The Story of Jasmine

As she lay there, naked, stomach down, her hands and feet tied to the corners of the table, her thoughts kept returning to her lifelong inability to orgasm being due to some sneaky pre-birth pills and a bit of surgery when she popped out. Her father's having her career set up for her to jump straight into like a warm tower out the dryer, and her mother's disapproval of her wanting to pursue acting. It had all been planned, all of it. Her whole life meant only what information she had learned while she was in Syria, tracking and eventually fucking that handsome young man and planting bugs on men's coat tails.

But if that information was all she was worth, she would be damned if she was going to just let it out that easily. 'Come on, torture me how you will. I've been trained as a top of the world spy all my life as you well know. I can resist you forever.' She thought. 'What have you got for me? Cold water drips? Mind control? Hypnosis? Physical pain?' In her mind she imagined herself yawning at them. 'Yes, boring. Move along please, you have nothing that interests me.' In her mind her once commanders, now captors, shuffled gloomily away and were replaced by-

-By Sehan, the young prince in line she had been tasked with tracking in Syria. His handsome features and olive brown skin shone and he smiled at her, happy to see her again.

The door clanged open and a woman walked in holding a tray. Sehan disappeared and the smile on her face did too, as she realized her torture was about to begin.

'Hello Jasmine. How are we? Comfortable enough, I trust?'

'Don't give me the small talk shit, Leila, I know you're just fucking with my head and as you well know, that doesn't work on me.' Not like it does on you, she added as an afterthought, since I'm not the one with a small computer in my skull controlling and using and deceiving me.

'If the task was small talk, I assure you, I'd be doing much more of it, Seven-Two-Six.' She had used her code number. Jasmine hated it; it made her feel unequal, inhuman, like an object and not a person. Leila must have known that.

Just as she was thinking this, Leila came round to the front and bent over so she could look into Jasmine's eyes. Jasmine, half due to her still drowsy state from the drugs and half because she was strapped face down on the metal table, could barely see her - but when Leila bent lower to shine a light into her eyes, she could see Leila's own were blank and dilated. She's being controlled right now, Jasmine thought sadly. She probably doesn't even know what she's doing. Or that she's doing it to her only friend. What she could get a good view of, however, was Leila's cleavage, a very exposed gap between two large and round breasts. Her corset top couldn't have been tighter, and those boobs had to be almost bursting out the top, Jasmine thought. But again, Leila would have been "suggested" to put it on by the wireless chip in her head, and wearing it today would have made as much sense as taking an umbrella on a rainy day.

Leila finished examining Jasmine's eyes and ears and moved back round to her side. Jasmine lost view of her and the last thing she saw was a tight, wiggly ass as she left. Jasmine ignored her mind telling her how sexy Leila had become in the six years Jasmine had been overseas and looked around instead. There was nothing of interest around but stark metal walls, but she could just make out high above her, a long window with people milling behind it.

White lab-coat people.

Shit, she thought. I'm deep somewhere. Must be underground or I'd be getting a signal on my implant, but not a tingle. This one's going to be hard to escape.

'Thinking of escape, Jasmine? Don't. You can't leave here until we have your data.' Leila said blandly. For a chilling second, Jasmine wondered if they'd already implanted a chip into her own head too. But she was sure they hadn't. Her overactive damage sense was calm as anything. But it was a little tingly around her butt, which, she figured, had to be where Leila and her instruments were.

Jasmine had been given several gifts in her early childhood to help her spy work. These included a tiny electrical pill in her left wrist that allowed her to detect Wi-Fi and radio signals by tingling, an enhanced sixth sense and physical sense, meaning she could detect and pinpoint damage to herself, sense where someone was or how close something was by the tingling of her skin. She had also been given an auto-shutdown; or more accurately, control over her sleep ability. Apparently though they'd managed to nullify her sleeping ability or she'd have been out like a light by now.

Right then a tingle in her groin drew her attention to the physical world once more, and almost instantly, a cool, soft hand, slick with some sort of oil, contacted her skin. It touched her crotch lightly, neither actually on her vagina or her butt crack but right in between. It felt around a little, like it was taking in the view down there. Then it slid smoothly up a little and went between her butt cheeks. As the oily fingers ran over her tender butthole and smeared the oil, which was making her skin tingle and jump in a way she hadn't felt before, she lifted her head and strained to see. She saw Leila, her hands dripping with a golden sparkly oil, lovingly lathering it on her butt - one hand periodically sliding fresh oil between her cheeks, the other rolling it onto her round ass.

'So what's the torture method? Not planning on a deadly backrub, are we? Or perhaps an acidic oil bath? What new form of suitably violent and disgusting torture can we think of, hmm?' She looked up, up at the window, up at the microphone dangling above her head. She was sure they were the real torturers, the real ringmasters, and that Leila was only a puppet. Just as Jasmine had been.

'Nothing painful at all, actually. But the one thing you have no defense against.' Leila said matter-of-factly.

'And what, pray tell, is that?' Jasmine said, sarcastically, as Leila's smooth soft hands spread the golden oil over her inner thighs and legs. A drop of it running down her crotch met her vagina and seemed to instantly disperse inside, spreading itself into her like water into a dry sponge. For a second, Jasmine was taken aback by its sheer physical power, the way it excited every nerve in her lady hole. Apparently so was Leila, for the moment it entered Jasmine, her eyes dilated some more and her head tweaked slightly. She could feel what it felt, and it felt good to be in there.

But Jasmine did not see this, as the door opened again and another girl walked in. Jasmine craned to see her, and saw that she too wore a tight sexy corset, but that hers was purple instead of Leila's red. Jasmine knew her, and knew why the color choice was so ironic; this was Violet, the girl they had used specifically to seduce Sir Veni la Romba while their special armed task force secured his room, broke in and assassinated him mid-fuck. She never remembered it. She had also been implanted with a chip, but hers was the generation after Leila's. It was clear to Jasmine that Violet was not open for bargaining. Her slutty walk, blank eyes and total porn star makeup and hair do said that much. But Leila... Well, she might just have a chance.

As Violet entered, Leila spoke again.

'You have never experienced it in your life, so you have never been given the chance to defend yourself against it. It was useful to us to make you a better agent. But today we shall use it against you.'

Jasmine said nothing, and Violet's now oily hands joined Leila's on her body. 'Orgasm is one of the most powerful things a human being can experience, Jasmine. And you are about to experience your very first one.' Violet finished for Leila, whispering it in Jasmine's ear, her oily hands rubbing the tingly warm oil into Jasmine's back. The table under her legs split and widened, so that her ankles were pulled apart and her crotch was exposed fully. Her entire lower body was warm and tingly, it felt incredible, like being in the perfect temperature bath with nice bath bubbles all around.

Everywhere the oil went, she went warm and fuzzy. It was intoxicating to Jasmine, but she snapped herself out of it over and over again. She began to form a sentence in her mind, a sentence saying how she was biologically incapable of orgasm, that these very people had done that to her, and that girls didn't even turn her on. But the warm oil was clouding her head and she wanted badly to sink into the warm tingling. And Violet's hands were at her neck now, and Leila's were on the small of her back, and Jasmine really didn't feel like arguing with the pleasure their hands brought in case they stopped. She let out a small contented gasp, biting her lip slightly and letting her eyes shut, taking it in.

And then Leila's finger slipped into Jasmine's tender, tingling vagina.

The sensation of that alone sent shivers rattling all through her body and she smiled in delight, her body overdosing on the brilliant sensations her senses were sending her. Her vagina clamped around the finger and she squeezed her butt involuntarily. It tingled at once, all over its circumference, and she giggled at it in joy. All arguments and rejections left her mind and she settled down into the golden sparkly oil that sucked her consciousness evermore downwards, downwards into the wonderful warm golden oblivion her body was already in.

She never even registered being untied and flipped over onto her back, her body limp. All she felt was the wonderful golden ooze covering her tummy and tits now, and sunk deeper into its blissful oblivion. Her face and hair were covered too, and her entire body, from head to toe, became one beautiful warm quilt. Her world only got better when Jasmine's legs parted further still, and fingers tenderly peeled her vagina open and two slick digits wormed inside. It intensified when they began to saw gently in and out, and doubled again when another slipped into her butthole. Her breasts had the full attention of Violet's loving hands and her crotch was Leila's sole concern in life. Jasmine's shiny slick body squirmed in delight at the utter pleasure flowing unstoppably from her groin and the smile of sheer joy on her face stayed.

Jasmine never even knew her mouth had been working the whole time, ever since a soft, silky voice had told her to. Working, speaking six years' worth of unhindered, personalised, detailed memories into the microphone dangling only a few feet above. It went on and on without a single pause, only the occasional sigh of utter pleasure. The girls continued tenderly pleasuring Jasmine, never once even thinking an unwanted thought. Their lives were the part of Jasmine's body they had been tasked to, and their own pussies dripped as their mind was fed a reward wirelessly. To them, they were living out their personal fantasies in their heads, their vaginas full and their beds soaked. And so they rubbed on.

When Jasmine had finally finished her recount, the two girls simultaneously stripped, their breasts springing from their tops and their panties peeling wetly from their crotches. They then slapped a good helping of the golden oil onto their own pussies, rubbing it well in. Then, they turned back to Jasmine, still obliviously grinning away on the table, her hips raising and lowering slightly as her groin still felt the fingers inside it. Leila's hand slid back into her vagina and Violet's back to Jasmine's bust, and they rubbed, hard, bringing Jasmine closer, closer, right to the very edge of an orgasm...

And, with a loud moan, her back arching and her entire body tensing as tightly as it possibly could, she came. The orgasm blasted through her like dynamite in a mine, squirting creamy cum from her hole and clenching the muscles in her groin tight around Leila's fingers. Leila and Violet, for their part, were one with her orgasm, the responsive oil linking their bodies and their minds. As Jasmine had her first and most powerful orgasm, an orgasm set to make any porn star ashamed, so did they. The three of them splattered juicy wetness under their crotches, and when they were done, they collapsed to the floor, grinning like Jasmine.

Jasmine, for her part, was asleep, knocked out by more sensory input than her body was capable of. She dreamt she had her first orgasm, two hot naked women pleasuring her on her bed in her rich apartment, covering her in smooth oil and sliding their fingers into her. Her dream was a vivid one, and it lasted long after she had been carried back to her room come cell, a towel had been draped over her, and the room had been cleaned, bugged and locked securely. She dreamt on, the grin never once leaving her face.

Jasmine's inability to orgasm was not due to her being a virgin; she had lost her virginity at the age of 18, to a boy she had seduced in class. The memory was a fond one to her; she had spent the day sending him hot signals across the class, fingering her pencil like it was his cock, sliding her panties off through her skirt and pressing the rubber tipped end into herself while he watched from across the room. The boys beside him saw too, but she didn't care. She wanted one of them, and whichever one manned up first would do. The loud and rude one to the left, clearly confident enough; her main focus, the shy but cute guy in the middle - he had a perfect view up her skirt - or the sleazy greasy one to the right. No, Jasmine wouldn't prefer any of them. They all looked like they had sizable packages.

It had been Sam, the boy directly across, who'd made the move. He came up to her after class, and, scratching his head uncomfortably, he had asked her what she'd been doing back there, and whether it had been for him or not. Her response had been to pull him in and kiss him, hard, passionately, hotly, gripping his hard meat as she did. He was startled but caught on surprisingly quickly, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her chest in to his.

Half an hour later her head was back, eyes closed, mouth open in ecstasy as she rode him standing, one leg raised and held behind him, arms clawing at his back. He had a good, solid length and width about him, and it filled her fully. She kept going, hard, pumping herself over him. She felt him cum, it spurred her on, and he kept going as long as he could. Eventually, Jasmine slowed down, until she tenderly stepped down and slid her vagina off his meat. He was red and sore, but he'd had the best fuck he'd have for years. They kissed some more, but he left soon after, thanking her many times.

Jasmine, however, just sat back on the chair, confused, not caring about her discarded skirt on the floor or her shirt hanging loosely over her breasts. She felt somehow unfulfilled, unhappy, unfinished, her vagina still tingling and the sensation of his meat in her still lingering. There was little first time pain, and no orgasm. She had watched porn, she knew what orgasms were, and she knew enough to know that he'd had one and she hadn't.

Jasmine tried five more times that year, with four different boys. Sam got two helpings. Every time she tried something different, and every time her arousal would climb higher and higher and tenser and closer, and then it'd ride back down. No climax. Not for her. Not one. All the boys had theirs, shooting into her, but she never came herself. Eventually she put it down to not being satisfied enough with them. She tried toys, but still nothing. It puzzled her and confused her and was a constant rain on her parade all throughout school. It left her unsatisfied and cranky, and ruined sex for her. But she put it aside the day the Service came to take her to training camp for the National Undercover Intelligence Agency.

Jasmine had never even thought about birth control, either. It never occurred to her until she read about it online, and by then it had been a year since her first fuck. Every boy had cum into her, but never had she taken a pill. This puzzled her, but she was less concerned with it than with her lack of orgasmic finality. This too, however, went on the back burner the day the Service took her away.

From the age of seventeen, Jasmine went through three long years of intensive full frontal training, and she transformed from a coming of age teen to an adult who thought like an adult and acted like one. She was trained to suppress desires, to read people like a book, to control things like breathing and heart rate, to fight and sweet talk and hack and ruse. She learned how technology worked and how to exploit it without assistance. She learned how to plant bugs and use sleeper darts and how to fire a gun and other languages.

She also learned how her implants worked, once they were installed. She awakened her sleeping ability and her sensitive sixth sense, which had been dormant in her for years, and she had a metal slug the size of a grain of rice inserted in her left arm. She began to evolve, to learn to use and hence thrive off the world around her. And she adopted her codename: Seven-two-six. She would live under this name for the next six years.

And then, on her twenty-second birthday, she was informed she had completed her course and was going on active duty, effective immediately. She had no possessions to pack, and so was escorted quickly and quietly directly to the airport, where she flew for many long hours to somewhere unknown. She never said goodbye to her parents; being in boarding school, she hadn't seen them since she was fifteen, and she had little desire to. She disappointed them then, and she preferred not to give them any further reason to now.

Jasmine awoke to soft light filtering through the barred window, and realized groggily that it was night. The moon was full and shone onto the floor beside her bed. She took a moment, ad turned over. As she did so, her body's sense of touch sprang to life. She had a towel over her naked body, which she lifted gingerly. She ran her hands down her body, which felt faintly slick, as though it had been covered in oil. For the briefest of moments, she imagined herself covered in a slick, golden liquid, with naked women with big full bosoms smearing it over her body...

She shook the thought away, remnants of a dream unwanted. Sitting up dizzily she tried to collect her thoughts, but they scurried away as soon as she reached for them. Holding her head. She stood and stumbled to the sink, filling a glass and drinking deeply. She was dehydrated and tired; her body had been working hard at something it wasn't used to. She drank again and then moved slowly to the cupboard to dress. She pulled on a shirt and pants groggily, a headache coming on. She then went and rested at the window, breathing in the cool air and soft moonlight. It helped, and she began to regain some strength.

She popped some headache pills and sat at the desk holding her head in her hands for a while, thinking. When her head cleared sufficiently, she began to rub her temples gently and thought. She surfed through her memories, methodically locating and identifying her last memory and working forwards from there. Images came to mind, imagined snapshots of herself strapped to a table, naked; a high up window and a microphone; hot girls slathering her in golden oil. But it was blurry and there wasn't enough to work with. Jasmine sighed and kept trying. A table, she was tied to, face down... A girl, not thinking for herself, a friend... Violet? No, she came in later. Purple corset, bigger tits. Next gen chip.

Later experiment. One before. Samantha? No, she was in America. Yellow mission. No yellow corset. Red... Yes, red. Leila, that's it. Leila. Telling her... Telling her what? Torture methods. Torturing what? Information. Her memories of Syria. Her memories of Sehan. Torturing, but no pain. No damage. Something good. Too good to control. Physical distraction... Oil, some sort of mentally linked oil. Reactions. Connecting with senses. Leila and Violet being in tune with it. It soaking hungrily into her vagina. Into her whole body. The golden warm sensations of it soaking beautifully into her skin all over as Leila's soft fingers penetrated her lady hole and Violet massaged her body, arousing and intensifying and climaxing and orgasm and information flowing and-