CHAPTER 1
Samantha busied herself restocking the hotel room’s mini-bar, ensuring that she
bent over sufficiently low for her short black maid’s skirt to ride high up her toned
thighs encased in dark tights, wiggling a little as she worked. Although her back was to
him, she could sense the eyes of the Bulgarian man, who was ostensibly reading the paper
as he lay on the hotel bed, devouring her. She had been working undercover for several
days now in this expensive Bulgarian hotel and she knew she must put her all into these
few moments in order that the plan might work. Otherwise she might have to toil away as a
maid for weeks to come before he might again book into this his favourite hotel to give
her another such opportunity.
“Ooh,” she gave a mock theatrical sigh as she dropped a cloth and stooped lower to
pick it up, being careful to thrust out her bottom in a tight curve. Sometimes, she
thought, it was good to be able to act the tart in a safe and secure environment such as
this. A fit size 10 she had easily attracted the attention of men for most of her twenty
six, nearly twenty seven, years, from her dark shoulder length hair framing a gorgeous
heart-shaped face to her firm 36B boobs and shapely bottom. Normally she would politely,
icily or even violently, depending on her mood, put them in their place; she already had a
longish-term partner, Mitch. But it was something else to be able let her hair down a bit
and to be paid decent wages by MI6 to do so.
“Why so glum? A girl as beautiful as you shouldn’t ever be glum.” The man’s voice
had a foreign accent but was deep and cultured. Even though the chat-up line was boringly
old, it was music to her ears. He had begun to nibble. Now a lot depended on her next
move.
“Oh, sorry Sir, I didn’t mean to disturb you. It’s just that sometimes my mind
wanders, I wonder what else there is in life besides this,” she sighed, standing to face
him with a brief smile, brushing aside a strand of hair from her chiselled face and wiping
down the outside of the fridge to maintain the impression of a dutiful maid. And the man,
Sergo, was indeed just as handsome as the photos of him she had studied in his file over
the last few days. No, she could put up with his company whilst she sufficiently
infiltrated and fed back information on his illicit businesses. But she reminded herself
not to let her guard down; she knew he could be ruthless. “Not that I don’t appreciate
this job of course,” she added as if anxious about speaking out to a customer against her
employers. “I used to work in finance, in London but wanted to see the world, not just
England, and travel, maybe have a bit of adventure and excitement,” she repeated her cover
story.” But of course everything’s about money isn’t it ....so ...I mustn’t complain, this
is a good job and I’ll do it well until I’ve got enough saved to maybe move on to....”
“Loyalty is good – but sometimes different options can present themselves when one
least expects it. Do you have to go – right now? Is anyone expecting you?”
“Well, this is the last room on my rota but I ought to get back to the other
girls,” she wanted to avoid the impression of throwing herself at him and deliberately
didn’t put much enthusiasm in her voice. Yet by twisting a few arms she had painstakingly
ensured that she was due to clean his room last; and her only date would be with her
mobile to say that she’d made contact with her quarry.
“Then stay for a while, I can help you find maybe more rewarding work, I’ll send up
for an evening meal, I’ve nothing else to do that cannot easily be cancelled, ” his suave
voice oozed confidence almost brooking no refusal. “I’ve got brochures here in my case
which I can find, with totally different career opportunities; I run quite a big
organisation.”
Samantha realised that she might not be able to avoid going the whole hog on this
mission – working under covers for Queen & Country - ’ as they jokingly called it back at
her MI6 headquarters by the Thames. But then again it might not be too unpleasant on this
occasion. Her target was outwardly charming and although she found him slightly sleazy in
an Eastern European way, he looked quite clean. He was at least miles better than some of
the virtual animals who had forced themselves on her in previous missions in the desert
and Korea; she shuddered at the recollections. Yet this would be the first time she had
deliberately set out to seduce someone in the line of duty but ... what the heck – this
was her job.
“No, you mustn’t cancel things on my behalf – and I shouldn’t really...” she
pretended to hesitate, looking at him shyly through her hand.
“But please do,” his smile was boyish, charming as he smoothed his thin moustache.
“Hear what I have to propose over dinner, my organisation’s always on the lookout for
bright, intelligent people as you appear to be. Then make up your mind. Chew it over and
let me know tomorrow or something. No pressure.” Samantha knew that it was make or
break; she knew enough about him to know that if she wasn’t in with him today, she never
would be – he would have moved on to the many other female opportunities.
“I don’t even know your name?” she sounded coy.
“My name’s Costello, Costello Kerchov,” Sergo lied, using one of his aliases from
the file and the name he had booked in under. “And yours?”
“Samantha, Samantha Bond,” she spoke the truth. She hadn’t operated in this area
before and shouldn’t be known. “But ...Mr Kerchov, I must just text my work colleagues...
so they don’t worry. I don’t –I don’t normally do this sort of thing,” she kept the shy
uncertainty in her soft voice.
“Yes, I too have to text the office, defer a non-essential meeting, but more
importantly, order us dinner,” he smiled disarmingly.
Whilst Sergo was busy first with his mobile and then on the hotel phone masterfully
choosing and ordering dinner she got busy on her mobile to the girl’s name in her address
book - which was in reality an MI6 number. They would then know that the game was on. It
felt strange for her not to have to worry about hiding her gun. She had deliberately left
it behind, concealed behind an air vent in her room in the hotel’s staff quarters. She
could grab it tomorrow and take it with her but couldn’t take a chance on letting it be
found here with her in this room, especially as she had guessed that she might end up
wearing very little.
The lobster and wine were both expensive as were the job brochures which he had
shown her. The company name of Kerchov International showed his smiling face as owner and
a woman, Datcha Servo, as Manager. Samantha guessed that most of the information she
needed would be with the woman, Sergo’s lover – and possibly a bisexual too - at least
that was the conclusion of the briefing papers in the file. But the initial way in was
through the man she was with now. The company details purported to be all to do with
executive job opportunities around the world.
When his hand brushed hers as they clinked glasses she didn’t pull away.
“Oooh, mmm, we shouldn’t .... but ooh, you’re so... mmm,” Samantha breathed in
between his kisses as Sergo began to unbutton her white blouse, a finger gently sliding up
and down the cleavage between her orbs, stroking over her bra against the hard indentures
of her ripe nipples. His other hand slid down her skirt to the mounds of her bottom,
pressing her against him so that she could feel his male hardness through his expensive
trousers. She had to admit that it wasn’t all unpleasant. Business and pleasure mixed
together she decided. “Oooh, Mr Kerchov... Let me shower first, I’ve been working all
day,” she eased away and threw him a wide-eyed look over her shoulder, then an impish
grin.
“And when you come out it will be just Costello and Samantha, no formality, with
the night ahead of us to er firm up on your future,” he smiled as she closed the bathroom
door.
“Ooh! She gasped in shock when the shower cubicle opened five minutes later and she
had to stop her instinctive automatic self-defence reaction of dropping to a kung-fu
fighting position and smashing the glass panel into his face.
Sergo stood there, naked, dark matted hair on his muscled chest and sporting only a
huge erection. She blushed in spite of herself, crossing her hands modestly over her bare
breasts as lather streamed off her shining curves.
“Perhaps I can assist?” he breathed closing the cubicle door on them both. She
tilted her face up to him as his hands cupped her slippery bottom.
Sergo could hardly believe his luck at this particular catch; a seriously beautiful
English girl who would be ideal for his organisation – but of more immediate concern, his
for the night to enjoy. She was pretty enough to be a film star or a model and had the
poise, looking quite sophisticated too – obviously just roughing it as a hotel maid he
decided. But she was definitely up for it, probably a bit lonely in a foreign country,
not like some of the shy little virgins he had encountered. He knew that he was quite
attractive to women, especially with his charm and power and she certainly seemed to have
fallen for the brochure promising so much. She would soon learn – the hard way. But
tonight was for pleasure – certainly his.
As he pushed against her under the shower, feeling the hard tips of her breasts
against him, she parted her thighs a little so that his erection slid over the lips of her
sex. She licked her lips, obviously eager, the light of promise and expectation in her
big eyes. Their bodies were pressed tightly together under the hissing jet, his hands
grasping the firm cheeks of her buttocks as he plunged his mouth on hers, pillaging. She
was alive in his arms. He had to have her there and then; there was no time for finesse.
Reaching down he adjusted the angle of his penis, bending his knees slight and then
thrust straight up into her tight succulence. She was gorgeous.
“Haaaghhm,” she gasped in his ear as he penetrated her without warning, her nails
like talons on his shoulders before she accepted him and relaxed. His place was to
dominate a woman, conquer her, that was the order of things and this one seemed to accept
that. She felt so good around him, like warm honey as he began urgently screwing her
against the shower wall and her hips also began working with him, she was panting. Her
hands were now tight on his buttocks pulling him in deeper if that were possible, oh yes
she was good.
He began to pump harder, his toes curling with his approaching orgasm. He could
sense that hers was close too, but he couldn’t wait – why should he. Anyway, he always
reckoned that women secretly liked it rough. He could easily dismiss their objections as
conscience. Tightly gripping each cheek of her bottom he rammed even further into her just
as his tongue did through her open lips. She was his - literally.
Samantha had been taken back slightly by his somewhat selfish onslaught on her. It
wasn’t all bad but it could certainly have done with a bit more in the tenderness stakes.
Then again she had heard before that Eastern European macho types just took their pleasure
and left the woman to keep up if she could. They were now lying on the bed having
showered again and dried on the big fluffy towels she had previously laid out in the room.
She stroked a hand over his muscled chest deciding not to just leave matters there. They
were just talking inconsequential about everything and nothing. But his body was muscular
and hard – and he’d had his fun. Now it was her turn and it would no harm to cement their
relationship so she could later exploit it. She’d show this primeval brute that a woman
could have her way too.
Her tongue ticked his cheek and then it replaced her hand on his nipple, suckling.
Meanwhile her hand slid down his ribcage to cup his balls which became tighter under her
stroking. Gently her hand slid up and down his thickening shaft till it began writhing
like a snake.
“Oooh,” he sighed as she half slid on him. Trapping his thigh between hers she
began undulating her hips, rubbing and pressing her now inflamed clitoris; it sought the
release he had denied it earlier.
“Ooohh, mmmmm,” she now gasped as she slid on top of him, straddling, now trapping
his hot, throbbing erection against her essence, grinding her awakened bud against it. His
hands squeezed her breasts, rather too painfully for her liking but, she was a woman of
the world and could take it. Now she could feel the hot bubble of her own approaching
orgasm she slid fully onto him, raising her hips and kneeling over him taking him into
her. He was indeed huge, filling her rather deliciously.
“Hah, hah, hah,” her cries were rhythmic. Gasping, she clasped his head, urgently
kissing him as her hips jerked up and down until she shuddered to a climax.
Then Sergo, still with his hands mauling her bouncing breasts tightened his grip,
making tears spring to her eyes as he used his handholds to turn her over onto her side.
“You have very pretty mouth,” his fingers traced round her parted lips “Maybe they
want to go down here?” his hands led the way down his belly to the flagpole of his
erection, still glistening with her juices.
“No, “she shook her head, but keeping a smile on her face to avoid his total
rejection. That wasn’t something she enjoyed and no way was she going to indulge him that
even in the line of duty.
“Well, I just f—k you again – as a man should,” he hissed, obviously disappointed
but not pushing it and deciding that a man’s place was on top as he turned her onto her
back.
Samantha decided to just let him have his way; at least she had taken her own
pleasure now. He spread her arms and legs wide like a starfish, his wrists tightly
gripping hers as he lay on top of her. She let him thrust into her, happy to just
cooperate and satiate his rekindled lust as he spat deep into her aching sex. But then his
fingers moved from just gripping her bottom, to sliding into her cleft towards the dark
heat of her sphincter.
“No... please,” she placed her hand over his, drawing his fingers back to her
cheeks. That was another intrusion she disliked. Whenever Mitch had tried that, she had
stopped it in its tracks.
He again didn’t push the point and instead continued to thrust into her sex.
Finally, she lay panting in his arms, his large hands stoking down the curve of her
shining back to her bottom until he swung away, obviously deciding that they both needed
another drink.
She touched glasses with him already planning her approach tomorrow. Once she’d
been introduced to Sergo’s staff at his head office she’d find an excuse to be alone with
a computer, preferably the manager, Datcha’s. Once she had downloaded the data she would
undoubtedly find on the structure of the organisation she’d call in an SAS strike to take
out the hierarchy of the gang whilst they could scoop up the others in a large net later
based on the computer information. A couple of days should see it through and after a bit
of mopping up this job would be over within a week. And bang, one of the largest people
and drug trafficking organisations in Europe would be smashed – thanks to her. She was
beginning to enjoy what had at first seemed like a boring assignment and was already
wondering whether a promotion would be hers as a result?
Her first indication of a problem was when she managed to drop her near empty glass
of wine on the floor, totally missing the bedside table. Her tingling arms and fingers
were no longer responding to the urgent and panicky messages from her brain.
“Wagghhhh.” When she tried to say something it came out as whispered gibberish.
Her tongue felt as if it was made out of cotton wool and about ten times its normal size.
“I’m afraid, my dear that the effects of the drug I dropped in your wine may leave
you with a slight headache but nothing worse, except of course that you will no longer be
able to move or speak properly for a little while. Meantime anyone who sees you will
assume that you are blind drunk, I suggest that you just go with the flow from here in.
It won’t all be pleasant at first but, when you can be trusted you’ll find all the
adventure you wanted in my organisation,” he smiled down to her, patting her bottom almost
affectionately as she lay half under the sheet.
The room buzzed around her as she tried to swing her legs out of the bed but all
that happened was a jerk of her knees as she lay virtually mute and helpless still curled
on her side after he had left her arms. She stared up at him with genuine anger and fear
in her eyes as he casually dressed.
She had been had, taken in as if she were an amateur. Inwardly she cursed herself
for letting her guard down. Did he suspect her? She doubted it, he’d no reason to.
Sergo was a smuggler, a gangster, a people mover, not a spy. He didn’t mix in the
espionage circles that she did. She had only been assigned this case to help out Special
Branch, because things were at that moment a bit slack in her MI6 department. Then a tinge
of fear pierced her. His file had hinted of vague unproven connections to white slavery,
and not just smuggling people into Britain for work. She began to worry; had she just
fallen straight into his trap and not him into hers?
Unable to coordinate her muscles to move her head to look at her wristwatch, she
guessed that it was still in the early hours, dark outside.
She heard the door open but was unable to see who had come into the room.
“Sorry I could only give you short notice by text to collect this one; it just
seemed like a good opportunity,” Sergo was quite casual – and she hated him. He was
talking about her as if she was an item of laundry rather than a woman – a spy – a spy who
had just been duped! ”Take her away, normal procedure,” he nodded down at her. “I’ll take
her phone and txt her friends to say she’s moving on to another country. She told me her
room number was 110 and she’s in it alone. Take her there first, pack her things and
everyone will think she just up and left like these transient workers do. ” He didn’t even
look at her again as he quietly left the room to leave her with whoever had entered.
With futility she struggled, yet her limbs moved only sluggishly and not in the
direction she intended as an old and weather-worn Eastern European walked into her limited
field of vision. She felt sick as he smiled down cruelly at her helpless body through
blackened teeth.
“Pretty lady with us now,” he leered, stroking her golden thighs. She tried to
tense her muscles, fearing that he would simply rape her whilst she was naked and helpless
to move. The gnarled old hand slid under the cover to the curve of her bottom, she
couldn’t even wriggle away as it sought out her furry nest, a finger probing shamelessly
into her. Sweat beaded on her useless body.
“Ughhyaaa,” she gurgled incoherently as another pair of hands roughly tugged away
her sheet and rolled her onto her back. These hands thankfully belonged to an old woman,
stern and matronly but at least allowing her to relax slightly.
“Come, we have to move her now,” the woman took over, her voice matter of fact. “No
doubt you’ll have your fun later in the car,” she threw in, to make Samantha’s belly quake
in trepidation. She knew that from a predator, she had become a victim again. This was
emphasised when the old man casually played with her boobs until thankfully the woman
stopped him.
Samantha was like a doll in their arms as they dressed her. Her clothes were just
tugged on and, unable to flex herself properly into them they felt unnatural and
ill-fitting on her. She couldn’t even adjust her boobs within her bra and just had to lie
on the bed feeling ashamed at the coarse hands touching her so intimately, the man’s
lingering where they had no right to.
“Leave her tights off, we’ll use them to tie her later,” the woman’s words made her
desperately try to flex and cord her muscles. She must somehow try to speed up the
effects of the drug through her system, give her body the will to maybe shake it off
before it was too late.
Still helpless and utterly awkward she had to allow the man and woman to hook her
arms around each of their necks and half walk half drag her out of this room and to her
own. Her head was bursting with frustration. If only she could scream, could fight back.
She could have overpowered this old couple with ease normally, but now she was as
helpless as a baby.
As it was late, they passed no one on the way to her room. But she knew that even
had they done so, anyone seeing her would have hardly batted an eyelid, probably just
smiled at her predicament. With her head lolling almost insensibly before the CCTV
cameras in the corridors she was to all intents and purposes just drunk. They dumped her
unceremoniously face down on her bed. Although she couldn’t lift herself or turn her head
to see, she heard them packing her suitcase. Luckily there would be nothing incriminating
to link to her spying. Her gun was safely tucked away in the air vent to probably be
found by a maintenance man in years to come. She herself would have just disappeared
equally as thoroughly.
They pushed her arms into her coat and hung her handbag around her neck. On the way
out of the hotel the night porter only smiled as her captors exchanged a few light-hearted
words in Bulgarian with him, nodding at her. Her eyes were rolling less in their sockets
now and she frantically tried to steady them, to let the porter see her fear. OK, if he
called the police it might mean that this particular mission would be over, compromised.
But at least she would be safe to maybe pick it up another way, another name a wig, not
get so close to him. MI6 could approach the gang with different tactics, prepared now for
what Sergo could spring. If she could just get herself out of this, avoid the fate which
that bastard had mapped out for her she could think things out. If the couple could be
made to say where they were taking her, she could go there and raid the place and.... She
had to stop herself thinking like that. Right now she was not free to do anything. She
was being kidnapped right under the eyes of the porter unless she could alert him somehow.
“Helgggghhh,” she gurgled - more like an idiot. Yet she could feel some returning
strength to her limbs. Desperately she strained, corded her muscles over and over. Her
arms and legs were beginning to quiver, in just a few minutes she might be able to give
some indication to someone as to what was happening to her. But for now the woman’s hand
mock-playfully ruffled her hair, pushing her head down so she could no longer make frantic
eye contact with the porter.
“You’ll know all about mixing drinks when you wake up young lady. It’s lucky that
your new employer is willing to overlook your excess,” the woman spoke to her as she was
eased through the door and into the night. If she could, Samantha would have screamed with
frustration as they dragged her tottering away from any possible help.
When they had half carried her around the corner and away from any watching CCTV
cameras to tip her into their car with tinted windows, their benevolent attitude changed.
Slap! Her head swum even more from the woman backhanding her face to leave it
smarting painfully.
“Don’t think you can escape us girl,” the woman spat. “Bind her, the drug’s
wearing off,” she instructed her companion as she slid behind the wheel.
Sarah was still too weak to resist as the old man cuffed her wrists behind her back
using a leg of her own tights tied tightly around her mouth as a gag. The other leg was
tied just as efficiently around her eyes. Now utterly helpless, her back-up plan of
watching where she was being taken and keeping tabs on the route they took had fallen by
the board.
Although she had one final trick up her sleeve, or actually in her mouth, she
didn’t want to use it yet; her life didn’t seem to be under direct threat and so far she
had discovered nothing. But a tiny transmitter hidden in a tooth cavity would, if it
worked correctly, transmit a homing signal to the local resident MI6 agent in the town.
If she couldn’t communicate openly when she was ready for the SAS to raid Sergo’s HQ, the
back-up plan was that she would activate that tooth with her tongue and wait twenty four
hours. However, first she wanted if possible to access his organisation’s computers to
e-mail out the identities of his gang before they wiped the data – which they undoubtedly
would do, and pretty instantly, if they suspected a raid. The assumption had been that
Sergo operated near to this hotel he often used; she just hoped that the bug’s signal
would be picked up over any slightly longer distance? Being trussed helpless like this in
a car and spirited away hadn’t been part of any plan.
She was slammed back into the leather seat of the comfy Mercedes as the woman
gunned it into the night. She sensed that they were initially racing north and maybe east
but she soon lost track through all of the twists and turns.
True to Sergo’s words, her head was beginning to throb as her senses returned. But
that wasn’t her main worry. The old man sat next to her on the seat, close to her. His
gnarled hand rested high on her thigh ostensibly to steady her but it soon crept up under
her skirt.
“Nggghhh,” she cried through her gag, squirming as he took advantage of her
helplessness; he was a lecherous old creep.
“It’s too late to try anything now girl,” the woman saw her useless struggling in
the rear mirror. “But I expect my friend can give you something to occupy your mind during
the journey,” she smiled cruelly.
The dirty hands crept over her flesh, probing, pinching. She could do nothing to
escape them as the fingers slid under her bra and panties exploring her velvet flesh. It
was totally unlike the touch of just a few hours ago. This was disgusting and creepy and
mainly involved the infliction of hot, intimate pain as the dirty fingers slid within her
and toyed with delicate folds of her labia and the buds of her sensitive nipples. They
pinched and squeezed choosing their targets well until she went rigid each time, tears
misting her eyes, wetting her blindfold. Finally she sought a refuge in pretending to
faint.
It took all of her willpower to give the old creep no reaction as his fingers were
now like a pincer on her nipples. The pain made her go hot and cold. Although she was
screaming inside she somehow managed to give no outward sign. Gritting her teeth around
the gag she just remained slumped. Finally he grew tired of the unresponsive sport and
left her alone. Exhaustion and fear overtook her and she found herself sliding into sleep
for real.
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