Operation: Rigid Pt. 12

I sat in the back of the bus slightly away from the rest of the group, silently watching the vegetation pass as the vehicle roared, shook, and rattled its way down the road. When I'd arrived back at the rig yesterday afternoon, I found a message from ORSS waiting. I was to report to the Human Resources Manager at 9 a.m. tomorrow morning. There was nothing else in the note, but I knew what it was about. Apparently so did everyone rotating home with me as they avoided me even more than usual. Nobody wanted to be too closely associated with the guy who was about to be canned. It didn't matter as I wasn't going back to Reality anyway.

After Letícia and I woke, we didn't fuck again. She claimed her pussy was still too sore, and if I were honest with myself, my cock was a little tender as well. We were a mess, covered in come, squirt, oil, sweat, and dirt, but neither of us wanted to step foot in the room's tub, so we wet the rooms towels, and the linens from the bed we hadn't fucked on, and used them to clean ourselves up as much as possible.

As we were dressing, I tried to buy my watch back, knowing she'd refuse, and she did. I didn't mind. I liked the watch, but for me it was just a watch, and I could buy another. For Letícia, however, it seemed be a trophy, and I smiled to myself that she wore it out of the room, even though the band was so big she had to keep her fingers slightly splayed so it wouldn't slip off her wrist.

As the bus roared along, I found it interesting that on my arrival in Mexico, I was sweating like a fucking pig while riding the bus, but after six weeks in the jungle, it felt comparatively pleasant with the breeze coming through the open windows, even though it was probably just as hot and humid as it was before. Maybe, after this assignment was over, living outside of Houston would feel like paradise. I smiled to myself as the bus shuddered over a pothole, wondering how long it would be before I saw the good ol' U S of A again.

Upon my return to the rig, I'd taken three showers back-to-back to get all the gunk and oil off me, and then crashed for another few hours. My patrol last night had been uneventful, and I'd showered and packed everything except the clothes I was going to wear as soon as my shift was over. Now I was on the mud covered PerforMex crew bus, twenty-four kilometers from Veracruz according to the sign that flashed past.

Because I no longer had a watch, I estimated it was twenty minutes later when the bus rumbled to a stop beside the ORSS charter with a squeal of brakes. To the side, out of the way of the plane, sat a gleaming silver S-Class. I smiled. That was probably my ride. Because I was at the back of the bus, I was the last off.

"Ken!" I called as I stepped onto the tarmac. Ken was halfway to the airplane, clearly as anxious as everyone else to board the plane and get home. He stopped and turned to face me. I walked up to him. "This is where I get off," I said without preamble.

"What? What do you mean?"

"I'm not going back."

He held my gaze, his puzzlement clear on his face. "What do you mean you're not going back?"

"Just what I said."

He paused for a moment as he stared into my eyes. "Look, I don't condone what you did, and I asked to have you transferred off my crew because I don't like you sticking your nose, not to mention your dick, into places they don't belong, but you seem to know your shit. You'll probably get a reprimand, but we've all made mistakes. Maybe if you promise to clean up your act, they won't fire you."

"That's not the reason. I have a better offer here."

"From who? PerforMex?"

"Doesn't matter."

He glanced at the Mercedes where Valencia was standing at the back door. He jerked his head in that direction. "The Merc?"

I nodded. "That's right."

"So you're quitting?"

"Yes. This is my two-week notice. You can pass it along for me."

He held my gaze for another moment. "Fine," he snapped.

"Sorry if I put your dick in a wringer."

"Yes, well, a little late for that now, isn't it?" he growled as he turned away and walked to the plane, spinning his finger above his head in the universal start the engines signal.

The rest of the crew was watching me from the aircraft door with clear confusion as Ken walked away while I remained in place. He could explain it to them. I turned and made my way to the car. Valencia stepped away from the car to meet me as the driver exited from behind the wheel. I knew from her no bullshit expression what was expected so I dropped my bag at her feet and lifted my arms. She patted me down with the same thorough efficiency she had the last time.

"You sure this isn't just an excuse to feel my junk," I teased in English as she grabbed my crotch. "If you want to touch it, all you have to do is ask."

She didn't answer as she pulled my phone out of my pants and deposited it in her jacket pocket. I hadn't had my cell with me the last time I met her. Since there was no cell reception anywhere in Mata de Juárez, I didn't see any reason to carry it, and it had remained in my room at the rig, switched off, until today.

"I'm keeping this. A cell will be given to you," she said, also speaking English. She glanced at my bag after she finished her pat down. "Anything in there I should know about?"

"9 millimeter Sig."

"Anything else? Any drugs? Tell me now, because if I find anything later, you won't like what happens."

I grinned at her. "Are you interested in a bunch of condoms? Never been used." She didn't even crack a smile, waiting for a straight answer from me. "No. No other weapons, no drugs."

She jerked her head at the car and the driver approached, picked up my bag, and placed it in the trunk. "Front seat," she said, pointing to the passenger door.

I settled into the sumptuous comfort of the big Merc, Valencia sliding into the back seat behind me. I didn't turn to look, but I wouldn't have been surprised to see a pistol pointing at my back.

The drive to Voice's estate was quick, cool, and uneventful. As we approached the compound's gates, the man on guard duty stepped through the man gate, approached the car to glance inside, and then nodded before returning to the other side of the barrier. He used a key to open a box, reached inside to press something, probably a combination based on how his hand moved, and the gates slowly swung open.

The big Merc oozed through the gates and up the driveway before pulling to a stop in the garage bay nearest the house. We exited the car, and I followed Valencia and the bag toting driver around the edge of the house, passed a fenced pool, and deeper into the grounds as we followed a wide footpath made from the same brick as the patio, pool surround, and drive. We rounded a dense planting of some unidentifiable, but beautifully flowering, tropical plant to reveal another, smaller house, with a pool of its own. Compared to the main residence, this house was far less ornate, but nobody would call it shabby with its brilliant white stucco walls and red tile roof.

Beside the pool lounged two women and a man, none of whom were wearing a shred of clothing. It was difficult to tell from the distance, and the fact she was wearing large sunglasses, but I was fairly certain one of the women was Teresa, so I assumed the other two were part of Voice's stable as well. As all three were wearing shades, I couldn't tell if they were watching us, but they appeared to completely ignore our arrival.

Valencia escorted me into the house and up the steps to the second floor. There she turned left and led me to the farthest door. The driver followed us inside, tossed my bag onto the king size bed, and then stepped back to stand silently at the door. Saying nothing, Valencia opened my bag and began setting out my clothing.

"You don't have to do that," I said, forcing my voice into bright cheerfulness. "I can put away my own stuff."

She ignored me as she quickly, and thoroughly, checked every piece of clothing. My pistol appeared from the bag. It was unloaded with the magazine removed, but she checked it anyway.

"You won't be needing this," she said as she tucked the weapon into the back of her pants.

"But I'll get it back, right?"

"When your time here is complete, all your possessions will be returned to you." She held up the PerforMex envelope with 'Voice' printed on the front in large letters, looking at me questioningly.

"That's for Voice. I made an agreement with Javier before I accepted Voice's offer. The details are inside."

She ripped open the envelope, extracted the single sheet of paper inside, and quickly read over the letter. Finished, she looked at me oddly before folding the letter and placing it back in the envelope. "I'll see that he gets this."

"Thanks."

My bag emptied, she carefully felt around the inside before picking it up and turning it over several times while pushing and pulling at parts of it, obviously looking for traps or hidden compartments. I said nothing until she finished. She tossed the suitcase back onto the bed. She nodded at the two small cameras mounted close to the ceiling in opposite corners of the room. They were arranged to provide full coverage of the space.

"As you can see, you're monitored, but you have full freedom of the grounds," she began, laying out the rules in her no-nonsense tone, "with the exception of the main house. You are allowed there by invitation only. That goes for the pool and garage as well. When the house staff is finished with their duties in the main house, they will come here, usually late in the afternoons. The cook will provide your meals for the day. You may request something special, and if she wishes, she'll try to accommodate you, but she's under no obligation to make more than one menu for each meal. If you don't like what she prepares, you can go shopping and cook for yourself. You may leave the grounds so long as you have an escort." She pointed at the phone sitting on top of a laptop beside the bed. "Use the phone and dial zero for the operator and tell him what you want. You may also use the computer, but again, all your activity will be monitored. When you receive your cell phone, your email account, anders.kraten@freshfishflowers.mx will also be active. All your email, inbound and outbound, will be monitored."

It took me a moment to realize what she said about the email address, and I smiled, finding the name slightly humorous. That wasn't a domain or email address anyone was likely to guess or stumble across on accident... and it didn't have any obvious connection to Voice.

"You will be paid every Friday morning. An envelope will be left on the dresser in your room. You're allowed to fuck whoever you like so long as the other party is willing and isn't on duty. Later today a nurse will arrive to check you for STIs. You'll allow her to do what she needs to. If you're found to have a curable disease, you'll be given medications. If whatever you have cannot be cured, you'll be summarily dismissed. You'll be tested for STIs a minimum of every three months, likely more often. Failure to allow the testing will result in your immediate dismissal. Any questions?"

"Can I call home? I haven't told my parents that I'm staying here."

She nodded. "Yes. Call the operator and give him the number. He'll place the call. When it connects, your phone will ring. Like your email, your call will be monitored. If you say anything about where you are, or what you're doing... well... just don't."

"And the cell phone?"

"We'll have one for you in a few days. Again, your conversations, texts, everything will be monitored. We have an arrangement with the cell company and receive a recording of every call and a transcript of all your texts and web activity. If you do something you shouldn't, we will find out, so don't be stupid."

"Why all the cloak and dagger?"

"Your employer is a powerful and private man. He values his privacy above all else. Your employment is contingent on you understanding that."

I nodded once. "Got it. What happens if I break one of the rules," I asked, making rabbit ears around the last two words.

"Depends. If it's minor and appears to be unintentional, you will be warned not to do it again. If what you do appears to be intentional or malicious, then it's up to Voice what happens next." She paused and then continued. "My recommendation is to not find out."

"So, who is this guy anyway?"

"Who? Voice?" I nodded. "None of your business."

"But you know?"

"That's none of your business either." I knew instantly she knew Voice's identity, and I had little doubt that Mother had been right about her, and that DEA agent Valencia Cantor had been turned. "Trust me, the less questions you ask about Voice, the better. Just do your fucking, take your money, and keep your mouth shut."

"And I can fuck whoever I want?"

"So long as they're willing and it doesn't interfere with their duties, yes."

I smiled at her. "How about you?"

The thug by the door snorted once in amusement. "Yeah..." she sneered, drawing the word out slow and long, "wait right here with your dick in your hand until I come back," she said. Though her expression was impassive, her lack of amusement was clear in her tone.

"So that's a no?" I pressed.

"Yeah, you could say that. Any other, less stupid questions?"

I thought. "Not that I can think of. If I think of anything, how do I reach you?"

"You don't. After today, if you're having a conversation with me, you're probably not going to have a good day. If you have any questions, ask one of your fuckmates. If they don't know, and it's important, use the phone. Someone will get you an answer, but my advice is simple... if it seems like a bad idea, it is."

"Okay. Hey! I do have one question! Do you ever smile?"

She held my gaze a moment, but her expression didn't change in the slightest. "I guess we're done here. Get settled in." She pulled a white envelope from her pocket and tossed it on the bed. "That's one week's pay as a signing bonus." With that, she turned and walked out, the driver flashing me a grin before following her out of the room.

I snickered to myself as I began putting my clothes away. I'd promised Mother I'd bring Valencia back to the states with me, but after interacting with her twice now, it was more likely I was going to have to kill her. The idea didn't thrill me, but she was a total no bullshit hard-ass, and I was pretty sure she'd just as soon pop me in the head as to look at me. There was no way she was going to come with me willingly. I snapped my head in a quick jerk to push the thoughts away. I wasn't going to solve the problem of Toro and Valencia today. I needed to get my feet on the ground and understand the routine before I even began to think about trying to execute a plan.

I was putting away the last of my clothes when Teresa, the other woman, and the man arrived at my room, knocking softly on the open door. "May we come in?" Teresa asked.

"Sure," I replied, switching to Spanish.

"I thought I'd introduce you to Marta Rodriguez and Gregorio Comi."

"Nice to meet you," I said, shaking their hands in turn. "Anders Kraten."

All three appeared to be three to five years younger than me and were now wearing swimsuits, allowing me a good appraisal of my stablemates. Teresa was as lovely as I remembered, and I felt my cock twitch with the memories of meeting her the first time. Her tiny smile indicated that perhaps she was indulging in the same memories.

Like some in his native land, Gregorio had golden bronze skin, coal black hair, dark eyes, and was slightly shorter than me, perhaps five-nine or five-ten. Though not as heavily muscled as I was, he had the lean, ripped look of a swimmer, and his tight, red, bikini swimsuit also left no doubt he was packing more between his legs than the average man, no matter their heritage.

Marta was taller than Teresa by three or four inches, but three or four inches shorter than Gregorio. She wasn't as stunningly beautiful as Teresa, but she had her own charms. Like Teresa and Gregorio, she had dark hair and eyes, and her lime green bikini seemed to glow against her well-tanned skin. I found it amazing that her massive, fake breasts hadn't snapped the tiny strings of the top, and her nipples added that extra little bit of strain by proudly announcing their presence through the thin fabric. Like Teresa and Gregorio, she clearly took care of herself, her flat stomach and firm ass complimenting her firm, oversized breasts. She reminded me of porn stars, and I could easily imagine her covered in come after fucking all the men in the various stables.

"So... let's see it," Marta said without preamble.

"See what?"

"What do you think? Your cock. Teresa said you were as big or bigger than Víctor, both physically and between the legs. Gregorio and I want to see for ourselves."

"You first," I challenged with a grin.

Without a word or hesitation, all three slithered out of their suits. Like Teresa, Gregorio and Marta were hairless except for their well-maintained locks and eyebrows. As soon as her suit was on the floor, Marta snapped her fingers rapidly several times and pointed at my crotch. With a snorted chuckle, I began loosening my belt. Seeing Marta and Teresa naked, I was hardening even more. As I opened my pants, I noticed Gregorio's cock was also rapidly rising. He wasn't as big as me, but he certainly had nothing to be ashamed of.

"Oh my God... you were right," Marta groaned, glancing at Teresa. She began to slowly caress my cock, and I responded by swelling to my full size. "Oh, fuck yeah," she growled. "I can't wait to feel this big schlong in my pussy."

I found it amusing to hear the word 'schlong' mixed in with all the Spanish.

"I'd definitely go cock to cock with that monster," Gregorio added as he slowly stroked his rod.

Marta gave me a long, appraising glance and then flicked her finger at my chest. "Let's see the rest of it."

I sat down on the bed, removed my boots, and kicked out of my pants, before I removed my shirt and added it to the puddle of clothes at my feet.

"See? I told you," Teresa breathed.

"Yeah," Marta whispered. "I can't wait to see him go up against that asshole, Víctor."

That was the second time they'd mentioned Víctor. The name tickled a memory, and then it clicked where I'd heard it before. "Teresa said he liked to hurt people?" I asked.

Marta nodded. "Yeah. I love a good hard fucking, but he's too rough. I think he's into pain. Nobody likes that asshole except for Martos, and maybe Consuelo, because he wins, especially when competing against guys. He won't just fuck... he always wants to," she made tick marks in the air, "fuck fight."

"Fuck fight... how?"

Gregorio shrugged. "Pinching nipples, squeezing your balls or slapping your cock, you name it. He's also always trying to stir up some shit to start a fight."

Teresa nodded. "Yeah, and with women, he slaps our tits, pussies, and asses, and pinches our nipples. That'd be okay, we all do it, but he does it too hard."

"Why don't you give him a taste of his own medicine?" I asked.

"We've tried," Gregoria continued. "All of us, but it just makes him worse. Like Marta said, he seems to be into pain, and getting rough with him just makes him rougher still. I've tried to break him, all us guys have but..." he shook his head as he scowled. "He's not as tall as you, but his cock is just as big, and I think he's as heavily muscled, maybe more so." He held my gaze for a moment. "If you can take him, then maybe..." he muttered before grinding to a halt.

"I'd like to see that mean motherfucker get his," Marta snarled in agreement.