Agent Swann, FBI Ch. 03

Agent Swann, FBI: Fucked, Blackmailed, and Impounded

Chapter 3 - The Pitstop

One thing was clear in Natalie's mind as she drove toward home. She had now ridden herself forever of those stupid fantasies she'd had of rape and torture. Some things were better left in the realm of dreams, as she had painfully come to experience. For now, she just wanted to get back to civilization without attracting any more attention.

Her bare feet worked the pedals as she sped down the empty morning roads, wincing at the uncomfortable contact of her bare, sweaty butt with the flimsy newspaper she had placed on the driver's seat to protect it from her cum-leaking snatch. Under different circumstances, she might have felt a thrill from driving topless out in the open like this, but after the night's adventures she'd had enough excitement to last her a lifetime.

Behind her, the urine-soaked jeans flapped in the wind of the rolled-down rear window, hooked on an old wire hanger she had found in the trunk. The improvised suspension might make them dry faster, but of course, it also left her freezing in the chill morning air, her naked skin pebbled with goosebumps.

Now and then, she made involuntary snorting noises through her nostrils as her teeth sunk deeper into the rubber doggie ball that nearly split her face in two. Getting that filthy thing out of her mouth would be such a relief, but she knew it would be difficult at best to pry it loose, and she did not want to even try her hand at that task before she had put as much distance between herself and that hellish trailer park as she could.

The rising sun brightening the eastern sky through the treetops made her feel safe for the first time in hours. She was a little roughed up, sure, but alive and unscathed. The cuts and scrapes would disappear in a few days. A next-day pill would prevent any unwanted pregnancy. Maybe the things she had suffered were a reasonable price for the freedom she now felt. And even though she hadn't learned much to progress her case, she did have some new leads to follow. Joe and his entourage of redneck filth would soon just be a bad memory.

As she drove, Natalie considered her situation in a calmer mindset and began to plan for her next course of action. It was now 5:30 AM and she was exhausted. Her nightly ordeals had left her bruised, battered, and dirtier than she could ever remember being. She couldn't go to work like that, and she didn't have enough time to go home to clean up and still get in on time to the FBI office. In her state of exhaustion and turmoil, she wouldn't be able to do much proper work anyway. Thus, she decided to call in sick for today and go home and take a nice long bath, treat her scratches, and get herself some well-earned sleep.

But there was still one more problem to solve. She couldn't enter her neighborhood and risk being recognized in such a disheveled state. Someone might even call the police, thinking she'd been assaulted, and that kind of publicity could lead her down a very embarrassing path. She had to find a way to clean herself up to look at least somewhat presentable before rushing up the stairs to her apartment.

Just as she was reflecting on this, a sign announced a rest area coming up a couple of miles ahead. Moments later, she was pulling in at what looked like some seedy roadside restaurant and bar. She paused at the entrance of the area to check for any signs of movement outside, but the place seemed deserted.

Keeping the engine running, she decided it was time that she extracted that nasty ball from her mouth. She had been drooling all over herself as she drove so that ropes of saliva now dangled from her chin and connected to her bare chest. Her jaws ached, and she did not want to be seen with that obscene toy in her face. Her general state of disarray would be difficult enough to explain as it was.

Using her long, slender fingers, she tried again to pull the ball out. The problem was that she had no purchase on the saliva-coated sphere. It had been compressed when going past her front rows of teeth and could not be extracted the same way without putting as much force on it as had been used to pop it in. She could have tried to bite down hard to deform the ball, but at this point, she hadn't enough strength left in her sore jaws to even make a dent in the thing.

Under the car's dome light, she could see how dirty her hands were. There was brown dirt under her nails that, by the smell of it, could well be coming from her bowels. It was both disgusting and unhealthy, and some of it had smeared onto the steering wheel too. With a pinch to her heart, she realized it would be safer to first wash her hands with soap before attempting any actions close to her mouth with them.

She took a look out the window again at the 24/7 open restaurant. Still no signs of life. A worn, flickering sign stated its name in tacky red neon: 'The Greasy Bear'. Natalie rolled her eyes at the aptly named joint. She wasn't out of redneck country yet, it seemed.

The neat line of Harley Davidsons parked outside made her frown. That sight would have been a deterring factor for her on any normal day. It might even have prompted her to keep on driving to the next stop. But this was about as far from a normal day as a lone woman in her position could get.

She spotted a sign pointing toward the restrooms, which seemed to be located in a separate building a little off to the side. Ignoring the potential hazards of the area, she drove a little further and parked her car as close to the restrooms as possible. She figured there was no reason for the bikers to use the outdoor restrooms as the bar would have its own facilities. Besides, at this hour they were not likely to cause many problems if they weren't already asleep.

She took the jeans that had been hanging next to the open window for the past twenty minutes. They were still damp but no longer dripping. The smell seemed to have gotten even worse though. She made a mental note to give her car a thorough cleaning as it would no doubt be stinking of urine after this.

She had to squirm her hips quite a bit to get into the wet pants as they stuck to her skin. Form-fitting in their normal state, they now seemed to have shrunk two sizes or more. The notion of having Joe's piss touching her skin made her sick, but there was no other option. She couldn't risk being seen running half-naked in such a place. With the pants on, she tied the flaps of her blouse under her breasts. The former pristine white shirt was a dirty mess. The way she had tied it left her midriff bare, exposing her flat, bruised belly. It was also embracing the shape of her breasts and leaving an ample expanse of cleavage on display as she couldn't close the blouse above the knot without any buttons. With her ruined bra left somewhere on the floor of Joe's trailer, her still erect nipples pushed hard against the fabric, and the distinct shape of the padlock on her left breast could be seen in a shady outline.

She looked at herself in the sunshade mirror. Her face and hair were a horrible mess. It must stink as well, although her nose would have grown accustomed to its full potency by now. She would have to avoid approaching anyone in such a whorish state. She passed her fingers through her matted curls, trying to control some of their wildness without too much success. She also tried to rub her dirty fingers over her face to get rid of the mascara trails that ran down her cheeks. Of course, that stuff was waterproof only when you wanted to remove it! All she could manage was to smear it out under her eyes so that she looked like she had tired black circles under her eyes instead of tear streaks. Maybe that was a bit better. Her lipstick was smeared too, but as she had used a natural color, it wasn't too visible. Besides, most of it had come off during her cocksucking, which she'd rather not think about too much.

She rummaged in her purse, looking for her makeup kit. Some of it had been broken when thrown on the ground, but it was just an emergency pack to touch herself up with before work-related appointments anyway. Though she may still have enough face powder to hide the most visible marks on her body...

When she put the powder back into her purse and began to arrange everything neatly as she liked it to be, anguish struck her again. Where were her home keys? She rummaged again, then overturned the entire bag on the passenger seat. Nothing. After having searched around for long minutes, she had to admit the cold truth: her home keys were not with her. They must have fallen in the grass where she had not seen them. This new blow ruined her laid-out plans, and her mind went into overdrive.

Her only spare key was in her locker at work, along with a spare work suit she kept there too, which would come in handy now. She had put it there in case she had a food accident before an important meeting but had never needed it. She would never have imagined a situation like this would come up. The difficulty, of course, was getting to that locker without attracting attention.

She checked the time. The earlier she arrived at the office, the less risk there would be of her bumping into anybody except for the night guards at the entrance. There was no time to lose. She took a deep breath, looked at herself in the mirror one final time, and glanced all around her car. Everything was clear, no one was in sight. Clutching her purse under her arm, she got out of her car, closed the door, locked it with the remote control function of her key, and ran barefoot to the restrooms.

Shivering from the cold, she had to navigate a stretch of sharp gravel before getting to the shabby building, wincing at the short stabs of pain that shot up her legs but managed to reach the place without incident. As she pushed open the door, she was met by a stench that rivaled that of her own; the unmistakable waft of stale urine. This place must not have been cleaned in ages, which was not surprising given the dilapidated surroundings. Scrunching up her nose, she tiptoed inside.

* * *

"Hey, Clive! I just saw something out there. Looked like a... a bare-titted angel or sumthn'... running across the lot."

"What? Yeeeaah, sure, man. And I'm a nine-foot giant with a cock the size of Texas! Hey, miss, one more round of...whatever he's having. That's clearly the good stuff!"

"Coming right up. And anything else for you, sir? Sir?"

"Don't mind him, buttercup, he's seeing winged tits fall from the sky! Just get me that drink. And be quick about it. We haven't got all night."

"Yes, sir. Right away, sir.........shithead..."

"Yeehaw! Would you look at that ass go... now there's a real angel for you!"

"What? No, I'm serious, man. There's a girl out there! Half-naked. Pretty hot too. Looked just like that chick on TV..."

"Shut up, dude. OK, OK. I'll have a look. Oooh, nothing there, what a surprise... You saw a parked car, man. That's real hot. Come on, let's drink. I bet you can still stand straight. I ain't leaving here until this hole runs dry, or I'm seeing giant angels too, with huuuge knockers! Hee, hee."

"No, no, no, she was there, I swear! She ran over to those... toilets or whatever. She must still be in there. I'm gonna go have me a look. You comin'?"

"Nah, man, I'm good. Have fun with your ghost chicks, Robbie."

* * *

Natalie stormed into the ladies' section, hiding her gagged mouth with one hand in case there was someone inside, cringing as her bare soles came into contact with the nasty, sticky tiles. As expected at this early hour, the restrooms were empty. With a sigh of relief, she hurried to the sinks and began her washing session. As she stood there scrubbing her hands, she dared to look at her reflection in the cracked mirror and saw herself in full for the first time since last evening. She was shocked by her appearance. She looked like an overworked whore on a Sunday morning. Barefoot, with dirty clothes in tatters about her half-naked body and a face and hair that looked as though she had gone through a gang-bang marathon, she had a lot of work to make herself anywhere near presentable.

She used her soapy hands to wash her face, removing the mascara smears and all the nasty, crusty traces left by Joe's cock. She rinsed it all. There was no hot water, and the icy touch tightened her skin. She examined her fingers. They looked clean, although there was still some dirt under her long nails. It would have to do. She didn't want to stretch her luck too thin.

Looking at her mirror self, she pushed her little finger inside her mouth at the corner of her lips, trying to get a hold on the huge ball. There was hardly any room to get in, and the tension stretched her poor lips even further. Yet, one finger wasn't enough to pry it loose. The ball was just too slippery and too big.

* * *

Rob swayed a bit as he stood up, his beer gut taut with a full night's worth of heavy drinking. Winding his way between the tables, he managed to get to the front door and pushed it open, leaving his companion to settle the tab. The chill mountain air sobered him up a bit, and he steered his feet toward the place he thought his vision of divine femininity had gone off to.

It was all quiet around the rundown old restrooms, and he began to wonder if Clive hadn't been right. Maybe he had just been seeing things. But her car was still there. That was real. He decided to at least check the place out before returning to face the laughter of his drinking buddy.

With a swift motion of his thick boot, he kicked in the door to the restroom area, which flew open with a loud bang, making him wince as his head hurt.

"Helloooo, any naked angels in here?" he called out. Moving toward the ladies' room, where he thought he heard water running, he poked his head in and paused to listen. There may have been some movement and a scuffling noise down by the last stall. Knowing he shouldn't be in here, on account of his gender, he shambled forward to investigate.

* * *

As Natalie pushed her other pinkie into her mouth, she heard something. Her eyes almost bulged out of her head. Footsteps; heavy, approaching, unsteady. Probably some drunk biker. Whoever it was, he should be heading for the men's room, but she did not want to take that risk.

She pulled her fingers out of her mouth, grabbed her purse, and tiptoed toward the stall that was the farthest from the door, cursing how long it took for the automatic faucet to stop running. She went in. The place was dirty and smelled like shit. For a second she stopped to take in the grimness of her surroundings; the worn and chipped tiles, the lewd and crude graffiti on the wall, the poor lighting, and the dilapidated nature of the actual bowl. Even the lid was broken, with only the cheap plastic seat ring remaining somewhat askance on the ceramic rim.

Too late to check another stall. She closed the door, pulled the deadbolt, and hung her purse on the door hook. Then she sat on the dirty toilet seat. In her mind, she joked to herself that for once she would be the one dirtying it with her pee-soaked pants. She lifted her feet off the floor so they couldn't be seen from under the door. Resting her naked heels on the seat in front of her, she hugged her legs to remain as still as possible.

Seconds later, the man barged into the ladies' restroom. Her heart missed a beat at the nonsense he spouted. Naked angel? What? Had he seen her? She was in a tight spot if he had, but there was still a chance his drunken mind had popped those words into his mouth out of nowhere. She remained silent, holding her breath, listening, and trying to envision what he was doing.

"I know you're in here, aaangel! Where are you, little one?" Rob singsonged as he swayed forward, pausing to check the stalls one by one, pushing their doors open with his hand to see if any winged, bare-breasted creatures were hiding within.

"Wanna play hide-and-seek with Robbie? Oooh, hee..heee..." his voice went up into a high pitch the way it often did when he'd had a few too many, but this was fun! He almost felt like a little kid again. And he was on a quest to find his little runaway angel. He knew she was in here somewhere. Where else could she have gone? He also started to feel a real urge to empty his bladder. Maybe his body recognized where he was and had begun to prepare itself for release, even if he was in the wrong section.

This was scary. He had seen her come here, for sure. But judging from the way he spoke, he was quite drunk... so maybe, if she didn't make a peep, he would just be on his way and leave her alone. Her heart was pounding hard as he approached, checking the stall doors. He would find her door locked. She started to prepare herself. Because of the gag, she couldn't answer him and tell him to go to hell, which might have worked. However, if he tried to force her door, she would have to fight him. Though in his inebriated state, that shouldn't be too hard.

His hand bumped against the last stall door, but this time, instead of moving inward, it stopped short. Looking down at it with a confused, cross-eyed glare, he tried bumping it again. No good. Was this door locked? Could this be where his angel was hiding?

"Aaaangel... are you in there? Are you hiiiiding from old Robbie?" he cooed, his mouth close to the barred entrance.

Natalie cursed under her breath but said nothing. She braced herself on the toilet bowl while lifting her feet into the air, ready to welcome the intruder with a double kick in his belly. As her weight shifted, the old plastic seat creaked, the gentle noise like thunder in her nervous ears.

"Angel! Open! Door! Now!" He banged each word into the door with his meaty fist, wondering if he could somehow force his way in. The flimsy piece of plywood trembled on its hinges as if its moorings were going to collapse at any second. Encouraged by the display of his own strength, he added his knee to the task at hand, but when that hurt too much, he stepped back to line up a kick. It had worked before, on coming in here, he remembered. Maybe it would do the trick again.

Damn! This guy is strong, or huge, or both! Natalie judged by the tremors his banging caused. The stall door was designed to provide privacy, not security. It wouldn't take long for a strong guy like him to kick it open. She now realized that should he do something as drastic as that, she was in danger of receiving the blasted door in the face. She stretched her legs out and lifted her feet higher, pushing them up against the door, hoping to absorb the impact even if there was no way she could prevent it from breaking. Caught in this compromising position, Natalie's mind whirled. What had she done to deserve this? She kept being forced into embarrassing situations when all she wanted to do was hide the evidence of her shame. She had to get out of this bad streak that she had initiated with her carelessness.

Robbie lined himself up with the bothersome door and stepped back as far as he could against the opposite wall and the line of sinks. Then he accelerated forward like a charging rhino, only to change his tactics at the last second. Instead of employing his booted foot for the task, he turned his shoulder to the front, leading with the meaty part of his arm. He barely felt any resistance as the door burst open, yielding under his massive bulk. It crashed inward and slammed into the side wall while his momentum kept him moving forward. He had only a split second to see two wide-open brown eyes over a strange, big, round, blue mouth before he slammed into his missing angel, pushing her up against the wall behind the toilet seat and pinning her to it with his frame. He'd had enough presence of mind to stop himself from squashing her like a bug, but she still took a pretty heavy blow from the impact.