Amanda, CIA Agent Ch. 10

Amanda retreated into the shadows, letting him pass. By the time Ciara returned to the main aisle, Amanda was considering calling a halt to the exercise, but she surprised Amanda by turning the opposite direction. Without her coveralls, she wore only a thin cotton shirt and dark corduroy pants.

Now Ciara detoured around any workers she spotted, but she didn't get far before two more men fell in behind her. They were soon joined by a third, and then by the man with the box cutter. Ciara picked up her pace again.

The main aisle swung left, then right, and in the distance, Amanda saw a darkened area. As she watched Ciara approach it, she recalled an exchange with her four female trainees the day they arrived.

"Have you ever been raped?" Vicki had wanted to know.

Amanda had looked away for an instant before meeting her eye. "No," she'd said, "but it's an occupational hazard. You should expect it'll happen sooner or later."

Now her concern for Ciara's safety became paramount, and she dropped all thoughts of continuing the exercise. I'm in over my head, she thought. As soon as the workers were out of sight, she pulled out her phone and dialed Shane.

"What? It's not my shift for another hour." The poor connection crackled.

"I'm at the shipyard." She looked at the post beside her and read off its alphanumeric location code. "Ciara's being chased by a mob. Are you there, Shane?"

The call had dropped. Calling back and getting a fast busy, she hurried to the edge of the darkened area, fearing the worst.

Hearing voices, she turned toward them, pulled aside a heavy piece of black plastic sheeting, then another, and encountered the pungent odor of oil-based paint. In the dim light, she could make out the shape of a huge steel structure, one of the building blocks of the ship. Just inside, someone held a flashlight. In its beam stood Ciara.

The shadows of at least a dozen workers were arrayed in an arc around her, many wearing tinted face shields. Two of them held her arms as she thrashed, hammering at her hand until she dropped her thick steel bar. Other hands wrapped chains around her wrists and clipped them tight. Someone hauled on the chains, and Ciara raised her arms over her head.

Amanda's anger spiked, and she surged forward, then caught herself. She had no weapon. They would overpower her easily, and chain her beside her student. She moved more deliberately to the edge of the group. In the faint light, with her height and hard hat, she blended in.

As she watched, the box cutter glinted, and Ciara cried out as her shirt fell away in tatters. The flashlight's beam settled on her chest, and Amanda recognized the bright pink of her bra, which matched exactly Ciara's favorite shade of lipstick. Despite her modest proportions, her roundness filled its cups in a compellingly erotic display.

As she twisted and turned, the beam slid lower, pausing to illuminate her tiny waist before coming to rest on the gold-colored buckle of the leather belt supporting her black corduroys. Amid her strident protests, fingers unfastened the buckle, then undid the button and lowered the zipper, revealing a wedge of her flat belly and a bit of her bright pink panties.

Ciara jerked ineffectually at her chains, but a palm pressed to her tummy stilled her movements. Hands grasped the open waistband of her pants, pulling it downward, working the material off her hips, then sliding it down her thighs. The sharp blade flashed again, ripping the pants apart, and then the shadows stepped back to admire the curves of Vicki's hips.

Her bright pink panties were slung low, suspended by a narrow strand of elastic hooked over the prominent points of her hipbones, and for a moment, Amanda felt impatient to see what lay beneath -- if only to remind herself of Ciara's beauty -- before she remembered their circumstances. Only a moment passed before the same knife chopped her pretty bra and panties to bits.

The shadowy shapes surged forward, arms extended, fingers reaching, but against this tide, a single palm, raised high, imposed order. Its owner sat down on an overturned bucket, his hard cock protruding, as the others unchained Ciara, pried her legs apart, and lowered her onto his thighs.

"No," she called out repeatedly, but heedlessly, he began to bounce her up and down, fucking her. Amanda was horrified, though not surprised, and ashamed of herself for not acting, but again she reminded herself of the futility of such an effort.

Surprisingly, when the leader rose and another took his place, Ciara no longer struggled. As Amanda watched, she scissored her legs around the new man's midsection, tossing her head as she ground her crotch against him. Her eyes were closed, and her expression revealed no connection to her surroundings.

Again, the others surged forward, and Amanda saw more hands reach for Ciara's breasts. With her eyes still closed, she put her hands beneath them, offering them, pressing them into their greedy grasp. Her mouth opened, and she flexed her legs, raising herself up, then letting her own weight drive her body down onto the new man's cock.

Fresh hands pawed at her, holding her wrists, drawing her arms away from her body, pulling at her hair, and fingers explored her mouth. Then a man moved behind her, unzipped, spit on his cock, put the head between the cheeks of Ciara's bottom, and thrust forward.

From Amanda's vantage point, the man appeared to be trying to penetrate Ciara's ass. She arched her back and tried to free her arms, to no avail. Applying more saliva, the man worked himself inside, while the sitting man put more effort into his upward thrusts. When she turned her face into the flashlight's beam, Amanda saw her bare teeth, and her fear.

The two men established a rhythm, thrusting in unison, impaling her on their cocks. The man beneath her leaned back, his arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders, his face buried between her breasts. The man behind her moved with vigor, gripping her waist as he hammered the front of his hips against the swell of her bottom, each impact sending a visible ripple through her soft flesh.

He's inside her to the hilt, thought Amanda. She couldn't imagine what that would feel like, to have two men filling her simultaneously. She hoped she never found out. But a moment earlier, Ciara had appeared to enjoy herself. Now, she held her face upturned, like a drowning person seeking air. Once more, Amanda could barely restrain her urge to intercede.

The man inside Ciara's ass came quickly, and his place was taken by another. When he finished and rose, the sitting man got up, and their replacements moved Ciara's limp body back into position. Amanda noticed the satisfied ones drifting away.

A bare-headed figure passed the deserters, moving with urgency, heading into the murk, then deflecting toward Ciara's brightly illuminated form.

The figure's shadow loomed over the men, and Shane's strident voice echoed within the steel structure. "Walk away."

The men holding Ciara froze in mid-stroke, and the flashight's beam shifted to Shane as he drew his Glock 19. The rest of the spectators bolted.

"Walk. The fuck. Away."

The man inside Ciara's ass pulled out and scurried away, and the man beneath her stood, dumping her to the ground. He turned and faded into the gloom.

Amanda rushed forward, put her shoulder beneath Vicki's arm, and half-carried her back the way they'd come.  Reaching the dimly lit area beyond the black plastic, she lowered Ciara to the concrete and pulled off her own sweatshirt. "Put this on." When Ciara didn't respond, Amanda put her arms through the sleeves and pulled it on her.

Shane looked repeatedly at Ciara's exposed pussy.

Giving him a dirty look, Amanda spoke to Ciara. "Put your hand on the hem and hold it down." Seeing her maintain her thousand-yard stare, Amanda pulled down the hem herself, only to find it covered far less than she'd hoped. She dropped to the floor, pulled off her jeans, and removed her panties, sliding them over Ciara's ankles and into place. Then she put on her jeans again.

Now she saw Shane's eyes on her own chest. "Don't be such a dick." Then, "Give me your shirt."

Ducking his head, he unbuttoned it and handed it over. She tied it around Ciara's waist so it covered her hips.

Amanda put her shoulder beneath Ciara's arm and helped her down the main aisle. Shane tried to take her other arm, but she jerked it away. Periodically, Amanda heard catcalls and propositions behind her, which she tried to ignore. Shane seemed to have a better grasp of the floor plan, and he guided them to the exit.

He had illegally parked his Fiesta outside the gate. Amanda put Ciara in the passenger seat and climbed into the rear. When they were all inside and under way, she reached forward and turned the heat to maximum. "Want to go to the ER? Or maybe the urgent care?"

Ciara shook her head.

"Police?"

Another head shake. "Take me back to the Farm. Don't tell anyone." She spoke in a low monotone. "But can you mark me complete on the dead drop exercise?"

Tears came to Amanda's eyes, and her throat constricted. "Of course. That's the least I can do."

It didn't feel like nearly enough.

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