Lapdancing Girlfriend Ch. 06

Seeing her happy face, the branch chief smiled.

"I know it's not an ideal solution," he told her, "but we can only hope for the best. Granted a lot depends on finding evidence on DeWight and his organization, so this should be added incentive for you to keep an eye out on what is going on around you," he told her. "In the meanwhile, I want your planning of the wedding—with Agent Gasinov's involvement of course—to be as public to Charles DeWight as possible, leaving out only personal information such as times and places so he does not get too interested. As long as he knows you are planning a wedding he'll be less inclined to keep track of your movements when he believes you are only going shopping, picking out flowers, or whatever else women do with these things," he said to her. "That also gives us more freedom to plan more briefings in case there are any last minute things to be aware of," he told her.

Jen was overwhelmed at such good news, wanting to hug the large sweaty man, but before she could express her happiness, the large man's face grew serious again.

"The last thing I wanted to cover are issues and concerns the Powers that Be in pay grades higher than mine have raised," he told her, his eyes rolling back in his head indicating this was not his choice of topic.

His expression put her somewhat at ease, understanding even a branch chief of the FBI had people to appease as he continued speaking.

"We have been able to glean considerable information about DeWight's organization from your surveillance equipment," he told her, almost as if he were restating an already prepared speech. "The very fact of DeWight allowing you to remain in his office while dealing with accomplices and telephone conversations has unearthed information not known previously,," he told her, again giving her the feeling this was a prepared speech, and one he had probably already given to his superiors. "Even when you were unaware of what was occurring around you—being distracted with more...personal endeavors," he said with a lecherous grin, his eyes once more traveling across her exposed curves. "But even with that new information," he told her, causing the saying of 'wait for the other shoe to drop' to come into her mind, he said, "the fact you are an untrained civilian and most of our case resting upon you has left some concern and questions about your reliability and steadfastness in this investigation," he said to her. "Particularly now that we have had to involve other agencies," he said to her.

At her questioning look, Vogel waved his hands around him at the screening area saying, "Our official presence here has involved considerable red tap with Homeland Security and the Transportation Security Administration," he explained. "The planning of your upcoming nuptials will allow more leeway in organizing briefings and passing along information; however, the very nature of weekly access to the airport is an opportunity we cannot overlook," he said. "In working with the other agencies there have been apprehensions voiced about your compliance to do what it takes to further this investigation," he told her.

Jen began to suspect where this discussion was heading, recalling the last time her 'consent and readiness' was called into question. Previously when her resolve had been called into question volunteering to be an informant by accepting Mr. DeWight's contract, she had been 'tested' by the FBI agents, demonstrating her willingness to be used as a sex object, allowing Agent Geiger—a complete stranger—to have sex with her. Further proof of her and Dan's steadfastness in becoming the DSA spokesmodel was allowing him to screw her right in front of her own fiancé. Later, to show her immorality was not simply an arbitrary act made out of anger at her circumstances, she had proven her acquiescence to her role by having sex with the overweight branch chief standing before her. Since then, she felt she had 'proven' to go 'the extra mile' by having sex several times with Agent Gastinov, as well as another time with Agent Geiger—above and beyond allowing her body to be used as a complete slut by Mr. DeWight and her coworkers.

Surely they still could not be questioning her consent and willingness as a willing slut, she wondered!

Voicing that very thought she said, "I'm not fucking enough for them?" she asked angrily, her resentment coming to the forefront. She was completely miffed there was even a question to the depravity she would allow. "In the last two weeks I've posed nude for several photograph sessions, have stared in two porn movies—one of which was a fucking gangbang with five guys—not to mention debasing myself to every guy I have worked with and considered a friend for the past few years," she said in exasperation. "What more 'willingness' do I need to show to you fucking FBI guys?" she asked angrily, amazed her motives could even be questioned.

"It is not that you haven't shown your...uh...well adaptability to your situation," Agent Vogel assured her, "but your upcoming syndication party has raised concerns," he told her. "You have shown tremendous resilience adapting to situations calling for particular...uh...assets," he explained with a grin, "But based upon our research of similar parties DeWight has held..." his voice trailed off as he looked at her almost apologetically before continuing. "Well, the bottom line is this party is nothing more than a sexploitation orgy. You are going to be expected to demean yourself in ways you probably have not thought possible—not just with one man, but an unknown number of men, at the same time," he said, looking uncomfortable even talking about the party. "We know DeWight is going to put you on the market like a slab of meat, expecting you to not only permit, but be the instigator to a depth of depravity most women would be appalled to even hear about, let alone participate," he finished telling her.

Jen was flabbergasted, but not at his description of the party—his overview was pretty much what she expected. No, her surprise was Vogel's bosses not thinking she was slutty enough.

"Have I said one word of refusal to any situation I've been forced into?" she asked, her ire rising at the mere question of what her role as a DSA spokesmodel demanded.

Had she not already proven herself? She had done things she would never had imagined before, becoming less than a person, solely a sexual plaything at the whim of Mr. DeWight. And still her subservience was being questioned?

Oddly the image of her masturbating and finger-fucking herself in front of every male coworker came to mind. Before she could even question her actions, Jen stood up from the table, looking intently at the three FBI agents.

"They want to see how willing I am?" she asked in anger and exasperation. "Fine, how's this?" she asked.

Without another word she pulled the hem of her 'dress' up her hips and hooking her thumbs around the waist bands of her thong, pulled it down to her ankles, exposing her entire lower body as she kicked the small black material across the curtained room.

"How's this for willing?" she asked, sitting back on the table and spreading her legs open wide before the men, looking on in surprise.

"Who wants to go first?" she asked to the incredulous faces of all three men, who stood in front of her looking ridiculously dumbfounded.

Jen knew she was completely out of character; however, it was exactly what was being called into question. She could easily imagine how she appeared to the three agents, wearing a hoodie over her head with the rest of the practically transparent dress pulled up around her hips, her legs spread fully exposing the cleft between her legs to the men, her only other clothing being her spiked, high-heeled sneakers.

"Nobody interested?" she said to the stunned silence of the men before her. "Fine, I'll show you myself how willing I am to cheapen and debase myself?" she asked. "How's this?"

Still irate, no longer caring how slutty she looked, the image of fingering herself fresh in her mind, Jen reached down between her legs, vulgarly spreading her slit open with her fingers, baring her pink moist flesh to the three men. She let out a moan as she inserted her middle finger into her core, slowly finger-fucking herself in front of them.

Even upset, it did not take long before Jen's fingers reawakened her earlier arousal, her body quickly responding to her digital manipulations. As ludicrous as her actions were, her arousal overcame her irritation as Jen's breath became shallow. Involuntarily her hips began to rock back and forth upon the table, slowly at first, then more urgently as her fingers plunged past her vulva into her core, her hand speeding up.

The three FBI agents watched in awe, mesmerized at her fingering herself so blatantly before them, even Nick who was always ready with a quick joke or comeback was at an apparent loss for words.

Thinking about the tech-savvy agent, Jen recalled the recent sex she had with him, her fingers moving even faster as her body began to tense up, knowing an orgasm was fast approaching.

And still the men watched silently, mesmerized, the only sounds in the room the fast-pasted squishing of her fingers plunging in and out of her pussy in accompaniment to the background sounds of the airport.

After a few minutes Jen leaned back, gasping as she brought herself to climax, her mind exploding in mild ecstasy, biting her lower lip harshly to stifle the yell from her release, still aware of being in an airport with nothing but a curtained wall between her and the rest of the world.

Jen remained motionless on the table, allowing her body's involuntary quivers to course through her, her pussy clenching around her embedded fingers. Not realizing she had closed her eyes, she opened them, her gaze met by the fevered and aroused expressions of the three FBI agents, their obvious disbelief at her sudden depraved spectacle, her hand still pressed against her pelvis pressing tightly against her clit more than they expected from her.

A part of her mind revolted, appalled at what she had just done—stripping off her thong and masturbating before the three law enforcement men in a fucking airport—but Diamond's arousal was still too heightened to care. After her erotic dream and being on display all morning, her lust needed more than a quick diddling session.

Looking at the fat branch chief she asked, "So was this enough proof?" she asked, her body still trembling from her release. "Am I willing and wanton enough for your damn superiors at the FBI?" she asked.

She was surprised when the obese FBI branch chief smiled lecherously.

"Although appreciative and needing no other convincing of the depths you are willing to plunge," Agent Vogel told her, chuckling at his pun as he purposely looked down at her hand still nestled within her pussy. "But as I mentioned, there is now more than one agency involved, and others must report your compliance with their superiors," he said, a grin once more forming upon his face.

"As you are aware, it is a Federal law all airplane passengers must undergo a security screening at the airport," he said, his change in topic taking her off-guard. "Our ability to meet here and talk to you privately involved several favors to be called between the two agencies," he told her. With another conspicuous grin he said, "You are still required to undergo a security screening."

She almost scoffed out loud. Here she was sitting in an airport practically naked, in a completely wanton position, her hand buried in her aroused snatch—and the agent wanted to discuss her undergoing a security screen?

Looking down at her lack of clothing, she wondered where the hell was she supposed to hide anything, up her ass?

"Excuse me?" she voiced, her mind still trying to grasp how out in left field the large man's comments were compared to her response, becoming embarrassed at her brazen actions.

The fat branch chief looked at her again with a grin, his eyes still glimmering with lust as Diamond felt a brief satisfaction knowing he was thinking about her.

But then he continued, saying, "I had to pull quite a few personal strings for a waiver to be issued allowing us to meet you without going through the proper processes, and the TSA Supervisory Officer has requested to meet with you personally, well within his rights," Agent Vogel told her, his gaze still upon her hand between her legs. "It is he who will be reporting to his TSA superiors, who will then be reporting to mine," he told her.

Finally looking up at her he smiled and shrugged stating, "It is simply more red-tape," he told her, "Such is always the case with cross-agency relations," he explained.

Diamond was nothing but a pawn in this circumstance, realizing even the FBI branch chief needed to comply with certain protocols.

"Fine," she answered. She was embarrassed at her outburst and resulting depraved reaction when all she had to do was meet a supervisor as she said, "Let me get dressed and I can meet with him," she said as she slid her bare ass off the table. Then she smiled adding, "Although 'dressed' is probably a bit of an understatement," trying to make light of the situation.

Agent Vogel's next words caused her to stand still as a statue.

"Actually, you are fine as you are," Agent Vogel said to her abruptly.

The branch chief was looking at her with a knowing smile, and Diamond felt a sudden moment of apprehension wondering what else she had gotten herself into.

Before she could say anything the branch chief nodded to the two other FBI agents, who turned around and exited the curtained doorway.

Almost immediately upon their exit, two other men dressed in the Smurf blue uniform of TSA officers entered the room.

"Although you have already met, let me officially introduce you to Supervisory Transportation Security Officer Marcus Collins, Transportation Security Administration, Homeland Security," Agent Vogel said, inundating her with titles as he continued his introductions. "As well as his newly assigned deputy, Officer Mike Carleton," he said to her, "both of whom will be performing your security screen."

Diamond felt her body suddenly heat up, flushing in embarrassment as she recognized the two TSA agents who had 'frisked' her the week before.

Seeing the look of recognition on Diamond's face, Agent Vogel smiled, telling her, "When I watched the surveillance footage of your security screen last week I recognized Marcus from our military days," he told her, "coming up with the perfect cover on how we could brief you. As you would be passing through the airport weekly over the next couple months, it took only a brief phone call to Marcus for him to agree with my plan," he told her, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "Once he learned your identity and role as our informant on an important case, he was more than willing to offer any assistance the TSA could provide through his capacity as Supervising Officer," he completed telling her.

Diamond's mind fluttered with images of her 'pat down' the previous week, recalling both men's touch upon her bare slit, followed by their hands squeezing and kneading her breasts, intimately and unabashedly before allowing her to proceed to her gate.

Her eyes turned towards the large black man, watching as he smiled—his pure white teeth in stark contrast to the dark complexion of his face. His expression left her no doubt he was practically reading her mind, looking at her knowingly and remembering their previous encounter.

She was like a deer in the headlights, caught in the large man's knowing gaze, and Diamond felt her breasts tighten, her Kegel muscles involuntarily clenching as she understood she was completely vulnerable. At least the week before she had at least been covered by her clothes, although then no wearing panties. Now she was practically naked, her meshed dress hiked up around her hips and her underwear lying in a jumbled heap behind the large black man.

She looked at the tiny pile of black material of her thong on the floor, the large TSA agent following the direction of her gaze, smiling in awareness at the direction of her thoughts.

In an attempt to take her mind off her vulnerability, she turned her eyes to the Caucasian officer, suddenly feeling no less threatened and vulnerable by his deliberate gaze.

Last week the officer—Deputy Supervisory Officer Carleton—had been cautionary with his intimacy and touch upon her, recent to his position; however, apparently a lot had happened over the week as he now looked at her with an air of authority, certain of his power over her.

In a deep dark place Diamond felt a thrill of excitement course through her at the apparent change in confidence, watching as his eyes purposefully travelled down her body, focusing upon her bare crotch.

Diamond had no doubts to what would be happening. Here she was, a porn actress naked from the waist down, in a private screening area of the airport with two obviously horny men. She had no illusions her 'security screen' by these two government enforcement employees who had already felt her up previously would hold back now.

Instead of fear or embarrassment, Diamond felt an overwhelming desire flood her body, similar to how she had felt in Mr. DeWight's office when he had talked to each of the men at the club.

The phrase 'What would a DSA spokesmodel do' echoed within her head, as another tingle ran through her, warmth building within her lower stomach as she understood her only role—one she now desired to perform—was to entertain and please them.

Without any hesitation, she turned around, spreading her legs apart and 'assuming the position' by placing her hands upon the table, leaning away from the men.

Looking over her shoulder she said, "Shall we begin?"

The two TSA officers smiled in lust as Agent Vogel slapped the large black man on the shoulder saying, "I'll catch up with you at the bar Friday night and leave you to your duties," he chuckled before walking out of the curtained doorway, leaving her alone with the two men—government enforcement employees who had already proven they were not opposed to crude and invasive violation of her body.

Having already masturbated twice this morning, Diamond's body was primed and more than willing to accept and do whatever the TSA officers asked. She had already been prepared to have sex with three FBI agents, and although she had not been as intimate with these two men as she had with the others, there had already been a certain degree of intimacy between them.

Hearing the two men move closer behind her, Diamond hung her head forward as a sign of submission, feeling arousal at her vulnerable position.

She heard the white officer—Deputy Officer Carleton—say in a hushed voice, "Fuck. This can't be happening. Last week I didn't know who she was, but now to have an actual porn star naked before me is a dream come true!"

The large black man—Supervisory Officer Collins—laughed saying, "Not just a porn star," he chuckled, "but THE DSA spokesmodel, the most desired and highest paid porn star on the planet!"

With her head bowed, her hair spilled out of her hoodie, she knew she was in a completely subservient position, at the sole mercy of the government agents' discretion.

She heard the large dark man say—obviously to his deputy, "Remember your training. This will be an important test so I want you to perform a full and complete inspection on the passenger," he instructed in an authoritative tone, as if this were a normal security screening and there was not a practically naked porn actress spread before him.

Diamond gasped at the sudden unexpected touch of the agent's hand upon her head, the built up anticipation and unexpected sensation amplified by her fantasies.