Amanda, CIA Agent Ch. 07

If you're new to the series, please take note: this story is in the Nonconsent category. In addition to graphic nonconsent, this episode features coercion and intense humiliation. 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. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is strictly coincidental.

Langley, Virginia, August 2007

As Amanda and Percy walked side by side down the corridor, she clicked the button on her ball point pen continually.

"Could you stop that?" Percy finally snapped.

She shrank back. "Sorry. I, um, didn't realize."

He sighed. "Why are you so wound up? It's an honor, not a punishment."

"Director Calloway is presenting it personally. I don't know what to say."

"Follow his lead. He'll pin the medal to your chest." He glanced at her bust. "Well, obviously not your actual chest, but your lapel. Listen to what he says, if anything, and provide the shortest possible response."

She looked down and buttoned her new navy jacket, which had a prominent burgundy pinstripe. The suit was custom made by An Affair to Remember, and it featured exceptional workmanship -- as well it should, given its astronomical cost. However, she had to give them credit for delivering it two days early so she could wear it for today's ceremony.

Unfortunately, the ensemble fit too snugly. The matching skirt hit just above the knee, as she'd specified, but it narrowed appreciably through the thighs, shortening her stride. Worse, the tailored cut revealed the shape of her bottom.

At the fitting last night, when she'd quietly expressed her concern, Cherie had disagreed, highlighting its fashion forward elements, then called Malcolm over, who had insisted she parade back and forth while he complimented her butt in graphic terms. Stressed over today's ceremony, and aware there wasn't time for an adjustment, Amanda had capitulated, then left without trying on the custom-made blouse.

It was only that morning she'd discovered the blouse had a similar issue. The vibrant burgundy silk fabric was beautiful, but it showed the outline of her bra. However, she had to admit the blouse was stylish, and it matched perfectly with the suit. Saturday, she'd return it for adjustments. Meanwhile, with the jacket on, she looked very professional.

"Here we are." Percy opened the door for himself, letting her trail behind.

Calloway's assistant led them into a spacious office, where a cluster of men stood waiting. The only one Amanda recognized was Harlan Kimmel, Deputy Director of Operations. She stopped just inside the door, clasped her hands together, and lowered her eyes.

Percy nudged her. "Go stand beside Harlan."

She drew a breath and stepped forward. The others moved back to make room.

Harlan smiled as he took her arm and pulled her closer. "You're pretty as a picture." He touched her nose.

She blushed and studied the ivory deep pile carpet. To her right lay a pair of brightly polished dress shoes. Their owner wore a deep blue dress uniform and the gold braid and single star of a Rear Admiral on his sleeve. She looked up and met his eye.

He extended his hand. "Patrick Lowell, commander of Special Operations Command Central."

What an honor, she thought. Her head bobbed as she shook his hand, and her eyes shone. "Amanda Stevens."

At that moment, Director Calloway strode in. As he removed a small box from his desk drawer, everyone turned and quieted.

Calloway cleared his throat. "We're here to recognize Amanda Stevens for her courage and gallantry in her recent mission."

He looked her in the eye. "Ideally, this would have been a public ceremony, and I would have spoken more specifically of your contributions. Unfortunately, the events of that day are classified so none of that is possible. Suffice it to say, your bravery and decisive action saved lives and assured the mission's success."

Amanda beamed. "Thank you, sir." Having worked for years to maintain perfect posture, she couldn't stand any taller or straighter, but she tried.

He affixed the medal to her lapel, then turned to pat Kimmel on the back. "Fine work, Harlan, recruiting and training such a capable young woman. Agents like Amanda will deliver the brightest possible future for the National Clandestine Service."

With that, he made his excuses and left.

Admiral Lowell put his hand on Amanda's shoulder, leaned closer, and spoke in a low voice. "Three of my men are grateful for the risks you took on their behalf. I won't name them, but you know who they are."

She'd smiled for so long, the corners of her mouth hurt. "Thank you, sir." As head of SOCCENT, Lowell was well positioned to help her during future Mideast operations. Making a good impression was critical.

He touched her hand. "I understand you were wounded."

"Oh, that." She waved away his concern as her smile faded. "It was only a scratch, sir." She locked her elbows, interlaced her fingers, and looked at the ceiling. Please, let him not ask for details, she hoped.

"Where were you hit?"

She shot a wince toward Percy. He ducked his head and remained on the perimeter.

She swallowed. "Um. In a personal place, sir."

His face darkened, and his voice rose. "Don't tell me those animals shot you in the tit."

All conversation stopped, and everyone turned to look at her.

"Oh, no, sir. It was --" She looked away. "I was hit in my bottom, sir." She blushed fiercely.

He let out a huge breath, then cocked his head and smiled. "No kidding! Years ago, I got shot in the butt too." He unbuckled his belt, let his uniform trousers fall to his ankles, and pulled down the edge of his boxers, revealing a rounded pink depression in the side of his lower hip.

He took her hand and pressed her fingers to the scar. "I remember it like yesterday. Hurts like a motherfucker, doesn't it?"

"Um, yes, sir, it hurts quite a lot." After hesitating a moment, she brushed her fingertip lightly over the divot in his flesh, then drew her hand away.

"Well? Let's see it."

She looked at Harlan and saw only an expression of keen interest. The others regarded her with equal anticipation.

Would she raise her skirt for this powerful admiral, this total stranger, while other men watched? The mere thought caused her intense embarrassment.

But the consequences of failing to comply would be significant. She'd squander the opportunity to cement an important connection and revive concerns about her ability to carry out missions requiring nudity, overshadowing her hard-won commendation.

She forced herself to look Lowell in the eye, then spun to face away from him. Closing her eyes, she reached back to grasp the hem of her narrow skirt. With a gulp, she pulled it upward, wiggling her hips to free it when it bunched up. Then she bent at the waist, bracing herself against her knee with her free hand.

It's a good thing I wore a thong, she thought. I'd never be able to pull down my panties in front of this crowd. Showing them all my bare butt is bad enough.

A babble of murmurs and exclamations erupted behind her. Over her shoulder, others jockeyed for position.

"Looks like just a graze," said Lowell, running his fingers back and forth along its length. "Healing up quite nicely." He traced the curving swell along the underside of her bottom, then took her measure more thoroughly with his full hand before finally releasing her.

She bit her lip as he took his time groping her, then straightened and turned back to him as she worked the gathered fabric back down her hips and thighs. As she wiggled, she tried to ignore the comments and lustful expressions of the other men, but it was difficult. She pretended nonchalance, as though lifting her skirt in public were no big deal, but it took all her self-control.

Thankfully, Lowell and Harlan soon had to leave for other pressing engagements, and the others followed. As Percy headed back to his office, she fell into step beside him.

"Nice move, using your little wound as an excuse to raise your skirt. None of those guys will forget that ass of yours any time soon."

She scoffed and narrowed her eyes. "It wasn't a strategy, Percy." But she restrained her impulse to complain. Instead, she squeezed his arm. "I need your help with Jason."

He snorted. "He says you're wearing him out. He never gets a moment's peace."

She huffed. It's more like the other way around, she thought. Unless I'm not home for a few days, in which case he's wearing out my butt when he finally catches me.

"Somehow he put his name on the title to my townhouse. You've got to make him give it back."

He scoffed. "You're married, so it's his now anyway. You're the one who put 'obey' in your vows."

"I did not!" She bared her teeth. "He's a thieving asshole!"

"You picked him."

She raised her voice. "For a first date. Not for a husband!"

Heads turned in the corridor.

The last of her composure crumbled. "He's a horrid man. He's a brute, and he's cruel. He enjoys humiliating me." She began to cry.

He put his arm around her and guided her toward his office. Inside, he shut the door, then put both hands on her waist and pulled her close.

"He's a monster," she blubbered into his wrinkled shirt.

"There, there." He patted her back, then wrapped his arm around her, flattening her breasts against his chest. He rested his other hand on the swell of her bottom. "He's not so bad."

"He spanks me, on my bare butt. If his hand is sore, he uses his belt." She pulled out her hankie and snuffled into it. "Sometimes he ties me up," she choked out. "He enjoys it."

He nodded. "I've spanked you too. So has Tyler, and Wilson, and several others, starting with your priest back home. Every time, you've bent over, and lifted your skirt, and pulled down your panties, and let them whack your naked ass."

He patted her rear. "If you don't like it, why do you submit?"

She stiffened. This was not the response she wanted.

She'd intended to discuss this as professionals, across his desk, certainly not while he rubbed against her breasts and fondled her bottom. She pressed her palms to his chest.

He held her fast. "I'll tell you why. Because you love it. It makes you wet. In fact, last time I spanked you, you clamped your thighs around my arm and ground your clit against my wrist."

This was true, but she was ashamed of it. Reminding her was unkind, and his smug manner was infuriating. She slipped out of his arms, then rounded on him. Her fists were clenched, but fresh tears filled her eyes.

"You did this to me, Percy. This whole marriage is your fault. You have to help me."

He shrugged. "You can't blame a man for fucking his beautiful wife."

Her shoulders slumped as the fight went out of her. She fell into his guest chair and covered her face with her hands.

Just tell him, she said to herself.

She raised her head. "The fucking isn't the problem. Well, it actually is, it's too often, and too rough, but that's not the main issue."

He sighed and sat down behind his desk.

"It's his kinks. It's a different one every time."

He raised his eyebrows.

"When he thinks I've been avoiding him, he has this way of punishing me. He takes an everyday activity and twists it around to -- "

Her chin began to quiver, and for a moment she struggled to speak. When she continued, her voice was thick. "To humiliate me. And if I don't obey, he overpowers me and makes me do something worse."

She drew a deep breath. "For example, last week, I invited him for a picnic in the park. I made his favorite, fried chicken and potato salad. As a surprise, I'd ordered a new picnic hamper from Neiman Marcus. I was so excited."

She bit her lip. "The last time we were there, Jason kissed me in public." She met his eye. "I admit, I liked it, and I hoped he'd do it again. So, I chose a spot in the back corner. But it was a beautiful day, and shortly after we arrived, this young couple sat down nearby with a six pack."

She fidgeted. "Jason said to put my hands behind my head like a pinup model. 'Like you do for habituation,' he said. I made the mistake of refusing, and he got angry. By the time I finally did it, he'd decided to make a point. He groped my breasts through my clothing. He knew I'd be embarrassed."

She grimaced. "I closed my eyes and let them watch for a minute, but he just kept pawing me, and after a while I looked. They were both staring."

"Those reprobates."

She shot him an annoyed look. "Jason offered them some chicken. The guy came over and took a drumstick. When he returned with a Heineken for Jason, I saw he was seriously cute. Jason still had his hand on my breast, and I could see the bulge in the guy's khakis. He stood over me, looking down at my chest, and Jason said, 'She'll do whatever you say.'"

She looked at Percy. "Right away, the guy said, 'Take off your blouse.' The woman watched for my reaction. And I saw the hard look in Jason's eyes, and I knew I had to do it."

She twisted in her chair. "On warm days, young women often sun themselves in their bikini tops, and I told myself this wasn't any different. But it was. It was obviously my bra, not a bikini top. But I unbuttoned my blouse and slipped it off."

Percy's gaze lingered on her chest, and she rolled her eyes. "I spotted an older couple a few feet beyond them. The old lady looked at me, sitting there in a public park in just my bra, and complained to her husband. Meanwhile, the young woman closer by watched me from her blanket."

"Was she pretty?" He began to unwrap a Butterfinger bar.

"Extremely. Long blonde hair, great body, big blue eyes, bright red lipstick. She was wearing red short shorts and a thin checked cotton shirt tied just beneath her bust, with nothing underneath. Her nipples were hard. She saw me noticing her. She waited until I finished folding my blouse, and then she blew me a kiss and called out, 'Unhook your bra.'"

He stopped with the candy bar halfway into his mouth. "Did you?"

"I didn't want to, but I could tell Jason wanted to please her. He put his mouth to my ear and said, 'Do it.' I was dying inside, but I reached back and unfastened my bra, and slid the straps off my shoulders. I covered my breasts, but the guy shook his head and said, 'Hands back on your head,' so I did. They both watched, of course, and the old man kept turning his head to look, but his wife kept slapping him."

She swallowed. "By then, Jason wanted another beer, and the guy brought it over. He stood over me again, leering at my bare breasts, and Jason said, 'Be my guest.' The guy knelt and reached out, but I leaned away and shook my head. Jason told me to let him touch me or he'd hold my hands behind my back. He does it all the time, and I always feel helpless and humiliated."

She looked away. "The guy was still kneeling beside me, waiting. He looked so eager. And I thought, he knows either way he's going to fondle my breasts, and he's imagining what they'll feel like.

"I sat forward until I was within reach and looked up at him. I was breathing hard, and he watched my breasts rise and fall. I waited. I had lowered my arms, but he told me to raise them high again. It took me a minute, but I made myself put my hands back on my head, and I thought, he's going to do it now."

She drew a deep breath. "Then he felt me up a long time, with both hands, while his girlfriend mocked me. He asked Jason why he made me do it, and he said, 'She was disobedient, and now she's being punished.'"

"Fuck," said Percy. He still held his candy bar, uneaten.

She wrung her hands. "I'd worn a short skirt, mid-thigh length, because it was warm out, and Jason likes it, but I --" She paused and pressed her lips together. "I try not to let people see up my skirt. I know it's silly, with all the skimpy clothes women wear, and I know it's different at work, where I have to wear lacy panties beneath my suits, and I often end up lifting my skirt and showing them to guys. I mean, I wear sexy lingerie at home too, but I try to be respectable, and respectable women don't go around in public showing strangers their panties."

She crossed her legs. "So, I'd stayed on my knees, sitting back on my heels, so my short hem wouldn't ride up. Now the guy told me to sit on my butt. He picked up a chicken wing and took it back to his blanket."

She gave a short, hollow laugh. "He was trying to make me flash my panties, but I pushed my legs straight out in front of me. With my skirt tight against my thighs, they couldn't see anything. But then he made me raise my knees."

Her voice quavered. "My breasts were already bare, and Jason was playing with my nipples again. When I raised my knees, the young couple could see beneath my skirt. I knew they could see my panties. I mean, they could see the, um, middle panel. The part over my pussy." She reddened.

"And I was aroused." Her cheek twitched as she made herself look directly at Percy. "I was wet. I was --" Her chest heaved. "I was leaking into my panties. And they could tell."

Her eyes were brimming, but she pressed on. "The young woman shook her head and said, 'He makes you do it?' And I said, 'Yeah.' And she laughed and said, 'That's so hot.' And the guy said, 'Pull down your panties' in a stern voice. And his girlfriend giggled and gave me this look of mock horror."

She uncrossed and recrossed her legs, twisting them like a pretzel. "Around us, more couples were spreading blankets and sitting down. I heard comments about my bare breasts. One guy noticed I was sitting with my knees up, and he took a spot directly down the slope, where he could look right up my skirt. If I pulled down my panties, they were all going to see. I didn't want to do it, but I knew if I didn't, Jason would just hold me down."

She closed her eyes, and in her mind's eye she saw herself from above, flat on her back while Jason leaned over her, pinning her arms to the ground as she squirmed helplessly. Her voice cracked. "He would have told the guy to reach underneath my skirt and pull them down himself. Or something worse."

Percy set down his candy bar. "Let me get this straight. You're in a public park, and a guy you've never met tells you to take off your top, and then your bra, and you do it. He and your husband both play with your bare tits while a bunch of random people watch, and you let them. Then this stranger tells you to pull down your panties and show everyone your pussy, and you actually did what he said."

She worked her jaw, and the corners of her mouth turned down as she tried not to cry. "You don't understand. I had to. Jason made me."

He snorted. "No, he didn't. You wanted to. You love it when guys ogle you. You love to show them your tits, and your ass, and your pussy. You love to watch their faces, and see the desire in their eyes, and see how hard you make their dicks. It makes you feel beautiful, and feminine, and powerful. And," he pointed at her, "it makes you wet."

She looked away. "No, Percy. That's not --"

"It is." He grinned and shook his head in amazement. "I can't get over it. You've become such a fucking slut."

She shook her head slowly as a tear left a trail of mascara down her cheek. "No, Percy. Please don't call me that."

His smile faded, and he waved his finger, scolding her. "What really frosts me is hearing you blame Jason for it, when you know he's just giving you what you want. Not every husband would be so willing to let other men see his beautiful new bride naked, and even let them play with her tits, just to act out her own twisted fantasy."

Her eyes flashed to the left, and she bit her lip.

"Oh, I see. That wasn't all, was it? You let the stranger finger you too, didn't you? Oh my God, he made you cum. In front of all those people."