Chapter One

 

Glancing beyond the security obstacles to where his female companion, temporarily distracted by the taxi driver, fussed with her suitcase and the bright blue Louis Vuitton handbag, the clean shaven young man with the mop of black hair wrote urgently in lines of flowing Arabic script.

'Suitcase to be switched, successfully dispatched with Doctor Twopenny. Since she will be wearing a burqa, you will identify her by the suitcase being identical to yours. She knows nothing of the plan. If there is any difficulty, tell her you come from Said and she will give eager cooperation. Be careful. Her mother worked in Egypt as an archaeologist. She knows Arabic.' He checked an impulse to add a religious exhortation; the Name of God should not be written on something that would be eaten after it had been read. He folded the fragment of McDonald's edible packaging that held the message, using the enemy's technology against him was an approved technique, and dropped it into the trash can. Walking away towards the taxi the plate glass windows of the shops opposite enabled him to keep its reflected image in sight. He saw the boy move along, glance round as he came level with the can, then reach in and dart away.

Hooded and chained, as she had been kept constantly, except during the brief interrogations by men with brutal faces speaking an Arabic that she found difficult to follow, Doctor Jane Twopenny in her prison, reflected upon what had happened. They had nearly reached the airport, silver planes visible in the distance across the scrub, when two unmarked cars blocked the road where it went into a shallow dip to cross a brush-filled ravine by a concrete bridge. Uniformed men poured from the cars brandishing weapons and then firing wildly as Said and the driver burst from the car and sprinted for the cover of the ravine. She had seen the body of the driver lying in a spreading pool of blood but Said had disappeared over the rocky edge in a cloud of dust.

Why had they taken her Louis Vuitton handbag, despite her frantic pleas and protests? The last she had seen of it before she had been driven away, it had been standing in the open desert with a ring of men keeping their distance from it as if they feared it might explode. It was one Said had given her to replace another he had ruined by spilling sun tan oil over it; but more importantly than that, it contained the precious clay tablet, a miniature Rosetta stone for the pre-Sumerian culture. The police uniforms had been stripped off in the car and the prison she was being kept in had a makeshift air. It smelt of diesel oil. Clearly her captors were not regular police or military. This must be the work of some undercover group, part of what everyone was now calling the Undeclared War. Was she the prisoner of some Al Qaeda influenced group or some other enemy of Western culture? Jane was confused but endeavoured to remain valiant. Perhaps Said was still being pursued even now. He was so fastidious and sensitive that she was nearly sure that he was gay. If so, he could hardly be on the side of the fanatics. She must protect his identity for as long as she could. His assistance had enabled her to pay the thieves who had looted the tablet and hopefully evade the inevitable international squabble over ownership. Once she had got it aboard the plane and safely in the air she would have shown it to Professor Putticock. He would have to swallow his scoffing at the idea that women might have special skill at languages. The two or three nations involved could squabble over ownership all they liked once the tablet had been properly authenticated and recorded.

 

In the front office Adnam Horga, part time smuggler and undercover agent for Alliance Intelligence, was reporting progress to the military officer who had come out with the VIP from the USA. WWW had once meant the World Wide Web, now parts of it were enemy territory and much of the rest a place of guerrilla war. Since it had turned into World Wide War the military overrode anything civilian.

"The woman's bag was blown up in a controlled explosion, Major, but the bomb turned out to be in the identical bag found abandoned at the airport. They must have intended to switch them."

"The bomb carrier was female?" The Major shook her close-cropped head. "Some weirdoes these people are! The sneaky bitch would have killed the whole planeload of us!"

She had lips worthy of a movie starlet, Horga thought in lustful fascination. And could have his funding cut off, he quickly reminded himself. The short military crop didn't disguise the startling red colour of her hair. She was a well-built woman too, nice pair of legs and strong thighs that strained the knee-length skirt of her dress uniform. The Americans employed women in their military as if there were no sexes. It demeaned a man to have to serve under them.

"According to the papers the boyfriend was carrying, she was a Lebanese schoolteacher with a membership card in the Party of God. But they look faked. She sounds Egyptian. She claims to be English. She says she is an archaeologist, and knows Professor Putticock."

"Maybe she is. Maybe she does! Those Limey bitches don't care who they fuck with and converts make the worst kind of fanatic. Shows how clever the enemy is. They must have read his file. The old goat would have been locked up if he weren't so crucial a player. Maybe she is the reason they found out his importance in the first place! I would have advised against letting him fly here. We know the enemy can break any code message they think is worth the effort, otherwise we could have had this discussion by satellite link instead of me having to go back and forth in person."

"You think it was him she was trying to kill, Major? I guess the ancient language business was just a cover story."

"You might say that. But he did come to address the archaeological conference right enough. What about the guy who was with her, the boyfriend? Will he talk?"

"He has some protection; he's the nephew of the Police Minister here. We have no skilled interrogators and there isn't much time. The government have a foot in both camps, delegates in both the Real UN and the Alternative!"

"It has to be something that leaves no marks and can be denied afterwards!" The Major hardened her voice. "Put pressure on him through the woman. These people are keen on female purity." She fished in her briefcase. "Try this on her! It's the latest MC drug. Makes the prisoner completely suggestible. Get hold of some porn movies and feed them to her. See how the boyfriend reacts to watching her have eager sex with other guys. Make sure he knows you are recording it. I'm sure you can find some volunteers from your macho gang!" she added sourly.

"MCD 32?" he read as he examined the row of small capsules. "Will it have such a quick effect?"

"Supposed to work fast. Guaranteed effective in minutes. A combination of mind control drug and aphrodisiac."

"You people should get your eggheads to work on communications. Some of the stuff they come up with is out of this world!" The American looked sharply at the local man but she only responded to it dismissively.

"Yeah, out of this world."

 

Chapter Two

 

Horga stopped the video, removed the helmet and undid the straps that held the prisoner's gaze focused upon its screen, leaving her seated on the chair. He walked over to the bench to set the helmet down. When he turned back he saw that the woman had slid from her position and was upon hands and knees on the office floor. She started towards him like that, crawling across the dusty carpeting upon all fours. Horga watched, mouth half open, astonished at the swiftness of the transformation from a primly indignant English academic to grovelling submissive. Beneath the burqa in the midday heat, she had worn only a short silk shift. When he stood over her to give the injection, she had kept nervously tugging the hem over golden thighs, though only managing to display more luscious cleavage in its low neck. Now it had ridden right up to display her rounded white ass, with the bobbing half-moons divided by the black line of a miniscule thong. Her full tits now swung loosely beneath her, almost fully exposed where they jostled in the sagging neckline. Reaching his feet, she nuzzled his dusty boot caps, leaving damp kisses and then knelt erect, her hands going behind her head, face tilted up towards him so that her tits thrust forwards, the nipples standing out against the thin silk.

"Do you understand what you have to do?" he said loudly as if he was talking to an idiot.

"Yes master!" she said brightly, her blue eyes fixed upon him. "I am to be trained as a... cum slut!" She enunciated the last two words carefully as if not quite at home on her lips."

"Right!" She looked pleased at his endorsement.

"But...Master... I ought to be spanked first and then caned," she said earnestly. "And I haven't got the proper clothes!"

"Son of a bitch!" Horga said to himself.

In the end it became a regular sex show.

"A lot of guys want to be allowed in on it," Horga's deputy had said. His leader had shrugged. "I guess the bigger the audience, the more effective it'll be."

The converted warehouse was largely in darkness, hot and reverberating with noisy thumping Western music. In the largest space a number of men sat upon a makeshift collection of chairs in a rough half circle. Alongside the chairs were cans and bottles of expensive imported beer or the cheaper illegal local arrack, handy to their reach. Behind them loomed the vague shapes of vehicles and machinery.

Dr Jane Twopenny was upon hands and knees, her white body caught in the centre of a single bright spotlight, naked except for a tiny black thong that exposed most of two rosily flushed bottom cheeks and a slim black lace garter belt, supporting black-rimmed fishnet stockings by long curving tapes. Her pointed shoes upturned presented six stabbing inches of stiletto heel. The man sent to shop for accessories had part-divulged the errand to his mistress who had done the business in return for a promise to be shown the resulting movie. Around Jane, in a discarded scatter, lay the rest of what had been provided, unzipped black pencil skirt, ruffled scarlet blouse, black lace bra and matching half-slip, all of which she had slowly wriggled from her, with more zeal than skill, tottering on the impossible heels, trying to keep in time with the pounding music.

"Please sir!" she licked her lips slowly, her wide blue eyes scanning the hunched audience of men lurking just outside the light. They would have been an unattractively fearsome lot, soberly viewed, but dazed and consumed with lust she had no room in her head for reasoning. The ideas in it seemed to emerge from nowhere. She was to achieve satisfaction by servicing as many men as she could find. Some subdued instinct had inspired her to try to satisfy her urge with her fingers while they fussed about with lights and cameras, but she had a dim idea that she was doing wrong somehow and her body failed to respond. That must be why she had wanted so much to be beaten, she decided. They had refused her that particular need; a test of obedience for her. Clearly servicing men was the proper way to go on!

"Sir! Will you be my first, sir!" She scuttled forwards to where the light had shifted slightly to bring a man more clearly into the edges of the light cone. "Please allow me to suck your cock sir!" Grinning and half-incredulous, he allowed her to reach up and unzip his pants. There were sniggers of laughter from either side as she dived her hand in, struggling a little with the fastenings of his shorts before drawing both cock and balls out into the open.

"Oooh!" she squealed in a tone of girlish delight. Holding the fleshy male fruit bunched on the palm of her hand and cradled within her spread fingers, she began licking and then mouthing them, half engulfing each loosely bobbing testicle in turn. The man she had chosen looked down in fascination, his face reddening and gold teeth glinting under his drooping moustache. Transferring the attentions of her mouth to the half-stiffened cock bouncing undirected over the top of his balls she began coaxing that length of flesh into a proper erection. Her blonde head nodded industriously up and down, sliding its thick length deep into her mouth and then allowing it to draw out, each withdrawal seeming to produce even greater length and even fatter girth. Her subject grunted a little, edging forward on his seat and straddling his feet further apart, thrusting his hips forward, his dark eyes bulging. Her own blue eyes were focused upon the monster as she disgorged it, glistening with her saliva and seeming so extended now, that when she plunged down upon it again the onlookers muttered with a mixture of envy and astonishment that she could get so much in.

She was breathing hard through her rather aquiline nose and the man grunted in rhythm with her. Her white hands, which had been planted on his drably-clad thighs, closed red-nails into fists tightly gripping handfuls of fabric. His own hands, twice the size, at first only loosely clasping her steadily nodding head, suddenly crooked into a tight grip on her hair. There was a continued mingling of sounds, gurgling ones from her and jerky bellows from him, while the man charged to manage the video record darted about them, stooping to get close ups. Suddenly her white throat was working visibly, swallowing down in gulps what her partner was jetting forth.

At last as if by mutual signal they fell apart. He shoved his chair back a few grating inches and the huge cock slid out of her lips, lessening as it came, subsiding into a limp curve as it fell away. Gasping and cursing, but in elated fashion, he looked to see what the other men had made of it. The Englishwoman sitting back on her haunches before him, licked her lips elaborately, then dropped her gaze to the floor. She slid forward again, blonde hair slipping across her cheeks. A stray spot or two of cum had fallen on the floor. She lowered her whole torso until her naked breasts flattened on the oil stained concrete and, in a posture resembling an eager dog, licked those traces into final invisibility.

Latterly, frequent sharp flashes of camera exposures had been sparkling freely amongst the audience. But all this time, the rank of windows high up across one end of the workshop still remained in darkness, giving no sign of movement behind the glass. The deluded and degraded young woman began to go on her knees from man to man around the circle. Now there was much more laughter and interchange of badinage added to the music. Most of them had their cocks out and half erected before she reached them and none of them lasted very long. With each one, she kissed and licked with ardour, sucked as if she was dying of thirst and needed every drop of moisture she could extract. Soon she was oozing cum and saliva out of the corners of her mouth and down her chin. She was still too busy to notice when the door at the head of the wooden stairs opened and two men led out a hooded male figure between them, his wrists handcuffed behind his back, disappearing with him into the darkness under the overhanging viewpoint.

They were back, however, breathing heavily and in haste before Doctor Twopenny had made it to the end of the waiting circle. They added themselves to her score, but the next to last lost control and began to spurt before she quite got into position to receive him and the heavily wanging cock decorated her upturned face with sticky white trails before she could bring it to her lips. She licked at them with her tongue as far as that would reach, but his successor did the same more deliberately, adding even more evidence to her face and breasts and even spattered in her hair.

More might have ensued, but Horga had remained sufficiently above the fray to take charge of the dazed victim. Without lasting effects, the woman officer had insisted. Lucky he had insisted upon the clinging black thong. He dragged off one of his men who was bending over the victim in the act of trying to pluck its flimsy protection to one side. Her mouth was evidently sticky with cum or else her tongue had grown tired, so that her dutiful repetitions of dialogue were slurred and only half coherent. Surveying the blobbery results of the multiple suck, the gang boss seized an unconsumed bottle of beer, shook it vigorously until it contained sufficient gas pressure and used it as a jet to hose down Doctor Twopenny's face, breasts and tits before returning her to her imprisonment.

"Why's she sometimes sound like Mississippi trailer trash?" the Major said, frowning distastefully when she was later shown the video highlights.

"I think she's copying the dialogue on the movie."

"What damn movie did you feed her?"

"We had to use whatever we could rustle up from the Marine guards at the Embassy. He looked at his notes. 'The Training of Cum Slut Velda.'

 

Chapter Three

 

In the temporary cell, Jane Twopenny lay face down on the bunk, nursing her bruises. Her knees were scraped and stained with oil. Her mouth felt gummy and her jaws hurt. She could smell alcohol upon herself. Had she drunk something? The actions that had caused them, she remembered as a kind of pornographic dream. Not exactly a nightmare, for she was sure they also had involved a somehow shameful degree of excitement, but leaving the impression of having been absorbed from a movie she had seen. But then she ached in these curious places and uncomfortable ways. She was nearly sure that she hadn't been raped, but had she been made to do anything else? Was it something she wouldn't even want to remember?

 

Returning alone to his prisoner, Horga examined the misleadingly innocent label of a smuggled video and then carefully peeled away at the edge with his fingernail. 'Office games for Cum Slut Velda' was exposed in English underneath.

Crouching in her scanty costume in the confined space under the front office desk, Jane put down her pencil and notepad. She had been soundly caned this time and her bottom smarted very satisfactorily, seeming to have induced a continuing tingle between her thighs. Mr Horga, her boss, had been properly strict with her, refusing her apologies for careless work and insisting that she submit herself to office discipline. Bending over the desk top up on her tiptoes to present her bottom at the proper altitude, she had felt, as expected, his big hand drawing her skirt up to her waist and waited trembling though she wasn't sure why, as he fumbled with her knickers, pulling them slowly over her hips and then downwards to cling around her knees. She had dutifully agreed that she deserved her punishment and suggested the twelve strokes that she somehow knew was the right number. The cane had smarted horribly yet somehow appropriately. The very fierceness of the strokes that sliced her bottom provided reassurance that she was doing the right thing. She had felt at liberty to yelp and sob, kicking her heels up and wriggling her bottom. The sharp wooden rim of the desk had provided an extra sensation, rubbing deep into her crotch. Mr Horga caned her slowly and she knew it was inevitable that she would end up squealing with pleasure amid the pain. Mr Horga was indeed her Master, she agreed, and should be rewarded for taking the trouble to correct her.

Sighing happily in her position under the desk, she unzipped her Master's pants and pulled his cock out of his coloured boxer shorts. Noting in passing that it was fatter than any of the others she had handled, though much the same length, she began licking it and at that moment heard the telephone chime on the desk above.

"Keep going!" he growled with electrifying curtness. She heard his conversation, carrying on in short gruff bursts, while she diligently licked his cock and balls. Burrowing her cheeks between his thick thighs, she took into her mouth each large and slithery testicle in turn, laving them thoroughly. She noticed that his speech became noticeably terser once she had transferred her attention to the lolling cock, swallowing inch after inch to the point where her upper lip felt the wiry tickle of pubic hair and she was gagging on its bulbous head, having to snort for breath. By then he was almost barking his replies into the telephone and she felt proud that she had learnt to do a really good blow-job. The masterful cock was standing so tall now that she bumped her head on the desk every time she drew up on its wet column.

"Major!" she heard him shout into the phone. "Hold on! I got an emergency here!" Her bare shoulders pressed between his trousered knees, her bottom flaunting its angry red weals in the gap of the desk, Jane continued to use her lips and tongue assiduously, sliding the one up and down the slippery barrel, teasing the sensitive underside with the other. Her boss half rose off his chair, hairy belly pressed against the desk edge and she felt all the triumph of being a successful cum slut secretary satisfying her masterful employer. His cock began to pulse in short bursts spilling the sticky emission onto her tongue ready to be avidly swallowed down with dutiful zeal.

"Major?" Horga cursed and made to stand up, then subsided back again. It would still take that superior bitch half an hour to get here. He rammed the telephone back into its place and looked down. Plenty of time for the prisoner to clean him up first.

"Now Velda," he purred. "Lick your boss nice and clean before you go back to work!"