The Consequences of Spying

Without ceremony he brought his hand down hard against the skin on her left inner thigh. She held still, trying not to react as the stinging pain shot through her and took her by surprise. Don't react, she said. Don't say anything. Don't give him what he wants.

"No?" he said. His voice was soft. She measured her breathing. He brought his hand down again in the same spot - harder. It stung - she felt her leg tense automatically and then relax, but didn't let her breathing up as the sharp hit faded into gentle stinging. She wasn't going to underestimate him, but she was going to do her best to stick to her training and give him as little as she could.

He hit her a third time - harder. A fourth, a fifth, in the same spot. On the sixth her breath hitched - it hurt.

He leaned over her and looked into her eyes. She thought about closing them and trying to dissociate, but she'd need to save that. She stared back - feeling the pounding in her chest and the uneven cadence of her breath. He raised his hand dramatically and brought it down, letting her tense before stopping just short of her skin. He did it again, stopping just before contact, letting her see the start of the amused smile play on his lips as he drank in her reaction. The same hatred rose in her chest as he brought his hand down hard against her thigh again, and before her brain could parse the stinging pain he slapped her hard across the face. She gasped at that, breath breaking free from her lungs, and he took it as an invitation to slap her between her legs - the unexpected, sharp pain in such a sensitive place made her let out an involuntary squeak.

He built up a rhythm like this - sometimes faking out, sometimes making contact with her flesh, in the same spots, over and over but with no particular pattern. Sometimes he made contact with her over and over, hitting her thigh in quick succession, her face, her other thigh, between her legs, across her breasts. She could feel her nipples tightening in response to the pain. He spent some time there, making her flinch with anticipation from hits that never came before slapping against her nipples, sometimes alternating breasts and sometimes staying on one. He returned his hand between her legs and slapped there, hard - once, twice, three times, four, repeating the pattern of sometimes making contact and sometimes not, making her flinch. It stung and left her breathing raggedly. Her pussy burned and stung - tingling pins and needles in her flesh when his land left. He brought it down again and the cry that she'd been holding back finally spilled past her lips. Like testing to see if it was a fluke, he hit her a few more times between her legs while she tried -- and failed -- to stay quiet, crying out each time he made contact.

His lips turned up in a little sign of satisfaction and he pressed against her, running the pads of his fingers up and down her inner thighs and over her lips before delving between them. She tried to squirm against the bonds even though she knew it was no use, a flush of anger and humiliation rising through her and into her face as he dragged his finger up and rubbed two firm circles on her clit. She gasped despite herself and he smiled, plunging the finger inside of her briefly before extracting it and wiping her own wetness against her cheek.

It was humiliating. She felt the heat rise to her face again - not in anger or hatred or fear but in understanding of her own arousal, of her own body's response to what he was doing. She let it rise, let it flush in her cheeks and her chest, unwilling to stop looking at him. She wouldn't give in, she didn't care if it was getting to her. It was Logan - it was designed to get to her. She knew that - she knew that even though the shaky breathing and her aching, tingling flesh and the tingling absence of his finger on her most sensitive place.

He peered into her eyes as his fingers returned to her chest. He took one nipple between his fingers and pinched it until she let out a little whimper, then twisted it one way and then the other, pulling it taut before releasing it and moving to the other. He moved slowly, methodically, back and forth between them. Sometimes he stopped to brush his fingers lightly over them, making her take hiccupped little gasps of pleasure between the cries of pain he was pulling out of her at more regular intervals. Despite herself, she felt her body responding to what he was doing, squirming and writhing and tightening under his hands, her cunt starting to ache. The stinging pain from the slaps was starting to somewhat fade, replaced by the cruel attention to her nipples. She whimpered as he twisted one and then the other with some force, pinching them both tightly between his fingers before letting them go and stepping back.

She didn't dare reveal any sign of relief -- though she wasn't sure if his lack of contact was a relief. He turned his back on her and rummaged in a few of the cabinets - she tried to follow him with her eyes but the strap on her forehead limited her. She could still feel tingling in the places he'd slapped her. And aside from the mocking acknowledgement that she was going to try to stay quiet, he hadn't said a thing.

She'd been prepared for interrogations before, of course, but this didn't seem like an interrogation. She thought back to the airport, when she'd asked him what he wanted.

She listened intently to him moving about the room, opening and closing different cabinets and drawers. He was setting out tools across the counter, but she couldn't make out what any of them were. It occurred to her how much he had done with just his hands, the thought that she was about to endure round two, with tools, made her stomach sink.

Having seemingly gathered what he was looking for, Logan turned his back on her and walked through the door again. She watched him walk by the large observation window, and took a moment to fall apart. It was quick -- it had to be quick -- and it had to be when he couldn't see her. She couldn't scream - couldn't let him hear - but she let her breath come quickly into a hyperventilation, let her muscles spasm as she thrashed and squirmed and tried to fight off her bonds. She knew it was useless, but that energy had to go somewhere. She let herself have thirty seconds, and then she made herself stop, made herself lock it away somewhere and come back to her breath and come back to her situation.

He was only gone for a few minutes. When he returned, he was wheeling a computer that had a nest of wires dangling from one side. Mostly ignoring her, he went about plugging in and setting up the computer, doing something with the wires that she couldn't see. When he turned to face her, she was trying hard to hide her fear.

Something cool pressed against her skin, as he pressed several of the leads against her chest. Two more went on her lower abdomen, the last two he pressed against above the chest strap and under her collar bone, one on each side of her chest. She had figured out they were electrodes, but were they to monitor her, or hurt her?

Finally she felt something clip onto one of her fingers, and he stepped back behind the computer again. He faced the screen away from her and stood behind it. She could barely keep him in her line of vision if she looked down and to the left, but it meant that he appeared in double, and she couldn't get a good read on his expression. She found herself feeling dizzy and had to return her eyes straight ahead, staring at the ceiling, waiting for what would come next.

Suddenly his fingers pushed hard into a spot on her right thigh and she gasped, his face appearing above hers again. "Oh, does that hurt?" he asked with a tone of amusement. She bit back a reply, and he pushed harder into her. The pain was overwhelming and she whined, but he added pressure, staring down at her with detached bemusement. She held it back as long as she could, but when he let up and began to push into her anew she let out a choked cry and gave him what he wanted. "Yes, it hurts," she whispered.

"Good." His finger let up to her relief, and she sagged into the table. It did hurt -- it ached and burned even in the absence of his touch.

"I'm sure you know this, but technology is astoundingly good at reading a human being," he said. She stared at him wordlessly. "Scared, or sick, or dehydrated, and your heart rate increases. There are algorithms now that can create respiration rates from pulse oximeter readings. Not to mention muscle activation and contraction. Nothing to read thoughts yet, sadly, but much to read someone's body."

She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of playing into his game. She wasn't going to engage him.

"Don't you want to know how I found you, Olivia?" he said. "It's a pretty name, you know. How did they pick it? Do they use a random name generator? I have to say, I prefer the one I met you under. I thought it fit you nicely, but Olivia is at least better than Maya."

He was going to need to do more to get to her than list off the name on her new passport. She had expected him to go through her things at the airport. She'd have been disappointed in him if he hadn't.

"Quiet thing, unless I press the right buttons, huh?" He displayed his hand above her face and tapped lightly at her thigh again. "Do you really want to do this the hard way?"

She tensed, feeling his hand there. She knew it was coming. And as he began to press again into her bruise, he let out a little chuckle. "You don't need to tell me it hurts, I can tell that fine from the readings. But if you cooperate, maybe I'll tell you which of your little spy friends helped me find you."

Her stomach dropped, blood rushing to her ears and pounding in her head against the pain. She knew he could see her reaction on the computer and tried to push that thought out of her mind. It was a tactic to try and turn people against each other, to sow doubt. He was lying, she thought.

But what if he wasn't? What if someone had sold her out, sold out her location, told him who she had become and how to find her? The thought on its own was dizzying.

He gently stroked his nails up and down her sides and along the skin above and below the restraints. She felt her skin prickling at the sensation, her nipples hardening again under his gaze as he played her like a fucking instrument. He traded off between light and firmer touches, trailing his hands down her stomach to stroke at where it met her hip. His thumb strummed her skin there, running again and again over the lower edge of her belly before dipping lower and stroking along her thighs up toward her aching cunt.

She hated how wet she was. She hated that she could feel it - could feel cool air pressing against the wetness that had coated her lips, could feel the throb in her clit, could feel the wetness dripping down between her cheeks and onto the table beneath her. Her muscles ached from being in the same position for so long, from the way he had hit her and stroked her and from the precise, measured attention. Her head swam from it, and swam from the knowledge that he had a window into her body's reactions that she couldn't hide, couldn't even consciously control.

His fingers dipped between her legs again. Two pushed into her, hard, and the full humiliation of how wet she was dawned on her as he plunged into her hard, his fingers curling to rub inside her, gentle sucking sounds reminding her with every thrust how fucking wet she was. He fingered her until she was shaking, still staring up at him, refusing to close her eyes, refusing to give in to him even if he could read her reactions. She wouldn't, she couldn't - he could force it out of her however he wanted, but he couldn't make her give him those things. He couldn't make her give in.

He was good at it. His fingers pressed deeply into her, filling her in a way she hadn't realized she was desperate for. Against everything she wanted it felt good, and he pushed further into her, angling his fingers so that they rubbed agonizingly against her, making her clit ache to be touched and stimulated. It was only a few moments before her breathing was hard and she was pulling against the restraints again, thighs and stomach tensing, her hips barely able to move but trying to press down against him anyway.

She was close, and they both knew it, his eyes peering down at her and studying her face, making heat rise there until she had to look away, had to close her eyes to get away from him, for which he slapped her until she opened them. He grabbed her face in his hand, his other still busily pumping between her shaking legs, and kissed her, swallowing the small moan that she finally let escape. He pulled back, his hand an idle threat on her cheek while his other pushed her closer and closer, eyes flicking up to the screen every few moments before returning to stare at her, working her like a tool. Pressure built in her belly, and god she wanted him to touch her clit, it didn't matter, it was going to happen whether or not she liked it and so she let herself wish, let herself want, let herself accept that she was going to --

He stopped, pulling his fingers from her just as she was about to tumble over the edge. She gasped, sucking in a breath, her muscles trembling.

He smiled down at her. "I want to hurt you, you know." He didn't need to say it, but she thought he might have just to watch the reaction. Worn down, left dangling and aching and throbbing, she couldn't hide the shiver that went through her, the way the sentence made her clench her cunt on nothing and almost wish his fingers were back inside her.

"But there are only so many ways to hurt someone. You can't do it indefinitely, there comes a point of diminishing returns. How many years has it been, pretty spy? How long do you think I've been planning for this moment?"

She ignored his taunts, trying to still her shaking as she kept their eyes in contact. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of outward expression. She couldn't -- not more than she could help. She took a few deep breaths, willing her voice to be steady as she tried to plan her next move. "You said if I cooperated you might tell me who sold me out - but you didn't tell me what cooperation looks like."

He dragged a finger down her abdomen, making her twitch and her muscles contact under the restraints. "You want to know what I want." He drew little circles on her abdomen before dipping his fingers between her legs again, leaving little lines of tingling in his wake. This time his index finger dipped inside of her to gather some of her wetness before he drew it up her slit, pressing into her swollen clit. He began to gently rub -- first barely at all, and then with a little more pressure, up and down in small slow motions. It was too little to do anything at first, but soon an ache started up in her clit that made her want to scream and thrust at him. Anger and arousal and desperation rose up in her chest again and she tried to swallow them as he continued his slow, calculated assault.

"I know what you want," she bit out between staggered pants.

"Do you?" he asked, detached, continuing to drag the tip of his finger slowly against her. It felt good, but it wasn't enough to do anything other than make her desperately ache, her cunt leaking again onto the table. He continued in silence for some time -- it was hard for her to say how long through the haze of thoughts. Just pressing her slowly forward, steadily raising her arousal. Soft, slow, light, it was almost a surprise when she realized she was once again on the edge.

He kept her there for a while, varying his strokes to keep her arousal from either dipping or growing, and she wondered how he could have that much insight into her body as she tried to writhe beneath him. When he pulled away again she let out a strangled, desperate cry.

"You respond well to this," he said softly. "Let's see how far that goes."

He left her panting again as he returned to the cabinets and drawers, rummaging for something she couldn't see. She was lightheaded and shaking, her body alive and on fire and wanting, aching, throbbing, her breath uneven and hollow.

He left whatever he had found on the counter and moved down toward her hips. The table, it turned out, could part at her legs, and he repositioned her wide with her legs splayed open and got to work between them. She tried to get a look at what he'd collected but didn't have the line of sight to do so. She could imagine - though.

First something cold and slick pressed up against the tightness in her ass. She clenched at that, terrified of what he could have in store for her back there, but it didn't seem like her fear mattered very much. It was a plug, she thought, not a huge one but big enough that she felt herself stretch around it and whimpered. There was something like the sound of machinery - like he was torquing something into place, and something thick pressed against her opening. She let out a little whimper as a third implement pressed against her clit. As he stood up, she saw he had two wires in his hands that he attached to the same computer that was monitoring her body's reactions, and once again busied himself typing.

Their eyes met and he smiled, pressing a button on the computer, and causing the vibrator against her clit to come to life.

It was a strong one - the suddenness made her gasp and pull against her bonds again, not that it did much good. It seemed designed to push her to orgasm as quickly as possible, and she felt well on her way there already after the way he'd left her dangling. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to measure her breathing - it was pushing her to the edge fast, way too fast for something he'd taken that much time to set up - and she was worried what it was going to do when she got there.

Those fears, it seemed, were well founded. As soon as arousal turned into anything that could have resembled closeness, the dildo positioned at her entrance began to press into her, and the vibrator on her clit began to slow. With the dildo fully inside of her, stretching her almost painfully, the vibrator was off completely, leaving her frustrated again, even completely filled.

It slowly pulled out again, and as it did the vibrator came back to life, giving her clit a brief burst of pleasure before the dildo pushed back in and the vibrator died down, lowering in intensity until it was completely off, the dildo fully inside of her. The cycle repeated -- the more of the dildo inside of her, the less vibration there was. It was an agonizing cycle, her cunt clenching around the toy as it pushed deep enough inside of her that her body shuddered in panic. The orgasm she wanted was building in her lower abdomen behind her belly button, the one she desperately wanted, but held so tightly in her bonds there wasn't much she could do but thrash and try to bite back her moans.

She was failing at that too, though. She tried to distance herself from it, tried to close her eyes and focus on meditation or deep breathing or just enduring, and he seemed to know this and didn't seem to care, but after a few minutes he slapped her across the face again until she opened her eyes to meet his again, smiling down at her as he held up a pair of silver clamps. She whined as he put them on her nipples, sensitive from the edging and the earlier torment of his fingers. It hurt, and she whined as the dildo and vibrator continued their dance, and she was so fucking full, her ass clenching around the plug inside it and almost wishing he would pull it out and push it back in, fuck and torment her that way, too.

The thoughts were dizzying as he looked down at her with a little smile. His hand rested on her face, thumb stroking over her cheekbone. "I'll be back later. You can scream if you want to. It doesn't really matter, it's not going to make a difference. You can try to come if you want to, but you won't. You're so used to being in control, aren't you Olivia? I told you earlier -- pain has a point of diminishing returns. You can only beat or torture someone with pain for so long before they pass out or there's not much more you can do. But this," he gestured to the computer, to her body, to the setup between her legs, "well, I guess you're about to find out."