enovel Terrorist Kidnapping Unknown [Future Story Codes]

---

.....8168 home .....8170

Terrorist Kidnapping ....(67k)    by Unknown

FOREWORD

She choked back a scream and her face turned pale. I left the cigarette on her bare boob until I could smell burning flesh, and then I removed it to take a look at my handiwork.

A round, charred spot was on her otherwise perfect tit, smoke still coming from it. It must have been terribly painful, but she didn't even have tears in her enormous eyes. Not yet. But she soon would.

I lit another cigarette and now held two. Holding one in each hand, I brought them down on her twin tits at the same time, making two more charred black circles on their perfection.

I held them down this time until I saw involuntary tears form in her eyes. But she was brave. Very brave.

She must have wanted to scream in agony, but she held it in. And I wondered if she was keeping her mind on something else, trying to ignore what was happening to her.

If she was, I didn't think she'd be able to keep it up long. No one could keep it up long.

CHAPTER ONE

I landed at Orly and headed for my safe house in Paris. As usual, I wasn't recognized, although at least four major organizations have men posted at every airport in Europe just to note my arrivals and departures. Their only problem is there is only one photograph of me in existence, and I have had extensive plastic surgery since that was taken.

My plastic surgery was my primary reason for being in Paris. Dr. Ronet, who had performed the surgery on me, had died under mysterious circumstances the previous day. I was afraid that someone had gotten to him with my description. And that someone might now have a description of my new appearance.

I am the world's major terrorist, the most wanted man in the world.

My name is Carlos. The plastic surgery had been performed six months before. At that time, I was slightly overweight, had a prominent nose and ears, a mouthful of perfect white teeth, chubby cheeks that gave me a child-like appearance that belied my thirty-six years, dark, straight hair and green eyes.

Now all that had changed. I had lost all my excess weight on a strict diet which I was still adhering to. My nose had been reduced to a smaller, thinner version. My ears had been pinned to my head. My teeth, which I had been quite proud of, had been transformed so that now lots of gold flashed when I smiled wide. Gold I did not need, except to change my appearance. My cheeks, as a result of dieting and having four teeth removed, now were suitably indented. My dark, straight hair had been given a permanent to make it very curly, and my green eyes, as a result of tinted contact lenses, were now as dark a brown as my hair. In addition, I now sported a mustache.

In short, I looked totally unlike the pictures circulating of Carlos. I had even changed my walk and modified my mannerisms. I would defy anyone, even my closest aides, to recognize me anymore. Which is the way I wanted it.

My new passports and identity papers all bore the name of Philipe Bordeaux; my occupation: writer.

Only two people saw me before and after the surgery who knew me to be the same person. Dr. Ronet and his wife who had assisted him as nurse. I had trusted them. I had trusted them explicitly because they were both aware I would have killed them if they had betrayed me. Which is the most effective way of gaining trust that there is.

I do not keep empty safe houses as is the custom of most espionage organizations. I simply set up girls in every major city. Girls who are in love with me and always make me welcome when I'm in town.

And I rotate the girls quite often. Rotate them or eliminate them. What's one less girl on the streets of Paris or Cairo or Rome? The drop in population is not even noticeable.

I opened the door to my flat with my key. I had not expected Lisette to be home at that hour, but as soon as I entered I heard voices.

And one of the voices belonged to a man. I stepped quietly into the flat, closed the door softly behind me and locked it, then made my way stealthily down the hall to the one bedroom. The bedroom Lisette had taken such pleasure in decorating in pink and white checks.

The bedspread was still in pink and white checks with lots of ruffles, and on top of that pink and white spread was naked little Lisette with an equally naked man.

He was fucking her in the ass, something Lisette always claimed to be afraid of.

But she didn't appear to be afraid of it anymore. She was squealing with delight, her little pink and white ass thrusting itself back on the man's large cock.

I removed my gun from under my arm, aimed it carefully at the man's head, and fired. With the silencer on, Lisette didn't notice at first that her sex partner was dead. He crumpled over her back, but she must have thought he just came very fast, because she was still moaning and squealing and trying to get him to continue fucking her. And I momentarily wondered if a man lost his erection when he died. But then he fell out of her and my question was answered. He does.

Her pink and white spread was fast becoming pink and red and white. Lisette turned around to see why he had stopped so suddenly, saw the gun, saw me, and then began to scream.

"Shut your mouth, slut," I warned her, pointing the gun in her direction.

"But why? Why, Philipe? Why did you shoot him? He wasn't doing you any harm."

"I told you never to bring a man here."

"But you knew I would. You must have known. How long do you think I can go without sex?"

"No one asked you to go without sex. I only told you not to do it here, cunt."

"So I made a mistake? Did you have to kill him for that?"

"I don't want anyone to know I stay here. No one but you. I trusted you, but I see I was wrong."

"You could have trusted him. He was my brother. I trust him completely."

"Your brother? You were being fucked in the ass by your own brother? I find that disgusting."

"But it's not incest if it's in the ass. That's what he told me."

"You wouldn't let me fuck you in the ass, but you allow your own brother to."

Another betrayal to add to the list. "You can fuck me in the ass. Go ahead-fuck me. It is still warm from my brother whom you killed. Go oh, Philipetake your revenge on me that way. Humiliate me. Fuck me in the ass in front of my dead brother."

How did she know that something that bizarre would appeal to my baser instincts? But then that was why I had picked her, because in ways her mind worked just like mine. I didn't even remove my pants. I pulled her ass over so that I wouldn't have to get up on the bloodstained bed, then pulled out my now hard cock and shoved it in her waiting, receptacle.

And it was still warm from him. Warm and eager. She began squealing again, just as she had been doing when he entered the room.

Squealing just like the pig she resembled. That's all she was, a pig slut! And she would have to die.

But for the moment I would use her ass to relieve myself of the frustrations I was feeling at having my safe house desecrated.

Despite her brother fucking her, her ass was still tight and clenched around my cock in a most satisfactory way.

I looked up and saw that I was reflected in the mirror over her dresser. I could quite clearly see myself fucking Lisette in the ass. As always, my new appearance surprised me.

After thirty-six years of seeing yourself look one way in the mirror, it is a shock to look into a mirror and see a stranger. And I still looked like a stranger to myself.

My cock, however, was exactly the same in appearance as it had been previously. And it was working well, too. It always worked well in emergencies. It was moving swiftly in and out of her ass, pounding up against her. I was trying to hurt her, trying to do it with more force than she could sustain, but she had no trouble taking it. She was delighting in it. The slut! The dirty little bitch!

Why I tend to trust women more than men I will never know. Because there was never one born who wouldn't betray a man. Not one. Women do not know the meaning of honesty, and they are beyond being taught.

But they have their uses, and sex is primary among them.

But Lisette's use would soon be at an end.

THE END before the end, I chuckled to myself, although puns are not normally my mode of thinking.

Her ass was squeezing my cock so tight it felt like it was in a vise. But it didn't feel like torture. Unless exquisite pain constitutes torture, and I don't believe it does. The inside of her ass was incredibly soft. So soft and so tight. The combination was irresistible to my cock and I felt my balls beginning to .rumble and knew that soon I would be shooting my load into that firmly rounded little ass of hers.

The French women have exquisite asses. It is generally their best feature. Their tits are either too small or too large, their legs short and stumpy, their faces more often than not sharp featured. But their asses are their piece de resistance.

A French ass is one of the wonders of the world. And this particular wonder was about to get me off. I felt my balls clench, felt my cum began its journey up my prick, then it shot out into her tightly-filled asshole, seeping around the edges of my cock and dripping out onto her thighs.

And even as I was coming, even in that moment when thoughts generally flee, I was planning what to do with sweet, deceptive Lisette next.

As I plunged in my cock for the final thrust, I was undoing my belt and pulling it out of my trousers. Then taking the end with the buckle in my hand, and simultaneously removing my cock from her asshole and replacing it in my pants, I lashed out at her tender ass with my hard leather belt and left a welt an inch thick across her white ass.

"Oh, that's marvelous," she squealed, thinking it part of the sex act.

I lashed again and again, the third time drawing blood, and she began to change her mind about how marvelous it was.

She rolled over on the bed and sat up, her lips formed into a pretty pout.

"Are you punishing little Lisette?" she asked me with a lisp.

"Tell me how many men know about this place, you bitch," I said to her.

"No men, I swear. Just my brother. He was visiting from the provinces and I said he could stop by. That's all, I swear. I wouldn't lie to you, Philipe."

I slashed her across her small tits with the belt, and when she covered them with her arms to protect them, I slashed her across the face, drawing blood on one cheek.

"Don't disfigure me, please. I'll turn over and you can spank me some more, Philipe. But don't hit my face, please."

As though she was going to be able to use her face for anything once I was through with her! "I trusted you, Lisette, and you betrayed me. You will never betray me again!"

"Never, I swear. Anyway, I do not have anymore brothers. Jean-Claude was the only one and now he is dead. And I do not even cry for him. You were right to kill him. But not me, Philipeplease not me!"

Women will go to any degrading lengths to save their own necks. They will lie, cheat, promise anything. They have no pride. No dignity. They are like animals, like dogs, willing to do anything if you throw them a bone.

Lisette was not in for anymore bones. Lisette's dog days were at an end.

She was not even worth the time it would take to properly beat her. And to what end? I couldn't leave her alive.

I picked up my gun and aimed it at her head.

She looked scared, then mystified, then playful, as though it were a joke. And then, after the gun went off, she just looked dead.

I left the bodies where they were, wiped off all the places I had touched, although no one had my fingerprints as of yet, and then I left the flat.

I would need a new place to stay and that would mean a new girl. But I could take care of that in the evening. At the moment I had to visit the doctor's wife and find out what I could. I rented a car, an inconspicuous Fiat, and drove to the doctor's office. There was a sign on the door saying it was closed down for the doctor's funeral. Which I should have realized. I guess I wasn't thinking as clearly as I should have been.

I bought a newspaper, found out where the funeral was being held, then drove the few miles outside of Paris to where the graveside service was in progress.

I wasn't at all sure the doctor's wife would recognize me. In fact I was quite sure she wouldn't. I was much thinner, my hair was curly, etc., etc. I looked entirely different from the last time she had seen me, even though the doctor had wrought considerable changes in me at that time.

She looked much the same although much sadder.

She was one Frenchwoman whose parts were all as good as her ass, and her ass was a perfect piece of sculpture. Even dressed all in black she managed to look vibrant and alive. She was petite and dark with the exquisite face of a knowing madonna. I could see the green of her eyes across the grave site, and saw her look up at my arrival.

I nodded my head, and she nodded in return, although I could tell she hadn't the slightest idea who I was.

There were many people there. The doctor had been well-known and had many friends and seemed to all be in attendance. And there was also the police, of course. He had been stabbed to death in his office, the papers reporting it as the work of a maniac. He had suffered over a hundred stab wounds to his body. He had bled to death, of course.

The priest was intoning over the grave and he seemed to go on and on. Clouds were beginning to cover the sun and it felt like rain was imminent. It seems that it always rains at a funeral. Perhaps it's fitting. Who wants to attend a funeral on a beautiful day?

It seemed to take forever before the grave was being filled in and the funeral party finally turned to go.

I tried to get near to the widow, but she was surrounded, and I felt it was not the right moment anyway.

But I followed the cortege of cars out of the cemetery and then singled out the car she rode in and followed that back into town.

The doctor had lived in a lovely old house enclosed by a wall. Once inside that wall it was hard to believe I was in the middle of Paris.

The rain that had been threatening was now coming down in a steady grey drizzle as people made their way up the path to the house. I joined them. Once inside the house it was almost like a party. Maids were circulating with trays of sandwiches and male servants were handing out drinks. The atmosphere was subdued, but then it had only begun. I was sure that after a few drinks a few would even dare to laugh out loud.

I had to get the widow alone. I knew it would probably be hours before her relatives and friends left her alone to her sorrow. It might not even happen. But I was determined to wait it out. It was imperative that I speak to her before I made my next move. But how does one get a grieving widow alone? The widow was seated on a loveseat of mauve velvet with a steady stream of people stopping by for a word of condolence with her. She had an air of helpless fragility that I knew was deceptive. As I remembered her she could be a very tough lady.

And I didn't believe her mask of grief, either. Oh, the doctor was a fine man, a well respected man, and I am sure his death caused her pain. But the good doctor had been at least thirty years her senior and I was sure that combined with that pain would be a feeling of relief. She could now live her own life.

I had a drink, consumed a couple of the sandwiches, and waited until the people offering their condolences to her had drifted away and only an older woman, probably her mother, remained standing by her side.

And then I walked over, the proper degree of sorrow on my restructured face.

I bowed over where she sat, took her proffered hand and put my lips to it, then told her that I had been saddened by the news of her husband's untimely death.

Green eyes surveyed me beneath dark lashes. "Have we met?" she asked me directly.

"Just once, Madame, you would not remember."

She gave me a doubtful look. "I do not think I would forget."

In any other circumstances I would have construed that remark as being flirtatious. But with her husband just put beneath the ground, her mother by her side, it didn't seem likely.

I shrugged, not wanting to seem to push the acquaintanceship.

She was eyeing me carefully, my face, my hair, my physique. As though she was looking for something, some similarity to someone she had once met.

I didn't think she would get the connection. I looked totally different. She might be thinking that her husband had performed plastic surgery but that my body would be the same. But not even that was the same. And yet there seemed to be something about me she recognized.

"Did you wish to speak to me?" she asked.

"This is not a good time."

"No, noI have nothing but time now and this is as good as any other. Would you care to talk in the library?"

I nodded, a surge of elation going through me at the thought that I could take care of my business immediately.

I followed her down a long hall, then up a short staircase to where a study filled with books was located. She seated herself on a leather couch. I took a seat across from her in a chair. "What did you wish to speak to me about?" she asked, still looking me over in a studied way.

"Would you mind my asking questions at a time like this?"

"That would depend on your questions. I must apologizeI do not know your name."

"Philipe Bordeaux. And the questions pertain to your husband's death."

"Ah, you are not an inspector, are you? I thought I had finished with them, at least for the moment."

"No." I decided to tell her some of the truth. "I was one of your husband's patients."

"Ah, then I saw you, too, perhaps."

"Yes."

"What is it you wish to know?"

"If anything was taken when your husband was killed."

"You mean money, drugs, things like that?"

"No. I had in mind files, pictures, things like that."

"Yes. But that information was not given to the newspapers. Actually, only one file, only one set of pictures was taken."

"Do you know whose?"

"Yes, I do."

"Might I inquire as to a name?"

"No. I would not even reveal that to the police." I had the information I wanted and yet I didn't get up to go. I was trying to figure out what my next move should be. If she didn't recognize me, then no one looking at the picture would, because I looked quite different now. All they would really know was that Carlos had had plastic surgery. It wouldn't do them that much good.

But what of this woman? If she figured out who I was, then she could identify me as Carlos. But would she? Probably, under certain circumstances. Women will reveal anything if the circumstances are right.

I didn't think she would reveal the information to the police. But the people who had stolen the file and pictures might contact her. And they would have ways to make her reveal what she knew.

What a waste it would be to kill her, but I didn't really have any alternative. And it would have to be done soon. They were probably only waiting for the mourners to leave, for her to be alone once again.

"What will you do now?" I asked her.

"Nothing. There is no information I can give them."

"I meant with yourself. You do not look the type to just lapse into the role of widow. You're far too beautiful for that."

She displayed no false modesty, which I liked.

"May I speak to you in all honesty?"

"Please do," I told her.

"I do not feel like a widow. I just suddenly feel free. And I'm not sure how to handle that freedom."

"You mean you feel alive?"

She nodded. "Never more so. And it makes me feel guilty."

"I think when someone dies it tends to make us feel more alive." She shook her head. "I am not making myself clear. I feel more alive now than I have felt in some years. My husband made me feel old. Now I feel young again. I feel all kinds of things I haven't felt in years."

I suddenly understood what she was trying to convey to me. She was feeling horny. An uncouth word, perhaps, but it fits the feeling. Her husband's death had revived in her her desire for sex.

And I think she was extending an invitation to me.

But I would have to handle it carefully, not scare her off. "You look that way," I told her. "You look alive, vibrant. You are the most sensuous looking woman I have ever seen. I could not keep my eyes off of you at the cemetery. Forgive me if I offend you ... "

"Not at all," she said, a direct look in her green eyes. "That is exactly how I am feeling. Sensuous. With no means of doing anything about it."

"Surely you must have many admirers."

"They would be shocked so soon after my husband's death."

"I would not be shocked." There was a long silence between us as our eyes met. And she was indeed everything I had said to her. She was easily the most sensuous woman I had ever met. She had a look about her that belonged in a bed. A look that was too private to go out in public. I felt a stirring in my loins that came with the knowledge that I would have her. Probably that night.

She didn't say another word. She got up, came over to me, and reached out her hand. I took it and let her lead me down the hall to another staircase that led up to the master bedroom. The room she had slept in with her husband. Her husband not yet cold in the ground.

CHAPTER TWO

It was a perfectly appointed room, but it wasn't sensuous in any way. Just furnished in perfect taste as befitted a couple with their money and place in society.

But I can make love in any surroundings if my partner is right. And she was absolutely right for me at that moment.

She closed the door to the room and turned to me, lifting her face to mine.

I pulled off her widow's veil and dropped it onto the floor, then put my arms around her and closed my mouth over hers.

She seemed desperately hungry for my kisses. Her mouth parted immediately and her tongue darted inside my mouth, moving around, exploring every inch of it.

I grasped her tongue and sucked on it, and she moaned with pleasure, then pressed her body hard against mine, molding it to mine.

Her tits were flattened against my chest, her cunt revolving around my now hard erection. I moved a leg between hers and lifted it so that it pushed hard against her cunt, easing her passion there, relieving her itch.

But that just spurred her on. She seemed starved for sex and I hoped I'd be able to satisfy that passion.

She drew her tongue back into her mouth and mine followed. Then she began to suck on my tongue like it was a cock. Roughly, as though she was trying to tear it out of my mouth.

I moved away from her body a little and began to unbutton the low row of tiny buttons that went all the way down the front of her dress. Her skin against the black fabric looked very white and fragile, but I didn't treat her like she was fragile. It's not my way and I thought she had probably gotten enough of that from her husband.

I began to pull her dress down over her shoulders and she stood back to let it fall to the floor.

She was wearing a full contingent of underwear, all of it black. And all of it sexy. Her white tits were swelling above the black lace of her full slip. I pulled the slip over her head, revealing her black lace bra and panties and her black garter belt holding up black silk stockings.

She looked more like a model in a man's magazine than a bereaved widow.

She was so lovely I just wanted to stand and look at her for a minute, but she was too impatient for that. Too impatient to even allow me to undress her.

She reached around her back, making her tits thrust forward, and then unhooked her bra, which joined her other clothes on the floor. Her breasts were perfect. Of the exact same size, which is unusual to find, each with a large, pink nipple surrounded by puckered rose skin. They gently bounced on her chest as she brought her arms back around and began to remove her panties.

As she bent down to lift her feet out of her panties, her tits swayed gently and I reached down and cupped them with my hands. But she didn't allow me even that. She moved back and began to remove her garter belt, but I stopped her.

"No, leave it on. That and the stockings. You look very exciting in them." She smiled up at me in surprise and I assumed her husband had not liked to see her like that. If that was true, he had had no imagination.

She knelt down in front of me and reached for my fly. "Now let me see you, Philipelet me see what you have."

But she didn't wait for my permission.

She unzipped my fly and had my hard cock out before I could say a word.

She looked at it as though stunned, then looked up at me with a questioning look.

I'm proud of my cock, as are most men, I'm sure, but I had never seen it stun anyone before. Her reaction was flattering, perhaps, but too unusual to suit me.

"What is the matter, my dear?" I asked her. "Were you expecting something else?"

She shook her head in confusion. "No, it's just that I recognize it."

She recognized my cock? Impossible! I had never had sex with the lady.

"As far as I know its picture has never appeared in the tabloids," I joked with her.

"No, I recognize it in person. I've seen it before. Somewhere. It will come to me...." I was beginning to think her husband's death had affected her mind.

"You are Carlos!" She said this with a stricken voice.

I was rather stunned at that, but I hid it. "As I told you, my name is Philipe. And it's just occurred to me I don't know your given name."

"Chantal. It's Chantal. But I know you are Carlos, it's no use denying it. I thought there was something familiar about you, but you are so different. Far different from the man who left here after my husband operated on him. But I don't forget cocks. I haven't seen that, many in my life. And I happen to have a photographic memory."

"My dear, cocks do not look that different from each other."

"I have only seen three, but they all have been unique. Why do you deny it? You can trust me."

Trust is so easily given and so difficult to maintain.

"Could you tell me under what circumstances you saw my cock? I swear I would remember if we had ever made love."

"You were undressed during the operation with a sheet over your body. During the operation you got an erection, which is not uncommon when one is under an anesthetic. My husband made a joking remark to the effect that you must have a monster between your legs, and before he could stop me I had lifted up the sheet to take a look. Please forgive meit was a terrible invasion of your privacy. But I was so impressed by it. It is twice the size of my husband's. And I have never forgotten it. And, it embarrasses me to tell you this, but I often fantasized about it after that."

It really did not matter that she knew who I was because I was going to have to kill her in any case.

But this was one adversary I hated to see die. I put my hands in her silken hair and caressed her head. "Yes, Chantal, I am Carlos. And if you didn't recognize that I needn't have any fear of those pictures that were stolen. Do you mind being made love to by a terrorist?"

"Mind? You have been my hero ever since then. I have followed all your exploits, read all the books about you, dreamed about you so often you seemed like a friend to me. Only I pictured you differently."

"Are you disappointed with my new appearance?" Of course I was looking for a compliment. She certainly couldn't have preferred me overweight. . "No, just unnerved a bit. I guess I don't have to ask if it's been successful. You're still at large, obviously."

"So you fancy terrorists, do you?"

She gave a nervous laugh. "Does that sound sick? I guess I see you as a romantic figure, a modern day Robin Hood. You must get that reaction from lots of women."

I smiled. "I never tell women who I am."

"I see."

"I'm afraid it's not really advisable in my business."

"How does one get in your line of business?"

"That's very involved, very complicated. Why are we having a discussion when we could be in bed enjoying ourselves."

"There is no hurry. You can stay as long as you like. But I'm serious, Carlos. I am bored with life, too intelligent to be just a wife. Couldn't you teach me the business?"

"You mean it, don't you?" She nodded. And I thought about it. I liked her style, her intelligence. And I hated having to kill her. I could use a good female agent. It would be worth a try. If it didn't work out I could have her eliminated and I wouldn't have to do it myself.

I smiled down at her. "I will make a deal with you, Chantal. If you please me in bed, I will bring you into the group."

She laughed. "Then I am as good as in!"

And with that, she took my distinctive, easily-recognizable cock, and began to lick it all over with her tongue. As she did so, I removed my jacket, my tie and my shirt. I then kicked off my shoes and unbuttoned the top button of my pants. But I was still wearing underwear, so I moved her head away for a moment while I divested myself of my shorts and socks, then let her get back to her enjoyment.

Not that the enjoyment wasn't mutual. Now that I was totally naked, she moved behind my cock and put her mouth over my balls, one at a time, gently sucking on them and making me feel unsteady on my legs. I backed up against the bed to steady myself and allowed her to continue.

She was adept, though I'm sure she hadn't gotten that knowledge from doing it to the doctor.

Her tongue was rough on my balls. She cradled them in her mouth, rolling them about, making them wet and warm.

I felt like getting onto the bed to be more comfortable, but I liked the way she looked kneeling in front of me. And I had the feeling she had never before knelt in front of a man.

Her mouth and tongue were busy, and she held onto my hairy thighs as she caressed me, moving her hands up and down my skin, warming me wherever she touched. When my balls were satiated with her ministerings, she began to lick my cock up and down the shaft with long, wet, rough strokes. She held it up by the head, licking it underneath, following the veins with her tongue. And when she had licked it all over, it was wet and sticky with her spit.

Is there a man on earth who doesn't like to have his cock attended to by an eager, wet mouth? I doubt it. I am certainly not one. Women are certainly not good for much, but that is one thing that they excel in. If they care to. And this one certainly seemed to care for it. I wondered briefly if she really regarded this as a testing ground and whether she was doing a better job of it because she wanted to be a female terrorist. But I didn't think so. And didn't really care anyway, the result was the same.

No, I think she had something going for my cock. I think she had since the first time she had viewed it. Else why romanticize me all this time? My face must have been a mess when she last saw me; it was my cock she truly remembered.

She put her mouth over the head of my cock and moved her tongue in the slit, licking it out, then sucking on just the head.

She was going slow and easy which was fine with me. I can keep an erection indefinitely when I want to; there was no fear of my coming precipitously. I stroked her hair and murmured to her. "Yes, little Chantal, I think you might make a splendid terrorist. Certainly any man would want to tell you his secrets. But are you cold-blooded enough? Can you be heartless and cruel? Are you totally without a conscience? Because that is what terrorism requires of one. You will no longer be the good doctor's wife. You will be wanted and hunted down throughout the world. And perhaps killed. Killed like your husband was killed. Can you bear that thought, Chantal? Can you endure with that knowledge?"

She didn't even flick an eyelash while I talked to her. She moved down on my cock, taking about half its length in her mouth, and then she began to suck.

She sucked the way men dream of being sucked. Her mouth was warm and soft and wet, she kept her sharp little teeth off the tender skin of my cock, and she sucked voraciously. And all the while her hand was gently cupping my balls.

Sensations were pouring out of my cock to all parts of my body and I was forming a thin sheet of sweat all over. She was making me burn, this one. Burn with desire for her, and it had been a while since I had felt like that with a woman.

I can fuck without feeling it, of course. I can fuck without feeling anything at times. But then something happens like this, some woman makes me feel again, and the other times fade into nothing, which is what they really were anyway.

She was steadily moving down on my cock, taking more and more of it into her mouth. Devouring it the way one devours excellent French cuisine. And her husband just buried hours before. But she wasn't defiling his memory; I think she was adding to it in a way.

My cock hit the end of her throat and she paused for a moment, making a slightly gagging sound. Then she plunged ahead, trying to take it even further down her throat, much further than it could possibly go.

And it felt so marvelous. So marvelous beating up against the obstruction. Like fucking her would feel.

And then her mouth began to move up and down my cock, faster and faster, and all the while she continued sucking and licking and banging it against her throat. I think she was eager for me to come in her mouth, but she was going to be disappointed. I wanted to come inside of her, possess her that way. Another time I would let her suck me dry.

I sat down on the edge of the bed and she moved in closer to me. And I reached down and cupped her tits with my hands, feeling their warm softness.

And then I took her hard nipples between thumb and forefingers and began to pull on them, and she moaned at that. Moaned and sucked me even harder.

Do all men yearn for a woman's breasts? I think so. And I think it has little to do with our mothers, which is the popular theory, I think. I think it has more to do with their forbidden nature. When we are children we are not to view them naked. It is not allowed. And later we can see, but we aren't supposed to touch. And so many girls make us pay for even a glimpse, that when we are finally grown and we are offered them freely, we think some momentous good fortune has come our way. Something we are not yet worthy enough to receive.

Tits have a mystique about them for most men, and I am not immune to that mystique. I like my mouth on a tit, hard and grasping. I like my hands on tits. I like to fuck between good-sized tits. I like the feel of them rubbing all over my naked body.

And I liked to look at the pure perfection of Chantal's tits. They were works of art. And they looked so untouched. So very untouched.

I squeezed a tit in each hand, not too gently. I wanted her to really feel it, really become excited by my touch.

I rubbed them roughly with my calloused palms, chafing her fragile skin, putting my mark on her. I wanted her to be mine. At least for the moment.

And then suddenly I had had enough of her sucking on my cock. It wouldn't get any better unless I came, and I wasn't going to come just yet.

I leaned back on the bed and lifted her up on top of me so that her tits were dangling in my face. And then I began to suck on the nipple of one, tasting of its sweetness. "Yes, yes," moaned Chantal. "Oh, yes, Carlos, do it to me like that. But suck harder, as hard as you can."

It is easy to deduce things from the way women make love. I could tell her husband had been gentle with her and she hadn't been able to tell him to be different.

But with me, who was a terrorist after all, she felt more free, less inhibited. She expected me to be rough as part of my profession. And perhaps they do go together.

I bit into her tits as I sucked on her nipples, and she begged and moaned for more.

As I was sucking on her tits, I moved down my hand to her pussy and saw that it was wet and ready.

Juices were creeping over the edges of her pussy lips, into her soft, fine pubic hair, and I pushed my fingers inside of her, wanting to feel the softness of her cunt.

She moaned and squirmed, moving her hand down on my fingers, trying to get them further inside of her cunt.

I obliged her by shoving most of my hand inside of her, then exploring her inside.

She felt tight, exceedingly tight for a married lady. She felt almost virginal.

And I was sure that her ass was virgin territory. And I wondered how she would take to an invasion of that district of her anatomy.

But I would find out. I would find out everything about her. She was an extremely passionate woman. Her cunt was going crazy around my fingers, thrusting over them, moving around, trying to get them further and further inside of her. She lusted to be consumed and couldn't seem to wait any longer.

I pulled her all the way up on the bed, her marriage bed, then rolled her over and mounted her.

Her eyes were closed, her head was moving, convulsively from side to side, her mouth was moaning and crying out.

I aimed my cock at her cunt and plunged inside of her, and her legs went around me tightly and her fingernails slashed down my back. She wrapped herself so tightly around me that I was all the way inside of her, hitting up against the back of her passage. She clung tightly around my cock, her tight cunt, clenching it as hard as her mouth had done.

I began to move in and out of her, in and out, satisfying her desire and my own.

It felt good to be in a hot, eager cunt. One that wanted my cock as much as I wanted to be inside of her.

She was crying out, coming already, coming over and over again as I fucked her.

And I had hardly begun. I moved faster, building up speed, and harder, much harder. I was driving her into the mattress with the force of my fucking, making her bed creak from all the exercise being performed on it.

And I briefly wondered what her guests must think of her long absence. And wondered what the expressions on their faces would be if they knew the widow was upstairs getting her brains fucked out by an international terrorist. And all on the day of her dear departed husband's funeral.

She was like an animal in heat, urging me to fuck her harder and harder, and I complied as best I could. We were well suited to each other in bed. Both of us were passionate animals. Both of us with our hot Latin blood.

She seemed to be as insatiable to fuck as I was to fuck her. Our bodies hit against each other over and over, trying to merge totally, our parts meshing.

And then I surprised myself. I felt my balls begin to clench, signaling that I soon would come. But I never came that soon. I could usually fuck for hours. But his incredible woman was making me feel fifteen again. Yes, that's exactly how I felt. Like a boy again. A boy with his first woman.

That's how excited she had gotten me. As the cum drove through my shaft and erupted into her cunt, I increased the speed of my fucking, the force of my fucking, and Chantal was screaming in ecstasy and I was finding it hard to breathe.

It was the most powerful orgasm I had ever experienced without the aid of drugs. I was totally straight, and yet that woman turned me on like an electrical charge.

I was afraid I might become addicted to her. She had addictive properties, that merry widow.

"Did I pass the test?" she whispered in my ear as I collapsed on top of her.

"Was that all you were thinking about?" She laughed. "No, that wasn't all. In fact I quite forgot about it in the heat of the moment."

"Can you disappear right now?" I asked her.

"Now? You mean this minute?"

I nodded. She broke into laughter. "How marvelous. I will just disappear on the day of my husband's funeral. I will not have to suffer through all the calls, I will not have to write endless letters of thanks, I will not have to answer any more questions by the police. I will not have to do a thingI will cease to exist, no?"

"Yes. I'll get new identity papers for you. But for now, can you somewhat disguise your appearance?"

She grinned. "Just watch me." And she went through a very remarkable transformation. So remarkable I wondered for what reason she had ever done it before. But for whatever reason, it showed she was devious, and that was a quality she'd need in her new line of work.

She put on a pair of panties, but no bra. Then she slipped into a pair of skin-tight jeans and a T-shirt that showed off her bare boobs. Then she made up her face with lots of eye makeup and blush and a vivid shade of bright red lipstick. But the real change came next. She got a blonde wig out of her closet and placed it over her own hair. And voila, she looked totally different. Like some cheap streetwalker or maybe, if one was giving her the benefit of the doubt, an artist's model.

We walked down the stairs, right past her mother and the guests, and no one at all recognized her. A couple of people gave her second looks, but that was only because she looked so out of place in the house.

And then we booked a room together in one of the middle priced hotels, and I made a couple of phone calls to get her new papers and a passport.

Her new name was to be Corinne Carrere.

We set to work on a more subtle transformation for her. I didn't really want anyone who looked like a streetwalker in my organization. It didn't take much to make her look different. Casual clothes alone would make her unrecognizable to most of her friends as she had always dressed in designer originals with the kind of elegance only the French can manage.

She plucked" her straight, dark brows until they were arched, then cut her long dark hair into a short, shaggy cut before dying it a reddish brown.

When she was through, she really looked quite different as well as looking younger and much less French. She could have passed for a university student. I think she was happy with the way she looked, too. She kept looking at herself in the mirror, running her hands through her short, shaggy hair, and laughing. She had thrown away widowhood and gained a second chance at life.

"I'm a new person," she said to me with a laugh.

"Yes. Are you happy?"

"Very happy! Will I have to kill people?"

"Probably. Will you be able to do it?"

"I feel able to do anything! Anything at all! I feel indestructible."

I hoped that was true. But even if she would be destroyed, at least she had gained a lease on life which she hadn't had a few hours previously.

CHAPTER THREE

The eldest son and heir to the royal throne of one of the most powerful royal families remaining in Europe was getting married to his lady.

At the moment I needed publicity and a vast amount of money in order to finance my new venture.

I thought that kidnapping the prince and his bride would fill the bill.

Prince Hector and Lady Moira were being hailed as a fairytale couple, their pictures frequently shown on the covers of the world's leading news magazines. The Price was a handsome lad, blond and tall with a regal bearing. Lady Moira was petite and brunette with the sunniest of smiles. It made me almost puke when I looked at their pictures. I find nothing romantic about young love, especially young love among the upper classes.

There were two distinct phases of the kidnapping plan.

Phase one involved the actual mechanics of the kidnapping. Phase two involved finding two people to I substitute for the Prince and Lady. Two people who would pass close inspection.

And that part wasn't hard to do. Neither the Prince nor the Lady had distinctive features. Lots of young men and women could successfully pass for them.

We looked over many possibilities, finally narrowed it down to the two finalists, then went to work making them look identical to the Prince and Lady in every way.

Pictures of the Lady's wedding dress had been published prior to the wedding, and we had an identical one made up at probably a tenth of the cost of the original. The young couple were given lessons in using the proper accent, in deportment, etc., in the hopes that the substitution wouldn't be discovered for at least an hour after the kidnapping took place. We wanted a chance to get the victims out of the country before they were missed.

This was going to be Chantal's first caper as Corinne. She was really excited about it and couldn't wait for the happy day.

The whole world seemed to be waiting for the happy day.

And when the happy day arrived, it arrived with rain, which must have pissed off all the wedding planners mightily.

The kidnapping went off as planned. We had the limousine containing the real prince and his bride. And our substitutes were speeding off to the wedding reception. I was driving the limousine with Corinne by my side. Before the royal couple even knew what was happening, so engrossed were they with each other's eyes in the back seat, we had pulled into a parking lot, and I turned around in the seat and pointed a gun at the prince. Corinne had Lady Moira covered.

"Out of the car, folks," I ordered.

"How dare you pull such a stunt," gasped the prince. He was apparently just as stuffy as the rest of the family.

Moira began to cry. "You're spoiling my wedding day," she sobbed.

But they got out of the car and into the panel truck I had waiting.

As I drove to the airport, Corinne was making them change their clothes in the back of the truck. Which must have been embarrassing for the virginal bride. When they stepped out of the back of the truck to board the private Cessna I had chartered, they looked like a couple of ordinary students. The public never having seen either of them in regular people's clothes, I didn't think there would be a chance in hell that anyone would recognize them.

We headed for Libya where I had been promised a large villa and full use of the local police.

As soon as I arrived in Libya, I sent Corinne on to the villa with the prisoners and I went down to the local police station to use their telex machine. I sent telexes to all the major wire services telling them of the kidnapping, telling them who had done it, and announcing the ransom of two billion pounds sterling to be placed in an unnumbered Swiss bank account.

And then I joined Corinne and the happy couple at the villa. Corinne really took to the work of a terrorist. By the time I arrived, she had them both stripped naked and tied up, side by side, to the wall. The servants must have helped her, she couldn't have done it all by herself, but she had a proud look on her face when she greeted me and I nodded my approval to her.

I looked over the naked body of the prince with interest. He was more modestly endowed than I would have expected from someone of such an illustrious royal family who were noted for their dozens of progeny. And Moira was rather short changed, too. Her tits were small and innocuous, but she did have a virgin cunt to be toyed with.

"Why do you have them tied up naked?" I queried Corinne.

She grinned at me. "I wanted to have some fun with them. Get some experience in torture."

I nodded agreement. "Don't get carried away and kill them, though. We do want that ransom.

"I won't kill them. They might wish they were dead when I'm through with them, but I certainly don't intend killing them."

I drew up a chair and sat down, lighting a cheroot and ordering a brandy from the servants.

"All right, Corinnelet's see you do your stuff."

She was magnificent. In the space of a moment she had turned from a lively, lovely woman into a venomous creature with evil pouring out of her green eyes. Corinne walked over to where Moira was tied up and slowly untied her.

"Since this is your wedding night," she said to the girl, "I feel you should be instructed in sex. I assume, of course, that you are pure."

"Of course I'm pure," said Moira, blushing a becoming pink.

Untied, the girl was trying to cover her tits and cunt with her arms, but it was a losing battle.

Corinne's eyes went to Hector's furious face. "Tell me, Hector, how do you feel about getting your cock sucked?"

Hector's fury mounted. "How dare you address me by my first name."

"Very easily," said Corinne. "But you didn't answer my question. Do you like getting your cock sucked? Did you anticipate having your bride do it to you on your wedding night?"

Hector appeared too angry to speak, but he managed somehow. "I find you totally disgusting! People of royal blood do not behave like animals in bed."

"What a shame," remarked Corinne. "You miss out on a lot of fun. But I think Moira ought to learn how anyway, just in case she has a lover someday who likes to get his cock sucked."

She looked over at me. "Would you oblige me by allowing your cock to be used in the demonstration?"

I figured I could get turned on by having my cock sucked by a future queen.

Corinne grabbed Moira's arm and pulled her over to me, then shoved her down on her knees between my legs.

"Open his zipper and pull out his cock," she ordered the girl.

"I will do no such thing," said Moira with more spirit than I gave her credit for.

Corinne hauled off and slapped Moira across the face several times, leaving the girl's face red and swollen.

"You will do exactly what I tell you to do. I hold your life in my hands and it wouldn't bother me one bit to snuff out that life. I detest royalty!"

"You harm her and you'll die," threatened Hector.

"An idle threat," said Corinne, "since you are tied up and I am the one in charge."

"You French were always a barbarous race," snarled Hector.

"At least we know how to make love," countered Corinne.

The girl was still refusing to unzip my fly so I reached down myself and took out my cock.

Moira took one look at it and averted her innocent eyes.

Corinne laughed. "Take a look at what a real cock looks like, Hector. If you were really royal yours would look like that."

I pushed Moira's head aside for a moment so that the price could get a good look at my cock. He was looking and having a lot of trouble believing.

"He's some kind of a freak," the prince muttered.

"Bullshit," I countered. "I'm just average size. You're just exceedingly small." Corinne looked over at the prince. "You would never have made your bride happy on her wedding night with a cock the size of yours, anyway. And when she learns what a real cock feels like, she'll never be happy in bed with you. Think about that, Hector. Think about being married to her for the next fifty or so years and how in all that time you'll never once satisfy your wife in bed. She will, however, know how to give you a good cock suck."

"All right, bitch, start sucking his cock," said Corinne. The virgin was still refusing. Corinne grabbed her around the neck. "Now listen to me good, Lady. If you don't start sucking his cock at once, I'm going to knock out all your teeth. And after that, if you still refuse, I'm going to put a gun to your husband's head and blow it away!"

"I can't. I just can't do such a disgusting thing. I'd die if I had to do something like that."

"You'll die if you don't," said Corinne.

The girl still hesitated, but the prince spoke up.

"Do it, darling. Nothing they do to you or make you do could possibly be degrading to you. You are being forced to do it. It is better to live, my love."

Nobly spoken, I thought to myself, and it seemed to do the trick. Moira opened her mouth, put it over my cock, then closed her eyes so she wouldn't have to see what she was doing. Typical English behavior. They would have probably spent their wedding night with the lights out, too. So they wouldn't have to see the disgusting acts their bodies were performing.

Moira had a look of great distaste on her face, but she wasn't doing a bad job on my cock. She got the sucking part right away, although at the moment she was only sucking the head.

Hector was watching her, his face expressionless. And then I saw what was happening. I had almost missed it because his cock was so small. But it was now slowly risingat the sight of his bride's sucking my cock!

Very interesting. The boy must be a voyeur.

He was missing a lot by leaving the lights out during sex.

"Explain to her how to do it, Corinne," I said.

Corinne looked down to see how Moira was sucking my cock. "Move your head up and down on it, bitch. Bring it all the way back to the end of your throat."

The girl didn't get it right away so I began to move back and forth in my chair, pushing my cock in and out of her mouth.

She got the idea quickly after that. I stopped moving and her mouth took over. And she was a fast learner, too. Either that or she had had some previous experience. I looked over at Hector. "Your bride's all right. She's giving me one of the most professional blow-jobs I've ever had. Methinks this lady is not as virginal as one would suppose."

Hector's look could have killed me. "How dare you slander my bride?"

"And look at you," I said to him. "You've got a hard-on from watching the virgin suck me off. That is really disgusting, Hector, you know that?"

Corinne turned around to see Hector's boner. "It doesn't look any bigger when it's erect."

Moira blushed at the remark about Hector not looking any bigger. And even as she blushed her sucking increased in tempo.

I looked down and saw that she had her eyes open now. And there was a gleam in those eyes.

The virgin was enjoying sucking my cock! "That's right, honey, you're doing a great job," I told her, patting her on the head. "Yeah, that's the waytake it all the way down, oh, yesyes, that is so good. You are pretty talented for a lady, you know that?"

Corinne walked over to Hector and took a close look at his cock. "You sure didn't get lucky in that department, did you? But it's large enough to suck, and I'm in the mood to suck cock."

Corinne knelt down in front of Hector and put her mouth over his cock. His entire cock. It was that small. "Don't you dare suck my royal cock," said the prince. Moira took her head off my cock and looked around. She was so angry that Hector was getting his cock sucked, she turned back to mine and started to do it even harder and faster.

Corinne has a mouth like a sucking machine and she brought Hector off in about half a minute. Hector screamed out when he started to come, and I could tell that my own cocksucker was furious. She began to suck my cock so hard I was afraid she'd wear it out.

"You know something, Philip?" Corinne asked me.

"What is that?"

"Royal cum has no taste at all. It's like water! How do you suppose they have all those babies?"

"I imagine the wives all have lovers," I said, and Corinne shook her head in agreement. Corinne came over and pulled Moira's head off my cock. "That will be enough. You've had your first lesson. Now I think we should break the royal cherry, are you in agreement, Philip?"

"Bring a white sheet so that we can prove her virginity to her husband," I said to Corinne.

The girl was a noted horsewoman and I had a feeling her cherry had been lost years before and she probably didn't even know it.

"I will have your head for this," Hector said to me with an ineffectual glare.

I ignored him Moira sat with her head buried between her legs. I didn't know whether she was consoling herself or waiting for the next round.

Corinne came back with a white sheet which she spread in the center of the floor on the rug.

Then she grabbed Moira and dragged her out into the center of the sheet, positioning her so that Hector would have a good look at his bride's being fucked for the first time in her life.

Moira was crying now. "Oh, pleaseplease don't rape me. They will pay any ransom you want, I'm sure, but please don't rape me."

I got up and stood over her. "You'll enjoy it even more than sucking my cock, I assure you," I told her.

I saw no need to undress in front of them. I straddled Moira, positioned my cock at her entrance, then lifted her legs off the floor and shoved my cock deep into her tight cunt.

But it was wet. The bitch had gotten hot sucking on my cock.

"You're nice and wet in your pussy, aren't you? That's nicevery nice. I'm glad you were so ready for me." It was so tight in there, like a vise around my cock. And the girl was in no pain, not crying out, in fact she was developing a glazed look in her eyes like women who are being carried away by passion often do.

I began to fuck her hard, thrusting in and out of her cunt, hitting up against her uterus with furious strokes. And she was loving it. The royal slut was fucking loving it!

And Hector, the loving husband, was getting another hard-on from watching his wife having her virginity taken by a better man.

"Don't bother, Hector," said Corinne. "I don't feel like sucking that little worm again."

The "little worm" made Hector's erection retreat.

Corinne came over while I was fucking Moira and began to suck at one of the girl's tits. "My God, get that lesbian away from me," screamed Moira in horror. She wasn't horrified by being fucked by she couldn't take a woman sucking on her tit. What a warped mentality! Moira tried to shove Corinne off her, but Corinne knocked the girl's head back on the floor and from the crack it made, I figured she'd be compliant for a few minutes.

Hector was watching it all, his cock erect, sweat breaking out all over his skinny body. Poor girl, she would never have been happy with him as a husband. We would be doing their doomed marriage a favor when we killed them. Or rather when Corinne killed them. I was going to extend that privilege to her.

They weren't going to be killed because of the ransom not being paid. I was certain that condition would be complied with.

No, it wasn't that. They had to die because they could describe me. Me and Corinne. And I didn't want to have to go through plastic surgery again.

But the girl, at least, would have a good time before her demise. And perhaps Hector would, too, if Corinne got bored enough. Poor boy, he was being rather ignored.

Moira was moaning now in ecstasy. She was thrusting her tit further into Corinne's mouth and shoving her cunt at my plunging prick.

We were turning her on, teaching her the jobs of sex. And the girl was no virgin. At least there was no blood.

I was beginning to wonder if the girl was as innocent as the papers had stated. There must have been an indiscretion somewhere.

I fucked her for a long time, the prince watching all the while. And then I withdrew from her pussy, moved out of the way, and pointed out the immaculate sheet to her husband.

"As you can see, Hector, your blushing bride was no virgin."

Hector turned his head away from the sight.

"I was a virgin, I was," protested Moira. "I probably broke it riding horses when I was younger. But I've never been fucked beforenever!"

The prince blushed at the use of the word "fuck" coming from his beloved's innocent mouth. "You expect him to believe that?" sneered Corinne. "Girls have been using that same story for years and everyone knows it is not possible to lose your cherry riding a horse. What nonsense!"

Corinne moved back off the sheet and I reached down and rolled over the girl.

"I have a hankering for an ass fuck," I said to Corinne.

"Oh, good idea. She's sure to be a virgin thereall the English are."

"Oh, my God," moaned the prince when he saw what I was going to do to Moira. Moira, the bitch, wasn't protesting at all. She was acting like we had her held down and were forcing her, even though no one had a hand on her at the moment.

I pulled up her ass so that she was on her knees, then I knelt between her legs.

This was going to be difficult without lubrication, especially with my cock being so large.

"You have any Vaseline?" I asked Corinne "I have hand lotion in my bag."

"Let me have it."

She brought it over to me and I thought it would do just fine. I rubbed a lot of it on my cock, then rubbed some on her tiny, puckered asshole.

Then I pressed the head of my cock to her hole, grabbed her tightly around the things, and plunged inside of her with one sure stroke. She screamed like she was being killed, and I would guess it was painful all right, but I also knew in a minute the bitch would be loving it and couldn't wait for the prince to see the miraculous change in her.

God, but her hot hole was tight. Ten times tighter than her cunt, and much, much softer. It wrapped itself around my cock like a cotton press, and I moved more deeply inside of her. Her screaming was diminishing the further I got in. By the time I had hit the end of her channel, she was merely moaning. And I didn't think that moaning had much to do with pain. We certainly weren't torturing her, that was for sure. She was loving everything we did to her. she enjoyed sex far too much to be a lady.

"How can you do such a beastly thing," groaned the prince. "You are no better than an animal. Yet even animals don't bugger each other. You are totally depraved, do you know that?"

"Haven't you ever gotten into an ass, Hector?" Corinne asked him.

"I would not do such a dastardly thing!" Corinne pulled down her pants and pointed her ass at the prince. "Not even to mine? It's wonderful in the ass, Hector. Especially for someone as small as yourself. Your cock would be lost in a normal pussy, but you'd be able to feel it in an asshole."

Hector, blushing profusely, turned his head away from her ass. His cock was waving around in enjoyment of the sight.

I was plunging in and out of her asshole relentlessly. I had decided I'd get off in there. I wanted to drop my cum in a lady's ass just once! "Why don't you fist-fuck Hector in the ass?" I asked Corinne.

She wrinkled her nose at me. "No thank you!"

I laughed at that. I hadn't thought there was anything she wouldn't do. Well I wasn't going to do it to him, that was for sure. Fooling around with men just is not my thing. Corinne was backing into Hector's cock. And while Hector wasn't watching, his cock seemed to have no aversion to going into Corinne's asshole. At least it didn't appear to be moving out of the way.

And she didn't even need hand lotion to get it inside. She just steadily backed into it until it was in up to the hilt.

And I heard a deep groan come from Hector.

"Hey, doesn't that feel terrific?" Corinne asked him.

"Ahhhhhhhhh," said Hector, which could mean anything.

"Isn't it tight and warm and soft and nice in there? Much better than a cunt, isn't it? And Moira will love you fucking her there. See how much she's enjoying it with Philipe!" But Hector wasn't watching Moira anymore. His eyes were suddenly riveted to Corinne's rounded ass. He was watching with wonder as his cock slid in and out of her delicious looking ass. He was almost drooling at the mouth.

I'll tell you, we were doing the two of them a big favor. Their wedding night would never have been as much fun without us. Every young couple should take along a more experienced one on their Wedding night. It would probably make for a lower divorce rate.

Hector came long before I did. With an almighty yell, he shot his sperm into Corinne's ass, though she told me later she couldn't even feel it.

And then Corinne came over to speed me up. "Come on, Philipe, I'm getting hungry. Why don't you finish up and we'll get ourselves some dinner."

I began to fuck faster and harder in Moira's ass, letting go of my self control so that I could soon come.

"We'll leave the lovebirds alone for a while to talk over all their new sexual experiences," Corinne said to me with a smile.

That probably was interesting to hear, too. I wonder what the two of them did say to each other when they were alone? I'm sure they outwardly forgave each other, but inwardly they both must have been seething with anger and jealousy.

I picked up the tempo of my fucking until I was moving so fast I felt like I had St. Vitus Dance. And then finally I came, exploding into her depths, shooting so much cum inside of her that it oozed out of her hole and ran down her legs.

I pulled out of her, wiped my cock off with the still white sheet, then put it away in my pants.

Corinne took Moira over and once again tied her up beside Hector, then the two of us went downstairs to see what was for dinner.

CHAPTER FOUR

The royal couple was subdued when we returned from dinner.

They weren't looking at each other, they weren't speaking. Perhaps they had become overcome with hunger, but I doubted it.

Corinne carried a riding crop in her hand which she had found hanging in the hallway downstairs.

She untied Moira, handed her the riding crop, and told her she wanted to see her beat her husband with it.

Moira, with another show of spirit, threw the riding crop to the floor. "I will never do that!" she stated.

Corinne shrugged. "Then how about sucking his cock?"

Moira fell to her knees. "It would be a pleasure to suck the cock of the man I love. The only man I have ever loved. The only man I ever will love."

"Just suck it," said Corinne, bored with the impassioned speech.

Moira put her mouth over the limp cock of her husband and began to suck on it voraciously.

But I guess nothing happened, because she took her mouth off it and looked up at Hector.

"You won't get excited by my mouth because I have been defiled, is that it, Hector? I no longer appeal to you?"

"No, it's not true. I'm sorry. I don't know what's the matter with me." Moira got to her feet. "I know what's the matter with you. You don't find me sexually appealing. You find that woman sexy, but not your own wife!"

And with that, she picked up the riding crop and began to strike out at Hector with it.

"Please, Moira," he begged, "give it another try. Please don't beat me."

But even as he said it I saw his cock start to grow.

Moira saw it, too. "I see. You get hard from a whipping but not from your wife's loving mouth!"

"He's a masochist like all Englishmen," said Corinne, finding the whole thing funny, as was I. Moira was like a little devil with that whip. She whipped him across the face whenever he spoke, she whipped his chest until red welts stood up all over it, and then she moved down to his cock.

"No, not that!" screamed Hector.

"It is good for nothing else," said Moira, hitting him across his cock with the riding crop.

And the prince's face lit up with undisguised pleasure at the first whipping on his prick. He loved it. He really was a masochist.

As far as that went, Moira was looking pretty sadistic. They might make the perfect couple after all.

"Yes, yes, whip me there," gasped the prince.

Moira, in a fury, increased the speed of her whipping and concentrated it all on his poor little cock.

And when his cock was all bloody and bruised, she turned to Corinne. "Cut the bastard down so that I can whip his rotten ass."

Corinne gladly obliged, and when he was untied, Moira ordered him to stand with his chest to the wall.

He obeyed her with alacrity. She began to whip his ass with precision and cold-bloodedness and I was wondering what kind of monster we had produced in her.

Large red welts were rising on his skinny white ass, and soon his ass was covered with them.

Then she did a really nasty thing. She turned the riding crop around in her hand and shoved the handle deeply into his asshole.

He screamed and it must have hurt like hell to have that rough, hard leather pushed inside of him with such force.

But while he screamed he also began to shove his ass back against the handle of the riding crop.

What a weird marriage those two would have had.

"You dirty, rotten, scum," muttered Moira. "To think I married such a worthless shit." I wondered if the queen had beat him as a child, but then dismissed the notion. It had probably happened at the private military academy he had attended. They were notorious for turning boys into submissives.

Moira was shoving that handle in and out of his ass with deadly force and speed and I was very glad it wasn't my ass that was getting it.

Actually, I have never had anything larger up my ass than a woman's finger, and at the time I had thought that too large. But to each his own, and if Hector really enjoyed it....

Corinne was watching them with amusement and looked over at me and winked. "And they think the French are depraved. Just look at those two go at it!"

Quite right! The French are only depraved in utterly delicious ways, as Corinne had taught me.

Two servants came into the room carrying a TV set, and they plugged it in and turned it on for us. It seems the switch had been discovered, the wire services had relayed the news of the ransom, and the queen was now appearing on television to make a plea for her son and his bride.

It was facing Hector and Moira so that Hector could have the added pleasure of seeing his mother's face as he got fucked in the ass. And he didn't turn his head to the other side. He watched the queen with fascinated eyes.

"What would she think of you if she could see you now?" I asked Hector, and he groaned in reply.

The queen for once had lost her cool and I thought I detected tears in her eyes, but it might just have been bad reception.

Her lilting voice was pleading that the loving, innocent couple not be harmed in any way. That they be treated with all the dignity they were entitled to. That they be accorded every courtesy. And she even said she was sure the kidnappers would be honorable men.

She was very naive, I'll say that for her. About a lot of things.

Moira was totally ignoring the TV. She was getting a lot more viewing pleasure out of her husband's ass. In fact, I was thinking she would probably make a pretty good terrorist, and I bet I could have recruited her, too. All I would have had to promise her was plenty of men to whip. She probably would have joined us in a shot.

But I didn't really want her. Passionate, wrathful young ladies do not make good terrorists unless they are used for suicide missions.

And anyway, I wouldn't trust her and she could identify us.

I guess her arm finally began to tire, because Moira pulled the handle out of Hector's ass and threw it on the floor.

Then she turned around and bent over, her ass pointing at Hector.

"Turn around you worthless piece of shit and kiss my ass," she ordered him.

Hector slowly turned around, his eyes still on the TV screen.

"And quit watching your mama!"

Hector turned his eyes to Moira's inviting ass, then leaned down and planted a kiss on one of the cheeks.

"Not there, idiot, kiss my asshole!"

He pulled her ass apart with his hands, then bent over once again and placed a kiss on her asshole.

"Now suck on it. And lick it out. And don't stop until I tell you to!" She really had Hector toeing the line. She should have been queen herself. I bet if she were queen there wouldn't be any problems with the labor unions.

Hector began to suck on her asshole, making loud slurping noises that I found rather disgusting.

And then it quieted down and I assumed he was licking it.

"Stick your tongue insideclean it out!" she yelled at him.

Then more quiet except for Hector's soft moans of enjoyment.

He was a real pig, that prince.

"Why did I ever marry a fool like you," she murmured, shaking her head in consternation.

Poor girl. If she had thought of that sooner she wouldn't be so soon to die.

But I'm sure by that time that death would have been preferable to her than being married to Hector for a lifetime.

Anything would probably be preferable to that.

As for Hector, he never would have been fit to rule a nation anyway. He just didn't have the strength for it. A king should at least be assertive.

When he had cleaned out her asshole to her satisfaction, Moira turned around and kicked him hard in the stomach, sending him flying across the floor.

She followed after him, kicking him all over, really being brutal to the poor guy.

She was in a rage like I have ever seen. A guess that saying about a woman scorned is true. He couldn't get it up for her and now he was going to pay for it.

That was all right for me. If she ended up killing him, all the better.

"I'm going to fist-fuck the son-of-a-bitch," Moira muttered, and ordered Hector to roll over on the floor.

From the smile on his face I could see that Hector thought that a splendid idea. He had his ass all poised and waiting for the first blow.

"Can I use some of your hand lotion?" Moira asked Corinne.

Corinne handed her the bottle and told her to help herself. Moira poured hand lotion out and spread it thickly over one arm and hand, then put some more on Hector's ass.

Then she began to shove a couple of her fingers up his asshole. I figured she'd be able to manage it. Her hand and arm weren't all that big.

And oh, was Hector going to love it!

She got two fingers in, then three, then four, then she finally managed to wedge the thumb inside, too.

Hector was moaning with delight.

I watched as she shoved her entire hand up his ass to her wrist. Then I guess she made a fist, because Hector suddenly let out a terrific moan.

Then her arm began moving inside of him. I hadn't known an ass was that deep, but she managed to get her arm inside almost to the elbow before she stopped. Then she began to move her hand and arm in and out of his ass like a plunger. She fist-fucked him so hard she had him moving all around the floor. And he was crying out with pleasure the whole time, urging her to do it harder, do it faster, do it deeper.

I don't think the poor fool had ever enjoyed sex so much. Perhaps he was a fag and hadn't known it.

But then he had enjoyed having Corinne suck his cock, 'too.

"Oh, fuck me harder, fuck me harder," yelled Hector, and Corinne and I stifled our laughter. Moira was deadly serious. She didn't have even the flicker of a smile on her face as she single-mindedly fist-fucked her new husband. And she was more brutal with her fist than she had been with the riding crop.

If Hector had lived to see the next day he wouldn't have been able to sit down.

That ass of his was getting more action than it deserved!

When her arm finally gave out, she removed it, wiped it off on the sheet, then led Hector back to the wall and tied him up.

I turned to Corinne. "Are you going to finish them off now?" I whispered to her so that they wouldn't hear and panic.

She nodded her head.

"How arc you going to do it?"

"I'm going to cut their throats."

"Fine. I'll wait for you in bed."

My last view of them was Corinne tying a triumphant Moira back up against the wall.

A while later Corinne came to me with blood on her hands and that excited me.

I wouldn't even let her wash off. I grabbed hold of her and tumbled her onto the bed, then lifted her skirt, took out my cock, and plunged deep inside of her.

She took her hands and wiped the blood off on my face. "I've done it, I've killed two people," she said in a low voice.

"Did it excite you?" I asked her.

"Very much."

"In what way?"

"I'm embarrassed to tell you."

"Did you come when you did it?"

"How did you know that?"

"I know the feeling. It's happened to me. You'll get over it in time."

"I don't want to get over it. It was the most exciting moment of my life. As their blood spurted out all over me, I came and came and came."

And she was still coming. She was coming from being fucked with their blood still on her. With their deaths on her hands.

And I was excited by the thought that I was fucking a killer. A killer of my own making. I was driving deep inside of her and my body was on fire. I could smell cum and pussy. And blood. I could smell lots of blood. And it was making my temperature rise and my heart pound and it was doing the same for Corinne.

"You're wonderful, wonderful," I murmured to Corinne.

"Am I a good terrorist?"

"You're a marvelous terrorist."

"Will I get to kill more people?"

"Many more."

"How many more?"

"How many did you have in mind?"

"Could I hijack a 747 and kill them all?"

"That sounds rather bloodthirsty, my dear."

"How about the Olympics?"

"Corinne!"

"I need more blood, more and more blood."

Had I given birth to a fucking vampire?

"Cool it, Corinne. Don't get carried away. There's more to life than blood! There's fucking, and you're going to screw this one up if you don't shut up and let me get on with it."

"Sorry."

"That's all right."

She settled down then, but I could see her mind was going a mile a minute and it was blood she was thinking about.

But her thinking didn't interfere with my fucking as her talking had. We fucked most of the night. She was insatiable, couldn't get enough of it, and I was carried along with her enthusiasm. Yes, I quite outdid myself that night. It was a night to remember.

The next morning we were informed that the money had been deposited to the Swiss bank. We supervised the servants as they disposed of the bodies in the sea, and then Corinne and I flew off to Switzerland for a little rest. We deserved it, I thought. Particularly Corinne.

CHAPTER FIVE

One of Mossad's top female field agents had been captured and I was asked to go to Beirut to interrogate her personally. It was hoped that she could be broken to the point where she would agree to work as a double agent for us.

Her name was Naomi and I had been coming up against her for years. But we had never met.

At times she seemed to be my nemesis, but no more. Now we had her and she would never be a threat to me again.

I flew to Beirut, leaving Corinne in Switzerland to have herself a vacation, and was met at the airport and driven out of town to the PLO compound.

Naomi had not as yet been interrogated; it was something I specialized in and they had been waiting my arrival to begin. I was given a large office, men were put at my disposal, and the first thing that I requested was that Naomi be brought to me for an interview. I wanted to meet this infamous spy in person before getting down to particulars.

I had expected an Amazon, I guess, because when she was brought before me my first thought was how small she was.

My second was of her child-like appearance. I knew Naomi must be pushing thirty as she had been around for a long time, but the diminutive girl who was brought before me looked more like a schoolgirl. Which might have been one of the reasons for her fantastic success. She looked like no one's idea of a spy.

She was perhaps slightly over five feet tall, and couldn't have weighed a hundred pounds. Long, straight dark hair fell down her back from a center part, her hair framing an innocent face of great sweetness. Large dark eyes took up most of her face, but her small pink mouth, at the moment having a stubborn look to it, was also perfectly formed.

She was dressed in army fatigues so I could only guess as to her body, but she was shapely for such a small girl.

I stood up when she entered and even bowed to her. She nodded her head and a gleam came into her eyes.

"So we meet at last," she said to me in a soft voice.

I smiled. I wasn't surprised that she had immediately known who I was. She had probably been counting on being interrogated by me.

"You're not what I expected," I told her. "Nor are you. I had heard you were ... overweight."

I laughed. "I was. I lost it all chasing after you."

"And now you have me."

"Yes."

"I could save you a lot of trouble, Carlos."

"I wish you would."

"Nothing could induce me to become a double agent."

"I believe you."

"But you're still going to try."

"Of course."

I sent for tea for both of us, offered her a cigarette which she accepted, then sat down with her and reminisced about old battles we had waged against each other. Her child-like exterior belied an intelligent mind and it was a pleasure to talk to her. She was as knowledgeable as me about the various terrorist organizations and was as well versed in their history.

"You must be older than you look," I finally said to her.

"Much older."

"I assume you must be close to thirty. I know I've known about you for years."

She laughed. "Closer to thirty-five is more like it."

"That's impossible."

"When you lead a good life, Carlos, you stay young."

"And plastic surgery also helps, right?" She laughed at that and didn't deny it, but she actually had no signs of having had a face lift. And at that age she wouldn't need it, anyway. No, it was her small size and her innocent face that made her look years younger than her age.

When the tea was finished and the pleasantries over with, I had to get down to business. And it was with a certain sense of reluctance that I did so. I had waited so long to meet her. I admired her immensely. And now I was going to reduce my most notable adversary to either an animal or a vegetable. And those results were not appealing to me.

I asked her one more time if she wouldn't consider working for us.

"That's totally impossible, Carlos. I know what you have to doget on with it." I called in two guards and told them to remove her clothes. One of the first ways to break down a prisoner is to make them face you naked. It immediately placed them on a level below you psychologically.

She stepped back from the guards and looked at me. "I'll remove them myself," she said to me.

I nodded to the guards that they might leave, then I watched her as she began to remove her clothing.

She didn't do it slowly in order to drag it out. Nor did she seem selfconscious about it. She could have been in the privacy of her own bedroom so casually did she undress. She took off the shirt first, and she was wearing nothing beneath it. And her tits turned out to be a nice size for so small a girl. The nipples were large and brown and were framed by overly large aureoles in a deeper, duskier shade of brown. They stood out pertly from her chest, slightly bouncing from her motion.

As I was admiring her tits, she was unzipping her pants and pulling them down, stopping to kick off her combat boots and socks first. After her pants, she pulled down her panties and kicked them aside.

She had the slim hips of a "boy, a bristly patch of pubic hair, and slim legs.

I shook my head sadly. What a lovely body to have to torture. And I feared that although I might easily be able to break her body, her mind was a different matter. She had a strong, intelligent mind and I feared she would be a match for me.

"What happens first?" she asked me with a defiant look in her eyes. "Do you make me suck your cock? Is that the first item in humiliation?"

"Is that the first one you use?" I asked her.

She laughed. "In case you hadn't noticed, Carlos, I don't happen to have a cock."

"I meant your group, not you personally."

"At times. It depends on the prisoner, of course."

"Of course."

"Well, what is it to be?" That hadn't been first on my agenda, but now that She had mentioned it I knew that I very much wanted her on her knees in front of me sucking my cock. Yes I very much wanted that feeling of power over her.

I pushed my chair back from my desk and motioned for her to come behind the desk.

She got down on her knees obediently between my legs, then looked up at me with a grin. "How do you know I won't bite it off?"

"I like my sex rough," I told her, confident that she would do no such thing. Before she could bite it hard I would have smashed in her face, anyway, and we both knew that.

Without any prompting she reached up and began to undo my pants. My cock was already in a semi state of erection just from the thought of having my adversary suck it.

As she drew it out, it attained its full size.

"Formidable," she murmured, reaching out her tongue and licking off the pre-cum fluid that was seeping out of the slit.

"So that is what the cum of Carlos tastes like," she said to me, licking her pink lips.

"Does it please you?"

"Don't expect answers like that from me Carlos," she said to me. "You're torturing me, j we're not making love."

"Sometimes it's hard to tell the difference."

She obviously didn't agree with that because she ignored it.

She began to lick my cock and I watched as her small, fast-moving tongue darted in and out of her mouth as she licked me all over until I was soaked with her saliva.

"Licking the cock of Carlos," she murmured. "I never thought it would come to this."

"Nor did I, if that's any consolation."

"It's not."

She was taking it much better than I would have under the circumstances.

If things were reversed and she were interrogating me, I would be very humiliated if she had forced me to lick out her pussy.

Not that I wouldn't be delighted to do it under more normal circumstances. Her hair fell forward over her face as she licked my cock, and the long silky tendrils tickled my cock. It was beautiful hair and I was sure she must be proud of it. And as soon as she had sucked my cock, I would have her head shaved. It is well to remove from prisoners things which they take pride in.

I wanted to put my hands on her soft tits as she licked me, but I was afraid to do so. I was afraid to feel how wonderful she felt. I did not want to be tempted by this woman any more than necessary.

She was putting her mouth over the head of my cock now and I saw how it stretched out her small mouth.

She didn't close her eyes. She didn't act in any way as though what she was doing was distasteful to her. And her mouth over my cock felt wonderful. She began to suck on it and I saw her cheeks being sucked in as she did so. And what a feeling it was, made more powerful by the fact of who she was.

A common streetwalker could probably have sucked as well, but it wouldn't be the same. Knowing the famous Naomi was sucking my cock was making me hotter than usual. And I knew that I would force her to swallow my cum. I wanted to know that my cum would eventually be in her blood stream, a part of her. And I was sure that that would bother her if sucking my cock didn't.

She was moving down on it now. Further and further. Taking more of it in that small mouth of hers than I would have thought possible. .

And she didn't let up a moment on her sucking. She kept up the pressure all the while she drew it back further and further into her throat.

And her tongue was not idle, either. It was moving over my cock, keeping it wet, its roughness doing incredible things to my sensitive skin. I was relaxed. Totally relaxed. I had to be to come while she sucked me. I wasn't going to hold back at all.

And the idea of her sucking me was enough stimulant, anyway. I would never have dreamed that one day the notorious Naomi would be sucking my cock. And apparently enjoying it.

She was resting her small hands on my thighs now, no part of my cock left out of her mouth.

She had it in further than I thought it would go. She had a long neck for such a small girl, but it hadn't looked that long.

It was hitting up against the back of her throat, sending shivers of pleasure throughout my body.

I found that I was breathing harder, that sweat was breaking out on my face and chest, making my shirt stick to my body. She was getting to me in a way few women ever did. In her own way she was far more sexy than Corinne. Probably due to her look of innocence. And, of course, knowing who she was.

I was being sucked by a celebrity. And that's a heady experience. Her head was moving fast as her mouth went up and down my cock with ever increasing speed.

My cock was enclosed tightly between her lips, and she was careful to do nothing more with her teeth than lightly graze the sides of my cock.

Her tits were bouncing and her hair was swinging from the exercise she was getting sucking me off. "You're a good little cocksucker, you know that, Naomi? Now, nowdon't take offense at that and stop. Just keep it up. You're doing a wonderful job of it and don't think I don't appreciate the effort you're taking. And I know also that you're thinking 'Fuck you, Carlos', and I know that you wouldn't be sucking my cock under any other circumstances. But for the moment you are and for the moment I'm enjoying it very much. You are making my cock feel on fire, and it's no easy thing for someone to do that to me."

I could see she didn't appreciate my discussing her cocksucking while she was busy doing it, so I desisted. But then I had a brilliant idea. I reached for the phone on the desk and ordered a photographer to come to my office.

A couple of minutes later he arrived. And while Naomi continued to suck my cock, I had the photographer take several pictures of her from different angles. Just of Naomi with her mouth on my cock. My face was not to be in the pictures. If I did that, I'd have to have plastic surgery again.

But photos of Naomi sucking cock circulated around would do no good to Mossad. They would be furious at the adverse publicity.

They would completely discredit her as a spy. Unless, of course, she agreed eventually to be a double agent. Then the pictures would be destroyed.

The photographer left to develop his film and the sucking continued. Almost involuntarily my hands moved to her head to feel the silkiness of her hair. I wanted to feel it once before it was shaved off. But so that she wouldn't think it a sympathetic gesture, I pushed her head harder over my cock forcing it in even further.

She made a noise in protest, and I removed my hands. I would let her do it at her own pace. God knows, she was doing a marvelous job of it. My cock was tingling like a thousand little tongues were moving over it, like it was being held in a soft, wet vise. The effect was incredible. She was making me so hot I wanted to moan and cry out, but I couldn't give her that kind of satisfaction. I felt myself getting hotter and hotter, my balls getting tenser and tenser, and then I felt the familiar rumblings of my cum starting to explode up through my cock and into her mouth.

I jerked in my chair as I came, holding onto the arms, trying to control myself. But it wasn't much use. I was coming in a tremendous explosion and selfcontrol is impossible to maintain at times like that.

Her mouth was still moving on my cock and continued to move until my orgasm was over and my cock was back to normal size. Then she looked up at me, her eyes wide, her pretty little pink mouth pursed, then the bitch spit all of my cum out at my face, leaving thick globs of it all over my skin and dripping down on my shirt.

I was so mad I literally saw red!

I slapped her hard across the mouth with the back of my hand, so hard she cut her lips on her teeth and I could see blood on her mouth. The defiant look was back in her eyes and I was relieved to see it. I would not have liked to continue with what I had to do if she had been sweet and loving to me after sucking my cock. I am not, after all, an unfeeling monster. I am just a man.

I stood up, kicking her body aside, and strode over to where her clothes were on the floor. I picked up her shirt and wiped my cum off my face, then ripped her shirt into strips with which to bind her.

I drew a straight-backed chair out into the center of the room, ordered her to sit in it, then waited for her to obey my order.

The fun and games were over apparently. She wouldn't say a word, just sat there on the floor and ignored me.

But that small girl was no match for me. I dragged her over to the chair, threw her down in the seat, then tied her arms behind the back of the chair and her ankles to the legs.

"I'd rather you didn't make this difficult, Naomi," I told her seriously.

"Fuck you, Carlos!"

"Such nasty talk from such a sweet mouth."

"Pretty mild talk considering who I am," she countered.

I called for two guards with razors, then had then shave off every hair from Naomi's lovely head.

I could see that this was getting to her. She held her mouth shut very tightly as the strands of hair dropped to the floor all around her. And she looked totally different with a bald head. Not nearly so appealing. I had a mirror brought in and held up so that she could see how she looked. But she refused to look, merely closed her eyes and spit at the mirror.

"You look like a victim of a concentration camp," I said to her.

"I feel like one," she said to me.

I stood in front of her, looking down at her still defiant face, then I slowly lit a cigarette.

"I'd offer you one, Naomi, but you'll no longer be smoking. And I won't be smoking all of this one."

I took a long drag on it. "It will be used for other purposes."

"I got your meaning, Carlos. You don't have to rub it in."

"But that's exactly what I'm going to have to dorub it into your soft skin. Do you want your skin covered with cigarette burns, my dear? Wouldn't it be so much easier just to join us? Think what a team we would make, Naomi. You and I."

"You don't have a fucking chance in hell of that, Carlos." But she was wrong. There's always a chance. She had never been captured before, and until it happens to you, you never know how much torture you can take. Some spies who think they'd die before they'd talk, are some of the first to talk. And everyone talks eventually, but sometimes by then what they can say is not useful as their brains have deteriorated too much by then.

I hoped that wouldn't happen with Naomi.

It would be such a waste if someone with her intelligence was reduced to a vegetable.

"Do you have a death wish, Naomi?"

"Don't be stupid!"

"Do you fancy being a martyr?"

"You know damn well I don't."

"How will you feel when the pictures of you sucking cock are circulated?"

"I probably won't even care by then, wouldn't you say, Carlos?"

She was right. If it came to that, she probably wouldn't.

"Is there anyone you would like your hair sent to, Naomi?"

"Don't be stupid!"

"No lover back in Israel?"

"Since when do spies have time for lovers. You are out of the ordinary in that way, Carlos."

"I'm sure you've had your share."

"Only in the line of business. I've never been fucked by anyone but the enemy."

"How sad."

"Don't sing sad songs for me. I can live very well without the love of a man. Men are all traitorous with women, anyway."

I laughed. "Exactly my sentiments about women."

"Which goes to prove that the two sexes are totally unsuited to mix with each other. They will never get along."

"You sound so cynical."

"What did you expect? I'm not the child I might appear to be, you know."

But somehow she didn't appear such a child anymore with her head shaved.

"Do you have family, Naomi?"

"Cut out the crap, Carlos, and get on with it. I can stand your torture better than your sentiment." But I truly doubted that. And I knew I could prolong the talk no longer. But something in me wanted to make contact with the human Naomi before I had to reduce her to something inhuman.

I took one last look at those big, brown eyes, that small pink mouth, the exquisite body, then I took a deep drag on my cigarette until the end was red hot.

And then I placed the burning end on the soft skin of her right tit.

CHAPTER SIX

She choked back a scream and her face turned pale.

I left the cigarette on her bare boob until I could smell burning flesh, and then I removed it to take a look at my handiwork.

A round, charred spot was on her otherwise perfect tit, smoke still coming from it.

It must have been terribly painful, but she didn't even have tears in her enormous eyes.

Not yet. But she soon would.

I lit another cigarette, and now held two, not exactly in the manner of Paul Henreid, but a close approximation. Only my gesture lacked any feeling of romanticism, I'm afraid. Holding one glowing cigarette in each hand, I brought them down on her twin tits at the same time, making two more charred black circles on their perfection.

I held them down this time until I saw involuntary tears form in her eyes. But she was brave. Very brave.

She must have wanted to scream out in agony, but she held it in. And I wondered if she was keeping her mind on something else, trying to ignore what was happening to her.

If she was, I didn't think she'd be able to keep it up long. No one could keep it up long. I took deep drags on the cigarettes again, this time simultaneously and almost choking on the amount of smoke that went down into my lungs. Then in a quick succession, I made a circle of burn marks around each nipple. Her brown puckered skin surrounding her nipples was not black and smoking, and I saw her turn paler still and the tears beginning to run down her cheeks.

"You bastard," she muttered, "you lousy bastard."

"You would do the same to me," I told her calmly. More calmly than I was feeling. I much prefer torturing men to women. Torturing a woman is like picking on a child. They are so much smaller and defenseless.

Her tits were no longer lovely. They were growing uglier by the minute and would never be perfect again.

They would always have the scars of the burning unless she had extensive skin grafts done on them. But I doubted it would ever come to that.

Burns are painful, but they're not excruciating. But it would get to that. The types of pain I would inflict on her would get worse and worse.

My cigarettes were getting used up fast. I had to light two more for my next move, and she watched me now with hunted eyes.

I then made wider and wider circles of burns around her tits until their entire surface was wall to wall burns. Except for her nipples. I hadn't come to her nipples yet. Her body was beginning to lose its appeal to me, and that was good. It is difficult to torture a body you lust for in any way. And I had felt myself lusting for hers. For her mind and her body.

And I would destroy them both.

"No one will want to suck on your tits anymore, Naomi," I told her.

"I can live without that. In fact I prefer it."

"You hate men that much?"

"Some of them."

"Are you a lesbian? I hadn't heard of that."

"No, I'm no lesbian. But neither am I that crazy about sex."

I lit two more cigarettes and she seemed to flinch as I did so. "You're going to get lung cancer from all that smoking," she quipped, and I saw that she was stronger than I had thought she'd be. She could still make jokes with her tits burned all over.

"I'll blame you if I do," I told her, and he even managed a small, sad smile.

And then I brought those lighted cigarette ends down on her large, erect nipples, and held them there while the smell of burning flesh filled the air as did also, finally, her screams.

And when I lifted them away and saw what a burnt mess I had made of her nipples, I didn't blame her for screaming.

Although I could see she was blaming herself for what she must have considered a weakness for a spy. She, better than most, should know that all spies scream while being tortured. All human beings scream when being tortured. That's a sure sign of their humanity. The ability to feel pain.

"Must I continue this, Naomi? Must you go through even more torture? You will capitulate in the end, anyway. Why put yourself through all of this?"

She stuck out her stubborn lower lip. "I will never capitulate. Never!"

"They all do. You know that as well as I do."

"I'm different, Carlos. I will be dead before I capitulate."

I shook my head sadly. "That's what they all think."

"Would you give in so easily?"

"I really don't know. I don't like to think I would, but I have no way of knowing, having never been captured."

"What's the matter, Carlos, is it bothering you to do this to me?"

"A little. More than I like."

"Don't let it bother you. I would have done the same to' you with joy. With enthusiasm."

"I don't believe that."

"It's true. I would burn your cock until you had nothing left of it. And then I would spit on it and laugh!"

I confess to losing a little sympathy for her after hearing that.

I lit two more cigarettes and the smoke was really beginning to bother me. But there was one more place I really wanted to burn.

I knelt down in front of her chair, held both cigarettes in my mouth, and opened up her pussy lips with my hand.

Then I looked up and saw her watching me with mounting horror.

She was pink and wet and lovely inside.

I located her clit, enclosed it its sheath of skin, then leaned down with the cigarettes still in my mouth and aimed them at her clit. One of them hit it dead on and her screams were horrific. Blood curdling. And I supposed it would feel to her like being burnt on my cock head would feel to me. And just the thought of it made me shudder.

I held the cigarette to her clit, the other one held against the pussy lip, until the cigarettes went out from lack of oxygen.

Her screams were deafening and she was writhing in the chair so hard I was afraid she would tip it over.

I threw the cigarettes on the floor and looked at her. Her face was that of a person being crucified.

"Please, Naomi, listen to reason. I don't want to do this to you. Work with me, please? You will be treated well."

"Bastard," she hissed, her eyes rolling around in her head. "Worthless piece of scum. I would never work for youI loathe terrorists. All I want in life is to rid the world of your kind. And you're the worst of them, Carlos, the lowest of the low!"

What was it going to take to break her spirit? She seemed to have little regard for her body or for her sexual organs.

What did mean something to her? What would she most feel the loss of? I couldn't figure it out. With me it would be my cock, there was no question about it. But she had lost the use of her clit, and she didn't seem to care. What meant something to her? Did anything?

Her eyes? Would I have to blind her? But then she would be no use to us if I did get her over to our side.

Her tongue? Her power of speech? I doubted that. I think the loss of her tongue would still leave her defiant.

A leg? An arm? Two legs? Two arms?

What was the point? I would have to do as much damage as I could to her body and then start on her mind. It was her mind that I had to control.

Usually physical torture will reduce a prisoner to submissiveness. It didn't seem to be having that effect on Naomi.

I was very tired of smoking. So tired of it I thought of giving it up entirely.

I called in the two guards and had them take her to the room which was set up as a torture chamber with all the necessary paraphernalia.

I hadn't thought I would use that room, but I had changed my mind. I gave them orders to manacle her to the wall with her face to the fall, then I went down to the dining room to get a cup of coffee and a roll. I needed a little surcease from the torturing. Torturing went against my basic nature.

When I finally entered the torture chamber, Naomi was quietly hanging from the wall.

"Are you ready to proceed?" I asked her.

"Don't talk to me, motherfucker. Just do your worse. And know thisI care little what you do to me." I had realized that already. But I still wanted her body in a weakened and painful condition before I started on the psychological torture.

I like to work with the bullwhip. When I was a boy in Chile on my father's ranch, I became quite adept at its use, and I still prefer it to all other whips. I not only like the way it tests my skill, but it is also the most painful, the most dangerous of whips.

I am so good with the bullwhip that I can put out a person's eye with one flick. But I wouldn't be doing that to Naomi. I would let her keep her mournful eyes. I wanted to be able to look into them at her moment of capitulation.

I took down a bullwhip from the rack on the wall and hoisted it in my hand. It had a good feel to it. A good weight.

I swung it around my head, then cracked it a few times in the air. I saw her flinch at each crack of the whip. She knew what was coming.

I love the sound of the crack of a bullwhip. I did it a few more times, just to tease her, then with one quick movement of my arm, I brought it down across her back.

There is no fooling around with a bullwhip.

Some whips don't even leave a mark. The bullwhip, on the contrary, left a long, red welt across her slim back.

She didn't make a sound, not a scream. But her body shuddered when the whip came down on it. I struck again, leaving a red welt about an inch below the first. I did it to her all the way down her back until she was striped evenly like a zebra. And I am so adept with the bullwhip that I can hit again in exactly the same place.

Which is what I did next.

I whipped her over and over on her back until each perfect welt broke open and formed a bloody line across her back.

Still she didn't scream, but I knew she was conscious from the way her body moved with each stroke of the bullwhip.

"The bravest of the brave, is that what you aspire to?" I asked her.

But she wouldn't answer me. She had decided to withhold her mind from me at that point.

Which is what I probably would have done myself in her position. It would do her no good to keep on speaking terms with her tormentor. I moved down to her small, round little ass. The only sexy place on her body left unmarked.

And I had a sudden unbidden urge to fuck that pretty little ass of hers. Fuck it before it became to ugly to fuck.

I wish that thought hadn't come to my mind, because once there the only way to deal with it was to do it.

And I hadn't wanted to mix sex with the torture. It seemed to easy. Fucking someone tied up didn't really appeal to me. And yet that rounded little ass did. My cock was getting aroused by the thought of it. And once aroused, I hated not to appease it. It always stood by me, and I wanted to do the same for it.

I unzipped my fly and advanced to where she was tied. Yes, I could fuck her ass quite easily just standing behind her.

I took my hands and parted her ass cheeks, and saw her squirm. She was wondering what I was doing, but she refused to ask.

But she would soon find out. And perhaps she would find it a welcome surcease from the torture.

Or perhaps she would find it even worse torture! "I'm going to fuck your ass, Naomi," I told her. "That pretty little ass of yours. The only thing left of you that is pretty. That would inspire passion in a man. And I'm going to fuck it just once before I destroy it."" She made not a sound, not a protest, although I could see her ass muscles clench up, making her soft buttocks hard.

Her puckered little asshole was winking at me as I pressed the head of my hard cock up against it. Her ass muscles clenched up even tighter as I pushed against her asshole with my cock. I didn't get in, she was holding it closed too tightly, I forgot subtlety and rammed it inside of her, causing the outer edges of her opening to bleed a little. Nothing compared to how much her back was bleeding, though, and she should at least get some pleasure from this. A nice interlude between the torture.

Once my head was inside of her the going was easy. It's just that first part where the cock head has to get inside the tight sphincter muscle that is difficult. After that the going gets easy.

I slid my cock all the way in until I hit against the back of her tunnel. Then I rested a moment, flexing my cock, before starting to fuck her.

Again my cock felt the pleasure of a soft asshole. In many ways I prefer it to a pussy.

Being dry, it creates a friction against the sides of my prick as it moves in and out that makes it more stimulating and makes my cock hotter.

And it's so much tighter. The tightest thing I have found into which I can insert my cock. And tightness counts, indeed it does. Yes, there is much to be said for tightness.

I began to move it in and out slowly, savoring the tight feeling, the friction against my skin. And relishing the way my head felt beating up against her flesh in the back of the channel. Then I speeded it up, moving in and out of her quickly. And I noticed that her muscles had relaxed now, in fact her ass seemed to be straining back towards my cock, although that might have been wishful thinking on my part.

And she couldn't move very much the way she was shackled. I really did hope I was giving her some pleasure. Why I was being so kind to my nemesis was a mystery to me, but in some way the girl had touched me. Perhaps it was her mind, seemingly as strong as mine. Or her bravery. I admired her. She was a worthwhile adversary.

And her ass was a worthy receptacle for my cock. And this time she wouldn't be able to spit my cum in my face. She would take it and it would reside in her ass. At least for a while.

It isn't as exciting to fuck a motionless ass as it is to fuck one that is thrusting itself on your cock. But it still was a pleasure. And it was stimulating me almost to excess. It had started with Chantal, I guess. I was becoming more passionate than I had been in years. Few women in the last years had tempted me or interested me enough to work up much enthusiasm. But suddenly I had found two in a row and my passions seemed suddenly to be at their greatest height. And I hoped that they would level off soon. I was much too busy to spend as much time on sex as I had been lately. It was just a drain on energy better used for business.

But this was part of the business at hand and I wasn't going to deny myself. And I wanted the pleasure of always being able to remember that I had fucked the ass of Naomi. Naomi the martyr, perhaps. At least if she got her way. I was moving in and out of her quickly now, and fucking her as hard as I could while standing up. I was putting all my weight on every stroke and really ramming my rod into her.

And I could see that her breathing had quickened. She was enjoying it. I didn't know if she could get off on it, but she was excited, anyway. I thought for a moment to test her, to reach around and see if her cunt was wet.

But then I remembered how I had burnt her clit and I no longer felt like reaching around and seeing. And she deserved more dignity than my doing something like that.

Although why I was thinking in terms of dignity for a prisoner, I really do not know. But despite the high regard in which I held the woman, despite the fact that I had developed real feelings for her, none of that had or would interfere with what I had to do to her.

I was too much the professional for that. My cock was feeling ecstatic with the action it was getting in her asshole. It was getting hotter and hotter, and my balls were beginning to throb from the pressure of the buildup of cum.

But I didn't want to come yet. I was enjoying my respite from torture too much. I needed the release but I wanted to wait for it.

But my cock was no longer obeying me as it had in the past. It seemed to be developing a mind of its own.

And now it wanted to come. And nothing was going to stop it. I felt it happening. I felt myself beginning to come. And I grabbed her around her bloody waist and pumped it all into her ass in fast, hard strokes, moaning with the intensity of my orgasm.

And then I continued holding onto her body as I waited for my body to get back to normal.

And it took several minutes. The orgasm had really shaken me. I was panting, the sweat was pouring off my body.

My limp cock slipped out of her asshole and I stepped back, still breathing heavily.

I longed for her to tell me that she had enjoyed it, but she didn't say a word.

Her body didn't move, her breathing seemed normal, and she refused to give me any satisfaction.

I replaced my cock in my pants and once again picked up the bullwhip.

And then I made a bloody mess of that rounded little ass I had just gotten so much pleasure from.

I whipped it and whipped it, relentlessly, over and over again, until it resembled a bloody pulp. And then I moved down to her thighs, crisscrossing them with red bloody welts. I whipped the softness in back of her knees, her curved calves, her slim ankles, and even her narrow feet.

All of her body was defaced now except for her head and her neck and her arms.

I didn't want to whip her neck as it would have been too easy to break it, and then the fun would all be over.

Her face could wait until later.

But I took the bullwhip to her arms and left them also, like her legs, striped with bloody welts.

And then I replaced the whip on the wall, unshackled her, and allowed her to slump to the floor.

Her eyes still gazed at me defiantly.

"Give it up, Naomi," I pleaded with her. "Accept that I will break you. Make a deal with me, Naomi. Please see reason."

"Never, you bastard!"

I had expected no less, but I had to make the plea.

"You know what comes next, my dear. Your mind is next. And no amount of bravery will withstand that. You know that as well as I do."

"Don't you call me your dear, you supercilious bastard! And I don't believe you. I think my mind will withstand anything. And I'm willing to put it to the test."

That was that, and there was nothing more to be said. I wanted her in pain, but I didn't want her dying from having her wounds becoming infected.

So I called for the doctor and had him put antiseptic on her wounds and salve on her burns.

And then I had the guards take her to a specially constructed cell. One in which a glaring light bulb burned in the ceiling night and day.

One with no window so that she would soon lose all conception of time.

One where a specially devised hole in the ceiling sent down drops of water at irregular intervals.

One with no furnishings whatsoever, just four walls and a cold cement floor.

She would have no mat to sleep on, no bathroom facilities, nothing to look at, nothing to do.

And then I waited to see how long she could take it.

CHAPTER SEVEN

For three days she remained perfectly rational.

On the fourth day I noted the first signs of disorientation. We were feeding her at odd hours. Sometimes breakfast lunch and dinner would be hours apart. Sometimes they would follow each other by a matter of minutes. One day food was withheld altogether.

On the fourth day she no longer showed suspicion at the intervals in which the food was brought to her.

She smiled for the first time at the guard, and the smile was empty.

And she began to talk to herself.

I couldn't hear what she said, but her lips were definitely moving. Not all the time, but once in a while.

Up until the fourth day she had urinated and defecated in one corner of the cell.

On the fourth day she did it where she sat, and then didn't move. On the fifth day she was not only talking to herself, she was carrying on a two part conversation. And at different points of the conversation she would laugh. The cell had had to be cleaned up because the doctor said that her body wastes might cause infection in her sores. So she was given a bowl in which to perform those functions.

She used the bowl, but then she began to eat out of it. The bowl had to be taken away from her and clean-up of her cell had to be at regular intervals.

On the sixth day she did nothing all day but stare at the light bulb in the ceiling.

She didn't move, she didn't talk to herself, she refused the meals brought to her.

She simply stared at that bulb all day and she seldom even blinked.

Her mind was definitely going but I wanted to give it a little more time. On the seventh day she also refused food but instead of staring at the light bulb she remained on thefloor in the same position all day with her eyes shut. She could have been sleeping. She could have been unconscious. She was totally inert.

On the eighth I had her brought to my office. She had been cleaned up first, but she looked like hell and had a disagreeable odor about her.

Her eyes had lost their defiant look. They were blurred and she couldn't seem to focus on anything.

She stood in front of my desk listlessly, her head hanging to one side. She didn't appear to see me at all. And yet I was certain that she could.

"How is it going, Naomi?" I asked her in a kind voice.

She appeared not to hear me. She didn't even blink. "I have to assume you cracked sooner than I had expected. I thought with a mind like yours you would have lasted weeks. But already I've won you. Although it is yet to be determined just what I won. Perhaps you are good for nothing now." She still stood there as though she were still all alone in her cell.

I went around the desk and brought up a chair for her, then lowered her gently into it.

Her wounds were healing nicely and she didn't seem to be in any pain sitting on her mutilated ass.

I began to speak to her in a low, soothing voice. The kind of voice someone would use when trying to hypnotize a subject. Which is rather what I was trying to do. "Listen to me, Naomi. Listen to me carefully, my dear. You are with a friend. A friend who cares for you. You are my pet now, Naomi. My little house pet. You are a little puppy dog, my dear. My own, sweet, friendly little puppy dog. I would like you to bark for me, Naomi. I would like you to bark for me just like a dog. Would you do that for me, my dear?"

Defiant eyes turned in my direction. "Fuck you," she intoned, suddenly taking on the posture of the old Naomi.

After that first stunned moment, I leaned back in my chair and sighed.

"All right, Naomi, so you're still going strong. Even you are not indestructible. You will succumb in time. Why not make it sooner rather than later?"

But she had effectively tuned me off and I had her taken back to her cell. I had her moved to a different cell. This one was in the shape of a three foot cube so that she couldn't stand nor lie down except in a fetal position. And rather than having a light bulb hanging from the ceiling, this one was in total darkness.

The kind of darkness one is seldom ever in. Not a bit of light could enter it. I had her kept there for five days with only bread and water brought to her once a day. It was also only cleaned out once a day, and during that time she was put in a sack where there was also no light.

At the end of that five days I once again had her brought to my office.

Her eyes were blinking from the unaccustomed light. And she wasn't able to stand up straight her muscles were so sore.

Once again I brought her a chair and seated her in it.

I looked closely at her eyes. I didn't want her fooling me again, but I could detect no reason in those eyes at all. And certainly no defiance. But then she had fooled me before.

"I see you survived the black hole of Calcutta," I joked with her, watching closely to see if there would be a gleam of amusement in her eyes.

There was none. "Naomi, my dear, we are not going to let you die. You are not going to be a martyr. The best you can hope for is ending up quite insane, and I don't understand why you would choose that over collaboration. Do you really want to end up crazy? Is that your ambition in life? Use your head for once. If you work for us as a double agent, at least you will be free. And you can always just disappear, you know. We couldn't possibly keep an eye on you all the time. I just don't understand the kind of reasoning that would prefer to end up a vegetable or crazy."

She didn't move a muscle or say a word. Her eyes stared straight out into space.

"You've proved your point, Naomi. You have a strong body and a strong mind. And you are as brave as anyone I have ever seen. Braver in fact. You have withstood the torture better than any ten men put together. Why don't we call a truce? Won't you shake my hand and join me for a roast beef dinner?"

She turned her head and looked me straight in the eye. But instead of looking defiant this time, her eyes only looked sad. "Never in a million years, Carlos," she said to me, then wouldn't speak another word.

I called the guards and had them take her to a private room with adjoining bath. And I ordered a female guard to stay with her. I wanted to start getting her body back to health. I had other plans for her mind.

I conferred at length with the doctor about the possibility of administering shock treatments to her. He assured me that they would make her amenable without damaging much of her intelligence. A little, perhaps, but then she had a very high intelligence and could stand to lose some of it.

And if I rendered her amenable, she could still be a good spy for us.

I gave her three days in which to heal her body and fatten herself up. On the third day I had her brought once again to my office. She was clothed now so I couldn't see all of her body, but she looked in fairly good shape. The doctor had said her wounds and burns had healed nicely. There would be scars, of course, but that was all.

And even her hair was beginning to grow in. It was only dark fuzz at the time, but she was beginning to look human again. And her eyes once more held the familiar gleam.

I had tea brought to us and then I offered her a cigarette.

She refused it, saying that since she had done without them for so long she thought she'd give up the nasty habit. "And I think you smoke too much, too," she added playfully.

She had recovered so quickly I was amazed. I hoped I would never find out, but I seriously wondered if she had held up better than I would have. And I thought she probably had. I think that physically, at least, women are far stronger than men. Mentally I really don't know. But she had held up better mentally than any man I had seen tortured.

"How do I rate a private room and bath?" she asked me.

"I wanted you fully recovered before the next phase."

"And when does that begin?"

"Right after this conversation."

She eyed me warily. "I suppose you will tell me what it is to be just to punish me the most thoroughly."

I nodded. "Of course. It's to be shock treatments."

She looked totally stunned and disbelieving. "That isn't fair!"

Which was a ridiculous thing to say. What is ever fair about torturing political prisoners?

"Do you still believe I can't break you?"

"Not alone you couldn't. With the help of that machine I'm certain that you will."

"Does that bother you?"

"Not the fact that you did it, no. Just the fact that I'll never be the same person again.

Yes, that bothers me, as you knew it would."

She had finally lost her confidence, but that was understandable. No one could withstand electric shock treatments.

"How are you feeling?" I asked her.

"Do you really give a shit?"

"In spite of what you might think, I truly like you, Naomi. And admire you. And for a while there even desired you."

"Well, I'm not masturbating anymore," she quipped.

I almost regretted having ruined her clit. But perhaps even that was healing. There was nothing left to talk about after that and I had her taken back to her room to be prepared for the shock treatments.

The doctor came in later to inform me that the shock treatments had gone off on schedule and that the patient was resting quietly in her room. He said that she would be able to be questioned that evening.

The rest of the day I spent restlessly. I found I had lost my concentration and even my appetite. It's a scary feeling to be able to reduce a person's mind and the knowledge that I had was bothering me.

I guess I respect the mind far more than the body, because the punishment I had inflicted on her body hadn't bothered me to any degree.

That evening I went to Naomi's room to see her.

She was sitting up in bed, a vacant smile on her face, her dull eyes looking at me in bewilderment.

The doctor had told me that she would appear worse at first than she would eventually be, but I hadn't expected such a change nevertheless.

I drew up a chair to her bed and took her small hand in mind.

"Hello, Naomi, do you know who I am?"

"Of course I do. You're Carlos."

Well, at least she hadn't turned into a total idiot.

"How are you feeling, my dear."

"A little dizzy, but I don't know why. Perhaps it was something I ate."

She didn't appear to remember anything about the shock treatments, which was just as well.

"We want you to get better quickly. There's lots of work to do."

She looked confused. "Work? What work?"

"Indoctrinating you, my dear. You're coming to work for us."

She wasn't so out of it that she didn't look suspicious when I said that. And I hoped that she wouldn't need more shock treatments.

But then she gave me a sweet smile. "You and I are going to work together, Carlos? What a team we'll make."

"Yes, I think we will. The two of us together could never be stopped."

"Carlos, may I ask you a personal question?"

"Certainly."

"Have we ever made love?"

I laughed. "Wouldn't you remember if we had?"

She wrinkled her forehead. "I would think so, and yet I've been dreaming of making love with you and it seemed so real." She was almost bald, her eyes had lost that defiant look I had loved, her body was scarred, she was weakened and nothing at all was sexy about her, and yet, even at that moment, my cock was beginning to come to life and I knew I wanted to fuck her. And if she had been dreaming of it, then she must want it too.

"Would you like that dream to come true?" I asked her.

She nodded and pushed the sheet off her body. I locked the door to her room, then took off my pants and walked over to her bed, my cock thrusting out before me.

I didn't want to see her scarred body. I wanted to spare myself that sight.

I pushed her nightgown up to reveal her pussy, but I didn't want to have to look at those lovely tits I had mutilated with my cigarettes.

I didn't have to see her clit in order to fuck her, but I was curious about that aspect of the torture I had done.

As she watched me with wide eyes, not stopping me in any way, I parted her pussy lips and looked inside.

And amazingly enough, her clit seemed to be intact. I couldn't know whether it had lost all feeling, but it looked pink and healthy.

With a sigh of relief, I knelt between her legs, took my cock in my hand, and found the opening to her cunt.

She lifted her ass to meet me, helping me to get deep inside of her on the first thrust.

And then she closed her eyes and gave a moan of contentment. "Yes, it feels right with you inside of me, Carlos." It felt right to me, too. Her soft, moist pussy was pulsating around my cock, and as I began to move in and out of her, she moved with me, lifting her legs off the bed so that I could get further and further inside of her pussy.

"Yes, Carlos, yesfuck me, Carlos. All I want is to be fucked by you."

"Don't worry, I'll fuck you," I assured her. I had her, I had Naomi doing what I wished, and I wasn't sure I liked it. I wasn't sure someone that amenable would be of any value. She would probably be that way with the other side, too. It might be that after all my work on her mind she might after all have to be eliminated.

That saddened me as I was enjoying fucking her. It felt good to have my hard cock inside of her, moving around, giving us both pleasure.

She was crying out with her pleasure and I began to fuck her faster, wanting her to come. Wanting her to be whole in that regard.

For someone so recently in shock treatment, she was moving faster and faster, getting quite carried away with the sex.

She put her hands on my ass and urged me to move in more, consume her with my cock.

I moved faster and faster, the sweat pouring off my body.

She gave a high scream, and then her body began to convulse and I could feel her cum on my prick and her cunt closing and unclosing over my cock.

She was coming and it was a powerful orgasm. She was writhing beneath me, moving her cunt against me as fast as I was fucking her.

She kept coming and coming, never stopping, just coming and coming over and over again.

She was as sexual an animal as I was, despite what she thought on the subject. And I couldn't believe she held sex in such low disregard.

Perhaps she had only said that to annoy me. She was loving my fucking her, wanting more and more, having multiple orgasms around my prick.

She looked up at me with those large eyes of hers. "Come in me, Carlos. I want to be filled with your cum."

I nodded. "Yes, I won't pull out. I want to come inside of you as much as you want it, Naomi." She was so excited she was thrashing around on the bed. One hand was on my back, scratching me with her fingernails, the other was moving wildly around, now here, now there.

I was concentrating on fucking her, not paying any attention to what she was doing. I was getting ready to come and it was going to be explosive.

And then I felt it start and I cried out, then began to fuck her faster and faster as the cum began to surge upwards to my cock.

And without knowing how it happened, she suddenly had a knife in her hand and had it shoved against my chest. Despite the fact that I was starting to come and was in no condition to think clearly, I managed to deflect the knife from the part of my chest over my heart, and when the blade went in it only cut my side. It was painful and I was now coming in earnest, but I got the knife out of her hand, flung it across the room, and then fucked her until all my cum was spent and I was back to normal.

As soon as I had taken the knife from her, her body had stopped rising up to meet mine. She was inert, totally unfeeling as I pumped the cum into her cunt.

When I had finished, I got off her on the bed and looked down at her hatefilled eyes.

I could see the knife on the floor. It was an ordinary dinner knife that she had probably stolen when food had been brought to her. Which meant that security was rather lax.

But it could have done a great deal of damage if I hadn't deflected its thrust.

And then Naomi would have been the victor.

I wiped my cock off on the bed sheet, then put it away in my pants. And vowed that that would be the last time I ever took it out for that bitch.

Naomi had finally lost her appeal for me.

"Nice try," I told her, inspecting my side to see the damage. But she had barely broken the skin and the bleeding had already stopped.

She turned her head on the pillow so that she didn't have to look at me.

"So the shock treatments didn't have their desired effect. Well, we'll just have to send you back for more."

"Why don't you just kill me?" she screamed at me. "If you were a man you'd take that knife and plunge it through my heart."

"You're not getting off that easily, my dear. You will continue to have shock treatments until you are as gentle as a lamb. And then you will be my slave."

"Never," she muttered through clenched teeth. "I'll see you in hell first, Carlos!"

I turned and left the room, too angry with her to deal with her at the moment.

I went and spoke to the doctor and told him what had happened.

"You should have realized she wouldn't have changed her loyalties that suddenly," he told me, and he was right. I should have realized that.

"I want her to have more treatments," I told him. "Fine, we'll try again tomorrow. But I have a feeling with that one all we're going to end up with is a hopeless retard. I don't think you'll break her mind while she still has a shred of intelligence left."

He seemed to have as high an opinion of her intelligence and loyalty as I did.

That evening I held a meeting with all the concerned parties.

I told them that Naomi would probably end up as no use to us at all, that she would just be a simple child when we had finished with her. But it was decided that for propaganda purposes, if nothing else, there would be great value in her coming over to our side. We could give her prepared speeches to make and have numerous pictures of her taken with different terrorist groups.

She would have some value, after all. And so we decided to continue with the shock treatments and see what happened.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The second series of shock treatments affected Naomi's speech. It became slow and slurred and it was difficult to understand her. She also became listless and was refusing much of her food.

But she was still able to convey to me, in no uncertain terms, that she would not deal with terrorists. She had all the makings of a martyr. I was only surprised she had not gone on a hunger strike, but she had probably assumed correctly that we would merely have fed her intravenously. The third series of shock treatments rendered the desired effect. When I visited Naomi hours after she had sustained them, she was a totally different person. And this time she wasn't faking it.

Once again I drew a chair up to her bed and took her hand in mine. It was unsteady. In fact she seemed to be trembling all over. This time it was taking her body longer to recover from the shocks.

"How are you feeling, Naomi?"

She opened her mouth to speak, couldn't, then swallowed and tried again. "Not so good," she finally managed to say.

"You'll feel better soon, my dear. Do you know who I am?"

She looked me over carefully, then shook her head.

"I'm your friend Carlos."

She wrinkled her forehead. "Carlos?" She made it sound unfamiliar.

"Yes, Carlos. You work for me."

"I'm sorry I'm sick. Am I missing work?"

"That's quite all right. You'll be well soon and then we'll get back to work."

She seemed to accept that without question.

And after that, everything was easy.

Naomi not only joined us, that was exactly what she wanted. She was never able to be a double agent as I had envisioned, but her publicity value was great. But I had lost all interest in her once she had lost all capabilities as an adversary, and I flew back to Switzerland to see Corinne.

Corinne was eager to see some more action and we decided the time was ripe for an outrageous hijacking.

Hijackings had slacked off in the past months and airport security was once again becoming lax.

But we didn't want it to be just an ordinary hijacking. We wanted it to be special and audacious. Corinne was the one who finally hit upon the idea to hijack a plane carrying a special United Nations delegation that was traveling from Zurich to Lebanon in order to try to find a peaceful solution to that country's problems.

It was perfect for us. Particularly since it didn't suit me to have Lebanon in a state of peace for even a few days. I wanted to maintain the turmoil there for a long time to come. And then, one day, that country was going to be mine.

It was Corinne's idea to have Naomi along on the hijacking. I had told her in detail about the girl and expressed my doubts as to her capabilities for being along on the mission, but she managed to talk me into it.

She said that pictures in the papers of Naomi hijacking a plane would be wonderful publicity, and I had to agree.

Corinne and I disguised ourselves for the mission. Not in any great depth, but just enough so that if our pictures were in the paper, we wouldn't be recognizable.

We also took along a young PLO recruit, Halim Magid.

The hijacking of the plane went smoothly. Corinne was in the cockpit with a gun trained on the pilot and co-pilot.

Halim had rounded up the stewardesses and locked them into one of the bathrooms, where it must have been very crowded.

Naomi was along for show more than anything else. I marveled at how good she looked. Her hair had now grown in about. three inches and it was curling around her face in a most becoming way, making her look even younger than before. Her eyes had lost all their old sparkle, but she was still extremely appealing. She was walking up and down the aisles of the plane, trying to keep the passengers calm.

We moved all first class passengers except for the contingent from the U.N. back into second class, left Halim there covering them all with a gun, and then, while Corinne supervised the direction the plane was taking, which was directly to Libya, Naomi and I concentrated on the U.N. delegates.

I wasn't interested in ransom. All I was really interested in, other than the attending publicity, was to break up the peace mission. But I also wanted to humiliate the delegates and their wives so that they would never forget what had happened to them and so that they would have horror stories to tell when they were released.

There were twelve delegates with their wives and the first thing I did was have them all switch seats so that each delegate had a strange wife beside him. There was no reason for them to worry about the new seating arrangement, and they did it without argument.

Then I made a little announcement to the effect that each female seat partner was now to take off all her clothes and suck the cock of the man beside her.

There were a lot of bewildered looks being passed amongst them, but I don't think they were really taking me seriously as of yet.

I walked over to where a good looking blonde woman was seated next to a portly older man and held my gun to the woman's temple. "I was quite serious in my request," I informed her. "I want you, and all the other ladies, to quickly remove all your clothing and to start sucking cock. You have until the count of ten to comply. If you don't, at the count of ten I'll shoot your head off. And then the next one. And then the next until all of you are quite dead. And all over a silly little thing like a simple request to suck cock."

I said it all in such a conversational tone that some of them still weren't taking it seriously. But as soon as the click was heard of the safety being removed from my gun, and as soon as I began counting, the blonde rapidly began removing her considerable layers of clothing.

She turned out to have a very lovely body. Large, full tits, rounded hips, and pubic hair as blonde as that on her head. Her long legs were shapely and I got a stirring in my cock just from looking at her.

The man beside her obliged her by removing his own clothes, and he didn't seem to be suffering any fits of agony over what was going to happen to him. In fact he was having difficulty keeping a smile off his face and his cock, when it was removed, was large and hard and fully ready for the lady's mouth.

The other women were also removing their clothing. They were of different ages and different nationalities, but not one of them looked too bad unclothed.

The blonde seemed to be hesitating, so I pushed the gun harder into her temple.

"Get on with it. It won't kill you."

"I've never sucked a cock before," she murmured, blushing a becoming pink.

"Then it's about time you learned. I'm sure your husband will appreciate your learning a new trick for the bedroom."

"You are really disgusting, do you know that?" she had the nerve to say to me.

"I find it disgusting that you don't suck your husband's cock for him," I told her. "Doesn't he eat your pussy?"

She looked properly horrified and I couldn't tell whether it was over my use of the word pussy or what I had inferred that he did to her.

"My husband is a gentleman," she informed me.

"Ah, I see. A gentleman and not a lover. Well perhaps he will improve after today's flight."

I shoved her so that she was on the floor of the plane between the portly man's legs, then I told her once again to start sucking.

I looked around and saw that most of the women had began sucking their partner's cock, and I was pleased to see how things were progressing.

Over the steady hum of the plane all that could be heard was the slurping noises of cocks being sucked and the groans and grunts of the men who were being blown. The blonde seemed to be getting the hang of it. Her mouth was about halfway down on the cock and her cheeks were properly sucked in. And from the expression on the man's face, he, at least, was satisfied.

"Do I come in her mouth?" he asked me.

"Most certainly. We would not want to mess up the plane."

He nodded, a big smile on his face.

The woman's eyes looked stricken when she heard that and I would have to make sure she actually swallowed it. Very soon cries and screams, albeit muffled, were to be heard around the plane and Corinne came to report that most of the man, although they had tried to appear reluctant about getting sucked, had already come and were looking pretty happy and content. The women, she said, didn't appear so happy.

"It will be their turn next," I told her, the next event already in my mind. I watched as the blonde kept sucking the man's cock. He was pushing it in and out of her mouth on his own, not content with her slow pace, and she was trying frantically to keep up with him and not have her teeth knocked out. He was really getting carried away and pushing at her head the whole while.

He let out an enormous grunt, then his face turned red and I could see that he was shooting off in her mouth.

And she was dutifully swallowing it, although a trickle of the fluid could be seen running out of the corner of her mouth. When all the cocks had been sucked and all the cum had been consumed, I announced that all the ladies would get fucked in the ass as soon as the men were able to get it up again. And it was up to the ladies to get the men's cocks up again. And I was only going to allow them twenty minutes to do so.

Not all of the delegation was taking it well. Several women were crying. A number of the men seemed terribly jealous that their wives were sucking strange cocks, even though they hadn't seemed to mind their own sucked by a strange woman.

I figured that a good percentage of the marriages would break up as a result of their being caught in this hijacking.

Well, it was a lost cause. None of those guys were able to get it up again in the required twenty minutes, so I had to change strategy.

I finally announced that in reciprocation for the cock-sucking, the men would now eat pussy.

And more than one woman got a gleam in her eyes at that announcement.

And more than one man looked like he was ready to puke at the suggestion. I will never understand why so many people are so reluctant to try all the different pleasures of sex. These people were lucky they had been hijacked; they were going to learn things they would never have known before and experience pleasures beyond their wildest dreams.

It was the men's turn to kneel on the floor of the plane and the women draped themselves in the seats in different ways in order to let the men get at their pussies.

I took a walk around to see all the different pussies, and one thing I immediately noticed was that they were all, without fail, wet and ready. And not one woman was complaining over the order. Almost at the same time, twelve men's faces went down on twelve wet pussies and once again the sound of wet mouths was heard.

And the moaning this time was fierce.

I could hear women pointing out to the men that they not only had clits but they wanted them sucked, and men looking mystified as they tried to find the elusive clits.

But the women made sure that they found them, even going so far as to point them out with their fingers.

And very soon women were experiencing multiple orgasms for probably the first time in their lives. And the men didn't seem to like that capacity in the women. I could have let it continue for hours. The women could have just continued coming indefinitely as the men ate their pussies and sucked on their clits. But after a while it began to get boring to watch and I decided we needed something new.

It occurred to me that public masturbation would probably be the most embarrassing thing for them to have to do.

And so, while the pussy licking was still going on, I announced that everyone was to get back in the seats and phase three would begin.

The women gave me disgruntled looks at that. They had been quite content to be eaten for the rest of the flight.

The men looked relieved for the most part. They also looked pretty silly wiping all the pussy juice off their faces. "Come on, men, let's start beating meat around here," I yelled at them. "And you women, you know what to do. Just continue doing to yourselves what the men were so kindly doing for you. Let's see those fingers start moving!"

Women sitting in their seats masturbating isn't that erotic to watch. They just looked kind of silly sitting there playing with themselves.

But the men really looked ridiculous. Like a bunch of boys jerking themselves off.

Hands were moving quickly up and down different sized cocks. And everyone, men and women, were furtively glancing around to see if anyone was watching them. I was beginning to be bored with the whole thing and was glad when I was told that the seat belts were to be fastened for the landing in Tripoli.

Dozens of reporters and photographers were on the scene to record the event. And we let Naomi get all the publicity. The following day her picture would appear on the front page of every major newspaper in the world leading the passengers out of the hijacked plane.

We allowed all the passengers except the U.N. delegation to continue on their way, also the pilots and stewardesses. All we wanted were the delegates and their wives. They would be held for ransom of a sort, but not monetary. They would be used to exchange for political prisoners in several different countries, particularly some IRA prisoners who were staging a hunger strike.

The good Colonel provided us with a villa and police assistance and we hustled the delegation right over there.

The first thing we did was take away all their clothes. Then we locked them up together in one room to await our decision as to what to do with them.

The activity on the airplane had whetted my appetite for sex and I was wondering if Corinne would be agreeable to having a threesome with Naomi as the third party.

When I asked her, she was more than willing, saying the French loved having sex in threes. I left Halim to get himself some food and a rest, and Corinne and I and Naomi looked around the villa until we found a bedroom with a bed large enough to accommodate the three of us.

I didn't even have to ask Naomi if she was agreeable. By that time she unquestioningly did anything I asked.

I took off my clothes, expecting them to follow suit, but when I turned back to see if they were ready, I saw that Corinne was slowly taking off Naomi's clothing.

And I wondered if she'd be shocked by the scars all over the girl's body.

They had healed up fine, but the marks were still there. All the small round scars on her tits from my cigarette burns, all the marks the whip had made. I took a look at her nipples and saw that on them the scars didn't show up. And even while I was wondering if they could still become erect, I saw that they were growing larger at Corinne's touch on her skin.

Naomi seemed to be turned on by having Corinne undress her, and when she was fully naked, she began to take off Corinne's clothing. Corinne's body, as usual, was perfection, and I saw Naomi staring at it in awe. The two seemed to like each other, at least sexually, because I saw that Corinne was aroused, also, her nipples rising taut from her tits.

Naomi reached up and cupped Corinne's tits with her hands.

"You're so beautiful," Naomi said to her.

"So are you, You have a lovely body."

I was beginning to feel a little left out. The two of them seemed immersed in each other.

I went over and lay down on the bed, my hands behind my head, waiting for them to notice me.

Which they didn't immediately do.

Naomi bent down and began to suck on one of Corinne's tits, and Corinne held the girl's head in her hands, pushing it harder over her tit.

Naomi seemed thirsty for that tit and I could hear the noise of her suckling.

And as she sucked on it, I saw Corinne reach down and put her fingers into Naomi's cunt and feel her.

"Come here, girls," I said to them. "This was supposed to be a threesome."

They both kind of laughed at that, but I think they were annoyed I had interrupted them.

But they came over and joined me on the bed, one on either side of me.

I was wondering what to do first when that decision was taken out of my hands.

Naomi got between my legs, which were spread apart, and put her face down to my crotch.

Corinne straddled my head, dipping her pussy down for me to eat.

Naomi began to lick my groin. All over me.

In the cracks of my thighs, over my balls, stopping to suck on them for a bit, then up and down the length of my cock, then back into the crack of my ass and finally to my asshole.

She-rimmed it with her tongue, getting it all wet, and I was moaning from the pleasure of it. Then she began to stick her tongue into my asshole and move it around, and it felt so good I could feel my cock getting overly excited.

And then, while she still had her tongue in my asshole, she began to suck on the outer edges of it with her mouth as though she were trying to turn my asshole inside out.

And from the way it felt, I was wishing she could really do it.

What Naomi was doing to me was so distracting that I wasn't doing much of a job of Corinne, which she pointed out to me in no uncertain terms.

And so I began to concentrate on Corinne's lovely cunt.

It was wet with juices and lovely inside and I first went for the clit, moving the skin down the sides and taking the clit itself into my mouth.

She had a large clit, one you could really get your mouth around, and I sucked on it with enthusiasm. She started to come at once and soon her juices were pouring down over my waiting face. I knew her clit got sensitive while she was coming, and so I moved further into her cunt and began to lick at it with my tongue. I liked the taste of her pussy, found it very erotic, and I liked the feel of her walls on my tongue.

They were convulsing from her orgasm and moved against my thrusting tongue.

Naomi was making my lower regions go crazy with lust.

I hadn't realized how sensitive my asshole was until she began to work at it.

I guess she couldn't get her tongue inside my asshole as far as she wanted, and she soon moved a wet finger inside instead.

She pushed it in as far as it would go, and then she began to finger fuck me.

It was an incredible sensation and I increased my eating of Corinne's pussy in thanks for what Naomi was making me feel.

But it wasn't enough. I wanted more than just one of her fingers and I began to move my ass against that finger, trying to convey to her what I wanted. And my obedient slave obeyed.

She slowly shoved in a second finger, and two was even better than one. She moved them both in and out, fucking that tender area, and I thought I would explode with lust. Corinne was still coming in my mouth and I was giving her cunt a real workout. And then Naomi shoved a third finger up my asshole and I shuddered from the pleasure of it.

And then four, so that everything but her thumb was up my ass. And I was beginning to wonder if her entire hand would fit. And as soon as I had thought of it, I was dying to know. Dying to have it tried on me. Dying for a new sexual experience.

She was probably ahead of me in my thinking because very soon I felt the thumb being eased inside of me and I tried to relax my ass muscles to make it easier for her.

It felt incredible having her hand inside of my ass. Filling up an area that was unused to such attention.

And then she began to ease her hand up inside of me. As far as the wrist and then still further.

And she hit up against something that gave me a shock because it seemed to be directly connected to my prick which was now wildly throbbing over her hand being in my ass.

I didn't know what the connection was, but it sure as hell was there.

My cock was throbbing from the action being done on my asshole.

It felt like she was getting half her arm up my asshole, and I guess she was. And it felt absolutely incredible. It was so good I could barely stand it.

And then, when she had me filled up with her hand and arm, she began to move it in and out of me, fucking me with her hand. I don't know if it did anything for her arm, and I doubt that it did, but it sure as hell was doing things to me. I had a feeling it was going to make me come and I couldn't understand how that was possible.

Corinne moved off my mouth, obviously satiated, and looked around to see what Naomi was doing. When she saw, her eyes widened.

"She's fist-fucking you," she said to me in awe.

"I don't know what it's called, but it sure as hell feels good," I told her.

"Naomi looked over at me with a smile. "Glad you like it. It's sometimes used as torture, I have heard, but I could never imagine why. I don't know anyone who doesn't like it."

"You can add me to the list," I told her. "Fist fuck my cunt," said Corinne.

"I'd kill you with my fist," I said to her, making a fist and showing her the size.

"I want you to try," she insisted. "And anyway, what a lovely way to die."

"Corinne, it just isn't going to fit. You aren't that large down there."

"Try," she said to me firmly.

She positioned herself so that I could get my hand at her cunt and I started to try what she had suggested.

I moved my four fingers into her cunt easily, it was wet and open already.

And then I moved my thumb behind my hand and tried to insert the rest of my hand inside of her.

I could get it in up to my knuckles, but then it wouldn't go any further. The size of her cuntal opening just wouldn't allow it.

"Keep trying," she said to me, "it feels marvelous."

"I'm telling you, it won't fit."

"I'm telling you it will. Force it!"

"I might really hurt you, Corinne."

"I don't care. I like a little pain."

"This could be more than a little."

"Since when are you so squeamish, Carlos. Just go ahead and do it!"

I swear to God I thought I was going to shatter her pelvic bones.

But I did as she said. I just kept shoving and shoving and finally it popped through and I had my entire hand up her cunt.

And then I slowly made it into a fist.

I moved the fist into her cunt until it was up against her uterus and then I stopped.

"Oh, God, that feels marvelous," Corinne moaned.

"It doesn't hurt?"

"Sure it hurtsI love it! Now start fucking me with ithard!"

I could understand how she felt. The hand in my ass hurt somewhat but also felt marvelous.

Poor Corinne, she didn't have anything up her ass. But she'd get her turn.

I began to move my fist in and out of Corinne's cunt, taking it easy at first.

But she was pushing her cunt over it hard, trying to urge me on.

Her pussy juices were flowing over my hand, making her passage well lubricated and making it easier for my fist to move in and out.

Naomi must have been having a more difficult time as my ass would be dry.

Corinne had an orgasm almost immediately, and it felt strange to feel her cunt spasming around my arm, tickling my hairs. I began to fuck her harder and faster, knowing that was what she wanted, and she began to scream and move uncontrollably around on the bed. It was driving her into ecstasy what I was doing to her cunt with my fist. More ecstasy than she had ever shown over my prick. But I guess bigger is better, and my arm and fist were a lot larger than my cock.

My cock was throbbing from the ass-fucking I was getting and I still couldn't understand that. My balls were clenching and I knew I would come, and I was going to spurt up in the air, getting everything wet.

When I began to moan, Naomi must have sensed what was happening, because leaving her fist in my ass, she leaned her face around and took my hard cock in her mouth just in time to catch all the cum spurting out.

When I finished coming, I no longer wanted her hand up my ass, so I pushed it away and concentrated on fist-fucking Corinne's cunt.

Naomi came up on the bed to watch and decided she wanted her cunt fucked by my other arm.

"You're much too small, Naomi," I told her, knowing that she was indeed quite a bit smaller in the cunt than Corinne.

But she insisted, and because I didn't want to show special favoritism in bed, I had her put her pussy in place and I began to insert my hand inside of it.

I tried and tried but there was no way I was going to get it in. It was simply much too large. "But I want to be fist-fucked too," cried Naomi.

Corinne looked over at the girl. "Come over here, Naomi. I'll do it to you and my fist will fuck." There was some shuffling around on the bed, and the next thing I knew Corinne had gotten her considerably smaller fist up Naomi's cunt and now they were both happy as larks, both being fist-fucked up their cunts.

We kept it up for hours and the two of them were utterly insatiable. After I had fucked both of them in the cunt and both of them in the ass, I was worn out and they were going strong.

When I finally left the room with the hopes of getting something to eat, the two of them were doing sixty-nine.

I slept by myself that night and left them to their pleasures.

CHAPTER NINE

We were betrayed by the good Colonel of Libya.

The one who had helped to finance our operation for years.

It wasn't for political reasons that he betrayed me. His politics were the same as mine.

No, it was because he was crazy. Many people know he's crazy, of course, but since he is able to function quite well despite his craziness, it has been overlooked.

And so I forgive him. Because he really wasn't responsible for what he did. But when the terms of the ransom had been met, i.e. all the political prisoners had been released and flown to the designated destination, and we were to release the hostages while the television cameras rolled, Corinne and Naomi and Halim and I were captured.

In the last few moments we had alone together, I told Corinne to tell them the truth.

To tell them about her husband's having done plastic surgery on me and of how I forced her to join me with threats on her life. I knew Naomi would be all right.

Halim would probably be questioned, then used in an exchange of prisoners. But if they found out who I was, I was as good as dead. And they would find out as soon as they began to question Naomi as she no longer had the capacity to lie even if she had wanted to.

The CIA, when they found out who they had in captivity, had me flown to their headquarters in Langley, Virginia, and then to a private house far out in the country.

It looked like an elegant estate on the outside. The inside was a marvel of the computer age. It was the most perfectly set up place for interrogation I had ever seen. And I promised myself that if I got out of there alive, I would copy it down to the last detail.

It was a very strange set-up at first in that they were treating me like an honored guest.

I was given a suite all to myself that was luxuriously furnished and had every amenity except for a window or a door that I could open. It was air conditioned, and new, fresh air was continuously piped in. I had my own color TV, an extensive stereo system, a fully stocked kitchen, numerous books to read, and anything else that I might desire except freedom.

There was even a silver box on the coffee table in the living room that revealed an impressive quantity of pure, uncut coke for my enjoyment. I decided to treat it as a vacation for the time being. I was left completely alone the first few days, although I was certain they were monitoring my every move through some means. I was sure there was a crew of people watching me at all times.

I was totally innocuous, doing nothing to entertain their viewing pleasure.

I ignored the TV and spent most of my time reading some of the books supplied me.

I also ate well, because I'm not a bad cook, and I got more sleep than I had gotten in years.

All of which I found surprising in that I would have thought they'd start off by trying to weaken me.

Although maybe they were planning on making me an offer I couldn't refuse and wanted me to be in good health when I accepted. I also wondered if perhaps they were drugging me or had previously drugged the food in the kitchen, but I didn't think so. I felt as alert as ever and I didn't even touch the coke they had left me.

On the third day the most beautiful blonde in the world entered my suite and locked the door behind her. She came at an opportune time, which I'm sure they knew. I was merely reading a book on the living room couch and growing rather bored with the whole arrangement. When I say she was the most beautiful blonde in the world I am quite serious. She was total perfection from her breathtakingly beautiful face right down to her feet.

Her hair was long and wavy and of a honey blonde. Her eyes were grey and framed by black lashes and dark eyebrows. Her nose was small and straight, her mouth wide and sensuous, and that was only her face.

She had tits that literally billowed out of the low-cut top she was wearing and they stood out without the aid of a bra.

She had a narrow waist, rounded hips, and the longest, loveliest legs I had ever seen.

That I wanted to get into her cunt goes without saying. I was at half mast just from looking at her.

I crossed my legs so that she wouldn't notice and waited for her to speak first. After all, I hadn't invited her there.

"I'm Susan," she said to me in a throaty voice.

The name was much too plain to suit her and I told her so. She laughed and the sound was deep and sexy. "I'm usually called Honey."

That suited her!

"Are you an agent, Honey?" I asked her.

"Yes. And this is my first assignment."

"I'm your first assignment?"

She nodded her head.

"And what are you assigned to do to me?"

She batted her eyes at me and giggled. "Whatever you want me to do to you." I understood by then what little intelligence the girl had and realized that she wasn't an agent but bait. An agent had to be intelligent and they didn't waste good agents on sexual assignments. This one was merely going to be used as bait on me and afterwards, when her value was gone, would probably be disposed of.

Which seemed an awful shame. They could at least have tried implanting a decent brain in her head so that the body and face didn't have to go.

"What would you like me to do to you?" asked Honey.

"Would you care for a drink, Honey, or perhaps some coke?"

I opened the silver box and her eyes lit up. "I've never seen so much snow in my life," she said in awe.

I rolled her a piece of paper to use and she began to snort the coke as though she were starving for it.

And then, in a decidedly euphoric state, she began to take off her clothes so that I could see the whole package. The tits were as I had imagined them to be-monstrously large, but then I have nothing against monstrously large tits unless they hang down flat, and hers did no such thing. Her pussy area was one mass of fluffy blonde pubic hair and I had a sudden urge to tickle my nose in its depths. But I controlled myself. I wanted Honey to do all the work, that's what she was getting paid for.

She went over to the stereo, put on some God-awful rock music, and began to dance around the room to the music.

She looked delicious and moved her hips in such a way that she looked like she'd be a great fuck, but the music was giving me a headache so I finally got up and turned it off.

Honey pouted. "I love that group!"

"Then take the album with you when you leave," I told her. The idea of a free album excited her as much as all the free coke. I left her for a moment and went out to the kitchen to mix myself a scotch and water. She had only been there a few minutes and already Honey was driving me to drink.

I came back with the drink and settled myself back down on the couch. I even picked up the book I had been reading. Honey didn't know what to do. I guess she had expected me to fall down dead at the sight of her naked body.

"What do you want Honey to do?" she asked me with a lisp.

"Do whatever you want, Honey," I told her.

"Do you want Honey to suck your little cock?" Little cock? She'd pay for that remark. "No thanks, Honey." She was really pouting now. "Do you want Honey to give you a massage all over your body?"

That didn't sound like such a bad idea but I didn't for one moment think she really knew how to give one.

"I'll pass on that, Honey."

She put her hands on her hips and gave me a mock glare. "You're not being nice to Honey."

"Honey's being a pain in the ass," I told her with my own imitation lisp.

Honey stamped her foot. "Honey wants to be fucked."

"Then go fuck yourself." She was now in tears of frustration. She stood there for a moment, pretending to be thinking, and then she turned around and bent over so that I got a good view of her splendid ass.

"Honey loves to be fucked in the ass."

"Obviously, it looks like a truck could fall in there," I told her.

Now she was crying real tears. "Honey doesn't like you at all!"

"It's mutual, Honey."

"Why? All the men like Honey. What's the matter with you, you a fairy or something?"

Typical of your average sex symbol. If you don't like them it makes you a fag.

"Honey, I just don't like stupid women," I explained to her. "You are very nice to look at but looks just aren't enough. I happen to like brains, too."

"If you're pretty you don't have to be smart," Honey explained to me. Which is probably something her mother drilled into her head when she was younger.

"For me you do," I told her. And after that I ignored her. I went on reading my book while Honey sat on the floor and sulked. I wouldn't let her play the stereo, I wouldn't let her put on the TV, and obviously she wasn't capable of reading a book. So she had nothing to do but snort coke.

Two hours later she left in a daze. The following day they tried it again. The door opened as I was once more reading a book and an exact duplicate of Honey walked into the room. I knew it wasn't Honey at once because she had an intelligence gleaming out of her eyes.

"What are they doing, cloning Honeys?" I asked her.

She laughed. "Something like that."

"And you're the one who got brains."

She nodded.

Then she also disrobed, and her figure was the duplicate of Honey's.

"What would you like first?" she asked me in a sexy voice.

"You could fix me a drink," I told her.

"Scotch and water?"

I nodded. They had me monitored well.

She came back with the drink and one for herself, then sat down next to me on the couch.

"I'd love to suck that notorious cock of yours, Carlos," she said to me with a sexy smile.

"It's taking a vacation at the moment," I told her.

"Oh, come on. What's a little suck?"

"I'm not in the mood."

"What's your problem? I'm not stupid like Honey."

"No, but you remind me of her."

"And you're going to hold that against me?"

"Absolutely."

"You're a prick, you know that?"

"So I've been told on occasion." She got up off the couch, spilled her drink in my lap, then put on her clothes and left in anger.

I changed my pants, sponged off the couch, and went back to my book.

The next day, covering all bets, they sent in a fag. He left in about ten seconds.

I didn't know why they were so concerned about my sex life The next day one of the top agents paid me a visit. A man this time.

I offered him a drink, he accepted, and then we sat down to talk. And I was interested in hearing his offer. I had never been made an offer by the CIA before.

He came right to the point. "We'd like you to work for us, Carlos."

"That's very generous of you," I told him, lighting a cigarette.

"You'd definitely be valuable to us. I'm sure you know how valuable."

"I know."

"I'd like to make you an offer if you have no objection."

"None at all," I assured him.

"Good. Well, what we have in mind is making you head of a branch in Europe that is going to be essentially anti terrorist."

"You mean seek out and kill all my old friends."

"Exactly."

"Go on."

He was looking hopeful at my attitude. "We can offer you a salary of $100,000 a year plus an expense account, full medical and dental insurance, life insurance, and pension plan. Also, after two years, you'd qualify for our profit sharing plan."

"Do I also get a secretary?"

"Of course."

"Well, that's a very generous offer, Sir, and I'd like to say yes to it, but I'm afraid I'm going to turn it down."

He looked suitably aghast. "Might I ask your reason?"

"It doesn't interest me."

"For what reason?"

"Many reasons."

"Is it the money?"

"Well, I'm certainly used to making more than that, and I don't have to pay taxes on what I make, but it isn't just the money."

"What else is it?"

"I don't think I could stand being honest."

He looked surprised. "Hey, we're not honest. We're CIA."

"I thought you guys were on the up and up these days after all those congressional hearings."

"No, that blew over and now we're back to our old ways."

"Look, I just don't find your offer appealing. But I've enjoyed talking to you," I said, hoping he'd take the hint and leave. I was in the middle of a very exciting spy novel and I wanted to find out how it ended.

He got up to leave, shaking my hand at the door. I was glad to have some privacy again. That night I was in bed sleeping when I felt someone crawling in bed with me. I hoped it wasn't my previous visitor, but when I felt bare boobs being pressed up against my back, I relaxed.

"That better not be you, Honey," I whispered in the dark.

"Thanks a lot, Carlos," came the voice of Corinne. "You've forgotten me already?"

I turned around and took her in my arms. "What are you doing here? Why haven't they released you?"

"I didn't want to be released. I love being a spy. If I can't work for you anymore, I'll work for them. They made me a good offer."

"And I'm part of it?"

"No. They just thought the fact I was working for them might influence you, although I told them I didn't think it would."

But I wasn't interested in offers at the moment. I was more interested in her warm body pressed up close to mine.

I moved a hand over one of her tits and closed my mouth over hers, shoving my tongue in her mouth and my fingers in her pussy at the same time.

She moaned contentedly and moved her hand to take hold of my hard cock.

"Just like old times, huh, Carlos?" she murmured into my mouth. But I didn't really want to talk. I wanted to devour her lovely body.

She had one arm flung around my neck while she began to move the skin up and down on my cock.

I moved a hand down to her ass and played with her little asshole. She wiggled around, showing her pleasure.

I felt like a lot of foreplay that night. I was really getting bored with all the sleep and rest I had been getting and felt like spending the whole night making love.

And no one could watch us because we were in the dark. I moved my mouth off hers and lowered it to suck on one of her tits, my finger now moving inside her asshole and my other hand digging hard inside her pussy. I had her going like crazy and she was coming already.

All she could do was hold on to my cock as I spread the passion throughout her finely tuned body. I could play that woman's body like an instrument. I knew everything that drove her wild, all her sexual responses.

Touch her tits and she was ready to fuck. Put a finger in her pussy and she would come. Stick a finger up her asshole and she would scream with delight. She was wonderful to play with because I couldn't make a mistake. She was a finely honed sex machine and I knew which buttons to push.

She wasn't bad with my body, either, but at the moment I wasn't giving her a chance. And I had her so hot and excited she hardly knew what she was doing, anyway.

"Oh, Carlos, Carlos, you must join the CIA," she implored me. "Is this an act or what?" I asked her.

"No, you know it isn't. But I'll never find another man who makes me feel like this. I'll die without you to make love to me."

"I'm sure there are lots of other men who can satisfy you."

"Oh, I hope that's true, but I doubt it. You're absolutely perfect for me. You always have been."

Actually I felt pretty much the same about her. Sexually we were very evenly matched with the same voracious appetites.

The only thing wrong was that the idea of making love to a CIA agent wasn't very appealing to me. The CIA just doesn't have a sexy image. I had never made love with her in total darkness before and it was interesting. I had always enjoyed watching her when I made love to her, but now I was learning to enjoy touch and sound as well. I could tell by the intensity of her moans just how much I was making her feel. And the sensations of touch were wonderful.

Her skin all over was incredibly soft and supple, but there were certain areas of her body that were softer than others. The inside of her ass, of course, and the walls of her pussy. But also low down on her back and behind her knees and the skin on the inside of her thighs.

And the different tastes of the different parts of her body. I was learning to know and recognize them all.

When I finally plunged my cock inside her pussy and began to fuck her, we were both so hot and ready that we exploded together almost the instant I had entered her.

And when it was over, and we lay satiated in each other's arms, she asked me one again if I would join the CIA.

"Quit beating a dead dog," I told her.

"What other option do you have? Death?"

"I'm not afraid of dying."

"But for what? You're not dying for a cause. You've always been in it for the thrills."

"When the thrill is gone, I'd just as soon be dead."

"Come on, Carlos, there is more to life than thrills."

"Like what?"

"Like sex."

"I probably had my quota of that long ago."

She laughed.

"Anyway," I added, "I won't be worrying about sex when I'm dead."

"It would be that bad to work for the CIA?"

"I can't stand the CIA. I don't want to be one of those flunkys."

"They told me of their offer to you. I thought it sounded very generous."

"Yes, and after I dispose of all the terrorist groups for them, they'll eliminate me."

"But you could accept their offer and then disappear."

"The room is bugged, Corinne."

"Sorry."

"I thought of that but the idea of more plastic surgery isn't all that appealing."

"Jesus, you prefer death to plastic surgery?"

"Corinne, I'm not interested in their offer and that is that. I'm glad you accepted theirs to you, but I'm not interested. And I think you'll make a wonderful spy for them."

"I'm really looking forward to it."

"You can seduce all the enemy spies."

"I know."

"You'll be terrific."

"Thank you for saying so, Carlos."

"And someday you can write the book of my life."

"I don't know anything about you."

"Nobody does. You can make it all up."

"Carlos?"

"Yes?"

"Let's fuck again."

She finally got the idea. Fucking beats talking any day or night of the week.

CHAPTER TEN

After Corinne left, they left me alone for a couple of days, and then, out of nowhere, they transferred me to a small cell where they took all my clothing from me.

I preferred it as this was something I knew how to deal with. My mind and my body had been getting lazy in that suite.

But an empty cell would make me sharp again.

I spent my time equally divided into three parts.

The first part was sleep which I would need to keep healthy.

The second part was exercise. I spent hours on calisthenics and yoga exercises, and after a few days in the cell my body was in better shape than it had been in years. The third part was exercises for my mind. I practiced my foreign languages, recited poetry, did mathematics in my head, devised elaborate escape plans, and outlined my autobiography.

By the time they came for me to take me to their Americanized version of a torture room, I was ready for them.

This was something familiar; something I could easily deal with. They had sophisticated equipment but it didn't scare me. I was going to get to pit myself against Naomi's bravery. I had wondered if I could hold up as well as she did, and now was going to be my opportunity to find out.

But Americans just don't have the right attitude towards torture. They really don't enjoy doing it. They almost apologize for it. They sent Honey to do it, which was a real laugh. I guess they wanted to give her the opportunity to get revenge for my having scorned her, and I knew I had really pissed her off with my indifference.

But Honey was just not bright enough to have a devious mind, and a good torturer just has to be devious.

Honey spent the first few minutes making fun of my body. Which just shows how stupid she was. It would have been different if I had been deformed in some way and embarrassed by my body. But I had nothing to be embarrassed about so I just laughed at her efforts.

"You're going to be real sorry you didn't take me and didn't take their offer," Honey said to me, her lisp now missing and the pout no longer on her face.

"No I'm not."

"That's what you think, smartass. When I get through with you, you're going to wish you're dead."

"Shit, you mean I have to fuck you?"

The pout appeared once again. Why, oh why, had they sent this stupid girl to do a man's job.

Having had no success so far, Honey decided to give me a little psychological torture, Honey style.

She tied me up to the wall, and I didn't try to get loose. Then she did her version of a belly dance in front of me, trying to turn me on.

She was unsuccessful. My prick was no more aroused by it than my mind. Someone as dumb as Honey is just not sexy.

"I didn't want to have to do this," she said to me as she got a whip from the equipment closet. It was a bullwhip and she didn't have the slightest idea how to even hold it.

"I'm going to whip your ass," she yelled at me from across the room.

"That'll be a good trick since my ass is against the wall," I pointed out to her.

Once again she pouted. "You know what I mean!"

"It's difficult to know what you mean, Honey, when you're so inarticulate."

She didn't know how to take that since she had no idea what inarticulate meant. Which made me laugh. Which made her madder than hell.

She made a move to hit me with the bullwhip and it circled back and caught her around the throat, leaving a red mark on her throat which must have stung. I laughed again and she became more infuriated.

"You son-of-a-bitch, you quit laughing at me. You're the one tied up and I'm the one with the whip."

"And so far you're the only one who has been whipped," I said to her.

She tried again and again, and even though she improved to the extent she wasn't whipping herself anymore, she couldn't land the whip anywhere near my body.

"Honey," I instructed her, "try a smaller whip. It will be a lot easier for you."

"Don't you tell me what to do, you bastard," she said to me, but she put back the bullwhip and got out a riding crop.

She moved in close to me, the crop in her hand, and then whipped me across the chest with it.

And as soon as she saw the welt she left on my chest, she burst into tears. "Oh, my God, did that hurt you?"

"It's supposed to hurt, Honeythat's the whole point of torture."

"But I really didn't want to hurt you."

"It's okay. I can take it."

"No, I can't do it," she cried out, throwing the riding crop on the floor. Then she knelt down in front of me and started to suck my cock.

I couldn't believe either her stupidity or the stupidity of the people who had sent her to torture me.

I knew the CIA was fucked up, but I hadn't known it was that fucked up.

Despite the fact that Honey didn't turn me on, her mouth was turning me on, and she got my cock hard in nothing flat.

And she did have some talents. She could sure as hell suck a cock. But I was disappointed that I wasn't going to find out, just for my own knowledge, just how much torture I could endure.

Honey was sucking on my cock so hard that for a man who likes gentle sex, it might have constituted torture.

She was even biting down on the flesh occasionally, and grazing her teeth against the skin, but I didn't mind. It felt terrific.

And she had sucking power that wouldn't quit. Up and down she went, her blonde head flashing in the air, strands of it tickling my balls.

She reached down and cupped my balls in her hand and began to gently massage them, and the combination of the sucking and the massaging was devastating.

And then her other hand went around to my asshole and began to play with it, ending with her sticking a finger up me. And that did it. The combination of the sucking and the massaging and the finger-fucking really set me off and I started to pump cum in Honey's mouth as I exploded in a wild orgasm.

When she was finished, she looked up at me with a smirk on her face, cum dripping out of her mouth.

"See? I did it!" she said to me in triumph.

"That's what you were sent in here to do? Suck my cock?"

"I was sent in here to torture you."

"Honey, that wasn't torture. In fact it was a lot of fun."

"Really?"

"Really."

"You enjoyed it?"

"Sure. You're a real cocksucker."

"Gee, thanks. No one ever said that to me before."

"But you're lousy at torture."

"I knowI flunked the course."

"Then why did they choose you to torture me?"

"Because they knew I wanted to get even with you."

"And did you?"

"Sure, I sucked your cock, didn't I?"

I would never understand her logic.

"How else are you planning on torturing me?" I asked her.

"I thought I'd make you fuck me."

"Make me fuck you? You can't rape a man, Honey."

"Why not?"

"Because you can't make a man get an erection if he doesn't want to."

"Why not?"

"Because you just can't."

"I just made you get one when I sucked you."

She did have a point there which I conceded.

"Honey, give it up. If you're not going to torture me, send someone in who will."

And someone did come in and I was led back to my cell. Where Honey was led I've never found out, but I never saw her again.

Poor Honeythe CIA must be very hard up to be recruiting the likes of her.

She wasn't even smart enough to be a model!

That night I was taken from my cell, given some clothes to dress in, and then taken to a large office where a distinguished-looking man stood up and shook my hand.

"Would you care for coffee? A drink?" he asked me.

"No thanks. Just make your next offer and get it over with."

"How about a cigarette?" I thought about it. I hadn't smoked in a few days and hadn't particularly missed it, but as soon as I saw him light up one for himself, my good intentions vanished and I accepted his offer.

"Listen, Carlos, we'd really like you working for us. I have another offer and this time I think you'll see reason. Like your friend Corinne."

"I'll listen to it," I told him.

"That's all I ask, son. That's all I ask."

"Well," I said after a minute, "what is it?"

"What?"

"The offer."

"Oh, yes. The offer. Well, what we're prepared to offer you, and it took a lot of talking to get permission for this, is $500,000 a year and all expenses. Plus profit sharing and the rest."

"Same job?"

"Of course, that goes without saying. Your only value to us is in capturing all the known terrorists and putting an end to terrorism in today's world." It sounded like a prepared speech to me and I wasn't interested anyway. The only thing I found interesting about today's world was terrorism, and he wanted me to get rid of it. Well, he could forget that.

"I'm afraid I'm still not interested," I told him.

"That's half a million dollars a year!"

"Yes, I know. But I have millions in banks in Switzerland. I don't need money. Or profit sharing. Or major medical and dental. Or the CIA!"

I was escorted out of his office and back to my cell and I was grateful to be alone once again. CIA personnel are not good company.

They are all stupid! A week later I was taken out of my cell, given a tailor-made suit to put on complete with silk shirt and tie and Italian shoes, then taken from Langley to Washington D.C. in a limousine.

It was the first time in weeks that I had seen daylight and the outdoors. I settled back in the car and enjoyed the scenery as we sped through the beautiful countryside of Virginia and then into the city.

I had never been in Washington D.C. before but had seen it depicted in enough movies that I felt familiar with the buildings that we were driving by. Most of them I recognized and could name.

I had no idea where we were headed and didn't bother to ask. It really made no difference to me. I was merely enjoying the ride.

When we pulled up to the White House my escort looked at me expecting me to look surprised, I guess. But I wasn't. Nor was I very interested. I assumed that pressure was going to be put on me from the top. Presidential advisors would be dragged out to make me offers, nubile secretaries would perhaps be put at my disposal. Typical CIA tactics all.

But I wasn't interested in any of it. I had always done exactly what I wanted with my life and it suited me perfectly. I was too old to change. If I couldn't be Carlos the terrorist anymore than I didn't want to be anybody.

As soon as we entered the White House I was taken to the office of the President, the ultimate boob himself.

The President seemed to be in awe of me, but I certainly wasn't of him.

He was seated behind his desk in the oval office when we entered and he got up and shook my hand.

I sat down in the chair on the other side of his desk without being asked and lit a cigarette. I even blew smoke continuously in his face after I had ascertained that he didn't smoke.

But nothing I did seem to annoy him.

"I've been hearing a lot about you," he said to me.

"I'm sure you have, and none of it good."

"On the contrary, I find your life fascinating. It would make a wonderful movie."

Showing just what kind of mentality the man had. "Were you thinking of filming it?" I asked him.

He laughed as though I had told a hilarious joke, but I didn't join him in the laughter. I was waiting to see what the idiot wanted of me.

"I understand you've been giving the CIA a bad time."

"They deserve a bad time," I told him.

"I'd like to see that organization put back on its feet again." I looked doubtful. "That would be a little difficult when you allow them to be investigated and censured by Congress. Undercover agencies work best when they are truly undercover."

"That's exactly the way I feel," he told me. "What's the good of having spies if you have to tell everyone all about them. Kind of defeats the purpose."

I nodded in agreement.

And then he made me an offer I couldn't refuse. He looked me straight in the eyes as though trying to show that he could be trusted. "I am offering you the job of director of the Central Intelligence Agency."

He waited for me to fall out of my chair in surprise.

I didn't, and he was vastly disappointed.

"Well?" he asked me after a moment.

"I think you're crazy."

He chuckled. "Crazy like a fox. You have the most devious mind in the worldwho could possibly be a better choice?"

Well, he was right in that. I would be the best person he could get.

And suddenly the idea began to appeal to me. It began to appeal to me so much I began to laugh out loud.

He joined me and soon we were both laughing so hard we were almost falling out of our chairs.

And that's the story of how I became the director of the CIA. Me. Carlos. The most infamous terrorist in the world.

And I'm having the time of my life!

THE END
Terrorist Kidnapping ....(67k)    by Unknown





~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~







.....8168 home .....8170








---

	"Double for Nothing!! Tricks for Free!!!"™ A MrDouble Production: mrdouble

Page Design Copyright � 1998-2011, Mr Double, ALL Rights Reserved    
Stories Copyright respective authors.