Operation: Rigid Pt. 18

I was in the main room, watching it rain, the droplets making the surface of the pool dance in the lights from the pool and house. The weather fit my mood... gloomy.

The task Voice assigned me was fucking with my head and making me moody. My housemates had pounced on me immediately on my return from The Room, keen to know what Voice wanted. I'd told them everything. I didn't know if I was looking for sympathy and confirmation that my feelings were justified, just to vent, or some other reason. I found it more than a little annoying that none of the three saw anything unusual about the situation and thought I was overreacting.

They pointed out, as Voice had, I wouldn't actually be raping the woman since she'd asked for it. They couldn't understand why I was bothered, and I didn't understand why they, especially Teresa and Marta, weren't. I'd gone to bed that night more than a little annoyed and hadn't slept well. I hadn't shut my door, but nobody joined me, either because they didn't want to after all the fucking from that afternoon, or to give me space.

The next day, Teresa and I had a long talk about the situation because she could tell I was still troubled. Even now, a week and a half, and three conversations later, I didn't think she understood why the idea was still unsettling me, but at least she was willing to listen without being judgmental. Marta and Gregorio were less sympathetic and thought I was making a mountain out of a molehill. In the end, all three gave me the same advice... don't worry about it. The woman had set up the scenario with Voice, so if it didn't turn out the way she expected, that was between the woman and Voice, and I'd just done as I was told.

I suspected that, 'I was just doing what I was told,' was the same argument a lot of Germans used during the Nuremburg trials. If someone knew something was wrong, but they did it anyway just because they were told to, did that absolve them of guilt? I didn't think so, but was what I was going to do actually wrong?

Trying to work through it, I kept circling back to the woman asking Voice to make her rape fantasy real. Not just asking, but trading with him to make it happen. If he'd sent me to rape the woman, so she'd give him whatever it was he wanted, that was a line I wouldn't cross, but that wasn't what was happening. I was playing a part in her role-playing fantasy in exchange for something he wanted. I didn't even know what she was offering, so I couldn't very well demand it from her. I'd gone around and around in my mind, trying to figure out what she might have that Voice wanted so badly, but I kept coming up with nothing. Whatever it was, I doubted it was blackmail material. If Voice was Toro, he'd probably have her killed if she tried blackmailing him.

Regardless, the entire situation was fucking with me. The idea of roughing up a woman, even at her request, filled me with dismay. I was relieved thus far I hadn't had to do it, but I was waiting for the call each night with dread, all the while hoping the deal had fallen apart for some reason, and I wouldn't have to go through with it. Trying to make the best of a totally fucked up situation, I'd decided if I did what Voice wanted, I was going to pretend I was with the Policía Federal Ministerial--the PFM orMexican Federal Police--and demand to know what information Voice wanted and who he was. If word got back to Voice about my questions, I'd claim it was part of the role-playing and was nothing more than me driving her fantasy. It was a gamble, but I learned exactly shit so far, and it didn't appear I was going to unless I started pushing.

The bell rang and my heart sank. This was the first time anyone had visited our home since I was called into The Room, and I knew with almost certainty who was at the door, and why. I rose and walked to the door.

"I've got it!" I called as I crossed the room.

Marta, Teresa, and Gregorio were in the game room playing on one of the video machines, the wocka wocka wocka of Pac-Man barely audible. They'd invited me to join them, but I'd declined. They were trying to keep my mind occupied with other thoughts, but I was having a tough time. Each evening, after my post workout shower, instead of putting on my toga shorts as I'd been doing, I dressed, always expecting that night to be the night. Now, it seemed, the night I'd been dreading had arrived.

I opened the door. "Tonight?"

"Yes. Come with me."

"Anders!" Teresa called as she stepped out of the game room with Marta close on her heels. I could still hear the wocka wocka wocka of the game as Gregorio continued to play. "Remember, she wants this. Just do what you have to and don't think about it too much. This isn't on you. There's no difference between this and what you're already doing except who you're fucking."

"Thanks," I said with a nod, and meant it. "Hey!" I barked, drawing the man's attention from the two scantily glad goddesses, though I couldn't blame him for staring. "We going or not?"

The man quickly glanced at the women a final time and then backed away from the door. I followed him into the rain. It wasn't raining hard, but by the time I reached the Escalade I was more than damp, though not quite soaked. The vehicle was running, so as he circled around the front of the SUV, I opened the rear door. I was surprised to see Valen--María--already sitting in the back. I climbed into the rig.

"I'm surprised you're here," I said as I shut the door.

She handed me a lump of black cloth. "Voice wanted me to handle this one personally. Here, wear this."

I took it. It was a ski mask. "Are you kidding me? Doesn't she know who I am?"

"Special request. If she rips it off, fine, but she wants you to start out wearing it."

"Shit," I muttered softly. At least it fit with the PFM theme I was going to go with, as they often wore masks to protect their identity.

We rode in silence as the Cadillac hissed through the rain. "I was in the booth with Voice when he gave you the assignment," she said softly, speaking in English. "I was surprised you objected."

"Why?" I asked in the same language.

"Isn't that what guy's like... taking a woman?"

I held her gaze a moment. "There's taking a woman, then there's rape. As a woman, I'm surprised you don't understand the difference."

"I do," she replied, her voice quiet. "Voice didn't like you questioning him. That's why he asked me to supervise... to make sure you didn't back out at the last minute."

"He'll get over it."

That won me a small smile. "Because you helped me with my discipline problem, I suggested to him that what you were asking for were reasonable precautions."

"Thanks... I think."

She glanced at the two men in the front seat. "Look, I know you don't want to do this, but you really don't have any choice unless you're willing to walk away."

"Yeah. I know. I've been thinking about it."

"Walking?

"Yeah."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Why? I thought you wanted the money."

"I do, but I still have to live with myself. This isn't what I signed up for."

"You're still not sure? You got everything you asked for."

"I know, but no, I'm still not sure. I'm not into slapping women around. The only thing I'm sure of is, if I even suspect I'm actually fucking this woman against her will, I'm out, and I don't give a shit what Voice says."

"That's a dangerous attitude to have."

"Don't care. Letícia said Voice was a man of his word, and he said I could leave any time I wanted."

She nodded slowly. "How will you know?"

"Before we start, I'm going to ask her to make sure she's clear on the rules. If she doesn't answer yes to both questions, then I'm done."

"What questions?"

"Is she Mrs. Green, and does she know the safe word?"

"And how are you going to do that without disrupting her fantasy? Remember, Voice said she wanted this to play out like you were actually forcing her."

"Forcing her?" I grumbled. "How about we call it what it is if it goes wrong. Raping her."

"Fine, raping her then."

"I've had over a week to figure this shit out. I have a script to get us started. I'll be in the character of the big, bad rapist the whole time, but she'll know what I mean... or she better."

María looked out of the side glass a moment before she returned her attention to me. "You seem like a decent guy. You need to get out of here before you lose that."

"I can't. I have a... shit load of debt to pay off." I'd almost said, 'I have a job to do,' but fortunately I caught myself before I said it. I had a feeling those six words would have opened a big can of worms.

"Yeah, I guess I can understand that."

"Why are you here?"

"I have a job to do."

I smirked that she'd said the very thing I'd nearly said. "Protecting Voice?"

She glanced at the front seat again. The two men were ignoring us, but I had the impression she was considering her answer. "Yes."

I nodded. Something felt wrong with her response. Not with the answer itself, or how she said it, but why had she looked at the men first, and why had there been the slightest of hesitations before she'd said 'yes'? I wondered if she felt a tiny bit of remorse for fucking over the US and the DEA.

We were quiet until the Escalade oozed to a stop in front of a house. "See that house up there," she said in Spanish while pointing, "the blue one, with the white Mercedes sitting in the drive? That's the one."

The houses were typical Mexican row houses, separate homes crowded together with perhaps an arms span width between the structures. We were in a more affluent section of Veracruz, where the homes were well maintained and brightly painted. The houses had no garages, and the front yards, though lush and green, were tiny, the width of the house and barely deeper than the length of the big Merc sitting in the drive.

"Is that her car?"

"Don't know. Might be. She owns a Mercedes."

"Fuck," I muttered. There were several other Mercs sitting on the street near her house. "I really don't want to do this."

"You going to be able to get it up? If you can't, you need to tell me now. Once you start, if you can't finish it, Voice won't be pleased, and trust me, you don't want that."

I thought about what my housemates had been saying all week, and had reminded me of as I left this evening. "Yeah, probably, so long as she doesn't expect me to actually beat or abuse her."

She held my gaze for a moment. "Just do what you have to," she said quietly, switching back to English.

"Who is this woman, and what does Voice want?" I asked in kind.

María glanced at the men in the front seat again. "She's the mistress of the Senior Customs Agent at the port of Veracruz. If she gets what she wants, she'll use her influence with the man to give Voice what he wants."

I wondered if the woman was my fan. She struck me as someone that a guy old enough to be a Senior Customs Inspector would go for. Hell, she was probably at least twenty years older than me, and I'd gladly fuck her on the regular. "And her price is fulfilling this fantasy?"

She nodded. "That, and a sizeable payment in cash, yes."

"And what is it Voice wants?"

"What do you think?"

"He'd like to export, or import, something he doesn't want inspected."

"Exactly. He has several customs agents on his payroll already, but having this man would make things much easier. He's been trying to find a in with his guy for several years."

"Drugs?"

"That's none of your business."

"Why doesn't he just spread some of his money around."

"He's tried, but other than getting a little on the side, the man is mostly honest."

"Oh no... an honest government official. I'm surprised he didn't blackmail the guy for getting some on the side."

"Apparently he tried. Didn't work. Maybe the wife is getting some too." She shrugged.

"Then I'm surprised this guy hasn't had a tragic accident."

"To messy and would bring too much attention."

I chuckled. "I'm starting to like this guy. I almost hate to do this to him."

A small smile touched her lips. "Now you see why Voice is willing to go through all this trouble."

"What's his name?" She held my gaze. "For the script."

She didn't say anything for a moment. "Berto. Berto Enríquez."

"Thanks. Where are you going to be? I don't want my ass hanging out after I do this."

"Don't worry. We'll be right here."

"You better be," I growled as I opened my door and stepped out of the SUV.

Hunched against the rain, I balled the mask in my hand and walked along the edge of the road. I wasn't dressed for skulking around in the dark. I was wearing dark pants, but my light blue shirt made me easier to see than I would have preferred. I walked past the house without slowing. The first floor of the house was brightly lit, but there was no way for me to tell if the car was the woman's, or if she had a visitor.

I walked to the end of the block, counting homes as I went. The house I was interested in was fifteen from the end. I went around the corner. As I expected, the homes had walled gardens in the rear, but luckily for me, a narrow strip of grass, perhaps six feet wide, dotted with squat electrical boxes and short utility poles, separated the houses from those on the next street. I nodded to myself with relief. I'd been afraid that gardens from the two houses opposite each other would share a common wall at the back of their gardens. If that had been the case, the front door would have been my only option.

Staying low and ignoring the barking dogs, I quickly crept back to the house I was interested in. The wall was about seven feet high, and when I stopped, I counted the part of the homes I could see above the wall a second time to make sure I was at the right one. With a grunt, I jumped so I could grab the inside of the wall and hauled myself over. I crabbed along the top a few feet to avoid the potted plants directly below me, and then dropped silently into the yard.

The garden was much larger than the front yard, with a small inground swimming pool set in a stone surround, a trellised patio, and plenty of landscape lighting. Between the lighted swimming pool and the rest of the lights in the landscape, I could easily be seen if I crossed the wide strip of grass directly to the house.

Staying low and close to the plantings that ringed the inside of the wall, I circled the garden and came up beside the house. From the patio, there were large French doors leading into a bright and modern kitchen, with an attached dining area, that occupied the bulk of the home's width. Consuming the rest of the house's width was a much smaller, separate room, its window covered by blinds.

"If you come, I'm going to cut your nuts off!" a woman's voice, hard and cruel, snarled from inside the room, her voice barely audible through the glass.

"Yes, my mistress!" a man's voice responded, his voice strained and almost begging.

"That come belongs to me, so you better keep it in that big cock until I ask for it!"

"Yes, my mistress!" the man gasped before wailing softly.

There was a sliver of a gap between the edge of the window and the blind. I couldn't see much, but from what I could make out in the dim room, a man was tied on some type of arched wooden rack to curve his spine backwards. His angry red cock pointed skyward as a big breasted woman not so gently slapped his cock and balls with a black leather lash. I couldn't see much more than the man's cock and the woman from the breasts down to the rack, but it was clear what was going on.

I stood, listening to the man beg, gasp, and wail in pain and pleasure as the woman alternated between snarling threats and soft, cooing, teases, the lash reinforcing her words with sharp slaps or slow gentle caresses. I had no idea how long the session had been going on, or how much longer it might last. After five minutes or so, I decided on a different plan, one that didn't involve me crouching in the darkness and getting wet, while listening to some guy having his cock and balls abused. Since the occupants of the house appeared to be engrossed in their play, I strode quickly to the back wall, scaled it, and hurried back to the Caddy.

"What's wrong?" María asked as I slammed the door.

I wiped the rain from my hair and face. "That's not her car. She has a client."

"Shit. I guess we can come back another day."

"No. Let's just wait."

"For how long?"

"I don't think it'll be that long. Maybe an hour or two."

"Shit."

"Have a hot date tonight?"

She snorted. "No, but I can think of a lot of things I'd rather do than sit in the dark with you three assholes."

The two men in front snickered and I grinned. "There's plenty of room in the back, and I can think of a pleasant way to pass a couple of hours," I said slowly as I held her gaze.

"Save it for her," she growled. She didn't smile, but her response wasn't as cold and hard as it had been in the past when I hit on her. Maybe she could sense I was teasing her, rather than trying to get under her skin this time.

We sat in silence for some time. "Where are you from? Obviously you're American, or at least you lived in the states," I finally asked, deciding to use the time to do a little snooping.

"None of you damned business."

"So we're back to that, huh?"

"My personal life is none of your business."

"What personal life? I asked where you were from. I was wondering how a girl from the states ended up here in Mexico."

She said nothing for a long moment, so long I didn't think I was going to get an answer. "My family is from Veracruz," she finally said. "I was born in, and grew up in the states, but when I was fourteen, my mom and dad divorced. Mom moved back to Veracruz... and here I am. When I was old enough, I changed my citizenship, and this is home now."

I knew that was a straight up lie, but I said nothing, afraid of a bullet to the head. I grunted as if in understanding. "How'd you end up working for Voice?"

"Now that is a personal question, and it's still none of your damned business," she said, her voice cool.

"Sorry. Just trying to pass the time."

"Find another way."

"I tried, but you didn't want to do that either."

The faintest of smiles, almost invisible in the dimness of the Caddy, danced over her lips. "Third time's the charm."

The four of us sat in the Cadillac, the driver starting the SUV occasionally to cool the interior and defog the windows. We spoke little. I had the impression the driver and thug were intimidated by Valencia. I tried to engage her in conversation, but eventually gave up when she steadfastly refused to reveal anything useful. Finally, after about an hour, the door to the house we were watching opened. A well-fed, well-dressed man exited and walked to his car.

"Is that the customs guy?" I asked as I swung the door open.

"No," she answered just before the door slammed.

Holding my mask in my hand, I walked quickly down the street, slowing slightly as the big Merc back out of the drive and sped away. I walked straight to the front door and rapped solidly. It was hard to get an idea of the size of the man from the SUV, but it appeared I was several inches taller, so I squatted slightly as I turned my back to the door, pulled my mask over my head, and ran my hand over the back of my head as if scratching, to hide the mask as much as possible.

"Who is it?" a female voice asked from the other side of the door.

"I must have left my keys inside."

The moment I heard the snap of the deadbolt, I turned, and as the door began to open, I rammed it with my shoulder. The door collided with something solid before swinging wide with a bang. I slammed the door and charged the woman on the floor as she tried to scramble back. Steeling myself for what I had to do, I grabbed the woman by her hair and hauled her to her feet, being aggressive, but trying not to hurt her any more than necessary. I spun her and slammed her back against the door, one hand across her mouth, the other at her throat. She stared at me with wide, frightened eyes. She looked familiar, and I wondered if I'd seen her at one of the games. Probably, since she'd arranged this through Voice.