Amanda, CIA Agent Ch. 03

This story features graphic non-consent, coercion, and humiliation. If those elements don't appeal to you, you'll probably prefer one of the excellent stories found in the Literotica Top Lists. Consider yourself warned!

This story is a fantasy. The author does not condone any real-world nonconsensual touching or sexual activity, infliction of pain or emotional distress, or mistreatment of any person.

The Farm, Camp Peary, Virginia, November 2006

Three hours after leaving Langley, Amanda stood alone in the parking lot, suitcase and backpack at her feet, watching the taillights of the blacked-out bus fade into the gloom. Behind her, the other trainees joked and laughed with easy camaraderie as they headed off in groups toward their quarters.

As Amanda zipped up her coat against the damp chill and took the handle of her oversized roller bag, she felt a twinge of loneliness. During the drive, she'd attempted to befriend the man sitting next to her, but he'd misconstrued her interest. She'd spent the rest of the trip rebuffing his advances.

She thought of her high school best friend Katherine, who had consoled her after her father's death. Neither she nor her college roommate Kristin had believed her story that she now worked for a multinational technology firm. In both cases, this deception had driven a wedge between them, and their once frequent calls had finally died out. At moments like this, she missed them terribly.

After locating her quarters and unpacking, she set out in search of Megan Lindstrom, who she'd first met six months earlier, the morning of her polygraph. As she walked, deep in thought, she collided with a heavyset man with thinning gray hair.

"I'm Percy Dobbins. You've probably heard of me." He thrust out his chest and hooked his thumbs into his belt loops. "I'm a division chief at Langley."

"Pleased to meet you," said Amanda politely, recovering and offering him her hand as she hid her distaste for his self-important air.

He held her hand in his own sweaty paw. "I'll be overseeing instruction for this session. These days, I rarely have time to lecture, due to all my responsibility," he went on, "but I still like to mentor new female agents, to help them qualify for overseas assignments. We can speak more privately in my office." He pulled her toward a low storefront, part of a make-believe strip mall used for training exercises.

"Training doesn't start until tomorrow," said Amanda as she stumbled forward. Eager as she was to obtain a posting, she didn't want to be alone with Percy. She scanned the area for a friendly face as they crossed the parking lot. She saw many vehicles but no people.

Percy pontificated on his lofty status as he led her into an authentic-looking cafe. Inside, a long Formica counter and stools ran the length of the room, with a row of booths opposite. The smell of burnt coffee lingered.

At the back, a door opened onto a storage room sparsely furnished with a battered wooden desk and an orange tweed sofa. Bare fluorescent bulbs flickered overhead, harshly illuminating the chipped green paint on the walls. Calling it an office seemed a stretch.

Percy pushed the door shut, sat down on the sofa, and patted the stained, threadbare cushion next to him. After a moment, Amanda perched her designer-jean-clad bottom on the farthest corner of the couch. She hunched her shoulders and clutched the edges of her matching denim jacket, wrinkling her nose at the smell of mildew.

He hooked his hand around her waist and drew her toward him. "Here at the Farm, trainees practice situations you'll encounter in the field. Women face special challenges." He slipped his hand inside her jacket.

Uncertainty clouded her features. Was he helping her or just taking advantage? She forced herself to wait a beat, letting him assess the firm pliancy of her breast, before she brushed his hand away.

Undeterred, Percy reached toward her again. "You and I will meet regularly. Once we find the best posting for you, I'll help you enlist support from other leaders."

Amanda pushed against his forearm but he was surprisingly strong. He slid her top higher, then pushed up the cup of her bra. As she thrashed, he wrapped his hand around her bare breast. With his other hand, he unbuttoned her jeans.

He was about to get his hand inside her pants. Did she somehow invite this?

His fingers pushed the edges of her fly aside and trailed down her lower abdomen. She panicked, striking her forehead against his bulbous nose with more force than she'd intended.

Percy clutched his face and wailed as blood streamed from his nose, soaking the front of his shirt.

Amanda ran out of the cafe, her heart pounding. On the sidewalk, she paused to arrange her clothing and used a tissue to dab at the blood spattering her jeans, thankful the area remained deserted.

Unable to calm herself, she set off in search of Megan again. She found her eating supper.

"Can I join you?"

"Amanda! You're trembling." Amanda's top was still badly askew, and Megan straightened it, wiping a streak of mascara from her cheek with her thumb. "What happened?"

"It was my own fault. I was so stupid." In a halting voice, she spilled out her story.

Megan looked shocked. "Oh, no," she said softly. "You shouldn't have hurt him. Everybody knows about Percy...."

Seeing Amanda's puzzled expression, she blinked. "Well, apparently not everybody."

"Wait, he did this to you too?"

Megan nodded. "My second week. Michelle had warned me. I thought you knew. I mean, his program isn't officially sanctioned -"

"Michelle who?"

"You know, Dr. Miller's wife."

Amanda nodded, struggling to take in everything she was hearing. She remembered the stunning blonde in the portrait on Dr. Miller's desk.

"Anyway, Michelle met with Percy, shortly before her wedding. It didn't go well. Percy held up her field deployment, until she, um, did some other things."

Heads turned nearby, and Megan lowered her voice. "So, when my turn came, I did what he said."

"What other things?"

"Coaching sessions," Megan said, under her breath. "Michelle called it habituation."

Amanda was perplexed, but she could see this wasn't the time or place for more questions.

"Hey, I'm sorry I didn't warn you." Megan scooched closer and gave Amanda a squeeze.

Amanda waved her hand. "That's ok."

"On a happier note, guess who one of our other instructors is?" Megan grinned. "Chad Knight."

Amanda snorted, welcoming the change of topic. "Yeah, I can see you're all torn up about that."

"He's charming." Megan studied her nails, her cheeks pink. "And hot, right?"

Amanda tried to keep from smiling but failed. "I'm not interested in Chad."

Megan's grin faded. "Really? Whenever you're in sight, he doesn't hear a word I say."

Amanda had noticed Chad's attention but she discounted it. "I'm too tall for him. And he prefers blondes."

"He's just as tall as you, and he'd love your hair if you ever wore it loose."

Amanda shook her head. "Training is all I can manage."

Megan frowned. "Gotcha."

"Hey, join me for a run tomorrow?"

Megan patted her tummy. "I need to. What time?"

Amanda scoffed. "Your waistline's as small as mine, but we need to keep in shape. I'm going at five."

"Seriously? Five A.M.?"

Amanda blushed. "I have to clean up and get ready after."

Megan rolled her eyes. "Maybe next time."

* * *

The next morning, after showering off the sweat from her run, Amanda spent extra time selecting her clothes. She'd brought a few blouses and skirts, but now they seemed too dressy.

She'd already put on a bra and panties set in pale violet lace. It was one of her favorites, and she felt desirable and confident in it, even if nobody else ever saw it. Again she looked at her knee-length black wool skirt, remembering the thrill she felt whenever a man stared at her bare legs.

No, she admonished herself, office clothes won't do. Her Langley co-workers already thought her too straitlaced, and she'd gotten off on the wrong foot with the guys on her bus. Determined to cast off her sense of propriety and embrace the Farm's more casual atmosphere, she pulled on a pair of worn low-rise jeans, pausing to trace her fingers along the rip she'd made across the left thigh. Her faded, clingy Whitney Houston t-shirt exposed a strip of her belly.

She found Megan outside the classroom. Megan gave her clothing a second glance but said nothing. They found seats together in the back of the room. Up front, Percy conferred with Chad and another instructor. Percy's nose was swollen but it didn't look broken.

Percy called the class to order. "Today you begin your course in Field Tradecraft. Over the coming weeks, you'll receive instruction in the key principles of elicitation, dead drops, bumps, brush passes, and surveillance detection.

"Your classroom work will alternate with field exercises, during which you'll be evaluated on your proficiency. With that, here's your first instructor, Tony Giordano."

That afternoon, they were assigned vehicles for a group exercise. One of Amanda's teammates was an outgoing guy named Cody Maxwell. Amanda had noticed he was already friends with most of the others.

"Hi, I'm Amanda." She offered her hand. "I got a Camry, what did you get?"

Cody shook her hand gently as he looked her in the eye. "Mine's an Outback." His relaxed manner put Amanda at ease. As they walked to the parking lot, he amused her with his wry commentary about Tony and the other instructors.

Amanda's Camry was dilapidated, and it smelled faintly of cigarette smoke. As she buckled her seatbelt, she stroked the soft fur of the rabbit's foot hanging from the rearview mirror.

They joined with their team to practice their skills. Amanda was a quicker study, and she ribbed Cody about it, but he steadily improved. As she laughed at his jokes and silly antics during breaks, she grew more comfortable with him.

At day's end, Cody followed Amanda back to the parking lot. The sun was low and the others had already returned. As she climbed out, a gust of wind blew a swirl of dead leaves around her ankles.

Cody relaxed against the side of his car, waiting. "Getting dinner?"

Amanda checked her watch. "I guess. I'm not very hungry. Hey, do you have your notes from today? I missed a point on dead drops."

"Sure, come on back to my room."

"Um. Can you bring them to class tomorrow?"

Cody spied the rabbit's foot hanging from her mirror. He reached inside her car and removed it. "What's this?"

"That's mine. Give it back."

"Come and take it." Mocking her, he held it to the side.

She swatted at his forearm, becoming flushed with excitement, oblivious to the rising hem of her t-shirt and the contact between their bodies. When she nearly knocked it from his hand, he slipped it inside his pocket.

"Give it."

Cody trotted off toward his room, giving her a smirk over his shoulder. Amanda hesitated, then chased him. Inside his room, he stopped and turned.

She stepped closer. Her fingers scrabbled at his pocket, but he put his hand on her shoulder and pushed her away. When she lunged again, his hand glanced off her breast.

Amanda backed away, clutching her chest. His touch felt like an electric shock. Breathless, she studied his face, trying to read his intent. He looked back at her innocently.

She would have dismissed it as an accident, but he leaned in and put his hands on her waist. Turning her head, she felt his hot breath on her cheek. Keeping her elbows in front of her, Amanda pushed gently against his shoulders.

"Oh my god, you're so beautiful." He kissed his way along her jaw and down her neck as he slipped his hand beneath the edge of her shirt and dragged his fingertips along her ribs.

Her breath caught in her throat as she flashed back to Percy's groping the day before. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. She pulled away, wiping her eyes on her wrist. "Can I see those notes?"

"Oh." His voice went flat. "Yeah." He reached for his backpack and tore the pages from his notebook.

"Thanks." She took the pages without meeting his eyes. "See you later."

"Wait." Cody pulled the rabbit's foot from his pocket and handed it to her.

Seeing his long face, she felt a stab of guilt. "Oh. Thanks."

As she walked to her room, she wondered why they couldn't just be friends.

* * *

A few weeks later, a new instructor stepped in.

"I'm Robert. First of all, congratulations to Theo and Amanda, who got top marks on their asset recruitment exercises. The rest of you need to review the material again. See either of them if you have questions."

Amanda nodded at Theo, seated to her right, and he smiled back.

Robert held up a stack of folders. "For your next exercise, each team gets a file on an unknown individual, with a physical description, address, and photo. You'll monitor the address, identify your quarry, and track them until they pass off a flash drive."

Robert held up a red memory stick that appeared tiny in his large hand. "You'll spot the handoff and tail the recipient to their destination. You'll signal me, and when I arrive, we'll all enter and confirm possession."

As he spoke, Robert tacked up a list of the team assignments. "Obviously, it's to your advantage not to be spotted. Good luck."

Amanda checked the list and saw that Shane Ellison was her team leader. At 29, he was a little older than the others. Before joining the CIA, he'd been an army captain in military intelligence. Calm and steadfast, he was well respected, but Amanda found him condescending. Theo and Cody formed the rest of her team.

That evening, the weather was clear, windy, and cold. Amanda dressed in layers, aware she could be outdoors for an extended period. She checked the mirror, pleased with her new stylish, flattering belted coat.

The assigned address was a walkup apartment near the shipyard in Newport News. The team drove together, parking a few blocks to the north and approaching on foot. When they were within sight, Shane assigned initial positions.

"Theo and I'll get a table near the window of that bar across the street. Cody, you watch from that sandwich shop down the block. Amanda, stay with Cody and follow his lead."

Hours later, as she finished her second coffee, Amanda heard Shane's voice in her earbud. "Subject exited building, now heading south on Washington. Cody, move south one block. Amanda, wait until Theo passes, then trail behind. Be ready to trade off when he turns."

A few minutes later, she heard Theo. "He entered Nino's Pizza."

Shane broke in. "Amanda, keep eyes on. I'll watch the back."

From the street, Amanda saw their subject approach the counter and pay for a pizza. When he abruptly exited, she scrambled to back away. "Subject now heading west toward the waterfront."

"I've got him," Shane said. "Cody, jump ahead. Theo, go west."

Minutes later, their subject sat on a bench facing the harbor and began to eat his pizza. Groups of fishermen in oilskin and warmly dressed dock workers passed by, headed for a decrepit bar and a shabby massage parlor adjacent. A short distance away, waves crashed against the seawall, and the spray stung Amanda's face.

"How can he sit there?" said Shane. "It's too fucking cold." But the man chewed his pizza crust languidly, slumped back, legs akimbo, unconcerned with the temperature.

Theo checked in. "I'm in a doorway one block south. Eyes on, but not a great view. Cody?"

"I'm a block east, in the coffee shop. Shane?"

"Half a block north, partial view. Any closer, he'll make me. Amanda, can you get a better angle?"

Eager to make a contribution, she scanned the area. "Give me a minute."

To the right of the bench, a pier jutted into the harbor. A string of lights illuminated it, but where the pier widened to accommodate a storage shack, one light was broken. An ocean going tug and a large fishing trawler were moored to the far end, and foot traffic moved sporadically between the boats and shore. When a scrum of noisy sailors passed, Amanda trailed behind.

"Shane, I'm on the pier, 100 feet from shore, with eyes on."

"Can he see you?"

"I'm crouched behind a mooring post, in front of a little shed. I'm in deep shadow, he'll never spot me." Two seamen walked by, grumbling to each other. The wind gusted off the water, and she shivered.

"It is a good angle," he admitted.

Minutes later, Amanda saw their target rise from his bench, discarding the remains of his pizza as he held his phone to his ear.

"He's on the move." Hoping to stand upright and stretch her cramping legs, she waited for a signal to follow.

Shane spoke up. "Cody, check the pizza box as soon as he's clear. Possible dead drop."

Amanda broke in. "Subject is southbound. Jogger northbound. Brush pass! It's the coke can."

"Nothing in the pizza box," Cody reported.

Shane spoke. "Theo, head south and stay on the jogger. Cody, follow behind. Amanda, good eye, but stick with pizza boy, he may have decoyed us."

Amanda glowed with pride, cinching her coat tighter. As her subject returned to his bench, a man headed up the pier from shore. Based on his size and orange PVC fishing bibs, he could have passed by earlier, but with his hat pulled low she couldn't be sure.

"Jogger headed north on Washington," said Cody. "He crossed me up, I'm out of position."

Shane spoke rapidly. "Theo, switch with Cody. I'm too far east." Then, "Amanda, check in."

Her legs in knots, Amanda rose from her crouch, knowing her head and shoulders were illuminated. Pizza man spotted her and bolted. Amanda started down the pier in pursuit. "Subject -- "

A hulking man sprung at her from behind the shed, blindsiding her. She caught a glimpse of his orange bibs as her back slammed into a piling, knocking the wind from her lungs. Then she was falling.

She struck the sea headfirst, and her momentum carried her deep. Disoriented by the blackness, weighed down by her heavy boots and thick clothing, and shocked by the frigid water, she struggled to get her head above the surface. As she gasped and sputtered, the swells buffeted her, and she swallowed oily seawater. Coughing and choking, she scrabbled in vain for a hand-hold on the slippery pilings, and sharp barnacles sliced her fingers.

Wave after wave broke over her, and she fought to control her rising panic. I'm drowning, she thought. In desperation, she managed to draw a full breath and reached down to remove her boots. Flailing to gain another lungful of air, she saw the tide was rapidly taking her south along the shore.

She unfastened her waterlogged coat and shrugged it off. Bobbing among the larger waves, she took in another breath and pulled off her heavy sweater. Finally free of their burden, it was easier to work her thick pants down her thighs and off.

Numb with cold, she swam toward shore, startled to see how far the current had already carried her. Before she was completely out of the water, she fell to her knees and vomited up some seawater. Shaking violently in her wet bra and panties, it took all her remaining strength to scale the six foot sea wall.

She stumbled to the street. The unfamiliar industrial area was deserted. Her phone and earpiece lay at the bottom of the harbor, and the team rendezvous was miles away. She would succumb to hypothermia before she could reach it.

She spotted an approaching tractor trailer. She stepped into the road, blocking its path. It slowed and stopped.

She reached for the chrome handbar but lacked the strength to pull herself up.

The driver came around to help her, spitting tobacco juice through a gap in his teeth. "Driven this route a hundred times, but never been stopped by no centerfold in just her bra and panties." He chuckled as he put his hands on her bottom and boosted her up, swinging the door shut behind her. Returning to his seat, he put the truck in gear, but kept the interior light on. He glanced at the road only occasionally.