Art Heist

Art Heist

by Gato Medio

It is quite possible that Mirella's sense of reality has become somewhat warped as a result of watching too many James Bond movies - or watching them too many times. She owned tapes of every movie ever made and watched them constantly.

Needless to say, those were her favorite films. There was, however, one aspect which got up her nose. The female agents who were sent by James Bond's enemies to destroy him, always succumbed to his charm. Those highly-trained, cold-blooded killing machines fell in love with James Bond and ended up abandoning their mission, betraying their cause or their country, disobeying their boss and thus damaging their career prospects.

For Mirella, this was a smear on the professionalism of female agents. She saw it as her role to set the record straight. She would be the female secret agent who would not be swayed by good looks and smooth talk. Mirella saw herself as the one who would bring the undefeated record of James Bond to an end.

She had already selected her undercover name and imagined the impact it would have when she handed over her business card reading

Vagina A. Plenty
Secret Agent

But then she realized that secret agents hardly handed out business cards stating their profession. However, they said things like 'The name is Bond, James Bond', so she pictured herself saying 'The name is Vagina, Vagina A. Plenty'. She didn't agree with people who said that this name was too obvious, both as far as it's single entendre was concerned, and for being too closely inspired by the character Pussy Galore. Besides, most people she knew had no idea what vagina meant. They used other words. Yes, pussy was amongst them, but it wasn't the word the majority of them would use. A complete stranger whom she once asked what he thought of when he heard the word 'vagina' replied "Would that be North Vagina or South Vagina?"

Another guy, one who had read loads of books, suggested she'd call herself Fay Latio. She had to look long and hard in the dictionary before she found what he meant. What use was a name if it took a cunning linguist to figure out what it means? Besides, she didn't want anybody to think she was just another cock sucker.

For the time being she was still working under her real name, Mirella Giovanna Castiglione, a name which betrayed her Italian roots. What she had inherited from her Italian ancestors was the full, dark hair which contrasted so distinctly with her alabaster skin. She was proud of her black hair which she wore long and full enough to cover her breasts completely when she looked at herself in the mirror. She spent hours brushing it so that it would be absolutely straight, with no unruly curls disturbing the picture, but she admitted that her hair didn't have the silky shine of that of the Thai girls she had once worked with during a short spell as a night club hostess.

She envied those girls for their smooth, shiny hair. But that was all she liked about them. Other than that, she found them too submissive, too slavish almost. They would giggle when a customer put his paws on their tits and ass and say 'You very naughty man'.

Mirella, on the other hand, didn't think it was part of her job to let the customer feel her up. The job was about smiling a lot, being friendly and making the punter believe that he had a chance of bedding her. It was about getting him to order drinks and then some more drinks and, when he had spent more than he could afford, move on to the next one.

So, when one evening an insistent customer grabbed her breasts, she removed his hand, first firmly but not without gentleness, then more forcefully and finally, when his hand returned for a third attempt, Mirella said, "Listen buster, if you don't keep your mitts off my tits I'll bust your balls".

That was the end of her career as a hostess. The 'little shit', as Mirella called him, had the nerve to complain to the manager and Mirella had to go. Threatening a customer was just not acceptable. The rule book stated clearly that the hostess had to remain calm and friendly under all circumstances. Only in extreme cases could she call on the security staff who would remove the offender from the premises. But the girls were advised not to call the bouncers too often; that could give the joint a bad rep.

Mirella wasn't worried about losing that job. It had never been intended as a carrier. It was just another step in her study of male weakness. The next day she walked into the offices of Walker, Taylor and Sons, one of the most reputable firms of private investigators in town, and told them that she was available to join their staff.

They liked the bare-faced boldness with which she confessed that she didn't have any experience in this field, her determination to achieve what she had set out to achieve and her willingness to do whatever necessary to get what she wanted, something Jim Taylor Jr. experienced on his own flesh. They called her 'goal-oriented'. She would have said it was her determination to survive.

The part of town where Mirella grew up was considered a rough area. Concerned mothers would keep their daughters indoors for fear that something might happen to them. But Mirella used to hang out with the boys, joining them in their rough games and becoming almost accepted as an equal.

In those days, the scarcity of real estate and the resulting gentrification of areas which had previously been left to decay had not yet reached her part of town. There were plenty of empty warehouses and abandoned factory buildings which were used by shady elements to hide from the police. The children, oblivious to the subtleties of the law, found those derelict buildings an ideal place to hide from the scrutinizing eyes of the adults and to experience some adventures. They were a far cry from today's youth who seem to know adventure only from video games. It was in the shell of an abandoned sawmill that Mirella had her first smoke - and later her first kiss.

It was there that the kids re-enacted the key scenes of the movies they used to watch on Sunday afternoon. More often then not, these films featured a female beauty who fell into the hands of the baddies - be they a bunch of savage Indians or a gang of marauding bandits - only to be rescued by the handsome hero in the end. Mirella was inevitably called upon to play the beautiful heroine in scenes which involved her being thrown to the ground with a baddy lying on top of her, having her clothes torn off and being kissed against her will.

The boys took turns in being the bad guy and the same scene was repeated several times with slight variations. There wasn't much interest in the role of the hero because all the good guy got in the end was a hug and a gentle kiss on the cheek. Mirella reasoned that if famous Hollywood actresses let this be done to them, why shouldn't she?

Mirella's mother didn't particularly care who she spent her free time with or what she got up to, but she got furious every time Mirella came home with torn and dirty clothes. So Mirella decided to take them off. She established herself in a room of the old factory which probably used to serve as an office and charged an entrance fee - after all, a girl needs some money for clothes and smokes - for letting the boys watch her undress.

Later, when her breasts had fully developed and hair had grown on her pubic mound, she charged extra for letting them touch her. Even later, when the boys had come to understand that the hard rods between their legs were made to be inserted into the slit between hers, and demanded more than she was willing to sell, she closed down her first ever business venture, saying "I'm no whore".

A few of the boys tried to take by force what they thought belonged rightfully to them, but she saw them off without hesitation. A short, sharp blow of her knee, aimed with precision between his legs had the attacker rolling on the floor, screaming in agony and clutching his testicles with his hands. She only had to do this twice, then word got around that she wasn't really worth the trouble and the boys left her in peace.

Other business ventures were to follow, the most profitable one was selling counterfeit designer clothes and accessories in the neighborhood. Mirella organized small gatherings and put on fashion shows where she paraded in the clothes she offered for sale. She looked so beautiful in those clothes; the women bought because they wanted to look like her and the men bought because they wanted their wives or girlfriends to look like Mirella. When they eventually put on the clothes and looked at themselves in the mirror, they saw that nothing much had changed.

They had forgotten that it was Mirella who made the clothes look attractive, not the clothes who made Mirella look good. In fact, Mirella had developed into such a beautiful young lady she could make sack cloth look fantastic. A figure like hers looked ravishing just wrapped in a sheet. To tell the truth, the fewer clothes she wore, the more attractive she looked. But the days when she'd take off her clothes for everybody's gratification had long gone.

The one who eventually got to see her in all her naked glory was a young man who called himself Rocky because he thought that name combined well with the tough-guy image he tried to create for himself. He had done a short spell of boxing but had given it up before the sport could leave its marks on his handsome face. Mirella fell for his broad muscular shoulders and matching chest. He was a man she could submit to without feeling she had sold herself too cheaply. Any remaining resistance melted away when he put his strong arms around her, when he kissed her, lifted her up like a box of matches and carried her to his bed. He drove her crazy when he thrust his hard cock into her cunt again and again and she bit her lips in order not to scream when her orgasm took control of her body.

After a few weeks of what seemed like non-stop fucking, only interrupted by the need to eat, to get some sleep and to earn a little money, Rocky suggested she was fucking so well, she could turn pro and he would be her manager. Nothing sleazy, of course, he would take care of that. Only first class VIP customers. She would be picked up by chauffeur-driven limousines and taken to five-star hotels, she would probably earn generous tips on top of her sizable fee.

Mirella's entire body shook when she realized he wasn't joking. She said "I'm no whore". But spitting out these words didn't diminish the rage she was feeling and the words didn't get through to Rocky who babbled on about the easy life they would be leading, the fast cars they would drive, the expensive clothes they would wear, the exotic places they would travel to.

"I'm nobody's fucking whore," she said quite a bit louder and angrier than the first time. But even this couldn't make her anger recede and Rocky continued to try to convince her that there was nothing wrong with being a prostitute. She couldn't cut the flow of words from his mouth, so she decided to cut him. She slashed him repeatedly with his own flick-knife, the one he always carried on him.

His injuries weren't life-threatening, but serious enough for him to never want to come near her again. Enough for no pretty girl ever to want to kiss his scar-marked face.

The idea of letting anyone who had enough money to pay for it fuck her, horrified Mirella. She wasn't on a mission to eradicate prostitution from the face of the earth - if others wanted to do it, that was their choice. She was also realistic enough to know that people like her had to sell themselves sometimes to get what they wanted, she just couldn't see herself doing it professionally, on a regular basis.

Mirella felt that her experiences had hardened her enough not to fall for the sweet talk of any man and as a first step to joining the secret service she wanted to become a private investigator. Walker, Taylor and Sons considered her application carefully and offered her a job as a trainee.

Something that Mirella didn't know and most members of the public aren't immediately aware of is that firms of private investigators often have two distinct lines of business. There is the official activity which most people are familiar with because it is frequently portrayed in films and television programs. It involves spying on unfaithful husbands or wives and providing evidence of their trespasses, searching for missing persons or finding the true responsible for a crime on behalf of friends or relatives of a wrongfully accused.

Even in the conduct of these activities investigators sometimes crossed that fine line between the legal exercise of their profession and the infringement of other citizens' rights by entering premises without permission, obtaining information under false pretenses or putting pressure on people who were - for whatever reason - reluctant to talk. But as these excesses were frequently shown in fiction as necessary in the pursuit of a higher goal, breaking the law became part of the normal profile of a private investigator, just as lying to their people about the imminent threat posed by foreign nations was part of the profile of a President or Prime Minister.

The second, unofficial line of business, which Walker, Taylor and Sons called 'Covert Operations', lay almost exclusively on the other side of that line which divides legal from illegal activities. There was no longer any pretence of seeing that justice be done or working for the common good. Covert Operations undertook missions on behalf of individuals or corporations which served exclusively their interests and to hell with justice.

This might involve finding out about the acquisition plans of an industry giant, because the takeover of a smaller competitor usually happened at a price significantly above that at which the shares changed hands before the takeover, and anyone purchasing such shares, say a week before the official announcement, was ensured of making a sizable profit in the process. Or it might involve finding out the exact composition of a new product to allow a competitor to launch his version of that product simultaneously. Finally, there were the cases where an eager newcomer to a market needed to be persuaded to reduce his efforts to increase his market share, efforts which could only serve to introduce turbulence into an otherwise settled market.

Walker, Taylor and Sons felt that Mirella, being such an attractive female and having demonstrated determination and the ability to take some unconventional causes of action, even if that meant breaking a few rules, was particularly suited for Covert Operations. It was Jim Taylor Jr. who broke the news to her. Mirella was pleasantly surprised that the job title of 'trainee' wasn't just a euphemism for assigning her to menial tasks. They were actually going to put her through an intensive training program where she would learn all the required skills.

When Mirella arrived at the appointed room for her first day of training, there were already several men and two women sitting around a large table. The only person she had met before was Jim Taylor Jr. and she assumed that all the others were trainees, just like her. She was quite surprised to hear that everybody in the room was a tutor, coach or advisor on a specific aspect of her new job and that all of them were here to train her and only her.

Jim Taylor Jr. explained that she would normally be trained by one or two Agents at a time, he had just called everybody together for the first session to give her a chance to meet them. Other Agents would be called to cover specific areas as the need arose.

The purpose of the first session was to give her an overview of how Covert Operations worked and to outline the overall training program. He - simply called 'the Boss' by most Agents, but Mirella could also address him as Jim Jr. or simply JJ - was her main coach and responsible for the finished product. He would accompany her through all the steps of the training to monitor her progress and would later brief her on each assignment. Then he introduced the other people in the room.

There were Agent Bob, Agent Frank, Agents Sue and Trish, Agent Steve and Agent Clive, and that was exactly how she had to address them, never just by their name, but always with the word Agent in front, while she, until she became an Agent herself, would be called simply Mirella by everybody. Each of these Agents had been called because they would contribute with their special area of knowledge to Mirella's training.

Next, Jim Jr. proceeded to clarify some of the most frequently used terms. Mirella was being trained for 'front office duty', which meant that she was going to be in direct contact with the informants. 'Informant' was the person who supplied, usually without knowing it, the information their sponsor wanted. 'Sponsor', finally, was the person or organization who had contracted Walker, Taylor and Sons for a particular service, in other words, the one who paid everybody's salary. Needless to say, the Agents were never told who the sponsor for their assignment was.

Before each assignment, there would be a detailed briefing to tell her what exactly the sponsor was after. She would also get all the information they had collected about the informant, his habits, his lifestyle, etc. so they could decide on the best strategy for achieving their goal.

The assignment itself consisted of three phases: Approach, Execution and Disengagement. Her training would cover each of these phases in great detail, but to clarify one thing up front: Approach did not mean that Mirella would take the initiative to make contact with the informant. She would simply create the opportunity for the informant to approach her. In this respect, Mirella, being such an attractive female and most informants being male, had a distinct advantage. Agents Sue and Trish would coach her on approach strategies and techniques. Execution simply meant getting hold of the information and once that had been achieved, Mirella would have to find a way of terminating the contact without the informant becoming suspicious. This was what Disengagement was about.

When Mirella asked whether all the people in the room were part of Covert Operations, Jim Jr. told her that the information she requested wasn't part of her training program. She understood immediately: he told her this was none of her business. But as she had brought up the subject, this would be a good point to tell her a few basic safety guidelines.

Although most informants were completely unaware that they were being tricked into supplying important confidential information, it could not be ruled out that in some cases they might become suspicious or even try to outsmart the Agent. Because of this risk, there were a few basic guidelines on how Mirella could protect herself and other Agents against possible enemies. Most of these rules were almost common sense and applied to anyone, not just to Agents.

Rule number one dealt with caution against being double-crossed. It meant never to put oneself in a position where one was at the mercy of the informant and would be unable to escape from a possible attack. A special case of this rule dealt with drinks. Never accept a drink if you haven't seen it being poured, and even if you have seen it, only accept it if your host pours his drink from the same bottle.

Rule number two dealt with concealing one's real identity. Agents had to keep their real identity secret, even to casual friends and acquaintances. For each assignment they were given a specific identity as part of the briefing which would include name and profession of parents, schools attended, job history, places where they had lived, etc. Some assignments would require them to move into another apartment which would be arranged for this particular purpose.

Rule number three was about confidentiality. Its purpose was to protect Agents from losing their cover through careless contact. If Mirella ever met other Agents in public, under no circumstances was she to approach them like old friends or even casual acquaintances, as this could jeopardize the assignment those Agents might be working on. She was to request permission to approach by imperceptibly raising the middle finger of her right hand. If appropriate, the Agent would give permission by exactly the same movement with his or her left hand.

Mirella was a fast learner and once she had mastered something, she wouldn't forget it again. Very soon she was able to pick a lock, any lock, within seconds. She also became an expert in opening safes. Not by force, by memory. All that was required was that she be in the same room when the owner opened the safe and she would be able to recreate the exact position of each wheel of the combination lock which opened the safe. To say that she had a photographic memory would be missing half the point. She was able to record the exact sequence of noises, the number of clicks of each wheel, even if she wasn't able to see the safe being opened.

The purpose of acquiring these skills was not to steal; hardly ever did an Agent remove anything from an office, apartment or safe. The only thing they took were pictures of documents, using high definition digital cameras which allowed them to produce exact copies of these documents for their sponsors. Sometimes, they would leave something behind: listening devices which they hid inside flower pots, stuck underneath tables or desk drawers or installed inside the telephone receiver.

The tapping of fixed-line phones, however, became less and less important. Most informants were using their mobile phones for confidential communication, not knowing that this would leave them just as open to a professional investigator's efforts. In fact, some of Mirella's colleagues were of the opinion that mobile phones, along with e-mail, were the best thing that ever happened to the profession. Mirella soon learned how to listen into a mobile phone conversation by training a high-precision microphone in the direction of the informant. The systematic monitoring of phone lines and e-mail traffic was being looked after by a specialized department.

One of the training sessions was about 'sleeping with the enemy'. The sex theme had been present all along - the main reason why the informants could be trapped so easily was that they hoped they might get to fuck her. Some female Agents considered having sex without compromise, knowing they probably would never meet the guy again, as one of the benefits of the job and wouldn't think twice about going to bed with the informant, even if it wasn't strictly necessary. Others tried to avoid it and only saw it as a last recourse for achieving their goal. Mirella made it clear that she belonged into the latter category.

But, Jim Jr. explained, in all cases it was important to keep the informant in a positive frame of mind. He should never have any reason to doubt that he was living up to expectations. It had to be clear that it had been fantastic, that *he* had been fantastic. He should feel that he still had it in him to satisfy a woman, even the most demanding one, many years his junior. That meant that the Agent had to put on a show about how much she was enjoying the sex and the key part of that show was to fake reaching an orgasm, even when the whole fuck didn't take more than a few minutes.

Mirella had never faked anything, let alone an orgasm. Jim Jr. told her to try it.

"What, here in front of everybody?"

"I'm not asking you to masturbate, to actually have an orgasm, just to play the role of a woman who's having sex and comes. You don't even have to take off your clothes if you don't want to."

She sat back on an easy chair and tried to remember what it had felt like when Rocky fucked her. Her attempt to re-enact the scene failed miserably. It just wasn't convincing. Jim Jr. suggested they'd film her while she experimented an orgasm and she would then use the tapes at home to train, acting exactly the way she did on that tape.

"So you finally found a reason to fuck me", she said to Jim Jr.

"No, Mirella, the orgasm will be induced by Agent Ann".

Agent Ann? A woman? How could a woman make her come? Or 'induce an orgasm' as they called it?

They set up a room with a bed, a number of cameras and some lighting equipment and told her to take off all her clothes and lie on the bed. One camera would film her face, another one would capture her upper body and a third camera, mounted above the bed, would take an overall shot of the whole scene and record the sound. Something about the situation reminded her of the time when she charged for letting the boys in the neighborhood watch her undress.

There were quite a few men around, busy setting up the cameras and checking the lighting. Some came quite close to her when they measured the intensity of the light on every part of her body. But for them, filming her didn't seem to be any different from filming the feeding habits of the humming bird or sunset over Ayers Rock. Nevertheless, Mirella couldn't help feeling aroused by the whole set-up. For her it was almost like acting in a porn movie.

When everything was ready, Agent Ann entered the room. She was in her early thirties, of medium built and wore a track suit. She soon took off the top of her track suit when she realized how hot it was under the lights. Underneath she wore a skin-tight leotard which showed off her shapely figure. In this outfit she looked like a teacher of physical education or something of the kind. The way she examined Mirella's pussy reminded more of a gynecologist but her stern face which remained impassionate throughout was more like that of a prison warden. Agent Ann approached Mirella and told her to lie back and spread her legs. Mirella followed the order and realized that she was both a little frightened and excited.

When everything was set up Jim Jr. shouted jokingly 'Mirella's orgasm, first take' and they started filming. Agent Ann started to move her fingers up and down Mirella's pussy lips. Then she spread them a little and played with the little knob which had already started to harden. It felt so good, Mirella decided to relax and enjoy herself. She felt one finger being inserted inside her pussy. It stopped about half-way and performed little circular movements, rubbing gently against the walls of her vagina.

Mirella could feel waves of intense pleasure passing through her body. This felt so good, so good. It seemed to Mirella that her pussy, or more precisely the place where the finger was touching her, had become the centre of the universe, and from there wave after wave of cosmic energy was flowing to bring enormous pleasure to her and the rest of the world.

What Mirella didn't know was that Agent Ann was quite expertly stimulating Mirella's G-spot. Mirella was completely oblivious to all the fuss which the 'discovery' of this magic place in the female anatomy had caused. In fact, she probably didn't even know she had such a thing as a G-spot. But that did in no way diminish the pleasure she felt. Her breathing became heavier and then turned into a moan. She was worried that her excitement was rising too fast, that it would all be over too soon. When Agent Ann used her thumb to rub Mirella's clit without removing her finger from its position, Mirella climaxed.

Agent Ann, who could feel the spasms right where her hand was, continued stimulating Mirella's pussy, unperturbed. The single finger inside Mirella was soon replaced by two fingers and a little later a third joined the party, sending her to even higher realms of pleasure. Mirella went wild: her head thrashed from one side to the other, her hips bucked upwards to meet the caressing hand.

One cameraman shouted she should keep her head still as it was going off picture. Another one suggested she should fondle her breasts to add to the excitement. She followed their suggestions as best she could. Her pussy was soaking wet from the innumerous orgasms she had experienced, her breathing had turned into gasping for air, her moans had become a continuous wail. She pinched and rubbed her nipples and wondered how long this could continue. Not that she wanted it to stop. She was worried that she might pass out, but she didn't want to miss a second of this wonderful experience. It was the most intense pleasure she had ever felt.

Then, suddenly, someone said, 'that's enough' and Agent Ann stopped. Jim Jr. gave the two women a round of applause and the other men joined in with exclamations of 'Wow!' and 'Yee-ha!' Agent Ann cleaned her hand which was coated with Mirella's juices on a tissue, put on her track suit top and left without saying a word to Mirella.

A little later, Mirella realized that the purpose of the exercise had been to record a 30-minute tape, regardless of the number of orgasms she would reach. She had been subjected to a solid half hour of stimulation, at least half of which had been one long continuous orgasm. She felt weak, hardly able to stand on her own legs when she got off the bed.

The film crew edited a fourth tape, where pictures of her face and upper body were placed as a smaller frame in the corner of the overhead shot. That way she could see herself writhing on the bed, listen to her moans and at the same time see a close-up of her face and her hands fondling her breasts. They handed her the finished tape along with the three originals. Jim Jr. told her to watch them and to practice acting exactly as on those tapes, but without any stimulation.

Mirella started watching the tapes the same evening and for some time this was all she did in her spare hours: watch herself writhing and moaning and having the time of her life. She even forgot about watching James Bond movies for a while. In the beginning she couldn't stop fingering herself while she watched, but she knew that wasn't the purpose of the exercise. She studied the expression on her face and tried to reproduce it in front of a mirror. It became easy when she thought about what Agent Ann had done to her pussy. But, try as she might, it never became a simple exercise in acting. She always felt the excitement rise between her legs and when she had completed her 'fake orgasm' her cunt was always soaking wet.

When she felt confident that she could do a credible impersonation of herself having an orgasm, she told Jim Jr. He organized a panel of 12 jurors, including 3 women - it seemed he had dragged them in from the street - and asked Mirella to perform her piece sitting on a chair facing them. Afterwards she had to leave the room so that the jury could reach its verdict in secret. Jim Jr. told her that she had scored 8 out of 10 which was good but indicated that her acting could still be improved. Some of the jurors had commented that she was overdoing it a little, they had never seen any woman in real life reacting that strongly to an orgasm. Little did they know about what Mirella felt when she experienced an orgasm for real.

Jim Jr. said, in order to practice and further improve her skill, he would call upon her whenever he felt like it to perform her fake orgasm. He would look at her and say 'Mirella! Orgasm!' and she would have to behave as if she was climaxing, no matter where they were and who else was present. There wasn't a training day when she didn't have to perform at least once.

Although her acting became something she did almost automatically, it was always accompanied with a wet pussy and thoughts of Agent Ann's fingers inside her and the wonderful sensation they had produced. One day, when she was strolling through Macy's, Mirella noticed Agent Ann. The simple fact of coming eye to eye with this woman made her pussy twitch.

Mirella made the secret sign to ask for permission to approach her but Agent Ann didn't react. Did that mean the request was denied or had Agent Ann simply not noticed Mirella? She decided to give it a second try and walked halfway around the department store to approach her from a different angle, watching all the time if there was anyone observing her or Agent Ann. When she stood face to face with Agent Ann she could see that she recognized her vaguely. Her request for permission to approach was granted and she told Agent Ann that she wanted to talk to her on a private matter. Agent Ann suggested that they meet in ten minutes in the restaurant on the top floor.

When Mirella asked, "Do you remember me?" Agent Ann said yes, but without much conviction.

"You finger-fucked me," she reminded her.

"You mean I induced on orgasm."

"Yeah, whatever. But not just one, a whole cartload of 'em. I just wanted to say it was wonderful. I dream of it all the time. I'm through with men, too, and thought maybe we could get together for some fun. What do you say?"

Agent Ann's face which had been expressing a certain amount of sympathy became hostile.

"Whatever gave you the idea that I'm through with men? What I did to you was part of my job. I'd do it again if there was a need for it, but I don't think that's the case. And, besides, don't you know that it's expressly forbidden for Agents to have intimate relationships with other Agents, and that includes trainees?"

Agents Sue and Trish who were responsible for teaching Mirella everything about 'Approach' were the complete opposite of Agent Ann. Whereas Agent Ann was always stern-faced and severe, these two were friendly and constantly smiling. They seemed to enjoy Mirella's and each other's company. Both of them were slim, slightly athletic with small, firm breasts. As Mirella was going to spend a lot of time with the two, Jim Jr. delegated the fake orgasm training to them. It was like handing the remote control of the TV to a couple of kids! Before starting her training they had her perform her orgasm piece at least five times. They found it amazing how she could change so suddenly from an ordinary woman into this lewd creature consumed by lust. Agent Trish once made her 'come' while they were standing in line in a fast food restaurant. Agent Sue got her to 'climax' while they were out buying clothes for Mirella.

As Jim Jr. had already pointed out, 'Approach' didn't mean approaching the informant, but creating a situation where he could approach her. In simple words it meant getting the informant to chat her up and tell her everything she wanted to know without her ever appearing to take the initiative or asking specific questions. Most of her victims would be in the age bracket where they themselves had probably accepted that they were no longer able to pull an attractive sensual young thing like her. So they might get suspicious of her motives if she approached them and suggested an intimate get-together. She had to learn how to attract them into her net without letting on that she was even aware of their presence.

This meant that her presence had to be such that no man could possibly ignore her. And thus the informant would try to use any opportunity she would create to get to know her. Agent Sue would help Mirella work on her feminine presence while Agent Trish was going to tell her all she knew about the psychology of the middle-aged male.

Although Mirella was a very attractive young woman, she managed to hide her charms under fairly nondescript clothes. Her standard uniform seemed to consist of black skin-tight jeans which showed off her shapely bottom to best effect, an informal top and a black leather jacket. She only wore panties on certain days, saying that the jeans fit much better when there was nothing between them and her bare bottom, and she never wore a bra. The few dresses she still had from her time as a night club hostess were not up to the required standard.

Her whole wardrobe had to undergo a make-over. They took her shopping to some of the best stores in town to buy the sexiest clothes they could find. It was important to watch that fine line which separates a ravishing sex goddess from a vulgar slut, although someone with Mirella's looks could get away with things which might look tacky on a lesser mortal.

When Agent Sue suggested miniskirts or short dresses to show off her beautiful long legs, Mirella didn't like the idea. "Don't want no creep taking a peek at my cunt," she said, probably assuming that she would continue to go without panties. She preferred long dresses which covered her legs although she didn't mind if they were extremely low cut or left her back completely uncovered. Her tutors thought, quite rightly, that no man would be able to resist the large acreage of exposed alabaster skin. But her clothes didn't necessarily have to be revealing to make her look attractive. Depending on the location, other attires were more suitable. A simple pullover, chosen a couple of numbers smaller than required, could be a real stunner.

Mirella would use this effect some time later for an approach inside an airplane. She had flown to Dallas, Texas, just to catch the flight back to New York. She was the last passenger to join the first class section, wearing skin-tight pants and the already mentioned pullover. The young woman stretching to place her hand luggage into the overhead compartment was a sight for sore eyes. Only a snowman could remain cool faced with such a spectacle. It so happened that the gentleman over whose seat she had to bend several times to get a few items from her hand luggage was going to stay at the same hotel as Mirella. A long time before the plane approached JFK the two had agreed to share a taxi to the hotel and Mirella had accepted the stranger's invitation for dinner.

Although her tutors agreed that her breasts didn't need any support, they managed to convince Mirella that it may sometimes be a good idea to wear a bra, particularly when she wore one of the see-through blouses they bought for her. They also suggested a number of exercises to keep her breasts firm and in good shape. Agent Sue also bought her a selection of miniscule panties, both thongs and conventional models.

These panties required that she remove some more of her pubic hair, an activity which both of her tutors observed keenly and used as an opportunity for a few rounds of the 'Mirella! Orgasm!' game. It was then that they noticed from her moist pussy that her fake orgasm wasn't a complete fake. Agent Trish, who knew a lot about psychology, said something about Pavlov's dogs but Mirella didn't understand what this guy Pavlov and his dogs had to do with her wet cunt. But she understood that now her entire person, including the most intimate parts of her body had become part of her job.

They made her walk up and down in her new sexy underwear to make sure that she felt comfortable and behaved natural in it. Mirella had the feeling that they enjoyed watching her being naked or scantily dressed. She was also convinced that the two had something going between them. She even fantasized about the two in bed talking about what they would like to do to her. But after her experience with Agent Ann she didn't feel inclined to ask if she could join in.

Mirella liked her new look. She enjoyed it when the men tried to undress her with their eyes, when they stared at her, open-mouthed, clearly showing that they would give anything to fuck her. What pleased her most was the knowledge that they weren't going to get any. But she considered these fancy outfits her work clothes. In her spare time she continued to wear her favorite jeans and leather jacket although she gradually moved to more sexy tops.

Her tutors insisted that her sexy clothes were no guarantee that the informant would pluck up his courage and take the decisive step of talking to her. One way of overcoming any remaining resistance or shyness was the 'damsel in distress' strategy. No gentleman would refuse to help an attractive female in trouble; the men could even tell themselves that their willingness to help her had nothing to do with sexual intentions. This could simply mean asking a waiter, louder than necessary, for some information he couldn't possibly know and letting the gentleman on the next table offer his help.

On the whole, the world was full of pitfalls where a fragile young lady could come to grief. Her high heels could be trapped in the elevator door, they might break, even result in a twisted ankle. The shoulder strap of her dress might become detached, obliging her to secure her dress with one hand to preserve her modesty. Of course, any help offered in such a desperate situation would be received gratefully, rewarded with warm smiles, and open the door for an approach.

There was also a whole range of accidents involving drinks being spilt on a lady's attire. In some cases the villain would try to rub the affected area, become suddenly aware that this was quite an improper thing to do to a complete stranger of the opposite sex, but find that his attempts were not rebuked. In other cases the damage would be such that it required a change of dress, or in some desperate situation, removing the piece of clothing and waiting until it had been washed and dried. There were plenty of opportunities for letting an interested man get a little closer.

Mirella would later use this technique to great effect. She had been sent to the bar of a luxury hotel, where senior executives of a media giant had rented meeting facilities for discussions with their bankers. Mirella's assignment was to collect information about the purpose and, if possible, the outcome of these discussions.

The group had taken a break in the bar and were about to resume their meeting; the man who had been identified as the one to make contact with had gone to the bar to get himself another drink before returning to the conference room. Mirella's timing was perfect. She got up and walked past the bar, reaching her victim exactly as he swung around, a Bloody Mary in his hand. Her beautiful white dress didn't stand a chance.

Unbiased observers of the scene - if there had been any - might have said that she walked straight into the man, either because she had her head in the clouds or maybe even intentionally.

The man, normally a soft-spoken, well-mannered executive, was ready to scold that stupid woman and tell her to look where she was going. But before opening his mouth he looked at her. No, not at her face, he looked at her upper body, where the soaking wet fabric was clinging to her skin, molding perfectly the shape of her breasts, including her nipples, which had hardened from the effect of the ice cold liquid. Most people would describe a white dress, stained by half a pint of tomato juice as 'not a pretty sight'. But this was a pretty sight, although 'pretty' could be considered an understatement.

It's remarkable how images like this can affect the male brain. The man, who seconds ago had been ready to give that woman a bawl-out, heard himself say, "Oh my God, what have I done! I'm terribly sorry!"

Mirella, or more precisely, the character played by Mirella, was in a state of shock. "Look what you've done to my dress," she shrieked.

The man who later introduced himself as Ted (but Mirella knew that already) apologized again, asked Mirella to stay calm and offered to pay the laundry bill - or a new dress if this one was ruined. Mirella, clearly making an effort to remain calm, explained that the situation wasn't that simple. She was on her way to meet an old friend for dinner and couldn't possibly show up like this. No, she wasn't staying at the hotel and wasn't in the habit of carrying a spare dress with her whenever she went out, neither was she prepared to travel across town to her home like this to change into a new dress.

Whenever Mirella said 'like this' she pointed at her upper body and gave Ted another excuse to look at her juice-soaked tits. Ted asked if he could send someone to fetch another dress for her and Mirella answered that she could ask her maid to bring one to her, but that would take some time and where would she stay? She surely didn't want to make an exhibition of herself like this. He offered her the use of his suite on the top floor of the hotel and she accepted.

Ted accompanied her to his suite, where she made two phone calls. One to cancel her dinner date and another one to her maid, instructing her which dress to bring, and also to include a matching pair of shoes. Ted, seeing that everything was under control, excused himself, saying that he had to rejoin the meeting he had been attending before the unfortunate accident happened. He also told her to wait for him in his suite because he insisted on taking her out for dinner tonight, as he had been the reason for her having to cancel her date.

Mirella couldn't believe her luck when he gathered together a number of documents which had been lying around and locked them in his safe. After he had left, Mirella took off her clothes and had a shower. Then she waited for the arrival of her maid, just wearing her lacy panties.

It turned out that it was Agent Ann who had been assigned as her maid and Mirella regretted immediately having put on her panties. Nevertheless, she hoped that Agent Ann might be interested in giving her pussy another treat.

But Agent Ann was business-like as always and today the business wasn't 'inducing orgasm', it was filming every scrap of paper she could find in Ted's room. It seemed that she didn't even notice Mirella's near-nakedness. But she couldn't help being impressed when Mirella opened the safe for her. After Agent Ann had left, Mirella got dressed and wrote a short note for Ted saying that she couldn't stay for dinner as she had heard from the maid that her husband would return earlier than planned.

On her first few assignments Mirella managed to obtain the required information without exchanging any intimacies. The problem was terminating the conversation without the informant suspecting that she had her own hidden agenda. Unexpectedly her mobile phone would ring and a close friend would inform her that her jealous husband was returning earlier than expected from his business trip, that he was already in the arrivals hall at the airport and that she'd better get her ass home before he'd get there. Or it was a desperate babysitter who had reached the end of her tether because the baby she was supposed to look after refused to stop crying.

Of course, Mirella didn't have any husband, jealous or otherwise, nor did she have any baby to look after. What she had was a little device fitted into her bracelet which, upon actioning, placed a call to her own mobile phone. All she had to do was to fake the surprise and panic caused by the critical situation, apologize that she couldn't stay any longer and depart, giving the informant a little kiss on the cheek and expressing the hope that there would be an opportunity 'to pick up where we stopped'.

The assignments where the information couldn't be transmitted verbally but was contained in lengthy and detailed documents were more difficult to handle. Sometimes she needed the assistance of another Agent who searched the office or apartment of the informant while she made sure he didn't unexpectedly turn up there. But she took great pride in being able to finish even the more difficult jobs on her own.

Mirella's basic formula for success was really quite simple: she dared the informants to do what she wanted them to do by implying that they probably didn't have the guts to break the rules, ignore conventions, etc. Not in these words, of course. When the victim, unable to ignore her presence, exchanged a few words with her, no matter how innocently, she would give to understand that it was probably to his disadvantage if anyone saw him talking to her, after all, a young woman talking to a wealthy man like him could only be a gold-digger or a prostitute, therefore she thought it best to terminate the little chat before it caused any damage to his reputation.

This would usually cause her victim to do exactly the opposite of what she had suggested. The man would make a point of continuing the conversation, invite her to join him at his table or do whatever he could think of to prove that he was not concerned about being seen in her company.

Later, when he had told her that he held a senior position in such and such an organization or corporation, she would hint that he probably wasn't one of the key decision makers, otherwise he wouldn't be sitting in the hotel bar, chatting to a woman he'd never met before. This prompted the fool to state that he was indeed one of the decision makers, in fact the reason for his presence in this hotel was that he had just completed the negotiations for the takeover of XYZ, one of their rival companies. He guessed that she probably didn't read the financial press, but if she did, she would be able to read about it in a few week's time. Mirella was quick to confirm that she really didn't understand much about these things and apologized for having underestimated his importance.

There was the case of the research manager of a pharmaceutical giant, let's call him Jerry. His company was about to launch a new skin cream to fight wrinkles, a product which combined the benefits of Botox with the advantage of not having any side effects. Mirella mentioned to Jerry that she had always been curious about what a specification for products like a skin cream looked like and that she was dying to see one, even if it was an old, out-of-date one, but said she'd understand if he didn't want to go to the trouble of showing her one of these specifications.

Jerry said immediately that, of course, he could show her one, and to prove how much he trusted her, he would take her to his office right now to let her have a look at the formula for the product about to be launched. Mirella noticed how he slipped the night watchman a bill and said there was no need to record his brief visit in the log.

In his office, Jerry opened the safe to get the promised document. Mirella pretended not to pay any attention to his fiddling with the lock but registered every move, every click. When Jerry showed her the document, Mirella looked at it superficially and then said, a little sheepishly, that there were so many words she didn't even know how to pronounce and that all the formulae made her head spin. She had never thought a simple skin cream could be such a complicated affair. As reward for disregarding company rules so bravely, Mirella invited Jerry to her apartment for a drink and 'who knows what else'.

After having his drink Jerry wanted to move on to the 'who knows what else' part of the evening. He embraced and kissed Mirella and tried to undress her, but Mirella told him to cool down. She lead him into her bedroom and told him to make himself comfortable. Then she disappeared into the bathroom 'to freshen up a little'.

When Mirella returned from the bathroom Jerry had quite inexplicably fallen asleep. Mirella checked the soundness of his sleep, got his keys from his jacket and returned to Jerry's office - in his car. She told the night watchman who, of course, remembered her, that she forgot something in Jerry's office and added, "When a woman loses her heart, she also loses her head".

She slipped him another bill and told him there was no need to accompany her, she could find the office on her own. When she got to the office she opened the safe, filmed every single page of the document Jerry had shown her and then put everything back the way she had found it. Then she left, apologizing to the night watchman for the disturbance.

When she got back to her apartment, Jerry was still asleep. She undressed and slipped into the bed beside him, waiting for him to wake up. When Jerry started to stir, she pretended to be asleep and let him wake her. He wanted to know hat happened.

"Don't you remember?" she answered with surprise in her voice. "You were so wild, so insatiable, it was wonderful. No wonder you fell asleep soon afterwards."

Jerry, frustrated that he didn't remember anything, wanted some more. Mirella told him she was exhausted and needed her beauty sleep. He wanted to grab her beautiful breasts but she told him he'd already ravaged them during their love bout. Allowing him to place two gentle kisses on her nipples and promising another meeting in the near future, she let him out of her apartment.

When Jerry returned a few days later to the same place, a Baptist preacher answered the door. He had never heard of anyone called Mirella and found it quite improbable when Jerry told him about his experience in the apartment. This was when Jerry started to become suspicious about Mirella's real intentions. His suspicions were confirmed a little later when a competitor launched a skin cream identical to his own company's product, but he considered it wise not to tell anyone about his transgressions that fateful night.

Harry S. Fenton was an art collector who was considered a bit of an odd-ball by the art dealers. He didn't buy works of art because of the name of the artist or the style, he bought them because of the motif they represented - he collected exclusively paintings and sculptures of an erotic nature, from simple nudes to detailed depictions of copulation and other forms of sex. His collection was estimated to contain around 5000 works of art, reaching from old Japanese and Chinese drawings to contemporary artists. It was not intended for public viewing.

Harry kept his collection in his mansion in southern California, near the Big Sur, where he owned a large piece of land on the coast. His mansion was set on a promontory above the cliffs, where one could watch the waves crash against the rocks. A small army of security staff protected his property against invaders from land, air and sea. It was a setting which Mirella might have described as a classic James Bond scenario.

What puzzled many people was how he could afford such a mansion and such an extensive art collection. He wasn't from a wealthy family; he had not inherited a fortune from his ancestors like some other well know art collectors, and he didn't have any identifiable source of income. On the rare occasions he went on record about his financial situation, he declared that he had made a small fortune with stock market and currency speculations. There were rumors which linked his wealth to connections with Colombian drug barons, but nothing of the sort was ever proven.

This somewhat dubious background combined with the subject of the works he collected earned him the nickname 'Dirty Harry'. But the art business, like most other businesses, is prepared to turn a blind eye to the character flaws of regular customers. And Harry was a prolific buyer. He usually agreed to buy works of art which were offered to him if they fitted into his collection. He never paid the asking price, but a sale is a sale and a reduced profit is still a profit. What caused a certain unease between the community of art dealers and Harry was the mystery surrounding 59 erotic drawings by Polichinelo.

The work of Polichinelo, the well-known landscape painter, like that of so many great artists, was only fully appreciated after his death. While he was alive he often suffered hardship. More than once was he evicted from his rented accommodation because he was several months behind with his payments. On these occasions he relied on the support of a, fortunately large, number of friends and admirers who gave him shelter and paid his debts so that he could return to his studio and continue his work. One of these benefactors had recently died and when his relatives went through the piles of useless junk he had accumulated over the years, they found a sketch by Polichinelo, depicting a threesome in an unmistakable pose, along with a letter by the artist in which he thanked his friend for his support during so many years and asked him to accept the enclosed drawing as a token of his gratitude.

The find caused an enormous stir in the art world, for two reasons: One, Polichinelo was not known to have produced any works of an erotic nature. But the letter and the signature on the sketch did not leave any doubt concerning the authenticity of this work. Two: On the back of the sketch was a marking '15/60' which most experts interpreted as meaning work number 15 out of a series of 60. The art world came to the conclusion that Polichinelo had produced a series of 60 erotic drawings and had given them, as a token of his gratitude, to those who had helped him in bad times.

Hoards of well-spoken men in dark suits descended on the unsuspecting friends and relatives of Polichinelo in order to find the other 59 drawings. The art world went through its own little gold rush. But the quest for the missing Polichinelos stopped as suddenly as it had started when a number of influential art critics published articles in which they declared that the idea of 60 drawings was probably the result of a misinterpretation of the artist's annotation. It didn't seem likely that someone like Polichinelo would have produced 60 works of art and have kept them secret beyond his death.

Officially, the hunt was off, but there were voices which linked Dirty Harry to the sudden change of mood. The story was that he had bought not only the drawings but also the art critics to get them to write the already mentioned articles. The family who had discovered the first drawing, which became known as 'The Threesome', decided not to sell it and locked it away in a high-security bank vault.

All this was unknown to Mirella when Jim Jr. informed her that her next target would be Dirty Harry. She immediately thought of Clint Eastwood and didn't quite know how he could be an informant.

Jim Jr. gave her all the background to the assignment and, although that wasn't strictly necessary, showed her a copy of 'The Threesome'. Mirella looked at it and couldn't quite understand what was erotic about this bunch of black lines and squiggles on a white background.

Jim Jr. had to show her that those 'squiggles' really represented three people. The first, most likely a woman, was lying on her back with her legs spread apart; the second, also a woman, was eating the first woman's pussy while being fucked in the ass by the third figure, a man. Mirella was amazed that anybody could see so much detail in such a mess of lines, particularly, how could anyone tell that the second woman wasn't having her cunt fucked. She also thought about the fact that she had never in her life eaten a cunt, nor been butt-fucked. Was she missing something?

The assignment wasn't as clear-cut as her previous jobs. There wasn't a single fact to find out and report, nor a document to locate and film. She had to find out whether Dirty Harry had in fact acquired the 59 drawings, and where they were kept. In addition, if only half of the stories which circulated about Dirty Harry were true, then he would be an extremely difficult customer to snare.

The plan to attract Harry was that Mirella would open a new art gallery in Manhattan. The first exhibition would be dedicated to Polichinelo and would feature reproductions of some of his works and the original of 'The Threesome'. The owners had, reluctantly, agreed to let them use it. There was no doubt that Harry would be attracted to that drawing like a bee to honey and it was up to Mirella to turn that interest in the picture into an interest in her, and then use the situation in the best possible way. This probably wasn't a case of meet once and dump. There would have to be several encounters to gain his trust, maybe she could even achieve an invitation to his mansion.

Of course, there was no guarantee that Harry himself would come to see the exhibition. He might just send in the heavy mob and have the picture stolen. But this wasn't just about possession of a picture, it was about showing who is smarter and Jim Jr. thought he could, with the help of Mirella's charms, provoke Harry into making a silly mistake.

Jim Jr. hired two people to help Mirella with the art gallery: Rose, a woman in her 40s and Fred, a slightly older man. Both of them had been working in this field for many years and either of them would have been able to run the gallery single-handedly. Obviously, it wouldn't take them very long to find out that Mirella's knowledge concerning the arts was extremely limited.

So Jim Jr. invented a story about Mirella having been the mistress of a wealthy New York businessman. When his wife found out about her, she threatened to create a scandal which would have been very damaging for his reputation, particularly with some of his major customers. He was forced to agree to ditch Mirella, but, afraid that she might create a scandal, paid her a generous compensation which she had used to go into the art business. This was also the story Mirella would have to tell Harry, or in fact anyone who should ask, because they couldn't be sure that he wouldn't send one of his people to check out the situation before showing up himself. Mirella didn't particularly like playing the role of someone's ex-floozy, but she couldn't come up with a better explanation and had to accept Jim Jr.'s version.

The art gallery wasn't very big. It was an L-shaped room in an up-market shopping mall. On entering the shop, the visitor was in the long part of the L, where the landscape pictures were hanging on both sides. Around the corner, in the shorter part of the letter L was a small alcove in which 'The Threesome' had been placed behind a bullet-proof glass plate with its own alarm system. Opening hours were from 11am to 8pm. The three would take their lunch break in turns. Mirella spent most of her working day sitting behind a small desk from where she could observe everything that happened.

An art gallery wasn't exactly the place where she could wear the kind of revealing evening dresses she had used so successfully on other assignments, although she did wear one which made her look ravishing and attracted a lot of attention during the official opening. For the normal working routine she wore a business-like skirt and jacket combination, spiced up by a lacy bra worn under a see-through blouse. She noticed that some of the visitors to the gallery paid more attention to her outfit than to the pictures on exhibition - and some would return for more.

The special Polichinelo exhibition was scheduled to last for three weeks. Two weeks had already passed and Mirella started to wonder whether Dirty Harry would swallow the bait and show up, when Jim Jr. phoned to let her know that the informant had booked a flight and would be arriving in New York the next day. Mirella told her staff that she was expecting a special customer whom she wanted to attend to on her own. They agreed on a sign which Mirella would make when she wanted them to leave.

Mirella spent the evening studying the various photographs of Harry she had been given, wondering if he would be using a disguise. The pictures showed a short, stocky fellow with muscular shoulders and neatly trimmed hair, in his early 40s. His face gave the impression that he was used to getting precisely what he set out to achieve. There wasn't anything particularly outstanding about him and Mirella wasn't sure she would be able to pick him out from a crowd of people. However, when he stepped into the gallery the next day, just after Mirella had returned from her lunch break, she had no doubt it was him.

He walked right past the landscape paintings without even glancing at them, or paying any attention to Mirella, turned around the corner and stopped right in front of 'The Threesome'. There he stood, his legs slightly apart, his hands in his pockets, chewing gum. He didn't bother to take off his dark glasses.

As Mirella looked at him from behind it made her think of a cowboy, or better, a gunfighter. It was quite obvious that he had known exactly where he would find what he was looking for. He looked at the drawing from various angles and moved so close to the bullet-proof glass plate that his nose almost touched it.

"Careful that you don't set off the alarm," said Mirella, who had signaled her staff that the time had come to leave her on her own with this visitor and was now standing next to him.

"Do you work here?" Harry asked without looking at her.

"Kind of," she replied, "I'm the owner of this gallery".

"What a stupid place to put this drawing," he said, "and what an asinine idea to put this glass plate in front of it."

"The glass plate is a requirement for the insurance cover. And we decided to separate this drawing from his other works. It's kind of unique, isn't it?"

Mirella was trying to provoke him into saying that there were others of the kind, but someone with Dirty Harry's reputation surely wouldn't fall for a simple trick like that. He kept looking at the drawing without saying anything.

Mirella didn't want to let the conversation die so quickly. She said, "Quite frankly, I think it's kind of overrated. It isn't very clear what exactly it is supposed to show. All those lines thrown haphazardly on the white background leave a lot of room for interpretation. For example, they say the guy butt-fucks the woman in the middle. I don't know why his cock couldn't be in her cunt."

Harry probably hadn't expected that kind of language from the female owner of an art gallery. He shook his head and replied, "That's anatomically impossible. The way she's bending down, sticking her ass up in the air, and the guy standing, there is only one place his cock can go. Now, if he was also kneeling, that would be a completely different ball game."

And he added, looking at her for the first time, "You don't seem to have a lot of experience in this area."

Mirella felt herself blush and thought how strange is was that this man could make her feel embarrassed about never having been fucked in the ass. She cursed Rocky for this, and Jim Jr. for not having explained the drawing better to her.

Harry now embarked on a monologue about anal sex in history and in art. He talked about Japanese and Chinese drawings - the oldest works in his collection - with subtle hints of anal sex; of Indian vases and other ceramic objects which portrayed in great detail every love-making position imaginable, including various forms of butt-fucking. He stated that the ancient Greeks and Romans, and some time later the Arabs, all used the rear entry on occasion but there was little evidence of this in the art they created.

The Arabs were forbidden by their religion to produce any images and the Romans seemed to have concentrated on creating statues of nudes which reflected their - and in many ways also our - ideal of human beauty. The Greeks, who laid the foundations for many aspects of western society - philosophy, science, democracy -, had the reputation of enjoying the company of young boys. The rule of Christian thinking had put an end to this enjoyment. Sex was considered exclusively an exercise in procreation. The portrayal of the naked human body and any form of sex in art were banned. Anal sex, as it didn't produce any offspring, was prohibited and anyone caught practicing it was severely punished. Only when the Catholic Church started to lose some of its power, did the subject of sex, and with it anal sex, reappear in paintings and sculptures.

Mirella was amazed. When she first heard about this man and his collection of erotic art, she had formed the opinion that this was probably some sleazy pervert. But Harry could talk about the subject like a university professor. And he obviously knew a lot about it.

"But let's come back to the drawing in front of us: Those haphazard lines, as you call them," Harry picked up the thread, "give the drawing an unbelievable dynamic. You can almost see the bodies move, you can hear them breath in unison as they approach the climax together. Why an artist who was capable of producing such a masterpiece would choose to spend his life painting boring landscapes is beyond me."

Mirella didn't know what to say. Harry certainly had a way of talking about the drawing which left her excited and wanting to feel what these people were experiencing. They were standing side by side looking at the drawing.

After a while Harry asked, "How much do you want for it?"

That one was easy to answer. "It's not mine to sell. I only got it on loan for this exhibition, but as far as I know the owners don't intend to sell it."

"Do you know the owners?"

"Not personally, but I have some connections."

"I'd like to make them a proposal. Here is my card."

Harry handed Mirella his business card which read 'Harry S. Fenton, Editor' along with his address and several phone numbers.

"So you're an editor?" asked Mirella, glad to have found another topic for conversation.

"Yep, I've recently become one. You see, I felt I ought to make my collection accessible to the interested public, but I couldn't stand the idea of having the masses trample all over my home. Nor did I think it would be a good idea to risk having those works stolen or damaged by some fanatic. So I decided to publish a series of books called 'The Harry S. Fenton Collection'. I'd love to include this work here, even if I can't make it part of my collection. That's what I want to talk about with the owners."

Then Harry looked at his watch and said, "In fact I'm supposed to be at my publisher's in ten minutes. They said they'll have a first review copy ready for me to look at. We can talk about it over dinner. I'll pick you up here at 7:30."

With that he turned around and walked towards the exit. Mirella was stunned. She couldn't believe her ears. This guy had just 'invited' her for dinner and didn't even bother to ask if it was okay with her. As Harry approached the door she shouted, "The gallery only closes at eight. I can't leave before that time." Harry just signaled with his hand that he had heard her but continued on his way.

Rose and Fred had been waiting in a café across the hallway and returned as soon as they saw Harry leave. Mirella told them to look after the shop while she took care of some urgent matters.

She needed to be on her own to be able to think. She drove to her apartment and treated herself to a cold shower. That would increase her blood circulation and activate her brain cells. Then, without putting on any clothes, she sat on the floor with her legs crossed and tried to meditate. But she found that her hands kept wandering to her pussy, stroking her lips. Hard as she tried, she couldn't concentrate. She thought it might be better to give in. Without changing position she brought herself to a climax, and another one, and a third. Then she decided to have another shower and try again.

Her perception of the situation was confused. There was the assignment and there were her emotions. Her feelings had never before gotten in the way of her doing her job. But this time they did. She realized that her sex life so far had only covered a very small part of the huge variety of options available. When she grew up, she never made friends with any girls, so she didn't go through the experience most girls went through when they discovered the development of their sexuality and compared their budding female body with that of their best friend. Besides, everybody she knew considered sex between women as 'weird'. But that hadn't protected her from almost having a crush on Agent Ann, because of the treatment she had given her pussy.

And men? Yes, there had been several men in her life, but they were the kind who didn't really know what to do with a woman, except fuck her. And after the disappointments she had suffered, she found it difficult to let another man into her heart, let alone her cunt.

There were obviously many more forms of sex than she had ever imagined and she wanted to try them all. And who better to be her guide on this journey than Dirty Harry? There was nothing in the rules which said she couldn't fuck him, in fact she had always been told that this may sometimes be unavoidable. As long as she delivered the goods, there wouldn't be anything wrong with enjoying herself and gaining some experience in the process. Besides, he was getting up her nose when he talked to her about sex as if he was talking to an Eskimo about a tropical rainforest. She wanted to show him that she wasn't as inexperienced as he thought - and that she was a quick learner. And she was pretty sure she wouldn't need to fake any orgasm with him.

The conclusion on this part of her confusion was that, yes, she wanted Dirty Harry to fuck her any which way he pleased - an enjoy it. But what about the assignment? Was she controlling the situation or was he? It seemed that he was calling the shots. But wasn't that exactly the idea of the approach strategy: to let the informant think that things were happening because of his initiative? And if she had dinner with him tonight and slept with him afterwards, wouldn't that make him trust her more, and maybe in an unguarded moment tell her what she wanted to know? Didn't the fact that he only wanted to get permission to include 'The Threesome' in his book, vouch for him? But she didn't know whether he had told her the truth. She hadn't seen the proposed publication yet. Another reason to accept his invitation for dinner.

So, dinner with Dirty Harry it would be. At first, Mirella considered changing into one of her more revealing dresses which she normally used to attract informants, but then she thought Harry would probably notice the change of outfit and might draw the wrong conclusions from it. However, she decided to experiment with leaving her bra off. When she looked at herself in the mirror, she realized that the thin material of the blouse left her tits virtually uncovered. She combed her hair so most of it would fall down her front and cover her breasts. 'That will do nicely,' she decided.

It was almost seven when she returned to the gallery. She told Rose and Fred to take the rest of the day off. She would look after the few visitors until closing time.

Harry arrived at 7:30 sharp, carrying a small briefcase. He expected her to be ready to leave with him straight away and wouldn't take no for an answer. As the gallery was empty at the time, Mirella agreed to close early (after all, the whole purpose of the exhibition had been to attract Harry). Harry watched her impatiently as she switched on the overnight alarm system and locked the door.

Dinner was in a sophisticated restaurant with soft lighting and lots of space between tables so they could talk without having to worry about someone overhearing their conversation.

Before they got started, Harry asked, "Can I ask you for a favor?"

"Sure," said Mirella, "go ahead."

"Would you mind moving your hair back over your shoulders?"

'Bingo,' thought Mirella, 'he's noticed that I'm not wearing a bra.' She lifted her arms and with both hands moved her hair back over her shoulders.

"There's nothing wrong with your hair, but your breasts look so beautiful, you shouldn't try to hide them."

This set the tone for the evening. It wasn't going to be a 'thanks for the meal, I'll call you tomorrow' kind of dinner. Something was going to happen, Mirella just didn't know what exactly.

Harry asked if she had thought about his proposal concerning 'The Threesome' and Mirella explained that she wanted to see his books, or at least one of them, first, so that she could present his case better.

"I've got one volume in my briefcase here; you can have a look at it after dinner. I suggest we adjourn to my apartment for that."

"You don't seriously expect me to agree to come with you to your apartment - we've only just met," said Mirella teasingly.

"Oh, I see, you've heard some of the rumors they are spreading about me. Like the one that I keep half a dozen of sex slaves in my mansion."

"Well, are those rumors correct?"

"Absolute nonsense!" he said. "I'm down to five after one of them decided to become a nun. There's one position open. Are you applying for the job?"

Of course this wasn't a serious suggestion, but Mirella thought what an excellent opportunity it would be to slip through his security net and get inside his fortress. She was sure that Pussy Galore would have jumped at such a chance to get inside the lion's den, even if it meant becoming a sex slave. But she thought it would make her intentions too obvious if she agreed. So she just said, "I'll think about it."

Mirella suggested that they'd go to her apartment instead and Harry said okay if she agreed to enact one of the scenes in his book. Mirella asked if she would be allowed to chose which one and Harry said yes. They sealed their agreement with a toast and a handshake.

Harry mentioned that the collection would be published in 10 to 12 volumes, the exact number hadn't been decided yet, and that each volume would be dealing with a specific topic. There would be male nudes, female nudes, couples, threesomes, oral sex, anal sex, etc. The volume they had given him for review was called 'Punishment' and contained a selection of works of art depicting spanking and bondage. 'Holy shit!' thought Mirella, but she had no intention of going back on her word.

When they arrived at her apartment, Mirella fixed them some drinks. Then they settled down on the sofa next to each other and Harry got the book from his briefcase. It had quite a professional look to it. There was an introduction with a picture of Harry and an aerial shot of his mansion. The section on spanking contained a large number of drawings of people having their bottoms spanked.

There were young boys and girls but also grown up men and women. They were in various states of undress; some only baring their bottoms, others completely naked. Apart from their bare hands, the punishers were using a variety of implements, including long rulers, canes, whips and riding crops. Most of the drawings concentrated on the effect of the punishment on the bottoms, clearly showing whip or cane marks and reddened skin, but some also showed the victims' faces: a mixture of fear, pain and pleasure.

Mirella was particularly impressed by a drawing in the style of a comic strip which showed a woman, so sexy she had to be unreal. She was standing, her legs were spread wide and tied to rings on the floor, her arms were raised and tied to rings suspended from the ceiling. Her entire body was covered with whip marks, including her breasts and lower belly. Her face was an expression of pure lust and desire. Mirella had never seen anything this exciting and felt her pussy get wet just from looking at her.

Harry went into professor mode again and explained that having one's bottom spanked wasn't really a sexual experience by itself. The arousal came mainly from the humiliation, having to expose one's bottom and maybe more to the whole class or maybe to other strangers. It came from the feeling of being entirely at the mercy of the punisher. And as the heat in the backside rose, the sexual desire mounted as well. Some people actually reached an orgasm just from having their bottom thrashed but most said that the spanking just made the sex afterwards much more satisfying.

Harry came out of professor mode and said, "This brings us to tonight's key question: Have you been a good girl, Mirella?"

Mirella knew what was coming. She didn't feel ready to be whipped all over like that fascinating beauty, but she thought she could handle a bit of spanking.

"Actually, I haven't been very good today," she answered.

"No? What did you do?"

"I masturbated. Three times. Thinking of you."

"Now that is very naughty. Don't you agree that you ought to be punished for that?"

Mirella lowered her head. "Yes, Sir".

"I think you deserve fifty swats on your bare bottom. What do you say?"

"Yes. Please, Sir."

Mirella selected a drawing where a young girl, barely sixteen years old was getting her bottom spanked. She was fully dressed, her skirt had been lifted up and her panties had been pulled down.

Harry looked at her. "This skirt can't be lifted like the one on the picture. You'll have to take it off."

Mirella undid the zipper of her skirt and let it slide to the floor. She stood in front of Harry only wearing her see-through blouse and a flimsy pair of panties which betrayed her excitement by showing a wet patch.

Harry liked what he saw. He moved forward a little on the sofa and motioned her to lie over his knees and put her hands on the floor. He didn't push down her panties as she had expected. He grabbed the waistband with both hands and just tore the panties apart, uncovering her bottom but leaving the remainder in place. Then he gently rubbed his hands over her luscious bottom.

Mirella considered herself tough. During her childhood she had suffered numerous knocks and blows while playing with the boys in the neighborhood and she was proud of never having cried like an ordinary girl would have. A few slaps on her backside weren't going to be much of a problem.

But when the first blow hit her bottom, it stung a lot more than she had imagined and she could immediately feel the heat rise. This wasn't going to be as painless as she had thought. But she grit her teeth and didn't make a sound as the blows rained down on her unprotected backside. Harry worked slowly and systematically, alternating between her right and left cheek, sometimes hitting both, and taking his time between blows to recover his strength.

When the blows stopped coming down, Mirella's bottom was a glowing ember, but her pussy was a red hot furnace.

"Take me," she said, "please, fuck me hard. I need it."

Harry didn't need a second invitation. He placed a cushion on the floor and eased her gently off his lap and onto it. She winced as her sore bottom made contact with the cushion. The torn panties were clinging to her soaking wet pussy. He ripped them off and she spread her legs eagerly to receive him. As he thrust inside her, he tore her blouse open, sending the buttons flying in all directions. His mouth savaged her tender breasts while his cock forced its way deep inside her cunt. He fucked her as she had asked, hard and merciless. She was so hot, it didn't take long before she came to a crashing orgasm. He kept thrusting into her without respite and soon his cock exploded deep inside her. The sensation of the pulsating cock, shooting spurt after spurt of hot semen inside her took Mirella to another climax.

After they cleaned themselves up a little they returned to the sofa, this time without wearing any clothes, to continue exploring the content of the book. The section about bondage contained drawings of men and women who had been tied up in every imaginable way. Some of them were also gagged and blindfolded.

Harry explained that the arousal here didn't so much come from the pain a Master might be inflicting on his slave but from the submission to the Master's every desire. Only a person who was free and independent was able to agree to experience this sensation of helplessness, of vulnerability. People who practiced this form of sex were often accomplished professionals, people who were used to giving orders, who wanted to experience a situation where they had to do as they were told, where they were humiliated and punished. In many cases the victims were unable to see what was being done to them and who was doing it. Their movements were severely restrained, they were completely at the mercy of their Master. To put oneself into this situation, to submit completely to someone else's whims, required a lot of trust.

Submission didn't necessarily have to be explicitly sexual. If, for example, he were to blindfold her, Mirella, and tell her to go for a walk with him without wearing any shoes, she was at his mercy because he might let her walk into broken glass, burning cigarette ends or even dog shit. By agreeing to such a suggestion she would simply state that she trusted him enough to submit to his wishes.

But, he added, he could understand if she wasn't ready to put so much trust into him. He was calling her bluff and Mirella promptly swallowed the bait.

"Of course I trust you," she said "so, if you want to blindfold me to test my trust, just go ahead."

Harry told her how happy he was that she recognized he was trustworthy. He would blindfold her and take her for a walk in a moment but before he wanted to ask her another question. Didn't she agree that he had been far too lenient with her by giving her only fifty swats on her bottom. She was almost able to sit again without much pain. He put his hand under her bottom to demonstrate the truth of what he was saying. Mirella still felt uncomfortable sitting on her bare bottom but didn't want to sound like a sissy. She didn't quite know what he had in mind but nodded quietly.

Harry said that a woman like her deserved a more severe punishment to show that they were both serious about this. He suggested that she should receive five strokes with a riding crop and produced the item in question from his briefcase. Mirella looked at the black implement in horror. She knew this was going to hurt a lot, but the number five calmed her. Five strokes couldn't be that painful. She nodded her agreement.

"I'll have to tie you down, so you don't try to wriggle away and get hit in the wrong place," he said, looking around to find a suitable place to administer the punishment.

Eventually he chose a straight-backed armchair and told Mirella to stand behind it. He tied her ankles loosely to the legs of the chair and made her bend over the back. Then he attached one rope to each of her wrists and fastened the ropes to the front legs of the armchair. Her feet and hands were suspended in the air but attached to the armchair's legs and all her weight was supported by her abdomen which rested on the top of the chair back. Her bottom, still blushing from the earlier spanking, was beautifully exposed and accessible.

"This is going to hurt and we don't want your neighbors to come checking what's going on. So I'm going to gag you."

Mirella nodded her agreement. Harry put a ball gag into her mouth and secured it with a scarf which he tied in the back of her head.

When the first stroke hit her bottom, Mirella screamed her pain into the gag. Her entire body wanted to jump off the armchair, but the ropes restrained her movements.

Harry looked at his work and was proud of it. A dark red line crossed the crack between her cheeks precisely at a right angle. He wanted another four exactly like that one. Harry waited for the tremor in her body to subside before applying the next stroke.

When the second blow hit her, Mirella was ready to beg for mercy, but the gag didn't allow her to make herself understood. Tears started to stream down her face. She got through the remaining three strokes almost stoically, knowing there was nothing she could do to avoid them. She felt an enormous relief, almost gratitude, when the riding crop made contact with her bottom for the fifth time.

Harry admired his work. The result was exactly as he had hoped: Five dark red lines running exactly parallel across her already reddened bottom. He wished he could take a picture of this. He ran his hand over his masterpiece and felt Mirella wince under his touch.

Wanting to show some tenderness, Harry went into her bathroom and returned with a bottle of moisturizer which he applied generously to her backside. The cool liquid soothed her pain temporarily but the touch of his hand on the welts which had formed on her bottom was sheer agony. Harry untied her and helped her to her feet.

Still gagged, Mirella embraced him tenderly. She didn't see him as the man who inflicted all this pain on her, but as the man who stopped it. She wanted to be his, unconditionally. "Fuck me," she pleaded as soon as he removed the gag from her mouth, "fuck me any way you like."

But Harry had other plans. He made her lie on the floor, resting her burning bottom on a cushion and allowing her to find the least painful position. Then he spread her legs wide and started to lick her pussy.

After the violent treatment her bottom had received, the tender movements of his tongue and lips on her cunt were pure heaven. She moaned and begged for more right from the first touch. Harry buried his head in her crotch and sucked her clit into his mouth where it was treated to numerous lashings from his tongue. Mirella forgot all about her pain. She thrust her hips forward to meet his exploring tongue and used both hands to squeeze her nipples. She came, flooding his mouth with her juices. Harry drank her dry and thrust his tongue inside her, looking for more. It didn't take long for her to oblige. The intensity of her pain earlier was matched by the intensity of her orgasms. She thought momentarily of Agent Ann, but this was much, much better. She wanted this to never end, but eventually it did.

Mirella was quite weak after so much pleasure and pain, her legs felt like rubber and she was hardly able to stand on her own. Harry offered to fix them some sandwiches and Mirella accepted the offer. After a short while he returned from the kitchen with two king size sandwiches and two glasses of orange juice. They made short work of their sandwiches and gulped down the juice in one go. Harry commented, "Hard work makes hungry and thirsty".

Then he said it was time to take her for a walk. He helped her to put on her skirt and they knotted her now button-less blouse so that her breasts weren't completely naked. As he had indicated before, she wasn't going to wear any shoes. He blindfolded her and, in order to prevent her from removing the blindfold, he handcuffed her hands behind her back.

When he took her arm to guide her out of her apartment Mirella noticed that he was now wearing leather gloves. Mirella felt nervous about meeting someone in the hallway, the elevator or the underground garage. She relaxed after Harry had helped her into her car and drove off. He parked the car after a short ride. Mirella hadn't even tried to guess where he might be taking her. When he helped her out of the car, she was able to distinguish the sound of other cars coming and going at low speed. She concluded that they were in some kind of car park. The texture of the ground underneath her feet seemed to confirm that.

Mirella could feel Harry untie the knot which held her blouse together. She felt the cool air on her nipples and assumed that her breasts were now partly exposed to any passer-by. The idea excited her, particularly, as she couldn't tell if there was anybody looking at her.

Harry guided her up one step and they walked along what seemed like a paved walkway. Mirella could hear a door slide out of the way and noticed a change of surface under her feet. They were now on some kind of polished stone floor, maybe marble. After walking for a while on this surface, Harry asked her to stand still for a while. She could hear him unlock a door and flick some switches. Then he took her arm again and guided her inside. Inside what? She didn't know. All she could tell was that there was now some kind of carpet under her feet.

Harry undid the zipper of her skirt and let the skirt drop to the floor. Then he opened the handcuffs and slid the blouse off her shoulders. Afterwards he handcuffed her again, but this time with her hands in front of her. All the time Mirella thought that there might be other people present, watching her being undressed, but she didn't hear any voices or other noises to confirm her suspicion. Harry told Mirella to get down on all fours and helped her to get on her knees. Then he held her upper body as she bent down until she was able to support herself on her elbows and lower arms on the carpeted floor. When she was on all fours, Harry moved her knees a little further apart.

"I'm going to fuck your ass." Harry announced, "This may hurt a little and we don't want the neighbors to get alarmed. So I'll have to gag you again."

Mirella nodded her agreement and willingly accepted the ball gag into her mouth which he fastened with a scarf as before. Mirella could hear him remove his clothes and then there was the sensation of his gloved fingers, covered with a cool jelly-like substance, working their way into her rear hole. He started with one finger, which he first moved around in small circles and then shoved abruptly all the way inside her.

The sudden penetration made her gasp. Harry withdrew his finger only to replace it with two of them, again coated with lubricant. He moved his fingers in and out a few times until he found she was ready for bigger things.

The situation was not without effect on Mirella, she was longing to feel his cock inside her rear passage. Her excitement was heightened by the fact that she was blindfolded, gagged and handcuffed - completely at his mercy. Soon she could feel his cock head pressing against her tight hole.

It was at this point that everything went black before her eyes. No, it wasn't the blindfold. It' wasn't the pain from his cock forcing its way inside her, either. Mirella knew exactly what it was. 'Stupid bitch!' she exclaimed to herself. How could she have been so careless? She had completely disregarded rule number one: Never accept a drink which you haven't seen being poured.

She knew exactly what was going to happen. She had been given the drug once during her training, exactly so that she would learn to be careful. First her vision would go black - that had already happened. Then she would lose control of her limbs. She would remain fully conscious for another twenty to thirty minutes. The drug had the known side effect of heightening her sensation of everything that was happening around her and to her. She had a glimmer of hope that this was the reason why Harry had drugged her - he wanted her to experience her first ever butt-fuck even stronger, more forcefully. After about half an hour she would pass out. How long she would remain unconscious depended on the dosage she had been given. That's what she knew. She might have been able to call for help during the early stage, but her gag made that impossible.

While Mirella was busy taking stock of her situation, Harry had pushed his cock all the way inside her where it remained still, without moving. Mirella couldn't help being turned on by the sensation of his hard cock filling and stretching her rear passage to the maximum.

Harry had decided to take his time. His hands grabbed her breasts. He played with her nipples, sometimes rubbing them gently, then pinching and twisting them forcefully. Mirella moaned into her gag. One of his hands moved down her belly to her cunt. He thrust two fingers deep inside her. The double penetration brought Mirella close to the edge. When Harry's other hand also moved down to her pussy and started to rub her clit, she climaxed. Harry could feel her spasms where his cock was lodged inside her. That's how he wanted to play it. He wanted to make her come with his fingers in her cunt and feel it with his cock in her ass. And then he wanted to fuck her ass and feel her climax with his fingers inside her cunt.

But he wasn't ready to fuck her just yet. He continued to rub her clit while he shoved two fingers in and out of her cunt. Building on her first orgasm, it didn't take her long to come again. Harry continued to finger-fuck Mirella until he could feel her muscles twitch around his cock for a third time. Then he started to move slowly back and forth in her rear passage.

He wanted to make it last but it took all his self-control to keep his movements slow and steady. She was so wonderfully tight, so snug, his cock was ready to burst. He kept up his slow movements in her ass, with his fingers lodged deep in her cunt for as long as he could. When he couldn't control his excitement any longer he grabbed her hips and pushed her towards himself to impale her even deeper on his cock. He moved in and out of her with long, hard strokes, his pelvis slapping each time against her striped cheeks.

Mirella felt an excruciating pain every time he made contact with the welts on her punished backside, but this was nothing compared with the sensation of his cock sliding in and out of her. She reached another peak with every powerful thrust of his cock. When he filled her with his hot semen, she was ready to collapse, only held up by his firm grip on her hips. Her arms and legs gave way when he removed his softening cock and let go of her hips and she slumped onto the floor.

Harry was extremely pleased. This had been his most satisfying fuck for a very long time. And it wasn't only because of the exquisite tightness of her luscious ass. He knelt down next to her and wiped his cock clean with her beautiful long hair. Then he said, "Give my regards to Jim Jr." That was the last thing Mirella heard before she passed out.

"Can you hear me, Miss?"

Mirella felt a hand in a leather glove slapping her face lightly. She opened her eyes and noticed that the blindfold and gag had been removed, but she was still handcuffed. The gloved hand belonged to a police officer who was kneeling on the floor next to her. There was another police officer standing nearby. A look around confirmed her worst fear. She was lying on the floor of her own art gallery. There was no need to check on the Polichinelo. She knew by intuition that it had gone.

A small crowd had gathered outside, looking through the glass door. People were pushing and shoving each other to get a good look at the naked woman who had been found, handcuffed, gagged and blindfolded, half lying half kneeling on the floor, sticking her ass up in the air. An ass which showed clear signs of having been whipped and from which something that looked distinctly like cum was trickling onto the carpet.

"Do you know where we can find the keys to these handcuffs," the police officer asked.

She shook her head. The police officer spoke into his radio, asking for a locksmith. 'I don't need no fucking locksmith, I can pick this lock in ten seconds flat' Mirella thought. But to do this she would need to have her hands free, and that was exactly the problem. So she resigned herself to the wait. The two police officers helped her up from the floor and made her sit on the chair behind her desk. They didn't make any effort to cover her.

'They probably get a kick out of looking at me like this,' Mirella thought, 'They probably regret that they didn't get a chance to fuck me before the onlookers arrived. Bastards! All men are bastards!' As she shouted the word 'bastards' through her clenched teeth, the police officer asked her, "Do you want to press charges, Miss?"

The End

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