“BDSM is pretty straight forward. I command, you obey. You will witness and participate in public sex acts carried out in a ritualistic manner.” His clinical description helped her push down her panic, which she would never show anyway. There was no way for her to refuse her first deep cover operation without irrevocably damaging her career, and she had worked too damn hard to allow that. Even if it meant fucking the arrogant Derek Clark. He was continuing, “I have copies of the material for the flight. Be at the airfield at 1800 hours.”

Nina gave a professional nod, stood and left the office. Both men watched her shapely ass as she walked out. When the door closed, “You’re a lucky bastard, Clark,” McPhee said. “Just remember, she’s an agent of the CIA too. Try not to abuse the situation – much.”

Clark tossed him a wolfish grin. “You’re going to get a better agent back,” he said, “one who responds instinctively to command, and who will be trained in every sexual game imaginable. Think how valuable she’ll be for deep penetration after this.” And they shared a hearty laugh at his double entendre.

***

Nina marched through her preparations, packing a suitcase, closing down her house – something she’d done several times before since during training she frequently had to leave for extended periods of time. She used every bit of discipline she possessed to not let her fear and anger cause her to falter.

She arrived at the airfield and found Derek waiting for her on the large plane. Within moments the crew had them off the ground. Nina and Derek sat side by side in two of the ten seats that filled the small forward compartment. A door just behind them led into a wide rear chamber. Surveillance equipment and the five men who manned it were below in the spacious hold.

Derek handed her two paperback books and she started reading.

As The Story of O unfolded, Nina was plunged into a castle in her mind, for Roissy, the fortress of submission, evoked images of shadowed corridors and echoing footsteps, vulnerable naked flesh and blindfolds, fear and desire, pride and humiliation. There was something both heated and cold about the book, something terribly intimate and oddly detached. She felt her legs trembling at descriptions of the men whipping O, and her eyes wandered off the pages to Derek’s hand resting near her arm, his long legs and the bulge between them, suddenly threatening even though he seemed to take no notice of her. But he knew what she was reading and it almost felt violating for him to be able to imagine what images had to be going through her mind. The Sleeping Beauty book was brighter, lighter, but more thorough erotica, warmer and more suffused with pleasure. Part of that came from the inclusion of male slaves within the story, but she doubted where they were headed would share that attribute. More like Roissy. Men dominating female slaves. Probably no woman walked free on that island. The books frightened her, but finishing them was even worse. As soon as she closed the second one, Derek looked at her and gestured toward to door behind the seats.

“Let’s go,” he said. “We only have four hours before we land.”

For a split second Nina could not move. She couldn’t look at him.

Derek snapped his fingers in front of her face and it was a like a gunshot, making her give a subtle start.

“Move,” he said, an edge of impatience in his voice. She was terribly aware of his height and weight as they rose. Derek Clark was six foot two and heavily muscled, with jet black hair, a strong chin and hard black eyes. He opened the door and waited for her to enter.

The room had a wide bed along one side, and a long table across from it. A cabinet stood in the far corner. Derek went to it and opened the tall doors.

“Take off your clothes,” he said.

Nina hesitated a moment, and then unbuttoned her blouse. Shrugging out of it, she unfastened her pants and let them drop. After bending to pull them off her feet, she straightened and took in a sharp breath. Derek had laid several implements out on the table: cuffs, chains, a riding crop, a leather strap. She stared at them. He was watching her, his eyes running approvingly over her shapely figure, shown off to perfection by the black lace bra and bikini panties. After a moment though, he ordered again, “Take them off.”

She didn’t move. Standing in front of a male colleague in her underwear was no worse than walking a beach in a bikini. Removing that underwear and standing stark naked in front of him – she remained still.

Moving with all the swiftness of an experienced field agent, Derek seized her arm, spun her and pushed her face down over the bed. She cried out and twisted instinctively, trying to escape. He forced her arms behind her back and fastened her wrists with the snug leather cuffs, which she hadn’t even seen him pick up before he attacked. She screamed when she felt his hand slide under the waistband of her panties and twist. The material cut into the tops of her thighs, her abdomen and her already throbbing sex, then tore away. His hand struck down on her bare buttocks in a blow that took her breath away with its vicious sting.

“You fucking son of a bitch!” she shrieked.

Pinning her with a knee in the small of her back, Derek caught her hair in a tight fist and wrenched her back into a hurting arch. He bent close to her ear and hissed, “Do you have any idea what I will have to do to you if anything like that passes your lips once we’re on that island?” She was panting, still writhing without thought. He shook her head by the tight grip, making her moan. “Do you? Get a hold of yourself!” And his hand smacked down again on her tight bottom, and again, and again. Nina was fighting back sobs. He slapped her again, and let his hand linger, his fingers squeezing the mounds of her buttocks. Then he laid three sharp smacks on her tightening ass.

“I get it!” she cried.

“I don’t think you do.” Quickly he straddled her back and she felt something metal slide against her skin, under the strap of her bra. Suddenly the cup was loose. Then the other side. Then the back strap. Derek lifted her torso by the hair and jerked the flimsy material out from under her.

Derek spoke harshly, “There are millions of beautiful young girls out there and these men can have any of them they want kidnapped and brought to them. The extremes they will go to in order to punish a woman they find disobedient – you can’t even imagine after having lived your life in a culture where you are considered an equal. Once we land, you are my slave, and if you don’t act like it, I will have to hurt you to protect our cover. So, you’d better learn quickly. And quit your fucking whining. This is considerably less worse than an Afghani prison camp, and that’s the kind of thing you took a chance on happening when you became a covert agent.” He moved off her back, took her hips in his hands and jerked them up so that her legs were straight but her chest was still on the bed. “I’m going to spank you again. You can make noise and writhe around, but make it sexy.”

Derek slapped her raised ass. Nina gave a breathless cry, her legs trembling. Her arms ached where they were bound behind her and her head was spinning from the rough treatment and his little speech. He began to spank her in earnest and each slap sent a wave of heat through her, the sound undoing her almost as much as the sensation. After a five smacks, her hips started to roll. After ten she was gasping and swinging her ass mindlessly.

Derek stood over her watching the lewd display with a cool smile on his lips. He knew he’d chosen well when he’d picked her for this assignment. He’d always suspected her cold demeanor was overcompensation for her inner whore. He caressed her burning buttocks with slow and languorous fingers, which made her legs shake. With a swift movement, he pushed the backs of her knees hard, making her fall over the bed. Easily he flipped her onto her back. Her long hair was scattered around her pouting face, her big tits a sight to make his mouth water. He pushed her thighs apart and she instinctively tried to protect her vulnerable clit from his gaze by closing them. He slapped the inside of her thighs until they were pink and she was bucking on the bed. Abruptly, he stepped back, leaving her panting and moaning as he went to the table.

Standing over her again, holding the leather strap in his hands, he examined her, noting that his gaze was almost as terrible to her as his slapping hands. “Our cover,” he said as he let the strap’s end fall gently onto her flat belly, “is that you are a new captive. So you’ll be able to respond relatively naturally and no one will think much of it if you cry or fight back. But be careful,” he was moving the strap in swirling patterns up and down her torso and legs, being careful not to touch her breasts which were beginning to heave and tremble, “if you go too far, there are very bad things I will be expected to do to you, or lose face, which I cannot afford to do. Do you understand?” He flicked the very end of the strap over one pink nipple, and Nina’s body seized, her back arching violently. The leather struck her other nipple and she cried out.

“Please!” Her eyes closed and he raised the strap, then laid it full across her breasts. “aaaaahhhhhh!”

Derek plunged his hand into her hair and drew her up to her feet, pulling her head back so that her tits thrust up. Dropping the strap onto the bed, he grasped her breast with his free hand, savoring its weight and firmness. His thumb swathed over the tight pink bud and she gasped. Slowly he tickled her sensitive flesh, rolling the nipple, pushing it back and forth, then moving to the other and caressing it likewise. Raising his hand he now ran a finger over her full lips, which were moist and swollen. He pushed his thumb into her mouth.

“Look at me,” he said, his deep voice low.

Her eyelids fluttered, but she obeyed as he forced his thumb deeper into her mouth. The soft warmth engulfing his finger sent a throb through his already hard cock. Releasing her hair, he slid his other hand between her legs, roughly opening her pussy lips. He smiled to feel her wetness and heat. He stroked her engorged clit and she bucked her hips back. He jerked his thumb from her mouth and slapped her ass, seizing it with a hard grip and forcing her hips forward as his fingers continued to manipulate her.

“No!” she gasped. This was worse than the punishment, for the pleasure he was forcing on her was melting her resistance, shaming her. How could she enjoy this?

“I will have to inflict pain on you, so you had best learn to take what pleasure you can to make it bearable,” he ordered, his strong fingers plying her silky nether flesh. Unwilling moans were coming from behind her tightly pressed lips. Relentlessly he drove her higher as his other hand slid up her side to grasp her breast, his fingers finding and pinching her nipple. She felt the building tension and her body began to tremble all over.

“You are easily aroused,” he said softly. “Good.” And he bent his head to take her nipple in his mouth. She gave a helpless, full-throated moan as his hand moved to her other breast to take hold of that nipple while his tongue played, and his fingers stroked. Humiliation made her shake. Her colleague was using her with utter command – she who was a skilled agent, someone whose beauty meant she normally commanded men. She was gasping, her body on fire from the hard slaps of the belt, from the sensuous caresses. Climax was roaring up her senses.

As her breath seized and she raised up on her toes instants away from orgasm, Derek released her abruptly, leaving her panting, red-faced, moaning her disappointment.

“Let’s see if you can follow orders,” he said. Turning her roughly, he unfastened the clip between the cuffs on her wrists. “Hands up behind your head, back arched – get those tits up.” He gave the commands as he stepped over to the table, where he picked up the riding crop. Returning to stand beside her, he slapped her ass a stinging blow, a line of harsh fire completely unlike the wide burn of the leather strap and she shrieked, her arms trembling, though she kept her hands clamped to the back of her head. “Thrust your ass out. Spread your legs.” She did not move fast enough and this earned her a cutting blow across the fronts of her thighs. “Wider.” He walked slowly around her, running the leather tongue of the crop over her bottom, up the insides of her thighs, over her belly and across her trembling tits. “This is how a slave girl stands in front of her master. Chin up,” he used the crop to raise her face, “and eyes down.” One hand cupped and squeezed her breast, his fingers closing on her nipple and pinching firmly, drawing a squeal from her lips. “You’re a natural slut, Nina.” He laughed softly at the furious expression that twisted her face. Laying the crop down on the bed, he stood before her and began to run his hands over her exposed, naked flesh, caressing her with obvious delight, and he brought his face close to lick and suck at her neck, moving lower to spend long minutes tasting her breasts, biting at her nipples while his hands massaged her bottom cheeks. She shook with the effort it took to keep her hands behind her head, her legs parted, to not scream her hatred for him, to not crumple under the onslaught of humiliating pleasure as his mouth moved down to lick her stomach, and then her exposed, throbbing clit. Her body quivered uncontrollably as he licked at her most sensitive flesh.

He rose. “Turn around.” She did. “Bend, touch your hands to the ground.” When she was in this position he kicked her legs wider and slowly ran a finger from her clit, pausing to delve deep into her open vagina, and then to probe at her sensitive anus. An explosion of breath accompanied this violation, but she did not rise until he told her to.

“Fold your arms behind your back. Tits up!” he snapped impatiently, whisking the crop over her straining nipples and drawing a warbling scream from her throat. She gritted her teeth against her hard breaths and shot him a daggered look which earned her three sharp cuts across the buttocks. “Walk.” She had only taken two steps when he slashed across her mounding bottom cheeks again. “Swing that ass, slut!” When she reached the far wall he ordered her down on her hands and knees, “Crawl over here and lick my feet.” She almost balked at that, but all he had to do was take a single step toward her with the crop raised and she submitted. Still it took another scoring of her bottom to get her to put her tongue to his boot.