The Marine Bk. 02 Ch. 05

"Who are they?"

"They live in Manchester. Hannah and Emma live in Bristol. We know their address, the very apartment they call home."

"So because they live in Manchester, and these two live in Bristol, you think they're related to me? The UK has sixty-five to seventy million people."

"If you do not cooperate with us, Captain Smith, then action will need to be taken."

I groaned before banging my fists on the table. "Are you all fucking deaf? Do you speaky the Anglais? You do? Good. Look, I don't know who the fuck you think I am. My name is James Watson. Want me to spell that for you? Give me some crayons and I'll write it in pretty little colours so you can finally fucking comprehend. I was born in Reading. I work in a bank. I am completely and utterly fucking normal." I picked up the photos and shook them. "I don't know who these fucking people are!" I threw them onto his lap. "So, here's what you're going to do, as I'm tired of this bullshit. Either let me go or just fucking shoot me. Either way, at least I won't have to put up with any of your fucking questions again. Fucking hell, the Cold War is over yet you people are still acting like massive fucking suspicion filled cunts."

That ended the interview as I was dragged back to my cell and left alone. I did worry if I'd slightly given myself away, but even a civilian, scared for his life, would eventually just cry enough. Everyone has their limit in the end. Food and water arrived, the same gruel and tepid water. I was fairly sure I'd eaten a few times by now, though I couldn't remember exactly. The bucket was at least being emptied so the smell wasn't completely intolerable. I probably smelled horrific, so was surprised when I was dragged out to a bathroom, told to strip, as a bar of soap was thrown to me. Then I was power washed, but I'll be honest, it was ice cold water but felt good. And feeling clean, even if only for a few minutes, felt wonderful. Felt vaguely human again.

Surprisingly, I was escorted to the interrogation room, the table removed but the two chairs remained. I was sat down, legs attached to the legs as always, wrists handcuffed behind me this time. Three guards entered carrying a tray. Upon it was a metal cup, a syringe and what looked like a pill. Taking the pill, the other two guards opened my mouth and placed the pill at the back of my tongue before pouring in a little water, clasping my jaw shut and holding my nose, forcing me to swallow. When I did swallow it, I had to ask, "Did you fuckers just give me Viagra? I don't have erectile dysfunction, you know?"

The guards smirked as they took the syringe and plunged that into my neck. I knew what it was. What people called truth serum. Of course, it's all bullshit. It doesn't actually make you tell the truth. It simply makes a victim more suggestive, and I knew Russia had a long history of using it. The trio of guards left, leaving both drugs to take effect. I knew they'd likely give me another shot afterwards, hoping I'd forget. What they probably thought is that my training would have built up a tolerance to such drugs.

The reason for the Viagra arrived twenty minutes later. The door opened and in walked sex on legs. Dark hair, dark eyes, great tits, firm arse. She wore the uniform of a Russian Army major, and just her face had me rock hard in seconds, though I'm not sure if it was the tablet or my own libido. She smiled at the obvious tent in my thankfully clean underwear, the click of her heels echoing in the empty room, shrugging off her jacket and laying it on the seat.

To my surprise, she strolled towards me, standing a couple of paces away. "Brutality can't get you to talk, Captain Smith. Maybe beauty will work, yes? With everything in your bloodstream, perhaps an orgasm and pillow talk will make you more talkative?"

"Whatever you say, gorgeous."

"I am Major Natasha Federova of the FSB."

"Are you all spies in here?"

She smiled. "Well, some of us are, just like you, Captain Smith."

"James Watson."

She grabbed the collar of my shirt and ripped it, exposing my chest to her. Couldn't miss the scars I had. Nor the tattoo on my bicep. I vaguely remembered a question about that, stating my grandfather had been a marine, wearing it in his honour. Then her fingers passed over the tent in my boxers. She met my eyes and smiled. "Well, I think this is pleased to see me."

"Never fucked a Russian woman before." That was actually the truth. Probably one of the few truths I'd told since arriving. "They really going to let you just stroll on in here and fuck me?"

"Yes."

She helped lower my underwear so I sat there basically naked as she undid the buttons of her shirt to reveal a slim torso with a pair of C-cup breasts at best, before she lowered her skirt to reveal a great pair of long legs. She was at least five-eight, so those legs were long. She wore simple white lingerie, straddling my lap as she caressed my face for a moment before grabbing my jaw firmly.

"You will talk in the end, Captain Smith. You're not the first we'll make cum then be surprisingly full of conversation afterwards."

"You want to fuck me, knock yourself out, toots. Been a while since I got laid. Beautiful Russian woman wants to fuck me? Take a picture so I remember it later."

She didn't remove her bra, but she did stand up and lower her panties to reveal a perfectly smooth pussy. My cock throbbed with anticipation. Would have loved to touch her but, well, my hands were not free. She teased me by fondling herself for a couple of minutes, her eyes never leaving mine. She was utterly gorgeous. I had a feeling she'd made more than one man sing like a canary during or afterwards.

Straddling my lap again, my cock quickly found its way inside her hot, tight pussy. I couldn't help the groan that escaped me as she slowly lowered herself down until our groins bumped together. "You like my pussy, yes?"

"Fuck yes," I groaned.

She kissed my cheek and started to ride me. "You will answer my questions later, yes?"

"What questions?"

"All the questions, what we need to know."

"Sure, whatever, just keep going."

I really wanted to touch her, but just being inside her was enough. She was one of the sexiest women I'd ever been with. I was trying desperately not to cum too quickly, though if they'd given me the blue pill I thought it was, I'd stay hard. So she happily rode me, watching her face light up as she seemed to enjoy my cock, at least. When she seemed to sense I was getting ready to cum, all she did was smile.

"You can cum in me. You will stay hard, and I have taken precautions."

So I didn't hold back, letting myself fire spurt and spurt of cum deep inside that tight Russian pussy. Feeling rather light-headed, I leaned forward against her chest, surprised when I felt her fingers caress the back of my head.

"Listen carefully," she said so quietly, I almost missed it, "Are you listening, Captain?"

"James Watson."

She sighed. "Fine, listen to me carefully, James. I am Agent Rebecca Banks."

"Huh?"

She shushed me. "I work for 'The Org'. Codename: Foxtrot."

She was lying. I knew that immediately. Org members never revealed their codenames, nor the name of the very organisation we worked for, even under duress. Org members rarely ever met once their training was complete and they were given assignments. We operated independently, and if we ever did work together, we used our assumed identities. The only person who knew our codenames was the Director. So I knew straight away she was lying.

"I don't know what you mean."

"What's your codename?"

I sighed. "I don't know what you're talking about." I sat back and met her eyes. She was almost pleading with me in silence to cooperate with her, but I didn't believe her. We'd been trained to never, and I mean never, reveal our identities, either the one we'd left behind, and certainly not our codename nor anything we'd done. The fact they knew Nick Stevens did perturb me, but that was simply my new identify after letting go of Nathan Smith. He was officially dead. James Watson was just my cover for the time being while I lived in London. If I was eventually moved on, I'd assume another cover identity based on location.

She started to ride me again, seeming to enjoy my cock at least. Pulling me tight to her body, she whispered, "You have to trust me, Captain."

I almost snorted. "Trust? Sorry, love, that's in short supply around her. Keep riding me though, I'm not going to complain."

What I don't think she expected to happen was the orgasm that ripped through her, as she cried out, feeling her pussy clamp my cock something fierce before I needed to sit back, her head resting against my shoulder as she needed to catch her breath. Looking down her naked back, I saw a few scars, so perhaps she wasn't exactly lying.

"Rebecca," I whispered close to her ear, "My name is James Watson. I'm sorry, I don't know who you think I am, but whoever you do, I'm not him."

She lifted her head from my shoulder. What surprised me was the soft kiss she laid on my lips. "I am sorry, Captain. If this won't make you talk then I guess that's it. The colonel has stated, if I could not make you talk, then they will simply up the torture."

"So no bullet yet?"

"No, Captain. Not yet." Lifting herself off me, she grabbed a pack of tissues from her bag, wiping herself down before politely wiping down my cock. I was going to be hard for a little longer, enjoying her fingers caressing my cock. "Haven't had too many bigger inside me, Captain," she said with a slight smile, "Some lucky women must have enjoyed you over the years."

After helping me with my underwear, she dressed herself before giving me one last, sad glance, then she disappeared out the door. Guards walked in rather quickly and escorted me back to my cell, practically throwing me inside.

Normality resumed after that, I mean the beatings, interrogation. Another dose of waterboarding, because why not. Then they added electric shock treatment. One of those old spring mattresses, attach me to it, and send an electric current through it. That fucking hurt. And still the questions. Add all the pain to the sleep deprivation and I was pretty much just thinking kill me now. I wasn't going to tell them anything so was as fed up as they were.

I lost complete track of time, which is the whole point. It helps with the delirium. I couldn't remember the last time I slept for a few hours, or at least the last time it felt like I slept for a good eight hours. The only thing I knew is that I hadn't blown my cover. If I had, I knew I'd either be dead, or they'd be trying to turn me by now. The fact they asked the same questions, over and over, meant I hadn't broken just yet.

But every man has his limits. And my thoughts were about Jennifer. If they'd done anything...

I knew something was different when the guards entered and immediately placed a bag over my head. Escorted god knows where, I was forced to my knees, my hands and ankles left free. I heard low voices around me, not quite sure what was going to happen. Then I heard a gun being prepared, and the barrel placed to the back of my head.

"About fucking time, you bunch of fucking pussies."

"Any last words?"

"Go fuck yourself."

A gun went off. I'll admit, I flinched before I felt the presence of everyone disappear around me. I'd felt nothing, so I just figured I was already dead and it was my body slowly dying. No-one really knew what happened during the dying process, but I hadn't felt myself collapse to the ground, though I did still feel the concrete at my knees. Glancing left and right, I felt no sense of anyone around me. Carefully removing the hood, I looked forward to see the window was now clear. Behind stood the Director and a few other people I recognised. Emily. Jennifer. Rebecca.

I got to my feet and charged at the window. "You fucking cunt!" I shouted, putting all my weight into breaking the glass. "You were doing this to me? Fuck you!" I put my shoulder into the window again and again.

"Calm down, Agent Stevens!" a voice called. The Director.

"Calm down! I'll give you calm fucking down once I get my hands around your fucking throat! I'm going to rip your fucking head off and shit down your fucking throat."

The door opened and I saw a trio of men enter in suits. I charged at them immediately, all three raising and shooting at me. I glanced down to see tranquilizer darts poking out of my chest. I managed to take all three out by the time I'd slammed into them, forcing them backwards against the wall. "Where's the door? I'm going to kill that fucking bastard."

"Agent Stevens, get a hold of yourself!" a voice called, suits appearing to either side of me. Six of the fuckers. Before I could move, I felt even more darts enter my body. I don't remember collapsing to the ground.

*****

My eyelids felt like they had one hundred tonne weights attached to them as I felt myself come around. Trying to raise my hands to my face, I groaned as they were shackled. I could barely remember what last happened. Well, I did remember a beautiful Russian woman and a lot of torture. Other than that, everything was rather fuzzy.

"He's awake," a voice said.

"Where am I?" I wondered, "I'm not still in fucking Russia, am I?"

Opening my eyes, I was in what looked like a bedroom, though I was on a hospital gurney. A man in a white coat was to my right, while to my left, holding my hand was... I'm not sure what her name was now. But she smiled at me, and I felt a grin of my own. "Welcome back," she said softly.

"Soooo..."

"Welcome back, Agent Stevens," the Director stated, walking through the doorway, "Gave us a little trouble there at the end. An understandable reaction, one we'd prefer to see rather than you sitting there, feeling sorry for yourself."

I sighed. "I guess I understand. Last piece of the puzzle, right? See how much a man or woman can endure before they break."

He nodded. "The last assignment. So I'm glad you do understand, Agent. You were only the third to make it all the way. The only one to go to his death telling them to go fuck themselves. The other two were a little more patriotic, at least." Rebecca giggled next to me. "You've got two weeks, Agent, then you are being activated officially. No more tests. This was the last one. You will receive what you need via the usual method, including your new codename."

"I finally get one?"

"You've just gone through the ordeal, Agent Stevens. You have earned your new codename. Doctor, is he ready to go?"

"Apart from some bruising, obvious sleep deprivation, and the food and water he was given was, quite frankly, absolute garbage, he's fine. A week of rest and he'll be fit, ready to operate."

"Good. Take this time for yourself, Nate." I met his eyes at the use of my old name. Figured that would be the last time I'd hear it from him. "Everything to this point has been training, a test of your abilities and endurance. From now on, your life is your own hands. You know the score otherwise."

"I do, sir."

"Good job otherwise. Outstanding fucking job. With me, doctor."

"One question, sir?"

"Sure."

"Where the fuck were we?"

"Abandoned site up in Scotland. Perfect for what we were doing."

"Oh, for fuck's sake..."

He patted my shoulder before the doctor released my restraints. Then I glanced at whoever the woman was. She leaned down and kissed my cheek. "My name is Rebecca Banks," she whispered, "And I am an agent."

"Who with? CIA? One of the other million acronyms?"

"No. But not with your group either. We work in similar circles."

"And you're here because?"

She moved to kiss me, which felt rather delightful, to be honest. "Well, you have some free time, and so do I. If you're up for it." I glanced down and threw back the sheet, lifting my tunic to reveal my hard cock. "Well, I think you are."

"Am I in my house?"

"No, we're in a safe house. Your home is absolutely fine. They did break down the door. Already fixed. Everything is otherwise sorted out."

"How long was I gone? Felt like weeks."

"Ten days."

"That's it?" She nodded. "Fucking hell." I sighed before adding, "Guess that's the point though, right?"

"Colonel Jones called you one of the most uncooperative bastards he's ever had the pleasure of dealing with. Coming from him, that's a mega compliment." She then didn't surprise me by shaking off most of her clothing before joining me on the gurney in just her underwear. Helping me sit up, I did groan as the painkillers were apparently wearing off, but once I was naked, she rested a hand on my chest and smiled down at me. "I've never done that before, Nick." I smiled at the use of my proper name. "But, I'll admit, I was attracted to you so though I'd try and tempt you differently."

"Honey-trap me, in a way."

"Yes, but with the idea of getting you to spill your guts to me by offering the idea at I was an ally."

"You made two mistakes."

She blushed. "I know, your Director told me afterwards."

She undid her bra, revealing a fantastic pair of tits, before somewhat awkward taking off her panties. Naked above me, she leaned down and kiss me. This time, I could move my hands, making her smile as my hands caressed her back, before I made her squeal and laugh by easily rolling her over onto her back, her dark eyes gazing up into mine. "So this just going to be a short time fling?"

"I'm back to the US at the end of the week. But... I wasn't just impressed by the fact you survived, Nick. You're fucking gorgeous."

"Want to make love and speak Russian to each other?"

"Da."

"Where's Jennifer?"

"She's at home. She told me to have a little fun with you considering you do have quite a lovely dick, Nick."

"You're a poet."

"And didn't know it."

I snorted and laughed, making her giggle as I leaned down to kiss her again. Sliding my cock inside her, I stopped as soon as I was buried, unable to stop the grin form on my face. God, it felt bloody good to be with a woman again. Properly, at least. Feeling her hands move up my arms, I started to thrust, enjoying the sensation of her pussy, how hot and tight it was. I couldn't stop kissing her, or staring at her face. She was absolutely gorgeous, making her blush as I just gazed at her.

Feeling her move her legs to rest against me, I started to pump her a little faster, fingers starting to dig into my back, before I suggested she help herself. That earned another smile. "This one is just for you. If you're able, we'll go out for dinner, then take me back to yours?"

Fucked her even harder for that suggestion, making her moan more than once, her legs eventually wrapping around me as she begged me to fuck her. I couldn't last forever, not with a woman like her, little wonder I warned her then barely lasted thirty seconds before I sprayed her insides with cum. Leaving my cock buried, I relaxed on top of her, head next to hers, feeling soft lips at my cheek and neck. "Okay," I murmured, "Once we're back at mine, I'm going to spend a long time with my face between your legs. Just so you know."

Pulling out, resting on our sides facing each other, we couldn't share too much about our personal lives. Rebecca wasn't her real name as much as James wasn't mine, though she'd obviously heard all about my life. I'd spent a long time eliminating my accent, though I could speak six languages fluently with the correct accent. When it came to English, I could feign a dozen English accents, a couple of American and an Australian accent, thought the fact I now had to fake it sometimes felt a little weird.

Leaving the safehouse a little later, I was amazed that we walked out onto a street I knew well. Taking her hand, we walked towards the nearest Underground station, swapping a couple of times, before we arrived in Kensington. Living in an affluent area simply made sense as my cover suggested I made plenty of cash. Aston Martin in the garage. Expensive townhouse. Suits from Saville Row. The cover should last as long as I needed it.