Opening the door on the ground in Sri Lanka released a flood of humid air into the cool comfort of the my high tech jet aircraft.
Well before landing, the plane resumed it's normal shape, appearing to be an expensive business class jet. When Rick Cheney and I disembarked, we were dressed in all white linens to better blend into the scenery of the locale. California beach attire would have marked us for tourists. Suits would have marked as a first time businessmen to the island nation off the tip of the Indian subcontinent. The collar-less white linen shirt and loose-fitting pants tied at the waist let people know we weren't tourists, and we weren't first timers.
Cheney was armed of course, carrying a 9 mm Beretta in the small of his back. On the tarmac waited my CIA provided driver and car, a black Mercedes S500 with heavily tinted windows. Bulletproof, undoubtedly. Rick introduced us: "Dr. David, this is Shaw." I reached out and shook his hand, transferring a flood of nanobots onto his skin and they immediately began burrowing into his pores, infesting his bloodstream and connecting him to my neural network.
"Glad to meet you Shaw. Do you know where we're headed?" "Yes sir. The drive will take less than an hour." I could sense no deception in his thoughts or mannerisms. Good. We drove north from the airport to the Negombo-Mirigama Road.
Forty-five minutes of driving east put us deep in the forest interior, well beyond Mirigama. A turn to the north and we passed through the named government reserves into the unnamed government lands beyond. The air was redolent with the smell of cinnamon. Early in its colonization, Ceylon had been the source of the finest cinnamon in the world. Only gross mismanagement by the British Government had forced commercial growth of cinnamon to leave Ceylon in favor of tea, rubber, and coffee.
As I looked out over the remnants of colonial rule, I wondered if mankind was ever going to outgrow its penchants for dominating others through invasion and subjugation.
The road became narrower as we moved further from civilization. Soon the trees were casting a constant shadow as the loomed over the road. Shaw slowed the Mercedes. We turned right onto a narrow lane, passing under a stone arch hundreds of years old.
I also noticed that we drove over a series of automated barriers and took note of the electronic devices along the route. I could not see the guards, but they were surely there, camouflaged among the trees. I glanced over at my traveling companion.
Rick Cheney reclined in his seat, not appearing to take note of anything, which meant he was cataloguing everything. We emerged from the trees into lush meadows divided by low stone fences. Ahead of us was a gray stone castle. The entire scene looked entirely out of place for the tropics of Sri Lanka; it was far more appropriate for a Welsh countryside.
The road became white crushed rock, again setting it off as British. I knew the man who owned this lavish testament to his homeland and it hardly surprised me that even here in Sri Lanka he would surround himself with all things British. The Mercedes passed through a portico into an interior courtyard. This put us in the center of a shooting gallery, surrounded on all sides by perfect ambush positions. Cheney stirred.
We pulled to a stop at the entrance to the castle. Standing on a royal purple carpet that was only rolled out when he was in country, was Sir Reginald Halifax, Knight of the Realm, third cousin to the Queen, Duke of Beaufort, British Special Emissary, Admiral in Her Majesties Royal Navy, and head of a very black, very secret department of British Intelligence.
And he was also an above average asshole. Flanking him on either side were a couple of blonde, no-nonsense goons that wore black suits in the searing heat. Though officially part of the British mission to Sri Lanka, this estate was only used by Reggie Halifax and his special group of soldiers. Sir Reginald was tolerated by London because he was incredibly wealthy, well connected, and put the interests of Great Britain ahead of his own almost all the time.
Those few times he didn't put the needs of the Queen before his own were the source of his great wealth. Reggie thought himself to possess superior intelligence, but in reality I always considered him a self-serving prick. I didn't suspect him of being behind the attack on me through my girls, but I knew with near certainty he was one of the few people Harold Robinson would recruit outside the U.S.
to take part in a black op on a U.S. citizen on sovereign soil. "Professor! A pleasure! I'm simply thrilled you've traveled all this way to see me in this outpost of civilization! Do come in out of this bloody heat and let's take a refreshment somewhere more civilized." He waved us inside and we passed through three full body scanners that would detect any object on our person larger than a needle. The pistol under the arm of Dick Cheney was noted and allowed to pass.
Even a British asshole wouldn't dare disarm someone like Dick Cheney. Not and live to tell about it. The only metal on me was my cell phone and the pendant I wore around my neck with my family crest. I didn't need the pendant to be connected to the neural network. This pendant was my Trojan Horse.
We were never allowed close enough to shake hands with our host and all of his guards kept their distance as well. I could see they were taking great measures not be infected by my strain of nanobots. Their caution raised significant red flags for me. I was more certain of my suspicions with each passing minute. We were shown to a huge office, filled floor to distant ceiling with all manner of ancient leather bound books.
There was an impressive English walnut desk at one end of the room, nearest the divided windows like those in a Tudor Manor. We were shown to deep leather couches and one of the blonde body guards mixed a pitcher of Tom Collins and brought it over with several glasses and a bucket of ice. He set it on the table nearest our host, who took a great deal of ceremony to pour three tall glasses of gin. He set them next to us, within our reach, again avoiding skin to skin contact.
I had no doubt when Rick and I left, the entire room would be disinfected with gamma radiation to kill any nanobots I might attempt to leave behind. With the drinks poured, we relaxed and began our conversation. "Bloody awful, losing a man like Harold Robinson so suddenly. That tough old bird was supposed to outlive us all.
A massive embolism that killed him in flight, such a tragedy." Reggie and I both knew the embolism story was bogus. Reggie knew that Harold had been killed in a gruesome and painful manner. I am not always benevolent with my punishments. But Sir Reginald had no way of knowing that I had Harold Robinson and his cronies killed. Rick Cheney didn't know either. I am sure they both suspected, but they would each have different reasons to not probe further if they suspected my involvement.
The US government put out the other story in order to hide the fact that its top spook was murdered and no one had a single clue by whom or why. Nor would they. "I imagine your lot is in terrible state," Sir Halifax said to Rick Cheney. "Do you know who is going to take the Deputy spot?" "They don't tell lowly line-grunts like me. I still work for a living." Rick played it off like he was out of the loop.
The three of us knew that Rick was actually first in line for the job. It was his to pass on if he chose to. Accepting the top spook position would mean the end of his surfing, and he wasn't prepared to make that commitment yet. It would also change our relationship and he wasn't prepared for that either.
But another chance like this would not come again in his career, he was certain. It didn't appear to concern him. "You sell yourself far too short, Mr. Cheney. Your work and reputation are respected in all circles, on both sides." Reggie wasn't lying there.
Rick Cheney was on the very short list for spookiest spooks on the planet. "Thank you. I serve at the pleasure of the President." Rick had closed the book on the discussion.
"Now Professor David, what brings you all the way around the globe to my humble little outpost?" "Someone breached my security detail and made a clumsy attempt on my life.
It was the efforts of rank amateurs, hardly more than terrorists. But like terrorists, they have been difficult to track. I was hoping you might tell me who else in the world has been working on any&hellip. Special projects." I baited the hook with several insults, if Reggie were indeed part of the plot. "I haven't heard of anything going on anywhere. Do you have any leads?" "They used a couple of poorly trained deep-cover operatives. I imagine they have to have a base somewhere to train and assemble their agents.
You always seem to have a little information to barter and I have a new toy you might be interested in." "You are such a tease, Professor. You know I would trade my third cousin for the right toy! But I don't have any information that you might find useful.
Would you consider owning your own Royal as proper trade?" "I should let the Queen know you are willing to trade her so cheaply," kidded Cheney. "Perhaps if I arrange a demonstration of my newest technology, it might jar your memory. Would you like to see it? I've brought it with me." "Oh Professor, you know I would." The excitement registered in the Duke's voice.
"Good, how many men can you assemble? Twenty or thirty would be enough I think. Don't worry, they won't be in any danger. They will be returned to you in pristine condition." Reggie Halifax spoke into a small device in his cuff and footsteps could be heard in the hallway. "Come with me, I think we can find enough volunteers for your new toy." He led the way out of his office and down the corridor to the castle's great room.
Large enough to play several games of basketball at the same time, the thirty-five men assembled there didn't make much of a disturbance in the peacefulness of the room. "Here they are. These gentlemen are at your disposal. They are among the finest young men in Her Majesty's Foreign Service, Special Branch." I scanned the room.
They did all look like fine specimens. "Gentlemen, my name is Dr. David. I am somewhat of an expert in the fields of human psychology and mind control. At no time during this demonstration will you be under any threat of harm. I am going to demonstrate for Sir Halifax, the effectiveness of this device when it comes to holding the attention of a large group of people. I have developed this to work in crowded conditions where the people might not all speak the same language and a sense of order must be restored.
Without objection, I wish to proceed." I looked at my host and he nodded. I hadn't made any movement to get closer to the assemblage. I removed the pendant from around my neck and held it aloft. While I raised it, I pressed a small button and it released a micro-spray of nanobots that infiltrated the men in the room through skin contact and inhalation.
Now for the show. "This device is a sonic transmitter capable of emitting sound pulses along the entire range above human hearing. You cannot hear anything, can you? Every man shook his head. "And you feel no different?" Again they indicated no. "And yet you feel compelled to stand on your left foot and raise your right foot behind you." Every man complied as if playing an adult version of Simon Says. I heard the nervous tittering. "Don't worry; you cannot lose your balance.
You are perfectly safe. Go ahead and try to fall over, you will find it impossible." All men threw themselves from side to side but found their balance remained in stasis. More nervous laughter. "Please, gentlemen, at ease." They dropped both feet to the floor and looked about at one another, unaware of the subtle control they were now under.
I had infected them with a variant of the military nanobot used to control men in combat. It was self-replicating, self-spreading, and was capable of being left dormant indefinitely.
While they were going through their exercises, their nanobots were relaying each man's personal information, training, history, chain of command through the pendant to a satellite 22,231 miles directly overhead.
The satellite was owned by the Department of Defense, but when it was built, there was twelve pounds of additional payload included which piggybacked on the master system. Ironically, this payload was approved and funded by Harold Robinson back when I thought he could be trusted. Now I was accessing the special payload components to further my personal mission. The satellite bounced the signal to my personal station in my home, where my computers were busy compiling and cross-checking data.
Ordinarily Mrs. Honeycutt would have been involved in this project, but as she had been compromised once before, I wasn't about to subject her to anything of such a sensitive nature. I was paying particular attention to data stream from Sir Reginald Halifax. "Would you gentlemen care for another demonstration?" I asked, raising the pendant high again.
All eyes fixed on the pendant. With its payload already dispersed and assimilated, it was just a shiny bauble. They didn't need to know that. "No? If it's all right with Sir Reggie, you are dismissed. Do carry on, or whatever it is you do." "Thank you Professor for such a profound demonstration. Your device is quite remarkable. I would have bet my peerage that it was hoax. So, what will it take for me to get one of those?" "Here," I said flipping the pendant to him.
"Take the prototype. Send it to MI-5 and see if they can take the watch apart and understand what makes it tick." Sir Reggie caught the pendant out of the air and that was all it took. The pendant infected his bloodstream with a strain of nanobots designed with a specific task in mind.
They mapped his entire DNA and dissected the design of the strain of nanobots that he was already infected with. I listened to the data streams, careful to listen for any type of detection from his current strain. My newest strain of nanobots were designed with some additional stealth features. They were designed to emulate red blood cells in terms of electromagnetic signature and to seek direct contact with previously embedded nanobots.
As my nanobots came on line, they mapped and reprogrammed his current strain and allowed me to become part of that strain without detection. With that knowledge, I would be able infiltrate his entire organization. I was extremely disappointed to discover that Reggie was not the Man Behind the Curtain. Reggie was a puppet, not a puppet master.
Someone else was the Wizard of Oz and was pulling his strings while doing a remarkably job of making themselves hard to detect. This was going to be much harder than I anticipated. "Now that I have given you something to play with, what do you have for us to play with?" I asked to change the subject, before I became too distracted by the new challenge to focus properly on the task at hand. "Ah chaps, I do have a rec room you will find highly entertaining.
Why don't you join me later for a pint and some local cuisine? I'll have a leftenant show you to your quarters." He motioned for a young lieutenant to come forward and I was surprised to take note that the young officer was a woman. Though somewhat austere in appearance, with her hair pulled back in a severe knot behind her head, she had the glint in her eye that told me she was a woman of stamina and appetite and an excellent candidate to be a Mrs.
Honeycutt. Sir Reginald knew me well. "Only if the lieutenant can join us," I said with as much charm as required to appear that I had taken the bait. I could sense the flush of embarrassment. This was a young woman of action; she was unaccustomed to being singled out for her femininity. She did not know that she was a pawn in a dangerous game, a soldier in a war she didn't know she was fighting. She had been selected to become a casualty.
Up until now, Rick Cheney had been a bystander. Now that he and I were being escorted to our rooms, he made a subtle gesture that he needed to speak to me in private. After being left to in private, Rick joined me in my spacious and well-appointed room. "Do you think we are being observed?" he asked as he entered.
"Of course we are. There's a team of six men in a room four floors underground, about midway under the courtyard where we are parked, they have been marking our every move. At this point, they are reporting that you and I have retired to our rooms and are taking a nap after a visit to the loo." "How can you know that?
Never mind. I don't want to know." One of the reasons Rick Cheney would make an excellent Deputy Chief of the CIA was that he was a pragmatic and patriotic man. He never labored under the false pretense of being more than he was. He was as good spook but not the creator of kings.
To him, I was a friend of the United States, a citizen inventor who would answer the call when called. He was right. "Everyone in the castle is under my surveillance now. There are more than five hundred and fifty men and two hundred forty women at Sir Halifax' disposal. His Sri Lanka network has more than five thousand men and women under his direct control. And still I am no closer to finding who was behind the kidnapping." "So what is the plan?" "The plan?
The plan is to have a good time tonight with Sir Reg, he has arranged for quite a bit of extravagant entertainment. Then in the morning, we will drive back to the airport and head north." "How far?" "Ordos." "China?
We don't have clearance to fly to China," warned Cheney.
"We will. Mrs. Honeycutt will see to that." Rick retired to his room and me to mine. We both slept then awoke wonderfully refreshed, then dressed for an evening of entertainment. We were expected for dinner and cocktails at 8 p.m. I went to Rick's room and got him at 7. "Let's take a look around. There are a few things here I'd like you to see." I had been busy mapping the castle using the eyes and ears of my infected recruits from among the British special clandestine service.
This place was more impressive underground than above. It ran for hundreds of yards in every direction, in some places more than twenty stories deep.
The lowest levels were designed to be a type of doomsday bunker. There were nearly a million square feet of underground warrens capped by this castle in Sri Lanka. As Cheney and I walked around, no one took note of us or raised an eyebrow. I was sending a message via the neural net that we weren't there and never had been. The men and women simply did not register our presence. We toured the gunnery range, the weapons training facilities, the dormitories, the training areas, flight simulators, combat simulators, underwater demolition training areas, and the hangar.
The hangar was the most surprising feature. In the hanger, a hundred feet below the surface, were nine Harrier jets with stealth capabilities, forty long range drones, also with stealth capabilities, sixteen DCA Dark Eagle helicopters and four ultra-long range stealth observation platforms for command and control of the drones. The sixteen DCA Dark Eagles scared the crap out of Rick Cheney.
"Are those really DCA Dark Eagles? Are they operational?" He was whispering but the sense of urgency in his voice neared panic.
"It appears so," I replied. Simple observation showed signs of use on the aircraft. "Those don't even exist!" Cheney exclaimed. "They were some concept created by a video game, for crying out loud! How the hell can SIXTEEN undetectable aircraft that haven't even been built be sitting here in front of us David? What the hell is going on here?" "It appears that our British allies have been keeping some secrets from the United States government. Do you mean to tell me that you haven't even heard rumors that these aircraft were on the drawing board?" "I've got to make a phone call.
We need to get to the surface. I need to start waking people up. There isn't a single aircraft built anywhere in the world we don't have eyes on from the moment the first piece of fabrication is begun. If there are sixteen, there are bound to be more. There's enough firepower here to take Sri Lanka and control the eastern half of the Indian Ocean." "Not so fast Rick. No one knows we know. You have hit on precisely the right target. This enclave can only control a small area.
Do you think it's the only such enclave in existence? I think we have only struck the tip of the iceberg. Until we see the entire danger, I think it's best we keep this to ourselves. I don't monitor everyone at the Pentagon, but I will bet you a dollar against a donut that our adversaries do. The CIA has been compromised as well. We've got to root out those moles before we can begin to think about how to best deal with it.
Let's stick to our plan of a little fun tonight and a trip north tomorrow. If I am correct, Ordos is either the solution to our problem or the key to the correct doorway. Let's go back upstairs. It's almost time for the festivities." Cheney and I found an elevator and pressed the button for the correct floor.
The doors opened on a carpeted hallway as wide as a hotel lobby and long enough not to be able to see the ends clearly. Men and women in both civilian and military garb mingled in the corridor. Illumination was provided by crystal chandeliers placed every forty feet and the walls were paneled in wainscoting and topped with a brocade wall covering.
It was as rich and plush as the finest British manor back home. We turned to the right and joined the flow of people that was headed to the cavernous Recreation Room. Our host was waiting just inside the doorway. "Gentlemen, allow me to show you an evening of food, spirits, and entertainment," stated Sir Halifax in grand fashion, his hand indicating the scene beyond.
"This is our Recreation Room. It is designed to provide the highest quality of recreation and entertainment for all of my compatriots assigned to duty here in Sri Lanka. I am sure you fill find many diversions to suit your individual needs. I have asked Leftenants Mallory Lourdes and Fiona McGinnis to join us. I am sure you will find them quite&hellip.sporting. They are well trained and highly motivated." The young lieutenant I had singled out earlier was replaced by a lovely brown haired beauty with skin so white it appeared alabaster.
The way she moved was more like a jungle cat on the hunt than a scared young woman out of her element. She wore a ruby red dress that clung to her curves and caught the light of every chandelier and allowed her to shimmer.
She was gorgeous and she was dazzling. She certainly would have made an excellent Mrs. Honeycutt. She approached me and slipped her arm inside mine with an easy grace. Someone had worked overtime to reprogram her motivation from one of killer to pleasure maker. Fiona McGinnis seemed her equal.
Where Mallory was white, McGinnis was fiery red. Her skin glowed it flush of arousal, giving her a radiant pink glow. Her red hair flowed past her shoulders and the shimmering green evening gown that plunged between her breasts and accented her feminine hips. She slipped in next to Rick Cheney and the look in his eyes reflected his approval.
"And now let's eat. We will need our strength later." Reggie showed us to a dining room off the main salon. We sat and enjoyed course after course of sumptuous seafood, fruits, beef, fowl, and of course wines and spirits from all over. The nanobots in both Rick and I kept the alcohol from affecting us in the normal way. We could drink all the liquor in the world and not be adversely affected.
But as the evening progressed, I noted that the women were becoming a little more familiar. A hand would graze a cheek or linger on a thigh. Cheney was also being lavished with personal adoration.
Our host was unencumbered by distraction. I accessed his neural network and found myself viewing his fantasy of ravishing the young lieutenants that he had arranged for our pleasure. It was time to turn the tables on him just a little. We retired from the dining room and joined the fray in the large recreation hall.
I spotted several snooker tables in the further reaches. We walked over and took over an unoccupied table. Sir Reginald fancied himself to be a champion snooker player. "Let's play," I suggested and everyone prepared to play. After a couple games, no one had embarrassed themselves with ineptitude and Sir Reggie was clearly a very skilled player.
"Would anyone object if we played for a wager?" "We don't have any money," the young women objected. "Clearly you can offer something of a more rewarding nature, should you lose," I suggested. "Yes, I suppose I could," answered the beautiful Mallory. "What do I get when I win." "You get," I promised her, "to have your current fantasy fulfilled." She blushed.
At that moment she was envisioning being bent over that very table with me standing behind her, thrusting inside her. Of course I had implanted that fantasy as her own and also triggered her pleasure centers when she dwelled of it. "Wager accepted," replied Mallory. Fiona nodded as well. I spotted a couple of promising young women watching from the fringes. A subtle neural command from me moved them to flank Sir Reginald and he took no note of their presence. They would keep him occupied until I released them all.
As we began to play, the young women knelt before Reggie and lavished his cock with their attention. To the women, they were just performing a duty required of the regiment and did it with gusto.
For Reggie, they were a source of growing arousal. He would not release until I allowed it. "Ladies first, if you please," I said with a flourish.
Mallory took the first stroke of the white ball and gently tapped the pyramid of reds, hardly dislodging a single ball. Rick followed, sending the cue to the rail and then back to nestle against the base of the red pyramid. Fiona followed with a gentle carom off of a corner red and then dying against the rail. My skills as a snooker player weren't world class. They weren't even graduating class. My skills were more along the line of Sunday school class. But I alone controlled everyone's perception of the game and to them I was sinking ball after ball until the entire table was cleared.
Our opponent clapped. "That was incredible Dr. David," purred Mallory. "Now that you've won, what do you accept as payment?" "Let's start with fulfilling your fantasy, Lieutenant, and then see where the evening leads." She approached me as I approached her.
I slipped my right arm around her waist and pulled her tight to me. She tilted her lips toward mine. I raised my left hand to her face and let it slide down her elegant neck, brushing her skin with my fingertips. I didn't need to read her mind to feel her arousal. I accessed her memories, bringing forth all of her previous lovers.
I was shocked at what I discovered. Her earliest experiences had been with family members in her home town Liverpool. Her older cousin had forced her into her first intercourse followed in close succession by her uncle and then an older brother and her own father. From the time she was eleven until she left for the military, they had repeatedly used her. They left behind a legacy of pain and confusion and a desire to be dominated.
She had grown to like and crave their forced sex. Instead of crushing her spirit, it had instilled a warrior ethos that she could withstand any assault and come away stronger. Even her few partners she had taken in the intervening years were chosen because they could dominate and abuse her.
She had never had a lover, only partners in animalistic mating. I pulled her face to mine and we kissed. While we kissed, I gave her the skills and triggers to change the way she thought of her forced sexual maturation. If she ever chose to remember things differently, or not at all, she only had to decide and those memories would no longer be accessible to her.
While I was accessing her thoughts, I also instilled a burning desire to be treated with tenderness and the ability to treat every lover to all of her many treats. And for good measure, I removed her gag reflex. I was aware of the audience we had drawn. The Lord Halifax was getting his cock sucked in the middle of the Rec Room and that naturally garnered some curious looks.
Rick Cheney was cock-deep into Fiona, who had laid back on the snooker table and raised her skirt past her waist and her high heels to Cheney's shoulders. I wasn't surprised that the crowd was merely curious. The true nature of the Rec Room was being revealed. Men and women paired up and began to copulate in different ways. Some women had more than one man attending to them. Scattered here and there were young men giving pleasure to other young men. The Rec Room had become a giant sexual carnival.
I slipped my left hand down to Mallory's ass and cupped the firm and narrow muscles. She purred. I slipped my hand up until I could feel her zipper and slipped it down her back. With a roll of her shoulders, her straps came down and the entire gown puddled around her feet. She wore nothing at all underneath. That white skin was so alluring. Her dark nipples matched her lips. They too pouted but stood at erect attention. Her stomach was a smooth, but interrupted by the indentations where her underlying musculature was defined.
Her thighs were powerful but not large. Her sex was shaved except for a narrow triangle pointing the way to Heaven. Her labia were already engorged. Her inner lips protruded out, signaling her deep arousal.
Mallory fumbled with the loosely tied belt on my native cotton garb. I guided her down so that her face was right before my cock and allowed her to focus on untying my belt. She succeeded and my cotton gauze pants fell to my ankles. My cock pointed at Mallory's mouth. She stuck out a tentative tongue, just grazing the slit as it bounced with my heartbeat. I moved it closer to her mouth and she readily accepted it.
Her lips parted and her mouth widened as more and more of my cock disappeared into the young Leftenants throat. I pushed in until my own pubis was flattening her nose.
My neural command told her that the feel of my contact inside her was incredibly arousing. She squirmed, rubbing her labia together to increase the friction. Her moisture began to flow. Mallory kept my cock deep in her throat, pulling it out only far enough to breathe through her nose.
She deftly juggled my balls with her left hand and guided my thrusts with her right. She began to moan around my shaft, increasing my rising ecstasy.
When I could take no more, I reached down and pulled her to her feet. I knelt before her, pressing my nose into her tight, sopping crevice. The taste of her protruding labia gave me immense pleasure. Feeling the pleasure rippling through Mallory only heightened that pleasure. Her legs quaked and she leaned back against the snooker table, raising one leg and circling it around my neck to open the access for my tongue. I nibbled and sucked her protruding inner labia, drawing the tip of my tongue across her engorged clit.
Tremors of delight coursed through her. I lifted her by her single thigh until she fell across the table on her back, raising her other leg to my shoulder in the process. Now her lotus blossom was mine to enjoy.
I gave her a silent command to pull her alabaster legs back. She spread herself wide for me to enjoy. Her asshole twitched and throbbed.
She clit played peekaboo with my tongue. She was delicious and I enjoyed her flowing juices for a long time, slowly building her orgasm. Finally I stood, resting my erection on that tiny triangle of hair. Her chest heaved, she was gasping from the pleasure that kept her just under the birth of a massive orgasm. She looked so vulnerable with her legs splayed out and her cunt exposed. Her eyes never left mine. She bit her lower lip, begging me to press my cock into her pussy.
I shifted my hips back and my cock bumped across her clit. I reached down and guided my helmet into her waiting sex. I slowly inserted my length, feeling her velvet depths convulsing to accept and accommodate my assault. When I was fully embedded, she closed her eyes and rolled her head back, better to concentrate on the pleasure. I grasped her hips to keep from pounding her so hard she caromed to the other side of the table.
I began to fuck her slowly, enjoying her pleasure with her. I picked up the pace and commanded her to let her orgasm build until I released it. Then I started to really hammer her, thrusting in and out with fervor. "Go ahead Mallory. Cum for me. Cum for me." She came so hard she stopped breathing.
I didn't relent. I let her climax continue for several minutes until I was ready to explode. "Tell me to fuck your ass.
Tell me to cum in your ass. I am the only man you will ever allow to fuck your ass. It will give you such immense pleasure, you cannot wait until I fuck your ass again." My command went unspoken but not unheard. It certainly wasn't ignored.
"Please Professor. Please. Shove that cock in my ass. I need your cock in my ass. I want your cock in my ass. Please Professor. Please." I withdrew my sopping cock from her pussy and she pulled harder on her legs, raising her ass higher to give me access. "In the pain you will find immeasurable pleasure," I instructed. The head of my cock disappeared into her virgin anus. Instead of protesting, Mallory thrashed her head back and forth and shook.
"MORE, PROFESSOR! MORE! MORE!" I buried my entire cock up her ass in one push. She came again. This time the milking of her ass was too much and I came as well. I was spent and sweating, enjoying my view of my cock defiling this young Foreign Service officer. I glanced over at Rick Cheney and he was busy pushing his cock in and out of Fiona from behind. He grinned and gave me the thumbs up. Sir Reginald was starting to sweat. He had been on the edge of an orgasm for the thirty minutes I had been occupied with Mallory.
I gave him the go-ahead to reach his orgasm and his back immediately spasmed as he arced rope after rope of cum across his two admirers. They lapped it up like good little attendants. Now that Mallory could stand, I reached down and grabbed my pants and her dress. We walked naked and semi-naked from the Rec Room and found our way back to the elevator that would carry us back to my room. In the morning, Rick and I would head for China. But that was many hours from now and Mallory was already for another go.
It was time for her interrogation.