting quickly, probably saved them both from life-threatening harm by using his feet, as he lay bound on the floor beneath his daughter’s body, to spin the dangling girls’ away from the incoming police fusillade.
“Ambulance! Ambulances! Call for medical assistance! Officers down!” Shouted Hagen, struggling to sit up and take charge.
TBC
horsttesten
Onlooker
I grew fond of Issy and Ashley.
They are gone, though SWAT entered brashly.
We keep them in loving memory,
sometimes live is rough as emery.
Has Hagen learned to act less rashly?
They are gone, though SWAT entered brashly.
We keep them in loving memory,
sometimes live is rough as emery.
Has Hagen learned to act less rashly?
Langley doesn’t its agents flog
Clark prefers disciplinary dialogue
What the fuck Agent Moore?
I ought to give you what for!
But not til after the epilogue!
Stay tuned!
twonines
LIMERICUS
When it comes to Barbara Moore,
I think we all know the score.
When she`s bare and bent
Into sub-space she`s sent
While getting a crisp twenty four.
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Girl, Taken (23) – The Epilogue
Office of Clark O’Shaughnessy, CIA headquarters, Langley, Virginia, 11:14 am, Wednesday April 9th, 2024.
O’Shaughnessy stared at the phone on his desk, and sucked in his breath. He reached for it, but then hesitated … stopping short of making the call for the fourth time in the past quarter of an hour.
This was by far the most unpleasant part of his job … informing an agent’s family that he or she had been killed in the line of duty. And it was especially distressing in a case like this, in which the deceased agent was a young, newly activated agent … barely out of training, and still … so to speak … quite wet behind the ears.
But he’d put it off long enough. Ashley Townsend’s parents … she apparently was an only child … had been awaiting the call that someone from the Agency had duly informed them to stand by to receive for far too long.
O’Shaughnessy picked up the phone, and spoke in a respectfully soft and somber voice, “Good morning, Mr and Mrs Townsend. This is Chief Superintendent Clark O’Shaunessey at CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia. I know you’ve been left waiting to hear from me patiently now for more than fifteen minutes. I do apologize for the delay.”
“That’s alright, Sir. This is John Townsend speaking, Ashley’s father. We know this call is about our daughter. What’s it all about? Has she been injured, or gotten into some kind of trouble? Or, perhaps it’s good news … a promotion? She’s so proud to work for ‘the company’ as she calls it, and we’re so very proud of her!”
“I’m afraid it’s not good news. I’m so very sorry to inform you that your daughter, Field Agent Ashley Townsend, died of wounds sustained performing her duty as a principal asset in a special field operation.”
“Oh!” Exclaimed a shocked Mrs Townsend, audibly sobbing, although O’Shaughnessy could sense at play an attempt at determination to keep her emotions under control.
“Can you tell us how she died? Did she suffer terribly?” Asked, Mr Townsend, quickly speaking over his wife, who’d begun to moan.
“No, she was shot … rather cleanly … in the act of bravely covering for her fellow operatives,” he lied, his mind revisiting the grisly ‘after action’ Bergen police photos of her bloodied and sexually violated nude corpse, hanging by her wrists bound to a warehouse ceiling cleat … and most gruesome of all, the gory damage done to her head and pretty face from Barta having pressed the muzzle of his gun to her skull directly behind her right ear and pulled the trigger. “Your daughter performed admirably, Mr and Mrs Townsend … doing everything she’d been trained to do. A fine officer, as her operational supervisor I knew her personally, admired her eagerness and grit, and am very much aggrieved by her loss.”
“Good to know that, Mr O’Shaughnessy. Now tell us, what happens next?”
“Your daughter’s heroism and sacrifice, Mr and Mrs Townsend, will be quietly but sincerely honored by the Agency she served and loved … honored by a silver star carved in the white Alabama Marble of the ‘Memorial Wall’ in the lobby of CIA Headquarters here in Langley. Her star will join those of 140 other officers … in a simple, silent but sacred memorial. The inscription over the rows of stars reads: ‘In honor of those members of the Central Intelligence Agency who gave their lives in the service of their country.’ You’ll be flown here by the government to attend the ceremony. Now, if you’ll remain on the line, someone will come on now to talk to you about making all the arrangements.”
“Thank you.”
“Remain on the line now for the transfer,” he reminded them as he set down the phone and reached for the desk drawer in which he kept a bottle of Glenlivet and a cut glass tumbler.
Normally a man of foresight and unshakeable assuredness, Clark O’Shaughnessy deeply regretted having so casually sent an untried young agent off to learn what the likes of a Barb Moore was up to. He should have known it was up to no good, and sent someone more suited than Ashley Townsend to handle whatever might happen.
A tourist “farm cabin” on Fedje Island, 67 km northwest of Bergen, Norway, 8:34 pm, Wednesday April 9, 2024.
Maja sat up, stretched her limbs, rose from the bed she shared with her superior, Jørgen Hagen, and padded naked across the cabin’s rough-hewn flooring. Drawing back the chintz curtain on the window facing the sea, she turned to call back to her lover, “It’s nearly sunset and I think it’s going to be spectacular. Come on! Get yourself out of bed, Jørgen, and join me out on the deck.
He raised himself up on one elbow, grinned wolfishly, and teased, “Sunset? Bah! Why don’t you come back to bed and allow me to set your sun?”
“That’s so lame, Jørgen … as a stand-up comedian you’d be absolutely hopeless!”
“Watching you cross over the floor like that with those cute little ass cheeks wagging at me has certainly made something stand up!”
“Pervert!” She called over her shoulder as she threw open the door and pranced out onto the deck.
“Grrrrrr!” He replied, throwing the covers aside and setting off in close pursuit.
Catching up with her standing at the railing he wrapped his arms around her from behind in a warm embrace.
“Look, see how the clouds on the horizon out over the sea are so brilliantly silhouetted by the sun. The colors are magnificent, don’t you agree? And see how the sheep on the slope below us have turned their heads? They see it too!”
“I do love your naïveté, Maja. I doubt the sheep really care,” he responded as he cupped her breasts in his hands and gently squeezed … thumbs pressing in on her pert nipples.
“Naïveté, eh? Call it what you will, Jørgen, but after what we both went through together at that old warehouse in Bryggen, I prefer to focus on the beauties and pleasures of life … of living, being alive! Things I for long took for granted. I want to purge that monster Barta, and all that happened there, from my mind forever.”
“Well said! Now come back to bed and we’ll do some purging together. Or would you prefer we go down and do it in the meadow grass amongst those sheep? We’ll see what they find more interesting … the sunset or us?”
“You’re a dirty old man, Jørgen Hagen!”
“Is that anyway for a young police officer, just out of the academy, to talk to her superior?”
“Oh, shut up!”
A mountainside villa overlooking the Mediterranean Sea on the Côte d'Azur, 11 am heure d'Europe centrale, Saturday 8th June 2024
“What’s going on?”
Jason turned. Barb stood in the kitchen doorway. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and her eyes were wide as she considered her partner. It was Saturday, which, since they retired from the service, sold up everything they both owned and moved out to a modest but perfectly situated, small mountainside villa above the cosmopolitan city of Cannes on the Côte d'Azur, was the same as every other day.
She wore cut off denim shorts and a pink top, her feet were bare.
“Nothing,” Jason replied.
“I thought I heard a bang?”
“You did. I punched the unit door.”
Her eyes narrowed, and Barb adjusted her gaze to the blood now dripping onto the tiled floor from Jason’s cut knuckles. It had been the same ever since they returned just a few short weeks earlier from Issy’s funeral.
Jase was a shadow of the man he had been, and it was Barb’s job to get him back. She lay awake in bed at night listening to the nightmare of his cries and pleas, calling out his murdered daughter’s name.
Instead of remonstrating with him, Barb walked calmly to where Jason was crouched, took his hand and helped him to his feet. There she took him in her arms and kissed him. She felt him sigh into her mouth, and as her braless breasts pressed hard into his chest, Barb felt the teats of her nipples harden.
She loved Jason, very much, and she knew that his sexual passion for her would return when he was good and ready. But holding him like this made her want to grip his cock, make him hard and swallow him whole ….
However, he was not yet ready. “It’s okay baby,” she purred softly, “Everything will be okay.”
A small bungalow in the New Zealand coastal town of Motueka, 9:30 am (NZST) Saturday 8th June 2024
The hammer rose and fell with methodical precision, the dull thuds echoing throughout the mocking claustrophobic space of the small basement in which they were incarcerated.
“Help me, Grace!” The cries of the about-to-be-crucified victim filled the air, as she was being prepared to be nailed the wooden board behind her.
Scar-face punctured the right wrist next. Another, sharp, heart-rending cry ripped the air asunder.
“Please, please stop …” Grace was watching her friend and lover being crucified as tears streamed down her cheeks.
“Ohhhhhhhhh my God, help meeeeee!” Kat pleaded as her wrists were secured and blood streamed out of the holes in her flesh. Then Scar-face added two more nails … one into each of her flattened palms. (See Sexpionage ‘Full Circle’).
“Stoppppppp!”
Fuck!
Grace's eyes snapped open and she sat up before flopping back down onto her pillow.
"Fuck my life!" She shouted to no one but herself. Dragging her slender, ripe and once more fit and healthy, body out of bed, Grace Miller wandered over in sleep shorts and vest, towards the open window of her small bungalow in the New Zealand beach town of Motueka, just a few miles from where her parents lived.
She thought of Ekaterina, her only true love, she knew that now.
Jason had been nothing but a stepping stone to recovery after the tragic death of the lovely girl whom she adored, and whose brutal death now plagued her sleep more than ever before.
Ekaterina had died a violent death and now Issy had died in a similar manner, and Grace could not come to terms with the fact. That poor, young girl with her entire life before her. The memory of happier times with Jason’s daughter made her eyes water, briefly. Grace was tough. Hard in fact, and despite only being twenty-five years old, she had crammed so much into her young life, having already cheated death several times. She was a trained Special Agent, so what the fuck was doing in this two-bit sleepy ass town?
Making herself a cup of instant coffee she mooched on out to the old leather chair on the wooden porch. The Ocean was blue, sparklingly so, the sun was beating down … and Grace Millar was already bored.
Rest in Peace Agent Ashley Townsend
Rest in Peace Issy Underwood, and goodbye from the rest ... until the next time
Office of Clark O’Shaughnessy, CIA headquarters, Langley, Virginia, 11:14 am, Wednesday April 9th, 2024.
O’Shaughnessy stared at the phone on his desk, and sucked in his breath. He reached for it, but then hesitated … stopping short of making the call for the fourth time in the past quarter of an hour.
This was by far the most unpleasant part of his job … informing an agent’s family that he or she had been killed in the line of duty. And it was especially distressing in a case like this, in which the deceased agent was a young, newly activated agent … barely out of training, and still … so to speak … quite wet behind the ears.
But he’d put it off long enough. Ashley Townsend’s parents … she apparently was an only child … had been awaiting the call that someone from the Agency had duly informed them to stand by to receive for far too long.
O’Shaughnessy picked up the phone, and spoke in a respectfully soft and somber voice, “Good morning, Mr and Mrs Townsend. This is Chief Superintendent Clark O’Shaunessey at CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia. I know you’ve been left waiting to hear from me patiently now for more than fifteen minutes. I do apologize for the delay.”
“That’s alright, Sir. This is John Townsend speaking, Ashley’s father. We know this call is about our daughter. What’s it all about? Has she been injured, or gotten into some kind of trouble? Or, perhaps it’s good news … a promotion? She’s so proud to work for ‘the company’ as she calls it, and we’re so very proud of her!”
“I’m afraid it’s not good news. I’m so very sorry to inform you that your daughter, Field Agent Ashley Townsend, died of wounds sustained performing her duty as a principal asset in a special field operation.”
“Oh!” Exclaimed a shocked Mrs Townsend, audibly sobbing, although O’Shaughnessy could sense at play an attempt at determination to keep her emotions under control.
“Can you tell us how she died? Did she suffer terribly?” Asked, Mr Townsend, quickly speaking over his wife, who’d begun to moan.
“No, she was shot … rather cleanly … in the act of bravely covering for her fellow operatives,” he lied, his mind revisiting the grisly ‘after action’ Bergen police photos of her bloodied and sexually violated nude corpse, hanging by her wrists bound to a warehouse ceiling cleat … and most gruesome of all, the gory damage done to her head and pretty face from Barta having pressed the muzzle of his gun to her skull directly behind her right ear and pulled the trigger. “Your daughter performed admirably, Mr and Mrs Townsend … doing everything she’d been trained to do. A fine officer, as her operational supervisor I knew her personally, admired her eagerness and grit, and am very much aggrieved by her loss.”
“Good to know that, Mr O’Shaughnessy. Now tell us, what happens next?”
“Your daughter’s heroism and sacrifice, Mr and Mrs Townsend, will be quietly but sincerely honored by the Agency she served and loved … honored by a silver star carved in the white Alabama Marble of the ‘Memorial Wall’ in the lobby of CIA Headquarters here in Langley. Her star will join those of 140 other officers … in a simple, silent but sacred memorial. The inscription over the rows of stars reads: ‘In honor of those members of the Central Intelligence Agency who gave their lives in the service of their country.’ You’ll be flown here by the government to attend the ceremony. Now, if you’ll remain on the line, someone will come on now to talk to you about making all the arrangements.”
“Thank you.”
“Remain on the line now for the transfer,” he reminded them as he set down the phone and reached for the desk drawer in which he kept a bottle of Glenlivet and a cut glass tumbler.
Normally a man of foresight and unshakeable assuredness, Clark O’Shaughnessy deeply regretted having so casually sent an untried young agent off to learn what the likes of a Barb Moore was up to. He should have known it was up to no good, and sent someone more suited than Ashley Townsend to handle whatever might happen.
A tourist “farm cabin” on Fedje Island, 67 km northwest of Bergen, Norway, 8:34 pm, Wednesday April 9, 2024.
Maja sat up, stretched her limbs, rose from the bed she shared with her superior, Jørgen Hagen, and padded naked across the cabin’s rough-hewn flooring. Drawing back the chintz curtain on the window facing the sea, she turned to call back to her lover, “It’s nearly sunset and I think it’s going to be spectacular. Come on! Get yourself out of bed, Jørgen, and join me out on the deck.
He raised himself up on one elbow, grinned wolfishly, and teased, “Sunset? Bah! Why don’t you come back to bed and allow me to set your sun?”
“That’s so lame, Jørgen … as a stand-up comedian you’d be absolutely hopeless!”
“Watching you cross over the floor like that with those cute little ass cheeks wagging at me has certainly made something stand up!”
“Pervert!” She called over her shoulder as she threw open the door and pranced out onto the deck.
“Grrrrrr!” He replied, throwing the covers aside and setting off in close pursuit.
Catching up with her standing at the railing he wrapped his arms around her from behind in a warm embrace.
“Look, see how the clouds on the horizon out over the sea are so brilliantly silhouetted by the sun. The colors are magnificent, don’t you agree? And see how the sheep on the slope below us have turned their heads? They see it too!”
“I do love your naïveté, Maja. I doubt the sheep really care,” he responded as he cupped her breasts in his hands and gently squeezed … thumbs pressing in on her pert nipples.
“Naïveté, eh? Call it what you will, Jørgen, but after what we both went through together at that old warehouse in Bryggen, I prefer to focus on the beauties and pleasures of life … of living, being alive! Things I for long took for granted. I want to purge that monster Barta, and all that happened there, from my mind forever.”
“Well said! Now come back to bed and we’ll do some purging together. Or would you prefer we go down and do it in the meadow grass amongst those sheep? We’ll see what they find more interesting … the sunset or us?”
“You’re a dirty old man, Jørgen Hagen!”
“Is that anyway for a young police officer, just out of the academy, to talk to her superior?”
“Oh, shut up!”
A mountainside villa overlooking the Mediterranean Sea on the Côte d'Azur, 11 am heure d'Europe centrale, Saturday 8th June 2024
“What’s going on?”
Jason turned. Barb stood in the kitchen doorway. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and her eyes were wide as she considered her partner. It was Saturday, which, since they retired from the service, sold up everything they both owned and moved out to a modest but perfectly situated, small mountainside villa above the cosmopolitan city of Cannes on the Côte d'Azur, was the same as every other day.
She wore cut off denim shorts and a pink top, her feet were bare.
“Nothing,” Jason replied.
“I thought I heard a bang?”
“You did. I punched the unit door.”
Her eyes narrowed, and Barb adjusted her gaze to the blood now dripping onto the tiled floor from Jason’s cut knuckles. It had been the same ever since they returned just a few short weeks earlier from Issy’s funeral.
Jase was a shadow of the man he had been, and it was Barb’s job to get him back. She lay awake in bed at night listening to the nightmare of his cries and pleas, calling out his murdered daughter’s name.
Instead of remonstrating with him, Barb walked calmly to where Jason was crouched, took his hand and helped him to his feet. There she took him in her arms and kissed him. She felt him sigh into her mouth, and as her braless breasts pressed hard into his chest, Barb felt the teats of her nipples harden.
She loved Jason, very much, and she knew that his sexual passion for her would return when he was good and ready. But holding him like this made her want to grip his cock, make him hard and swallow him whole ….
However, he was not yet ready. “It’s okay baby,” she purred softly, “Everything will be okay.”
A small bungalow in the New Zealand coastal town of Motueka, 9:30 am (NZST) Saturday 8th June 2024
The hammer rose and fell with methodical precision, the dull thuds echoing throughout the mocking claustrophobic space of the small basement in which they were incarcerated.
“Help me, Grace!” The cries of the about-to-be-crucified victim filled the air, as she was being prepared to be nailed the wooden board behind her.
Scar-face punctured the right wrist next. Another, sharp, heart-rending cry ripped the air asunder.
“Please, please stop …” Grace was watching her friend and lover being crucified as tears streamed down her cheeks.
“Ohhhhhhhhh my God, help meeeeee!” Kat pleaded as her wrists were secured and blood streamed out of the holes in her flesh. Then Scar-face added two more nails … one into each of her flattened palms. (See Sexpionage ‘Full Circle’).
“Stoppppppp!”
Fuck!
Grace's eyes snapped open and she sat up before flopping back down onto her pillow.
"Fuck my life!" She shouted to no one but herself. Dragging her slender, ripe and once more fit and healthy, body out of bed, Grace Miller wandered over in sleep shorts and vest, towards the open window of her small bungalow in the New Zealand beach town of Motueka, just a few miles from where her parents lived.
She thought of Ekaterina, her only true love, she knew that now.
Jason had been nothing but a stepping stone to recovery after the tragic death of the lovely girl whom she adored, and whose brutal death now plagued her sleep more than ever before.
Ekaterina had died a violent death and now Issy had died in a similar manner, and Grace could not come to terms with the fact. That poor, young girl with her entire life before her. The memory of happier times with Jason’s daughter made her eyes water, briefly. Grace was tough. Hard in fact, and despite only being twenty-five years old, she had crammed so much into her young life, having already cheated death several times. She was a trained Special Agent, so what the fuck was doing in this two-bit sleepy ass town?
Making herself a cup of instant coffee she mooched on out to the old leather chair on the wooden porch. The Ocean was blue, sparklingly so, the sun was beating down … and Grace Millar was already bored.
Rest in Peace Agent Ashley Townsend
Rest in Peace Issy Underwood, and goodbye from the rest ... until the next time
FIN
And that brings Girl, Taken to a close. Thank you all for your support as always, and rest assured Sexpionage will be back.
And that brings Girl, Taken to a close. Thank you all for your support as always, and rest assured Sexpionage will be back.
horsttesten
Onlooker
"Girl Taken" was great fun while it lasted
somtimes the plot left me flabbergasted
Issy was strong and not a sissy
prissy maybe but that would be hypocrisy
I am glad a contiuation is forecasted
somtimes the plot left me flabbergasted
Issy was strong and not a sissy
prissy maybe but that would be hypocrisy
I am glad a contiuation is forecasted