Amanda, CIA Agent Ch. 12

"Trust me," said Marius. "You don't want that. Get back in position."

She thought of the razor-sharp six-inch switchblade she now carried with her everywhere, ever since her assault. In times of stress, she found comfort in fingering its cold steel handle like a talisman. Unfortunately, it now rested inside a side pocket of her backpack, beyond her reach. Moreover, bringing it out now would change her new teammates' perceptions of her, and might affect her chances of infiltrating the bordello. She couldn't risk it.

Reluctantly, she returned to the inverted straddle split, feeling a new weakness in her legs. Damian pushed the long plastic spout of his pump bottle inside her and dispensed a few more squirts, and when he followed with his fingers, she felt the salve sliding deeper inside her. I'll never get that out, she thought.

Lucien stepped toward the wings, returning with a metal folding chair. As he opened it, its hinges gave a loud, high-pitched squeal of metal-on-metal. Again, Ciara thought of her recent rape, and the overturned bucket on which one of her assailants had perched, while she was forced to sit astride his hips and take his cock. She shuddered.

Lucien sat down facing Ciara, his shorts already around his ankles, the toe of his sneaker resting against her hip. "Suck."

It's showtime, she told herself. Stop thinking like a victim and remember your training.

She scrambled to her knees, slid forward, and took his balls in her hand. Lucien's cock was still semi-flaccid, but as she watched, he began to harden. She bent to lick him, then took his glans into her mouth, applying suction. When she drew back, she saw he was slightly bigger than average, and his cock was as pleasing to look at as his heavily muscled body. His face wasn't bad either, she thought, gazing up at him and noticing his blue eyes for the first time.

She bent forward again, and began to suck him in earnest, one hand wrapped around his shaft, the other sliding across his wide, rippling chest. She felt his thick fingers combing gently through her hair, then stroking her cheek, and her fear and apprehension dissipated. Her nipples swelled, and when he reached down to cup her breast, she surprised herself with the long, passionate sound that rose in her throat.

Even so, she startled when Damian gripped her bottom from behind, and she took her mouth off Lucien's cock to look back. A moment later, the tip of Damian's thick pole prodded her pussy, seeking entry. However, Damian's hips were higher than Ciara's, and his angle was wrong. Ciara didn't welcome his overture, and she moved her knees apart, deliberately lowering his target.

"Raise your ass up, unless you want my dick in your other hole," said Damian.

She certainly didn't. She closed her legs, scooting closer to Lucien and arching her back to improve the angle. However, Ciara was small, and Damian was thick. She bit her lip, wishing he'd taken more time to stretch her open.

As she resumed sucking Lucien's cock, Damian moved his knob fore and aft, gathering the slippery gel, then pushed himself into her entrance. Gripping her hips, he thrust forward.

Ciara felt herself stretch, and stretch, and she formed a mental image of a wine bottle penetrating her. "Wait," she tried to force out, around Lucien's dick, but the sound was unintelligible. As Lucien took her breast in his hand, she extended her hand backward, touching her fingertips to Damian's hard belly.

"Give it to her," said Marius, wrapping his hand around his own cock.

Damian thrusted forward forcefully. Ciara felt a trail of fire ignite inside her, to a depth she'd never experienced, and she grunted.

"Fuck, you're tight," said Damian, leaning forward and wrapping his arm around her ribcage. He pushed all the way in once more, then began a steady rhythm, his hips slapping loudly against her bottom.

Lucien caressed both her breasts now, lightly tweaking her sensitive nipples, and she let her eyes slide shut, focusing her mind, letting her wet sounds of pleasure escape around his cock. Wanting to please him, she stuck out her tongue, licking along his underside, letting his tip slide deeper into her mouth until it brushed her tonsils. Her gag reflex activated, but she held him there.

"Oh, my god, yes," said Lucien.

She looked up at him then, saw the rapturous expression on his handsome face, and felt a surge of pride. She pressed her face down on him, and felt him slide into her throat. She retched wetly around his shaft, spewing saliva, then inhaled fresh air through her nose. Lucien rested his hand on the back of her head, breathing raggedly.

Damian thrusted more rapidly, and again Ciara signaled for him to ease up, but he ignored her.

"I'm cumming," said Lucien, fisting her hair.

"Take it," said Damian, pounding her forward and forcing the final inch of Lucien's cock into her mouth.

Lucien sprayed his load down her throat, then slouched against the chairback with a loud sigh. "That was amazing."

Ciara gave him back a pasted-on smile, even as Damian's thrusts continued to bounce her forward. Damian reached forward, wrapping her hair around his hand, yanking her head back, then pitching her forward and pressing the side of her face into the floor. The tempo of his thrusts increased, and he began to spank her ass, as if he were urging a thoroughbred toward the finish line. Moments later, he withdrew, turning her with urgency, pulling her closer, and rubbing his cock against her lips.

He was coated with aloe gel, and Ciara found the taste unpleasantly bitter. She turned her head, letting him slide along her cheek. He took himself in hand, pumping furiously, and groaned as he began to spurt his seed onto her face.

"Not in my hair," she said, trying to turn away again, but he held her fast as he sent a jet into her eye, a second across her forehead, and a third along her temple. As she closed her eyes, trying to wipe away his spunk, Marius unloaded from the opposite side. Most of his spurts landed in her hair.

"You're so much hotter than Severine," said Marius, turning to gather his gear. "Next time, I'm at least getting your pussy."

Ciara thought he was very presumptuous. Securing her place on the team had required a greater sacrifice than she'd anticipated, and she wasn't inclined to go further, unless it was to gain entry to the bordello, or to otherwise advance her mission.

"About that side job I mentioned," said Lucien. "We all have a shift scheduled, after our last show Thursday. It's outside the city, but you can ride with the rest of us."

"What kind of work is it?"

"Hospitality."

* * *

Amanda listened attentively throughout Ciara's report, frowning in growing consternation as her subordinate described the three-on-one sex act into which she'd been coerced.

"Did they hurt you?"

The Bateau Mouche began its turn at the west end of its circuit, and Ciara turned away to gaze toward the scattered lights visible through the gloom, without responding.

Amanda put her hand over Ciara's, leaning closer. "Did anybody go in your ass?"

Ciara jerked her hand away and wheeled on Amanda, but when she saw her boss flinch and draw back, she attempted to soften her expression and moderate her tone. "I'm not some fragile piece of china. You don't have to protect me."

Amanda nodded. "I know." Ciara's outburst was unprofessional, but she wouldn't allow herself to take offense. Instead, she intuited that her subordinate still hadn't fully dealt with one of the more humiliating aspects of her assault.

Amanda waited a minute to allow the young agent to regain her equilibrium. "Did you remember to send Derrick pictures of your teammates? Don't forget to include the selfies, in your costume."

Ciara grimaced, but she'd taken all the compulsory photos earlier. Snapping the selfies had been difficult, but she tried not to think of Derrick as she raised her wristwatch and sent the required message.

Amanda had even greater reservations about asking her final question, but she saw it was necessary. "Have you been using the vinyl spoon Severine gave you?"

Ciara scoffed.

Amanda blinked. "It's just, you may have to perform at the cabaret several times. We don't know how many visits we'll make to the bordello before Levrier appears."

"Got it." Ciara grimaced as she shifted her stance, betraying her discomfort for the first time.

With a frown, Amanda turned to Kayla. "Let's have your update."

* * *

Kayla had arrived in Paris on Sunday, a day earlier than Ciara and Amanda, eager to begin her mission and determined to be the first to report on activity behind the walls of the mysterious country estate known as Le Manoir de Mille Pervers. Frustratingly, she soon learned the start date of her new accounting job had been pushed back to Tuesday.

She used the extra time to explore La Defense, the business district two miles west of the city center. The apartment she rented Monday was tiny, even by Parisian standards, but it occupied a prime location on a high floor of a gleaming new high-rise. Its floor-to-ceiling window faced the suburbs rather than the Eiffel Tower, but even so, the rent was a multiple of the approved amount.

However, there were few other options with immediate availability. Importantly, the building was just down the block from Societe Tulliste de Banque, her new employer, and convenient to the train station for quick trips to central Paris. Better to ask forgiveness than permission, she always said.

Despite the cold and darkening skies, for her first day at work she chose a smartly tailored skirt, shorter than she'd normally have worn, the better to show off her spectacular legs. She hadn't yet identified her target, but he must be close enough to keep an eye on Ariane, who worked in the same department, and there was no time to waste.

Her new supervisor met her in the lobby. "Delphine Didier?"

"Oui, c'est moi. Ca va?"

"Ca va. Je m'apelle Jerome Mercier."

She gave him her brightest smile as she continued in French. "A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Mercier."

He scoffed. "Call me Jerome." He led her onto the elevator, noticing her legs as he held the door for her, and into his small office. As he took some intake forms from his credenza, she settled into an uncomfortable metal straight chair.

The forms were somewhat repetitive, and Kayla used the pauses between his questions to study her new boss from the corner of her eye. She judged him to be just a few years older than herself, and in her high heels, she matched his height. His build was wiry, and his short hair and rectangular bifocals gave him a bookish appearance. There was no sign of a wedding ring.

As soon as the forms were complete, Kayla stood up, eager to lift the backs of her thighs from the angular metal slats of her chair, and Jerome led her to her place at a long row of narrow desks stretching the length of the floor. "This is Ariane Moreau, she'll be training you on our double entry journal system."

The two women exchanged greetings, and after Jerome took his leave, Ariane pulled her chair around and helped Kayla obtain a user ID and password. Minutes later, she was loading new journal entries. Kayla had excelled in college, and she found the work surprisingly easy, despite the confusing acronyms.

In between transactions, she stole glances at Ariane, who was smaller in stature and more voluptuous. Kayla kept herself fit, even by Agency standards, and she was happy with her own slender but pleasingly feminine shape and the outsized share of male attention she garnered.

Without being conspicuous, Kayla contrived to make extra visits to the WC and the water fountain, reconnoitering the floor, focusing on the senior manager's private offices lining the exterior. Several men noticed her legs, and two stopped to introduce themselves, but nobody overtly propositioned her.

At lunchtime, Ariane showed her the cafeteria, and they sat down to eat together. "Do you live nearby?" asked Kayla.

Ariane shook her head. "I'm in the 18th Arrondissement, north of downtown."

"Near Montmartre?"

"Sort of, but closer to the rail yards. It's not a very nice building. I'm saving up for someplace closer, but I have a lot of debt to pay off first. Did you find an apartment yet?"

Kayla nodded, pointing out her building, visible through the window.

"Wow. That place is beautiful. But if you don't mind my asking, how can you afford it? My entire paycheck wouldn't cover the rent there."

Kayla smiled. "I might not be there long."

Later that afternoon, after they'd completed their transactions, and some of their co-workers had left, Kayla decided to take a chance.

"Want to get a drink before you head home, Ariane?"

"Oh, thanks, Delphine, but I have to, um, I have plans this evening. Maybe another time?" She turned to answer her ringing phone.

When Ariane returned, she spoke quickly, at a higher pitch. "Christophe Dechamps wants to meet you. He's the Chief Financial Officer. He's up on the 12th floor. I'm to bring you there myself, at 10am tomorrow."

Kayla raised her eyebrows. "Does he meet all the new hires?"

"No." Ariane looked away. "No, he doesn't."

* * *

That evening, Kayla sent Derrick an encrypted message about Christophe Deschamps, and he quickly replied, indicating Jacques Levrier's wife, Genevieve, had once been employed as a highly paid consultant by Deschamps, at a different bank. The exact nature of their relationship was unclear, but there was evidence it remained ongoing, despite her marriage to Levrier. By itself, this fact wasn't probative, but the connection was suspicious, particularly since Genevieve hadn't been to college.

Nevertheless, Kayla was convinced this meeting was her chance -- perhaps her only chance -- to win a place for herself at Le Manoir de Mille Pervers. And Deschamps himself likely held her fate in his hands.

* * *

The next morning Kayla rose early, nervous about her important meeting. It seemed yesterday's short skirt had already piqued Christophe's interest, but she elected to leave nothing to chance. She put on a sleeveless jade green bodycon dress in a stretchy knit fabric, then added a jacket on top. The dress revealed and highlighted her curves, but the jacket moderated the effect, maintaining a semblance of decorum while keeping her arms warm in the damp February wind. Her bare legs would have to suffer.

When she arrived at the office, her coworkers' desks were mostly empty, but she settled in with a stack of new journal entries, pausing to greet Ariane with a smile before continuing. Ariane waved mechanically and kept her distance, leaving Kayla puzzled and unsettled.

Rising from her seat, she went to check her appearance in the bathroom mirror. The jade ribbon securing her long, luxuriant, auburn hair kept it out of her face, but now she elected to release it, letting it spill over her shoulders. Her peaches and cream complexion required no enhancement, and she was pleased with how the shade of her dress brought out the color of her eyes. Checking the time, she activated the streaming video capability on her wristwatch, as Amanda had instructed, and headed back to her chair to wait.

At 9:50, Ariane signaled it was time to go upstairs. When they arrived at the desk of Christophe's receptionist, Yvette, she asked to speak to Ariane privately, and Kayla sat down a short distance away. A minute later, Ariane retrieved her and led her into an alcove.

Now Ariane wrung her hands, and her face looked pinched. "I want you to know, I had nothing to do with this. He must have found out about you from somebody else."

Kayla swallowed. "This isn't just a meeting to say hello, is it?"

Ariane shook her head. "He's going to offer you some private work, in the evenings. I work there too. I mean, I might have mentioned you needed extra money, but...."

"What kind of work?"

"I'll let him tell you. But whatever you do, don't say no. I mean, I'm not completely certain he's going to ask you, but you're really... attractive, so... yeah."

She drew a deep breath. "Here's the thing. He likes it when you don't make him spell it out. Let him know you'll do it before he has to ask you. He likes the women to already be... committed."

"Ok...."

"So, when he mentions the private work, you start to, um, take off your clothes."

Kayla huffed. "I'm not desperate." She worked her jaw. "I've never sold my body before."

"Don't judge. I never had either, but the money is unbelievable. I'm not planning to do it for long, but it's a fast way to pay off my debt."

Kayla nodded, frowning.

Yvette stuck her head around the corner. "Christophe is ready for you."

Kayla walked to his door, as briskly as she could manage atop her four-inch heels. Through the clear, heavy tempered glass, she saw a thickset man of about 40, seated at his desk, reading a report. She knocked twice, then went in, closing the door behind her. "Mr. Deschamps, I'm Delphine Didier."

"Ah, Delphine." He looked her up and down, letting his eyes linger on her long legs. "How are you settling in? Please sit."

"Very well, thanks." She took an armchair opposite his desk, holding down her short hem as she slowly crossed her legs, noticing he watched her closely, hoping in vain for a glimpse of her panties.

You're mine, she thought, without vanity but with the satisfaction attending an initial success. You've swallowed my bait, and now I'll reel you in.

But at what cost?

She glanced to either side. Thin curtains lined the glass walls facing the reception area and hallway. To his left, a hint of weak morning sun shone through the window, and she could see Paris in the distance.

She realized he'd turned his chair sideways, rocked back, and tilted his head. He's trying to look up my skirt! she thought, and fought the urge to pivot away. Let. Him. Look, she told herself, chewing her cheek.

"Did Ariane explain the purpose of this meeting?"

"Not precisely, but...." She winced. How did one do this? Should she just start removing clothing? He'd given her no pretext to do so.

She stood up. "It's a little warm in here." It wasn't at all, it was cold and damp, but she was improvising. "Mind if I remove my jacket?" She edged the coat off her shoulders and let it slink down her arms, feeling like a stripper, and hung it over the back of her chair, then sat forward, with her back slightly arched.

He let his eyes dip toward her chest, tracking the edges of her neckline downward to her cleavage, then scrutinized her torso, whose allure was manifest beneath her clingy dress. After a long moment, he looked up, raising his eyebrows, then tilted his head and met her eye assertively.

Finally, after another awkward moment, he sighed and dropped his arms. "Is there something I can do for you, Delphine?"

She turned her head, noticing the shapes of passing co-workers discernable through the curtains to her left, and the door through which she'd entered behind her, with Yvette's desk just beyond. The glass door was unscreened, and closed but not bolted.

Her knees trembled, but she forced herself to stand. With her hands behind her back, she unfastened her wristwatch, placing it on the middle shelf of a small bookcase behind her with its wide-angle lens faced forward. Shutting her eyes, she hooked her fingers beneath the hem of her dress, and in a single motion, drew it over her head.

Now her hands shook noticably, and her chest rose and fell rapidly. Over her shoulder, she saw Yvette look up from her work and stare at her bottom, left mostly bare by her pale green lace bikini panties. As she watched, Yvette curled her lip.

Fuck-fuck-fuck, she murmured to herself, flapping her hands. This is a fucking workplace, she thought. It's my second day, and I'm about to get fired for violating some HR policy about sexual harassment, or unprofessional conduct. I'll never get inside the bordello, and when I get back to Langley, they'll never give me another mission.