Becoming a Double Agent

His whole body ached. The manacles he wore had rubbed his wrist raw when he had been strung up by his arms during the questioning. He now lay on the stone floor of his cell and no position felt comfortable. He was sure there were bruises covering every inch of his body. He had been stripped of everything and was now dressed in only a loose fitting gown that hung to his knees.

Due to his swift capture and the drugs that had been used on him, he had not spent much time trying to piece together how he had been made as a spy. As soon as the effects of the drugs had started to wear off the interrogation started. They beat him over and over again while the woman in black had asked him questions. Some of the questions were trivial to get him talking to her. She had tried to sympathize with his plight as the two men in the room with her dealt out punishment upon his body. Then she would shift to a more ominous and threatening persona, trying to use fear to get the information out of him.

His only answer had been his cover name and identity. He had managed to stay in the role of an international businessman who was seeking unorthodox transit services to pass any complication with custom services in various countries. One of the areas the organization he was investigating specialized in was illegal transport of goods and also people across borders without unwanted questions and inspections. Somehow his identity had been given away. Was the backstory not as well substantiated as the agency had thought? Had someone given him away?

As he thought through his pain and discomfort the door to his cell creaked open. He looked up to see a woman carrying a tray and bucket. She was dressed in a similar gown to his, though hers looked even dirtier and worn out than his own. Her brown hair was in disarray and she moved quietly on slippers that had little if any sole on them.

She did not speak as she knelt down in front of him and set down the tray which had a substance that he could only guess was supposed to be food upon it and then placed the bucket next to it. After setting them down her hand dipped into the bucket and came out with a dripping cloth rag which she rung out with both hands over the bucket before looking at him and moving it towards his face.

He searched her brown eyes as he let her wipe down his face. The rag quickly turned from white to red as she wiped away the dried blood from the various cuts. The cool cloth felt euphoric compared to the torcher he had been through. "Thank you," he breathed as she continued, "what's your name?"

"Shhh, we must be quiet," was her soft, sweet response.

"Can you tell me where we are?" he whispered.

"Please, you will need your strength," she replied as she moved to his neck and then to his arm with the cold, soothing cloth.

He savored the feeling of the cloth being gently wiped over his arms, "If you tell me where we are I might be able to help us both."

She looked at him and her cheeks became flushed, "I need to lift your gown," her voice still quiet.

The exhaustion was starting to creep in as the soothing coolness from the cloth seeped into his skin. He smiled at her, "I never was the modest type."

Her hand moved to the bottom of his gown and he lifted his hips up to help her pull it up over his waist. Pushing it up, she tucked it under his arms while trying to avoid looking anywhere near his naked crotch. She dipped the cloth back in the bucket and started to wipe his legs, "you should eat," her voice still quiet, "you will need your strength."

He picked up the plate and looked at the gooey substance resting upon it. The smell was almost non-existent as he lowered his tongue to taste it. He found it had little taste, likely some type of protein supplement and he shrugged before licking it slowly up off the plate. He knew if they wanted him dead they would not poison his food when they could simply put a bullet in his head.

The woman continued wiping down his body and the feeling of her wiping the cloth over his thighs caused a stirring. The tingling sensations felt wonderful in contrast to the burning of the cuts and scrapes that now covered his body.

"Sor...sorry," she whispered, her cheeks turning even more red.

"Hey," he said, "it's okay. Just nicer than being punched is all."

She moved up to clean his chest and he felt like laying down and resting. He was not sure how long he had been without sleep, but he was having trouble fighting the drowsiness that was quickly overtaking him. "Stay strong," her eyes stayed focused on what she was doing, "they will not stop until you give them what they want. Once you do, they will kill you."

The fear in her voice was clear to him and as she finished cleaning his chest and stomach she motioned for him to turn over, so she could wipe down his back. "You need rest if you want to endure another day of this." The cloth on his back was all the soothing comfort he needed as he felt his eyes growing heavy. "You need to sleep," he could almost feel her breath next to his ear. "Sleep now so you can fight them tomorrow," was the last thing he heard before he drifted off into slumber.

When he awoke it was to the rough handling of the same two men who had beaten him previously while the woman in black asked him questions. They hung him up again with his arms above his head, held in place by the manacles as he watched the woman in black walk into the room.

She wore heeled boots and a one piece, form-fitting black outfit divided by a black leather belt. The outfit accentuated her well-shaped body. She had dark hair and eyes and an attractive face that seemed to glow when her red painted lips turned up into a smile, "sleep well?" she asked, standing in front of him.

He looked at her at gave no answer to her question. "I would hate to have my associates continue the rough treatment they gave you yesterday agent Smith." She moved up right next to him and he felt her hand find his cock through the front of his gown, "this doesn't have to be such an unwelcome experience you know." She started to stroke him slowly and his cock betrayed him by quickly getting stiff in her hand. "As skilled as they are in administering pain," she motioned to each man with a slight movement of her head, "I'm just as skilled in the ways of carnal pleasure." He felt her body press up against him on his right side as she continued rubbing his hard cock. "Doesn't that sound so much nicer?" she asked in a lusty voice as she looked him in the eyes.

"What do you people want from me? I told you my name is Samuel Thomason. I deal in..."

She cut him off, "I thought we were past that agent Smith," her hand moved from his cock down to his balls. "Maybe you like it a little less," her hand began to squeeze his balls with an ever-increasing pressure, "vanilla. I can do that too."

He winced as the pleasure quickly turned to pain and discomfort. "Maybe I'll give you that treatment anyway. Might be fun," she released his balls and stepped back looking at the two men, "if there's anything left of you." She nodded her head and he felt a fist connect with his ribs that was a first of many before the pain started wear away at his strength and resolve.

What woke him was the feeling of coolness trailing over his body. She was back, cleaning his wounds as she had done the previous day or night, he was no longer sure which. She looked at him as he stirred and he saw she had a bruise on her left cheek, "you are worse today," she said in the same soft, sweet voice, "they are going to let you rest tomorrow to heal before they return to torturing you."

He lay back and closed his eyes as the he enjoyed the feeling of the cloth even more than he had the day before. "You don't look like you had a good turn of it either," he sighed, "I don't think I told them anything new," he said.

"No," she replied wiping the cloth over his chest, "but if you are having trouble remembering the next time you may tell them what they want to know."

"And then I am as good as dead," he said matter-of-factly.

"You must eat first," she told him as she slid the plate with the same white substance up next to his face. "I...I might be able to help," the cloth felt so good trailing over his stomach.

"You are helping more than you know," he sighed, enjoying the soothing feeling on his stomach as he raised himself up to eat what would pass as his dinner.

"The woman in black always gets what she wants," the woman said.

He laughed softly, "oh she tried in more ways than one."

The woman's hand stopped, and their eyes met, "did she try...," her eyes moved to his crotch and his semi-hard erection before looking down towards the floor.

He thought there might be a hint of jealousy in her eyes that he found a bit amusing and his hand reached up to rest on her shoulder, "she tried, but it didn't work," he said reassuringly.

"Oh," the cloth started to move over his stomach again, "if it helps...I...I can..." she let the statement hang in the air.

Oddly he felt his cock start to stiffen even more at the thought of this woman 'helping' him, and then he felt her hand gently take his cock and start to move up and down.

"You don't have to..." he began with little enthusiasm.

"Shhh," she continued quietly, "it will help you." Her strokes felt wonderful and he felt his body relaxing to the pleasure she was giving him. "I can help you to keep from telling them what they want to know." Her touch was gentle, and he tried to just enjoy the feeling.

"How can you do that?" he breathed out.

"Guided meditation," the stroking was nice and slow, and it was the best he had felt in days.

"Meditate?" he let the question hang in the air.

"I will guide you, but you have to trust me. Once you are in a meditative state we can make you forget what it is they want to know. We have to act quickly as I have only a limited time," her hand was steady in its movements.

The fatigue and her hand were making him get a little fuzzy headed, "if it...if it protects my mission," he said and simply nodded his head.

She leaned down closer to him and started to gently speak into his ear, "you must lay back and relax. Breathe in deeply," he did as she asked, "hold it and slowly release it out allowing your body to relax to my as you listen to my words." He started wondering if she was going to finish his handjob before or after, "that's right. Enjoy the relaxation and pleasure of my voice and sleep for me. Allow my words to enter your mind as you sleep for me."

He noticed his body relaxing even more as he drifted, and thoughts jumped in and out of his head. "Relax deeply for me and sleep so we can help you to forget."

'Yes' he thought to himself, she is going to help me forget.

"My voice soothes and relaxes you as my words prepare you to forget. My voice brings you pleasure just as it soothes you. Just as my hand brings you a pleasure you are beginning to find you need so badly. You are safe with me in this pleasure and relaxation. I am here to help you forget."

Her words continued, and he heard them but no longer heard what she was saying to him as the relaxation and pleasure pushed him into a slumber...

His eyes blinked open and he was looking up at her staring down at him. A part of him winced when he looked at the bruise on her face and could not help but wonder why they had harmed her. His body felt better than it had in days as he raised himself onto his elbows.

She smiled gently at him, "we may have to do this each night to keep the suggestions in place, but should you become too exhausted during their interrogations you will not remember anything."

"Thanks for buying me some time to figure out a way out of this," he said as he oddly wondered about the handjob she had started giving him which again caused a stirring in his crotch, "did I?" he asked as he motioned downward with his chin.

She blushed as she smiled at him, "I cleaned you up."

"Thank you again," he responded. "You said they were going to wait another day?"

"They told me I had an extra day to get you healed up," she replied.

"And this?" he asked as he reached up and gently trailed a finger over the bruise on her face.

"A warning," she said softly.

"What kind of warning?" he asked.

"Of what was to come if I tried to help you," she looked away from him as she spoke.

He silently wondered how much help it would be to him if she ended up beaten to a pulp or even dead. "You might be the only chance we both have to get out of here, but I can't worry about both of us."

She placed two fingers over his mouth and looked him in the eye, "then just forget," her voice floated softly into his ears. "We can talk more tomorrow, I have to go."

She stood and picked up her plate and bucket as he inquired, "you never told me your name?"

Looking down at him she smiled sweetly, "Shelle, my name is Shelle."