Loose Ends

Dim lights swung silently above Michael’s head, in the humid and stale air of his prison cell. The caws of tropical birds were barely audible from the incredibly small, barred, window right above his bed. The moonlight shone in through the bars, and dimly illuminated Michael. His brown, short, fur was caked in sweat despite him wearing nothing more than an undersized pair of briefs. His jade  eyes flicked towards the heavy steel door in the corner, the one that had held him in his cell for the past three months. Since then, the poor otter had gone through dozens of intense interrogation sessions, his cartel captors wanting him to spill everything on what he was doing in the remote rain forest.

Michael himself still awed by his capture. One minute he’s performing a HALO jump out of a cargo jet, next minute bullets and spotlights rain down on him. He was sent to infiltrate the cartel’s base of operations but somehow, they knew he was arriving and set up an ambush. In any case, he was stuck in the hellhole they called a cell. Michael wasn’t expecting any sort of rescue, knowing that the government would have classified and denied all involvement of his mission by now. He let out a exhausted sigh in the dim light; he would rot in this cell.

However, his eyes widened in fear and he instinctively cowered in his bed as he heard the dreaded sound of heavy boots walking towards his holding cell. He had never been interrogated this late at night, and Michael had to wonder what they could possibly do to him this time to make him give it up. In his head he had made his decision; he was going to throw in the towel and cooperate. 

The light under the door went away as someone stood in front of it. However, the door’s lock loudly let out a number of clicks and shuddering noises. It was slow and deliberate, obviously to avoid making much noise. His eyes widened as he realized that the person didn’t have the key, but was actually picking the lock. With a final metallic rumble, the door swung open. The light from the hall flooded the small cell, and Michael had to shield his eyes. When the door swung shut, he loudly gasped; a rescuer had arrived.

Her dark green eyes lazily stared him down in his bed. The Doberman was a giant compared to him, taller by at least a couple of feet. Her impressive muscles and beautiful curves were easily visible through her black rubber catsuit. Her left shoulder had an American flag decal stamped on, with CIA in bright white letters over her heart. She slowly walked towards him, her vinyl boots tapping the hard concrete floor. She spoke in a slow, soothing whisper, the auditory equivalent of a warm bath. 

“Don’t say a word. I’m going to get you out of here as soon as I can. You can trust me.” She tapped the earpiece she wore and said, “Target is secured and in good health, I’ve checked over all of their intel on him as well. He hasn’t said a word. Continue with mission objective?” Michael couldn’t hear the voice on the other end, but she nodded and turned off her comms. She put her hand out to him, gripping his and lifting him up. "The suits in Washington are surprised you’ve been this resilient.” Michael nodded, thinking about how even five minutes ago, rescue felt like a useless fantasy. And now, it was happening this very moment.

He asked, “Your name?” “Charity,” she replied. “It’s just a temporary code name for this mission. Do you mind turning around for a second? I need to check to see if our transmitter is still inside you.” Michael raised his eyebrows, a little confused. No one told him about any type of transmitter, and he couldn’t even remember a moment when they would put one in. Maybe he was too sleep deprived to remember that. Regardless, he turned around and let Charity look over him. 

As soon as he did so, a great weight pushed him down to the bed, and his surprised cry was cut off in an instant An arm curled under his chin and pulled back while another pushed his head forward; a perfect rear naked chokehold. Charity straddled his back, legs wrapped around his waist. That same careful whisper came again, directly into his ear. “I’m sorry I have to do this. They’ve determined that you’re too much of a liability to stay alive. I’ll try to make this as easy for you as possible.” And with that, Charity tightened the hold with all of her immense strength.

Michael gasped out immediately, legs kicking uselessly on the mattress while his arms slapped and pulled at Charity. Her arm felt like a stone pillar, not at all moving to his feeble resistance. She flexed out, and he could feel his trachea bend with the pressure. A low groan came from his open mouth, and he tried to escape the hold by writhing hard in her grip. Charity’s legs moved from crushing his waist to wrapping themselves around his legs, completely immobilizing him. Michael was already feeling weak, his arms feeling tremulously heavy. It was a ordeal to even keep conscious. 

Charity looked down over his shoulder, seeing that his half shut eyes were already bloodshot and watering from the immense pain. Michael’s flat, muscular chest heaved from oxygen deprivation and his briefs were tented. She could see it throb through his underwear, precum already leaving a dark spot on where his tip pressed against the fabric. His profuse sweating had caused her sneaking suit to squeak with every movement, and it glistened in the pale light from the window. Charity tightened up the hold and rolled over on her side, dragging Michael along with her.

He was already much weaker than before, his trembling arms falling off Charity’s arm and clenching on the mattress. She leaned in and kissed the back of his head, sending a weak gurgle out of his now open mouth. His tongue had flopped out onto the pillow and a steady stream of salvia seeped out. His legs twitched against Charity’s, and his underwear had a large dark spot on them. Clutching him closer to her soft chest, Charity removed the hand off the back of his neck and slowly creeped it into Michael’s underwear. She lightly grasped his erect cock and moved her lips against his ear. 

“Just let it out...it’s almost over with...” As soon as she finished, she gently began to stroke him, her smooth latex gloves massaging his cock. She ran her thumb across his head, feeling another spurt of precum when she did so. Charity closed her eyes and began to speed up, hearing Michael’s quiet, agonized moans in response. His hips moved as much as they could while she masturbated him, and with a final slow stroke, his back arched against her. Charity looked over her shoulder to watch the results of her work.

Michael’s cock had gone stiff and was shooting out cum strongly, his entire body shaking as he did so. The entire front of his underwear were darkened from his dying seed, and when Charity took her glove out, it was covered entirely in it. Smiling, she sucked on her fingers, and tasted the pungent, salty cum from her latest victim. She felt no more movement from Michael once he had came, and couldn’t feel a pulse on his neck. She rolled off his body and turned his corpse to face hers.

What a beautiful sight it was. His eyes were rolled up to almost his bloodshot whites, just a hint of his green eyes showing. His face was flushed with red and his dripping, drooling tongue rested on his chin. His throat was heavily bruised from Charity’s muscular arms and the fur was indented along the bruise. His fur was covered in a musky sweat, and a quick look down showed his underwear darkening even more as Michael’s corpse pissed itself.

Charity took him into her arms and lightly nuzzled his chin, sighing to herself as she prepared herself for her next task. Using her feet, she peeled off the underwear from his body, and held it in her hands. She shoved his head into one of the leg holes, and placed the other one over the bedpost. The fabric held, and she let go of the body, letting it kneel on the floor. The second part of her job was to make it look like a suicide, and her suit had made sure she left no DNA evidence. As far as anyone would know, Michael had killed himself to deny his captors any information he had. 

Charity sighed, relieved that the kill had gone as easily as it had. She glanced down and grinned, seeing her reward right in front of her. His cock was still as hard as it was when he was alive, and her hand moved down to her crotch. She was surprised to find herself aroused, a burning hot patch in her suit. Gripping Michael’s shoulders, she thrust her covered pussy against his dead cock.

Charity moaned immediately, very pleased with her new toy. She rubbed against his cock, feeling it through the skintight latex. Her breath came out in a pant as she increased her speed, looking directly into Michael’s dead, pathetic face. She resisted all urges to sloppily kiss it, and instead placed her hands on his throat instead. She could feel his broken trachea, and she moaned as she felt the bone shift under her fingers. She clamped down hard with her hands as she sped up, crushing his throat again in her iron grip. Charity was much more wet, a rubbery whine coming from the crotch of her suit.

She suddenly twisted his head to the left, shattering his vertebrae with a dry and meaty crack. She pressed her entire body against his as she heard and felt it, climaxing against his dead cock with barely an couple of millimeters of latex separating them. She rested her head on his shoulder, panting and groaning as the waves of pleasure dissipated from within. She stood up on shaky legs, looking at Michael’s broken body in front of her.

Charity blew a final kiss to his corpse and exited out the door, grinning like an idiot the entire time. No one had discovered her as she exfiltrated the compound, sprinting to the helicopter about a mile away. As she ran, her mind racing with the thoughts of the guards finding Michael’s cold, naked corpse in his cell in the morning. The chopper picked her up just as the sun began to light up the jungle, and she gave a final lustful look at the compound, smiling as she ran the memories back in her mind. “I love this job.”