Agent Swann, FBI Ch. 02

When he returned to the wooded backyard, he found that the bound agent had barely moved from where he had left her moments ago. All she had managed to do was sit herself up on the ground. How pathetic! She looked at him with a pained expression on her stupid ball-stretched face, as if expecting more torment, and for a moment he was tempted to give her just that. She seemed exhausted, but she still tried to shuffle her butt backward, pushing her bare heels into the ground to get away from him as he approached her.

"You forgot something, sweetcheeks. I take it you need this, hmm?" He dangled the key in front of her and took her blinking and snorting as a yes.

"Well, I guess you don't need that thing there anymore," he mused and reached down to unclip the FBI badge from her breast, removing it with a sharp tug that almost tore her hardened nub off in the process. She groaned behind her gag, but he ignored her and checked her bleeding nipple, twisting and turning it to get a closer look at the damage. It had a nice hole in it now near its base, just wide enough for the padlock to fit into. Perfect! He threaded the locker key onto the curved shackle, which he then fitted into the pierced nipple, snapping it shut. When he let go of it, the padlock and key hung from her nipple like some obscene jewelry.

"There! Now you won't lose your key again, despite being such a clumsy twit," he said, pleased with his own ingenuity. He threw the liberated FBI badge into some thorny bushes, and without another word, turned on his heel and left her for the second time that night, slamming the door shut behind him.

Natalie could not turn her eyes away from her brutalized nipple, now pulled down by the padlock and the key to her locker. She could not believe what Joe had done. That bastard, however dumb he could be, was a bottomless pit of cruelty! She could only avert her eyes from her throbbing breast when he closed the door, plunging her back into darkness.

Joe did not stop when he got inside the truck, but headed straight through it and out the opposite front entrance, only pausing to pick up the slut's jeans on the way. Outside, he dropped the American blues onto the porch and positioned himself in a wide-spread stance over them. Knowing the agent would be a while getting out of her bonds, he took his time, lowered his sweatpants, and relaxed into a nice long piss, aiming the stream all over the denims, letting the stinky, yellow fluid soak into the cloth. "Ahhh, yeah...that's nice..." he mumbled. When he was finished, he shook out the last drops, sighed contentedly, and went back inside.

Behind the truck, once the shock of having her nipple padlocked had passed, Natalie tried to think about her options. Her situation was dire. Her only hope of evasion was her key, stuffed deep in her rectum--and how embarrassing was that!--but with her elbows linked to her neck, there was no way she could reach it. That was a macabre joke. Just a way to let her strangle herself when she had lost the strength to keep her elbows high enough. There was, of course, another way to get the key out, but that was not something she was willing to try, not yet.

Joe could still smell the agent's perfume on the mattress and the lingering scent of her cunt in the air as he stretched himself out on the bed he hadn't washed in ages and drifted off to sleep. It had been a great day, but now he was ready for dreamland.

He had barely closed his eyes when a loud bang shook the truck, followed by another, and then another. They seemed to come from his back door.

"That fucking bitch! I can't believe it. She just never stops, does she?"

With an angry growl, he got out of bed in nothing but his soiled underwear. Grabbing his trusty shotgun, which still lay under the newspaper he had used to conceal it this morning, he tore open the door to the backyard and levered the sawed-off barrel toward whatever had made the noise. And of course, it was that dumb bitch who had been busy putting dents in his wall.

Natalie had been kicking at the truck with her bare feet, trying to wake the fat slob up and get his attention so that he would release her arms, or at least her elbows. As the door opened, she backed up a few steps and bent forward so as to be able to look at Joe despite her contorted head. At the sight of the gun pointed at her, she froze, her angry and demanding expression turning into one of fear, though she was of course silent behind the giant ball splitting her face.

"What is it now, you brainless cow? You must really have a death wish to keep pushing your limits like this. What about GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY FACE don't you understand? I guess you're just too dumb to take a hint. Well, do you understand this?" He yelled, raising his gun and cocking it with a distinct click-clack.

She made some ridiculous attempts at speaking around her gag, her big eyes pleading with him. Then she turned around, squirming her arms, trying to convey her request. Could he not understand she could not do anything with her elbows chained like this?

Joe was enraged, having been uprooted from his comfy bed by this nonsense. What was worse, he knew that this infernal racket could attract the attention of his neighbors, even though they were used to ignoring him. As she was turning her back to him, he seized the opportunity to grab her hair. Then he set off walking deeper into the woods, dragging her along behind him. This bitch needed to be taught a lesson, and he knew just how to give it.

Natalie, bent at the waist, had trouble following him as she was barefoot and couldn't see where she stepped, her bare feet managing to find every sharp rock and twig there was laying around to stumble on or stub her toes against. She tried to whimper and moan around her gag but whatever pleadings she managed to get out were ignored.

They didn't go far. He soon reached a dark pit in the ground maybe three feet deep and shoved her into it. She landed on a soft bedding of loose dirt and dry leaves, but she couldn't help but feel like she had just been thrown into her own grave. His silence was unnerving. As she turned around she found herself staring into the cold barrel of his shotgun, and wondered if this was it.

The analytical part of her mind told her that the weapon he was pointing at her head was a twelve-gauge Remington 870. Being fired upon by such a powerful weapon at point-blank range would all but obliterate her face. Forensics would have to consult dental records or proceed to DNA analysis to identify her corpse. It was a sobering thought, if not a very cheerful one.

The hole was deep enough to act as a burial place, and there was no direct witness to whatever transpired next, she realized with a cold shiver running down her spine. She would die here, naked, raped, and degraded. Her stupid and ignominious death would be spread all over the news. Maybe pictures of her naked, tortured body would be leaked to the press for perverts to masturbate upon, just like she had done to that poor policewoman. Her only consolation was that Joe would spend the remainder of his life in prison, as there was no way the FBI would not be upon him before the end of the next day. She closed her eyes and waited for the slug to end her promising young life.

Joe's rage was tempered by the sudden look of submission in the agent's eyes. Lying there naked and bound, with a huge ball gag in her mouth, a dog collar around her neck, and her long legs stained with his cum, she looked both pathetic and smoking hot. Her creamy tan skin contrasted with the black dirt surrounding her cowering form, and here and there dark scuffs of the soil marked her body. Once again, he held the power over her life and the decision on whether or not to let her continue breathing. The front of his underwear now confirmed his arousal by tenting into a notable bulge.

"I hear another peep out of you, and this really will be your grave," he said with menace. Seeing the understanding in her eyes, he added, "Now get the hell out of here before I change my mind."

Her eyes blinked open, filled with renewed hope. She might survive a few more hours! Even if that meant she would die a slow and painful death instead of a quick one, she was unable to see it in a bad way. Her conservation instinct told her that as long as she was alive, there was hope. So, she just tried to thank Joe with her eyes while remaining immobile and silent, praying he would leave without adding more to her misery.

He kicked some loose dirt at her face, some of it getting into her wide-open eyes, making her blink and recoil. Then he lowered the gun and went back to the truck, for what he hoped would be the last and final time tonight.

She blinked over and over as her eyes burned, but did not make any noise, however muffled. She could feel that they were both on the verge of a fateful turn of events here and that everything could either go terribly bad or leave them with a chance to move on with their lives. So she held her breath until Joe had disappeared from sight.

Natalie soon understood her new predicament. The first thing she tried was to get up on her feet and try to climb out of the waist-deep pit. But with her arms bound behind her, she couldn't get any purchase. Her bare feet kept sliding on the steep banks of the hole. She felt like an insect struggling in an antlion's sand trap.

After several attempts that left her panting and sweating, and out of hope, she sat down to rest and think. She was shivering in the cold night, unable to call for help, and on the verge of panic. That sick slob wanted her to die in that hole, she thought, strangling herself, as though that made him less of a killer. Yet, that made no sense. He must know that he'd be the first suspect as the FBI came to investigate her cellphone.

A movement in her belly gave her the obvious solution. The one she had not wanted to consider before. All she had to do was to defecate the key. She winced. This would be his style, wouldn't it?

Thus, the proud Special Agent Natalie Swann squatted, naked, half-buried in the middle of some outback trailer park, pushing with all her strength. It took her quite some time as she did not really need to go, but deep within she could feel a bowel movement coming. Hopefully, it would push her key along with it on its way out. She felt so ridiculous and pathetic, doing her business like that. Even though she was alone, she felt degraded like never before.

Even though it was a small key, she could feel its hard metal edges scrape and cut the sensitive inner lining of her colon as it moved within her. At last, her stool came out along with a fart, dropping with a soft thud on the leaves between her feet. The most humiliating part came when she had to investigate the warm excrement, blind in the dark, with her fingers. She found the key just next to the filthy stuff. Still, it stank and made her feel dirty.

Unlocking her handcuffs was a simple process by comparison. This was something she had trained for, although she would never have imagined performing the maneuver in such an extreme scenario. Once her hands were free, she contorted her arms, and once again half-strangled herself as she reached for the strap of the thick collar. She needed all her dexterity to unbuckle them with just the tip of her fingers. Once she succeeded, the collar fell off and its chain leash unraveled on its own from her elbows, falling to the ground with a soft rattle.

A victorious smile would have beamed on her face, had it not been stretched by the huge doggie ball, as she flexed and rotated her sore, stiff arms. Freeing them was a major progress on her path out of this hell hole, despite the humiliating price she had had to pay for it. The chain had left deep red prints around her arms, and her wrists were scratched and chafed where her own handcuffs had strangled them. She moved her fingers, testing their function, relieved to see that no obvious damage had been done to their mobility, although they still felt cold and numb. She couldn't see her neck but it was probably marked too. After having been contorted for so long, it was stiff as well and throbbed as soon as she turned it too much.

She considered her next move. The aching of her jaws incited her to remove the ball gag, but the huge thing resisted her first hasty tries. The smell coming from her soiled fingers as she brought them to her mouth did not encourage her to make any more thorough attempts and she decided to see about it later. For now, she had to recover her things so that she could drive away from this hateful place and never come back.

Now that she was free to use her arms, it was easier to climb out of the shallow pit, and soon she was walking through the woods, guided by the lights coming from the main settlement. Being quasi-naked in a forest at night was a new experience for her, and one she would have preferred never living through. She couldn't see where she was stepping and had to walk prudently, exploring the ground in front of her to avoid hurting her feet on protruding roots and stones. She cupped her left breast in a gentle grip with one hand to prevent the padlock from jerking about and pulling at her sore nipple. This reminded her that she still had to recover her badge or she would have a difficult time explaining how she had lost it.

Fortunately, she was not too far inside the forest and soon found herself just behind Joe's truck, where he had left her the first time. She found the bush where he had thrown the insignia. The next minutes were spent with her crouching around on all fours, scratching her arms and chest as she reached into the dense thorny branches to recover her precious tag. At last, she did retrieve it, only to realize she had no pocket or purse to carry it. She could pin it to her loose blouse... but she didn't like the idea of advertising for the FBI in her current state of undress. She tried not to foul the item too much with her shit-smeared fingers as she just carried it in one hand.

She sneaked around the truck, in the hopes of recovering her purse, which the bastard had emptied and thrown away at the front door at the start of this never-ending night of woe. It might still be there. The muffled snoring that came from the inside reassured her that Joe was no longer a threat to her.

In the gloom produced by the sparse, flickering park lights, she could just see enough to walk upright. As she reached the front door, she smiled at the sight of her jeans, thrown in a crumpled heap on the ground, along with her empty purse lying next to them. The snoring slob might be a bastard, but he had at least not left her to drive home stark naked. She eagerly reached for her pants and then dropped them again, grimacing in disgust.

"You filthy sick bastard!" she whispered through gritted teeth while throwing a furious glare at the truck. Her pants were drenched and stinking of urine! She couldn't believe he had just relieved himself on her clothes!

There was nothing she could do about it at the moment. Reluctant to put on the cold and smelly pants, she instead took her purse and tried to recover its contents, which had been thrown all around in the unkempt grass. In the dim light, she couldn't be sure she had everything, but at least she had her ID and her car keys. Then, seizing the disgusting pants with two fingers, she ran away, still naked, shivering, and humiliated toward the parking lot. Joe's cum was still oozing out of her sore vagina, trickling down the inside of her thighs, another reminder of all the pains she had gone through during this fateful night. But at least now it had come to an end.