1 comments/ 6940 views/ 0 favorites Secret Service By: wanderingmindgames Oh dear- yet again another one-off. Sorry. Still working. Just this little nugget was clamoring to be born. So much so that it was blocking everything else. *sigh* Much better now. For Eric - You make a darn good muse. -W ***** "Enter." The voice, as strong and commanding as the man who owned it, called out at Hannah's soft knock. She opened the door carefully and entered the small, windowless basement cell. She turned to close the door behind her, needing that extra moment to quell her nerves before facing him. "Karl," she said, her voice unsteady as their eyes met. He stood next to the neatly made twin bed, the small night stand behind him, its solitary lamp - the only illumination in the room - casting him in shadow, only his eyes glittering in the dimness. He was taller than her by only a handful of inches, but his demeanor made him seem so much larger to her. He regarded her for a minute, smiling inwardly at the way she fidgeted under his scrutiny. "Come here, Hannah," he said, holding his hand out to her. She placed her hand in his as she stepped closer, her eyes cataloguing the contrast of her work-roughened fingers against his smooth ones. Her brows furrowing as she noted her chipped and cracked nails, callouses, and cracked skin. "What is it?" he asked, catching her fleeting frown. "It is nothing," she said, her eyes flicking up to his briefly before dropping to his chest. The silver buttons of his sharp military uniform cast a hazy reflection of herself, and she fought hard not to wince. Karl saw the direction of her gaze and sighed, looking over her shoulder at the small mirror next to the door. He noted the coarse shabbiness of her brown coat, the cheap fabric of her skirt that had been mended in so many places the hem was uneven, her boots made of leather so poor it had nearly rubbed through on the side. Against the fine black and grey wool of his uniform, his silver epaulettes and shiny black leather jackboots, double "S" insignia and decorations, Hannah looked more than washed out. She looked like an old photograph; grainy, insubstantial. Except her yellow star. That was clear. A beacon drawing his gaze. "Take off your coat, Hannah," he said with a frown, his eyes locked on the emblem that marked her as less than human, marked her as a commodity. Marked her for death. She quickly obeyed, revealing a paper-thin cardigan with its own gold star beneath her coat. She folded the threadbare garment carefully and turned to place it on the shelf behind her. "Let your hair down and undress for me," Karl said, watching her back. He didn't want to see the symbols of her degradation anymore and was relieved she didn't turn to face him before complying. He took off his uniform jacket, hanging it on the peg behind him, and unbuttoned the placket of his breeches as she removed the pins holding her hair up, letting it fall to her shoulders before undressing further. Hannah had removed all but her bra and panties when she felt him come up behind her. She stilled, unsure of what her next action should be as his arms moved around her and his fingers found her nipples and began pinching them. There was nothing tentative or hesitant in his touch; his fingers clamped down on her through the thick material of her bra. "These have been neglected for a while, Hannah," Karl said against her ear. She whimpered her assent, nodding slightly as the sweet agony shot through her to settle in her cunt, even while her cheeks were aflame with shame and embarrassment. She crossed her legs, pressing her thighs together to alleviate the quickly growing throb in her sex. She sighed at the feel of his hands moving to her ass and caressing her briefly before turning her around to face him. "Oh...Karl," she moaned as his hands went back to her nipples, fingers pinching and twisting roughly. She grabbed at his wrists, not sure if she wanted to pull his hands away or keep them in place. He pushed her left breast up with his right hand, bending to bite and suck at the flesh that bulged over the top of her bra cup as his left hand fisted her hair. She moaned, her hips bucking slightly as she unconsciously sought for something - anything - to help alleviate the tension coiling inside her. Karl felt her movements and released her hair, his hand quickly landing a loud smack on her ass. Hannah moaned as he smacked her other ass cheek while his teeth and fingers worked at her breast. She squeezed her thighs together, desperate to get off. He suddenly released her flesh and moved his hand between her legs, lightly rubbing on the outside of her panties as he prodded her thighs apart. He could feel the heat, the humidity, coming from her pussy and he gave a small grin. "Yesss," she hissed under her breath as he spanked her cunt. Hannah squeezed her eyes tightly shut as he did it again, and again, each time making her hips jerk as if chasing after the punishment. She wanted nothing more than to lay back on the little bed, her legs spread wide as he bit at her nipples and breasts and spanked her pussy until she came. Her cheeks grew even hotter and she felt the sting of tears begin as the thought of her wanting filled her with a sense of self-loathing. "What is wrong, Hannah?" Karl asked, sensing her distress. "It is nothing," Hannah whispered, opening her eyes but refusing to meet his stare. She looked at the dusting of hair below his throat. "I am just feeling sensitive." She turned her face to his, her posture asking for a kiss and he obliged. Alternating soft kisses with bites and rough thrusts of his tongue. "Take your underwear off," he said, breaking the kiss and releasing her. He turned to get something off the little nightstand as Hannah removed the rest of her clothing. She turned back to find him holding a dark scarf in his hand. He folded it into a blindfold, smiling at the way she watched as he did. "Do you trust me?" he asked, reaching out and pulling her to him at her nod. He secured the blindfold around her head and stood back for a moment, watching her. She was tense, scared, her breathing rapid and lips dry. She turned her head, straining to hear him move, when she suddenly felt his hand slap at her right nipple. She gasped, leaning forward unsteadily as he slapped at the other one. "Come," he said, gently moving her to the little bed. He helped her lay back, pulling her by the ankles toward the end of the bed until her calves hung off the edge. He moved over her and kissed her, sucking and biting at her lips as she fought to capture his tongue in her mouth. He eased back and moved his mouth down to her breasts, taking her right nipple between his teeth and biting down. Hannah arched her back as he alternated between chewing and biting and sucking and licking at her nipple, the shame at her reaction to his ministrations warring with her desire for it. He moved to her left nipple, giving it equal treatment as he fisted her hands in the blanket, willing herself to not ask for more, not beg him to make her come. She felt him get off the bed and relaxed her hands slightly, shivering a little at the loss of his warmth in the coolness of the room. She jumped when she felt something rough dragged up the outside of her thigh. Her breath caught as Karl dragged it over her hip and circled first one, then the other nipple with it before dragging it back down her other leg. She felt his weight shift again as he leaned over her legs, pressing something cool and wet feeling to the arch of her foot. She gasped, her muscles twitching a bit as he slowly drew it along the inside of her leg, running it over her mound and belly button before slowly sliding it down her leg to her other foot. "Ticklish?" he asked as her foot jerked and she giggled at the feeling of whatever he had in his hand against the sole of her right foot. "No," Hannah laughed, smiling for the first time since she'd arrived. "Liar." She felt him get off the little bed again and relaxed a bit. She heard him rummaging around for a moment before he pushed himself between her knees, opening her legs more. She felt something warm and...solid...lightly stroking across her pussy lips and stilled. She held her breath, the teasingly light touch quickly reigniting the throbbing need in her sex. She could feel her clit swell a little with each pass, whining a little when she felt him drag it up her torso to her breasts. She jerked and moaned as he brought the object down on first one nipple, then the other, stinging them but not really hurting. He leaned into her leg and she realized he had undressed completely at some point. His cock laid across her knee, heavy and hot, as he continued teasing her. Sometimes his touch was hard. Sometimes his touch was soft. Hannah had no idea what he was using to touch her. It was warm one moment, cold the next. Sometimes rough. Sometimes so smooth it felt wet. Her shame started to erode beneath the waves of sensation he created. "Do you like this?" he asked, his voice hushed. "Yes," Hannah breathed. "Move up on the bed, Hannah," Karl said, moving to the side to help her slide up. He leaned over and placed his hands under her knees, lifting them so they bent and fell apart. "Put your hands at your sides on the bed," he said, moving to carefully fix the pillow beneath her head. "That's it. Good girl," he said, leaning over to give her lips a couple of fast and hard swipes of his tongue, making her try in vain to capture his mouth. He gave a low chuckle to her efforts as he turned away. She heard him open the night stand drawer and rummage around in it for a moment. She tensed again, waiting to feel whatever he took out against her skin. Karl gave a sharp "tsk" at her rigid posture and sat on the bed to her left, laying the object lengthwise from between her breasts to her abdomen. "You know what that is, Hannah?" he asked, leaning down and lightly tonguing her left nipple. She nodded, moaning as the light licks turned into hard bites. "Tell me." "Your crop," she said, taking in a shuddering breath as he released her left nipple. She was torn, her mind fighting against her nature; she loved what he did to her with it, but hated that she did. "Yes," he said, picking it up. He dragged it along her skin, shifting on the bed to lie on his side next to her. He leaned over and kissed her, biting her lips before sweeping his tongue into her mouth. There was a slight 'whoosh' type noise and then she felt the stinging slap against her right nipple. She jerked and whimpered into his mouth, her hands grabbing at the bedding beneath her to keep from laying over her breasts. Karl began tapping the tip of the crop around her breast, circling the nipple for a moment before bringing it down hard again. He moved it to her left breast and gave it the same treatment. His mouth never leaving hers, capturing her sighs and moans as he began alternating between her breasts, teasing and taunting them in turn. He stopped, breaking off the kiss, when he felt her hips start to subtly move. He ran the leather of the crop against her lips before dragging it down between her breasts and down her torso. He shifted again, moving the crop from her belly button to her pussy, rubbing her lips lightly with it. Hannah froze, the breath catching in her throat as the light rubbing changed into taps. Her legs started to close and Karl brought the crop down forcefully against the inside of her left thigh. "Keep them open," he said, smacking the inside of her right thigh. She nodded, breathing in a sharp hiss as he brought the crop down hard against her cunt, directly over her clit. Her hips jerked towards Karl in unconscious invitation to do it again. He smacked her pussy again, and again, and each time there was a corresponding jerk of her hips. He pushed the crop between her lips, teasing her clit with featherweight touches and spreading her open. Hannah's hips began moving in earnest, trying to create more friction, more pressure against her clit as she moaned softly. "Hannah," he breathed before delivering a hard smack of the crop directly on top of her clit. "Oh...yes!" she moaned, the pleasure intense. She cried out inarticulately, her back arching as Karl began unrelentingly using his crop. Concentrating mostly on her pussy, he would briefly move his attentions to her nipples when he sensed she was too close to coming. On and on he went, building the tension in Hannah, the sensations becoming a triangle of fire that played over her body, the pain morphing into pleasure so incredible she forgot her shame, she forgot her fear, she forgot herself. "Yes...yes, Karl...please..." she sobbed. Her head thrashed from side to side on the pillow, dislodging the blindfold, as Karl concentrated again on her cunt. She wailed, a long and breathy sound, her body going rigid as she came. "You came from that?" Karl asked as her body relaxed and her breathing slowed. He placed the crop on the bed as Hannah nodded, turning her head away and throwing her arm over her eyes. "Turn over," he said, going up on his knees as she did so. He prompted her to her hands and knees, his hands on her hips to steady her as he moved behind her. He slid his left index finger inside her and laughed, the sound mocking. "Someone's a little wet," he teased, sliding his finger in and out of her slowly. Hannah lowered her head to her arms, hating him in that moment in spite of the tingling after effects or her orgasm that still played over her senses. He nudged her knees apart a little more before thrusting roughly into her, making her cry out and throw her head back. He fucked her at a leisurely pace, shifting slightly with each stroke until he found the angle that made her shiver. He reached to her side, picking up the crop as she tried to fuck him back, wanting him to go faster. "Stop it, Hannah," he said, bringing the crop down on the right side of her ass. She squealed and looked over her shoulder at him. "Turn around," he said, stilling his hips completely. "Sorry," she whispered, putting her head back down on her arms. "What was that?" he asked, spanking the left side of her ass a few times with the crop. "Ah! Sorry! Sorry!" "That's better," he said, resuming his slow and steady strokes into her. Whenever Hannah began to lose herself in the pleasure he was giving her, he would use the crop. Her hips would start to undulate, she would start to beg, and he would give her a smack to stop it. Soon her shoulders, back and ass all bore the telltale marks of a firm hand, and the pressure had built up so much inside of her, nothing Karl did could stop the pending release. "Hannah..." he said through gritted teeth. He threw down the crop and leaned over her, grabbing her by the hair and making her back bow, fucking her faster, harder. Hannah answered his unvoiced plea, fucking back against him and matching his pace. "Do it, Karl, please," she begged, helping him pull her upright against him and baring her shoulder. She moved her right hand between her legs and started rubbing her clit, flicking at it. She was so close to coming. "Hannah..." "Do it." She tilted her head to the side as she felt his teeth close on her shoulder and bite down hard. She had a brief flash of worry that he might break the skin, but that was quickly washed away in a bright explosion of pure hedonistic bliss. Everything around her faded for that brief moment in time. There was Hannah, no Karl, no basement room, no war. There was only the sensations swirling through her, lifting her out of everything and into nothing. She suddenly realized she was back down on all fours and Karl was still fucking her. Her mind tried to catch up while every glide of him in and out caused a shiver to race down her spine. She felt his movements become more erratic as his thrusts became more forceful. He began to groan, the sound seeming to come from all around in the tiny cell, and Hannah braced herself against the bed as best she could. He pounded into her flesh with everything in him one more time, two more times, before she felt him pull out and the hot spray of liquid hit her ass. She shivered again, tingling from her scalp to her toes, at the feel of him spending himself on her. She eased herself onto her stomach on the bed, head on her arms, as she felt him wipe his come off her skin. The rough cloth he used stung against the welts he had raised, causing another shiver of awareness to run through her. "Cold?" he asked, laying down next to her. "No," she said, giving a slight shake of her head. She always grew a little shy again when they were done. The mix of embarrassment over her behavior and the shame she knew she would feel if anyone found out what happened between the two of them would come rushing back after her body settled down. It was usually worse a couple of days later, when the marks would surface, and she would catch herself looking at them longingly. She would chastise herself, calling herself names and telling herself she would never again come to see Karl in his little basement room. But she always did. Time and again. Karl didn't understand the turmoil Hannah faced. He didn't realize she was so deeply torn up over it all. He only knew that she needed to get the little extra comfort afterwards as much as he needed to give it. They both needed the connection between them to be slowly terminated, not amputated. So they lay and talked about books. Music. Animals. They shared tales of holidays as children. They talked about anything but the chaos and war surrounding them. Neither one acknowledged that if anyone found them together she would be shot on the spot, and he would be tried for treason and hanged. Neither one gave voice to the cruelest irony of his country's bloodthirsty invasion and rabid anti-Semitism making it possible for them to meet. "I should go," Hannah said, stretching out beside Karl for a moment. He reached over and tweaked hard on her nipple. "Stop," she said, laughing and swatting his hand away. "You are so bad, Karl." She climbed off the bed and began dressing, her back to him. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and reached for his breeches, sliding them halfway up his legs before standing and pulling them all the way up. "Hannah..." he began, trailing off, unsure how to proceed. "Yes, Karl?" she said, turning to him as she buttoned up her cardigan. His eyes flew to the big yellow star on her chest and he tried not to wince. "I want you to consider staying here." "Here?" she asked, her hands pinning her hair back up into a messy bun. "With you?" "No. I mean in this room. Here," he said, spreading his hands wide. "Here," she echoed, looking around the room before turning back to him, eyebrow cocked. "Yes. I could hide you. Keep you safe." "And my family? My mama and papa?" "No. Just you, Hannah. I couldn't hide all of you." "But they are so old. They can barely do any work now - I do most of it for them. If they lose me...we hear things, Karl. We hear horrible tales about those that have been sent away." "I know." "You know? That is all you can say is you know? Are they true? Are the horrors we hear about true?" "That is all I'm willing to say." She regarded him for a moment. "I see," she said, reaching for her coat and shrugging it on. "Hannah," he said, coming to stand in front of her and placing his hands on her shoulders. "They are clearing out the ghetto soon. Every jew left in Warsaw will be sent to the camps. This is the only way you can survive." Secret Service Agent Paige Secret Service agent Paige McDonnell stepped out of the black SUV, brushed her hair out of her face, and walked up to the line for admittance into the bar which was suspected of being a front for a radicalized offshoot of the now-defunct "Occupy" movement. The group, which is still shrouded in mystery, called themselves "Jackson's Men," hijacking the legacy of President Andrew Jackson, who dismantled the federal central banking system by allowing the charter of the Second Bank of the United States to expire in 1836. They had begun adopting increasingly extreme and violent in their struggle to promulgate their message of tearing down the U.S. banking system, from the Federal Reserve System to the Big Banks to the one-branch local banks. They had even gone so far as to attempt to raid the Federal Reserve Banks of both Dallas and Richmond. But Paige was here to investigate the financial crimes allegedly committed by the group from their bar front, which included counterfeiting, fraud, identity theft, forgery and grand larceny. Intelligence suspects that they could have spread throughout the Northeastern seaboard, but their primary location is still at the center of New York, New York, where Wall Street resides. The black SUV squealed as it sped away. Paige was dressed in an undercover outfit that her team considered standard for a partygoer but she considered to be incredibly slutty. It consisted of a tight Whitesnake T-shirt that left little to the imagination, a short black lace skirt, stockings and cute little Keds flats. Even she would would admit that the outfit fit her slim, thin and fairly tall frame very well. The cups and straps of her bra were entirely visible through the tight T-shirt and her sizeable bust stretched out the band name so it was barely legible. She got to the back of the line for the apparently popular bar. The music coming from inside was deafening, even through a brick wall. "Main Street" emblazoned the front of the bar in cool, dimly lighted white letters. It was one of the new hot destinations of the New York nightlife, springing up just a few months ago. She looked and saw all the girls dressed like complete sluts and sighed. Most of them were either wearing shorts better classified as underwear or leggings clinging to their asses. Some of them had tank tops on that showed some incredibly deep and tight cleavage. Many of the girls were wearing band T-shirts like Paige, skintight on their tits like Paige. There was a girl with a shirt on with horizontal rips in the front that made it look like Freddy Kreuger had tried to slash her. Her bra was essentially out in the open. There was even a girl who had her tits being cupped and groped by a guy while she had her dick out in the open, stroking it and juggling his balls. Still, no matter how many loads these girls may have eased out of horny men, she had probably fellated at least double the number of men they all had but she still held her moral superiority over them. I have a job to do, she thought, these bimbos just let guys fuck them silly for free drinks. Paige was a part of a more "specialized" unit of the Secret Service's financial crimes responsibilities. When clandestine operations became necessary in their very covert line of work, Paige's magnificent jugs, hot tongue, sucking mouth and bottomless throat became quite useful. This made the males at her job rather unbearable. More often than not, every time she left her boss's office, her hair was disheveled and her knees were sore. That may have helped her become one of the most successful Secret Service agents in history. She entered the force on an internship at age 19 as a sophomore in college and worked her way up the ranks, finally being promoted to field agent at 23. She was one of the youngest to ever achieve that position. She had just turned 24 last month. This was her very first solo bust and she was rather nervous. She had worked underneath an experienced agent - both on his cases and on his desk - for almost a year to acclimate herself with the environment. She may hate the unwanted attention from men, but she knew how attractive she was though. Tall at about 5'11" she had long, slightly wavy, silky-smooth brunette hair that framed a face so cute that most men feel guilty about lingering on her world-class pair of dick sucking lips. Her brown eyes were smoky and drove men wild when they were looking down at them during a blowjob. Her tits, ass and fellatio expertise spoke for themselves. Her double-Ds were the most egregious culprit for her unwanted attention. Many of her friends told her that if she dyed her hair blonde, she'd be a pretty striking image of Taylor Swift with some of the finest tits on planet earth. Most men would give up sex for the rest of their lives just to be with her for a night. The masturbation material accrued from that night would probably make up for it anyways. She was thinking of the pigs at her workplace before the bouncer jolted her back to reality. "Ma'am, I'm going to have to, uh, search you for contraband." "Um, okay, sure." she replied. He mumbled softly to his partner, "Handle the line, alright?" He then wrapped his burly hand around her slim arm and nearly dragged her away. She stumbled into the dank alleyway behind the bar, with her arm still clutched by the rather intimidating-looking bouncer. He looked her up and down a couple times and licked his lips slightly. "Alrighty, then," he smiled, "let's get it going. Please place your hands against the wall and spread your feet, ma'am." Paige hesitated for a second. She'd dealt with enough guys in her short career to know exactly what this guy was thinking. Her career also came with training than taught her how to dismantle every ligament in his wrist if he ever got too touchy, but she quickly decided against it. She was undercover and she needed to get into the bar. This would be far from the first time that a guy had his way with her anyways. She put her hands against the cold brick wall and spread her legs, jutting her ass out at him. He watched as her skirt bounced out enticingly at him and her slim legs stretched out tautly. "Okay, ma'am, this is strictly routine and shouldn't take more than a minute." I really, really, really doubt both of those statements, she thought exasperatedly. He placed his hands on her delicate hips and quickly crept up to wrap around her stomach. He moaned audibly when his hands cupped the undersides of her breasts. They felt so warm and soft and firm and malleable at the same time. They weren't comically massive like most fake tits, a very sizeable C-cup and more than a handful. He relentlessly groped her tits for nearly a minute, just kneading the flesh in his hands. She winced several times from the rough handling; he didn't really stop to consider that there was a person attached to the pair of delightful funbags. After firmly searching the the bust area, he moved his hands underneath her skirt, stroking her stockings-clad legs. His hands crept over her thighs and her cute, firm butt, lecherously kneading her flesh. She cried out a couple of times in discomfort but he paid her no heed. He ran his hands down her legs down to her ankles. Her cute, almost childish Keds shoes on her little feet actually turned him on a lot, in a sick almost pedophilic way. He momentarily paused and shook his head. That's kinda fucked up, man, he thought to himself, stop that shit right now. He stood up quickly and ran his hands through her long, silky brunette hair. He breathed deeply, taking in her strawberry scent. She was a little unsure of what to do with herself as he explored her entire body. He suddenly and angrily thrust his rock-hard cock into the folds of her little skirt and grinded roughly against her tight ass. She gasped as his erection speared her against the wall. His hands wrapped back around her tits and roughly groped her. He started dryhumping her angrily, spreading her whole body against her body. She struggled to regain control, but he got a little out of control. He pinned her arms against the wall and started spearing his dick into her ass, like he was trying to fuck her through all their clothing. She was about to put her skills to use and leave him with a coma-inducing concussion, but he let her up. She turned around to see him quickly fumbling with his belt. "Trying to get a job with the TSA, huh?" she hissed at him angrily, directing a glare his way. "Your fault for getting me so worked up, slut." he emphasized the last word, pulling his slacks and underwear off, freeing a sizeable cock, erect and sticking straight up into the air. "Seriously? You could at least not be an asshole about this." Paige said with some restraint, understanding the need to get into that bar. "You want to get into the bar, slut?" he said with a look of a man who had a bargaining chip. He gestured at his dick and looked at her with a half-grin. She sighed with disgust and gingerly wrapped her soft hands around his hot cock. I guess I'm going to use a different set of skills for this one, she thought wearily. He groaned, her cold hands feeling incredible against his raging erection. She slowly started pumping his dick back and forth. The strong grip felt great, tightly easing the cum from his body. She felt precum leaking from his head and smeared it all over his dick as lubricant. She gently used her nails to stimulate the bottom of his ballsack while her other hand continued pumping over his thick, engorged shaft. She made sure that she visually stimulated him as well, biting her lip and looking at him with those smoky eyes. "Nuh-uh, that's not enough." he said mischievously, grabbing her shoulders and firmly pushing her down to her knees. She sighed in disgust but grudgingly complied with his lechery, settling her knees on the grimy alley floor. I hope these stockings don't tear, she thought. He took his dick in his hands and guided them to her lips. She compliantly parted them when he thrust his dick angrily at her closed lips. Once he pushed his erection into her hot mouth, she began dutifully sucking him off, having perfected the craft on hundreds of other men. He groaned as her versatile tongue fluttered all over his head and shaft while her mouth maintained a wet and slippery environment. Her lips were wrapped very firmly around his shaft. The pressure of her lips and the friction of her sliding her sucking mouth over his dick made him throw his head back and almost scream in delight. She placed her hand around his base, sucking him in a corkscrew fashion. She jerked and sucked him, making sure to keep her mouth wet and lips firmly applying pressure, knowing that the pressure of her lips and mouth was the linchpin that made her bobbing feel like heaven. She kept jerking, not really wanting to deepthroat his lengthy dick. She bobbed over and over on his dick as her other hand juggled his balls gently. She eased the dick out of her mouth with a slick pop and put her tongue against the underside of his balls, his slick dick sliding into her perfect hair and leaving a slimy mess. She almost pushed him off at the taste of musty sweat on his balls, but she soldiered through just as she'd been taught. She licked straight up from the balls to the tip and took the head into her mouth, swirling her tongue around, making sure to keep it lubricated. He groaned in mindblowing pleasure. She pressed her lips firmly on his shaft, forming a tight circle before slowly plunging downwards on his dick. The friction of her tight, tight orifice sent toe-curling pleasure up his spine. Her tongue worked continuously over his head as she went deeper and deeper down his cock. Maybe 6 inches or so down, she stopped, bathing his cock in warmth and wetness. She popped the dick out of her mouth with a slick suck, taking a few seconds to catch her breath, tossing him off and cupping his balls as she did so. After several gasps, she put her mouth back over his head, flicking her tongue all over the most sensitive part of the penis. She dug her tongue right underneath the tip, where the foreskin met the head, eliciting a loud groan from the bouncer. He grabbed her hair and pulled it in pleasure. She tried to yell a muffled protest with her mouth over his dick. She pulled off and went down to lap on his balls. She dragged her tongue from the very base of his balls, dangerously close to an orifice of his, having to contort her body greatly to do so, up to his tip. She encaptured the tip again, once again attacking those sensitive nerve endings, sometimes bobbing up and down on the shaft. She then suddenly plunged her mouth over his dick, going down his shaft down to fingers where her hands made a fist around his pole. "Mphmf, Mphmf!" She gagged, throating herself on his cock. She was hoping to get him off with that stunt and at first she thought she succeeded. He roared like he was going to blow, but he then wrenched her hand off his dick and put of his hands on the back of her head, intertwining his hands in her silky brunette hair. I'm so fucking close, he thought, I need to fuck this face. He started thrusting his cock angrily into her as he pulled and pushed her head against his groin. God fucking dammit, she thought as well as she could in her compromising position. He kept fucking her throat as well as he could from a less-than-ideal angle. His dick kept slamming against the roof of her throat. She gagged repeatedly as he kept thrusting his dick across her hot tongue. She had essentially immobilized herself, resigned to this angry bouncer's throatfucking. Her arms hung loosely at her sides and she didn't move her mouth or head, allowing the bouncer complete control over the speed and depth of his dick. Thankfully, he was close and the bad angle didn't allow for his whole length to penetrate her. He was thinking the same thing and took a step to rectify that problem. He walked forward two steps so he stood directly over her face. Her neck was bent back at nearly a 90-degree angle and his dick was pointing straight down into her throat. He then gave a huge push with his hands against her head, hugging her against his groin. With a great squelching noise, his entire dick slid into her throat. He felt the wet, slimy inside of her throat constricting his head entirely. She gagged uncontrollably, trying to push him off, but the position was too compromising for her to do anything. She couldn't breathe at all, a massive dick squeezed down her throat. She pushed desperately, the dick choking her angrily. She started going a little starry-eyed. "Glugh, glugh! Hmgh!" She choked violently, spewing saliva and slapping her slight, petite hands against his thighs in protest. She did not normally take guys down to the base of their dicks and hold their heads in her throat for minutes. She had done so several times, generally to please a boss - college professor, Secret Service, mafia, whatever - but all on her own terms and with a lot of preparation. This made her feel out of control, terrified even. Not to mention, his dick was lodged so deep in her throat, that she could feel it stretching out her trachea and esophagus. He, on the other hand, was in heaven. Her tongue was pressed against the base of his balls as her throat squeezed his cock. Every time she desperately tried to gain breath, her already-tight throat constricted even more on his head, sending waves of pleasure across his body. Saliva was dripping over her face, into her hair and down her neck as her mouth uncontrollably spewed from the dick lodged deep in her throat. It mixed into the tears that had been streaming freely down her pretty face. He looked down at the scene and almost blew his load then. The mouth stretched over his dick, the saliva and tears dripping down her face, that was all great. But when he shifted over to the right, pushing his dick to his left, he could actually see his own dick bulging from the side of her throat. He almost unleashed his load down her esophagus and into her stomach right then. Every fiber of her body was screaming to dislodge this foreign object from her mouth. The evolutionary instinct to prevent choking made her throat muscles squelch and squeeze to expel it from her mouth, which just served to pleasure him even more, his entire cock being wrapped in a hot, sucking, reluctant envelope of a wet, drooling slut. His dick had been encased in this machine of pleasure for a fairly short time, but she felt like his dick had been preventing her from breathing for days. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. He pulled up off her throat. There was a huge rattling, wet, drooling breath from her as his dick settled around her mouth. Saliva spewed from her mouth. After such a long time gagging violently on his dick, that breath of oxygen felt like God Himself touching her. She couldn't take another breath before his cock started spewing cum all over the inside of her mouth. Some of it immediately sprayed down her throat and caused another gagging and coughing spit. The rest of it spewed all over her mouth, the sheer magnitude pushing her cheeks out to contain it all. He pulled his dick out and quickly bent her head back, preventing her from spitting it all out. "Swallow that motherfucking shit!" he screamed, almost rabidly. She struggled immensely, choking and gagging, trying to spew the mess from her mouth. All she could do with his manhandling her was open her mouth slightly and gargle his cum. Some of it slid down her throat and made her retch more. Finally she was able to handle herself enough that she took a huge gulp and the semen slid angrily down her throat. She gagged and coughed, a pain forming in her throat from swallowing way too much way too quickly. Her stomach felt almost bloated from the amount of cum he just deposited in her mouth. He sighed and nearly passed out from exhaustion, completely spent. But he was able to grab her hair and clean himself by wiping her spit mixed with his cum into her beautiful brunette locks. She continued to take long, shuddering breaths, trying to swallow all the bits of cum and spit and remained. She wiped the spit from her face. She stayed kneeling, feeling rather defeated. Her shirt was blotched with semen and saliva and tears. Her hair was a completely disheveled mess. This type of thing happened all the time time, but she rarely allowed herself to lose control, like she did when he stepped over her and thrust his dick far enough down her throat to kill her. It took her quite some time to get her breathing back to normal after that lecherous assault on her tight throat. The bouncer had collapsed on the ground next to her, exhausted with his exertion. She briefly contemplated kicking him in the balls but decided to just try to continue with her job. She stood up unsteadily, her knees aching. Her wobbly knees stumbled over to the wall, where she practiced standing. She tried to pull her hair back, but the cum and spit was still very visible. Cum and spit was visible all over her body and outfit for that matter. I think I fucking hate men, she thought angrily. Rounding the corner, she went back to the entrance of the bar. Strobe lights were shining all over the face of the bouncer. Looking her once over, he smirked gestured with his head for her to go inside. She stepped around the roped-off entrance and into the bar. She immediately started squinting from the weird lighting and deafening noise. Her shoes made a sticky noise every time they came up off the ground from all the spilled drinks. She started muscling her way to the counter, where she was supposed to meet one of the Jackson's Men. Pushing through a crowd never ended well for Paige, whose tight body attracted more attention than she ever really wanted. Secret Service Agent Paige As she moved through the mass of people, men from every direction started groping at her wonderful assets. Two hands appeared from behind her and enclosed around both her breasts, squeezing roughly. She threw an elbow backwards and connected with a chest. She heard a grunt and the hands fell from her chest. Another pervert stuck his hand up her skirt and grabbed her ass. A particularly raunchy fellow pushed his hand up her skirt and rubbed her pussy as he grinded his erection on her tight little body. She grabbed his pinky and wrenched him off, a whimpering yelp ensuing from the pervert. Finally, she got to the counter, her clothes, body and respect for humanity a little worse for wear. She paused and looked around at the half-naked bodies grinding on each other. Most of the women were beyond drunk and getting groped unabashedly by the lecherous hands of horny men. There was even a blonde in a corner booth with her dress pulled down to her waist, tits out, bobbing her glossy lips and sucking mouth over a guy's dick. Her bra was strewn on the table. His head was thrown backwards and his eyes were shut as his hands were both on top of the blonde's head, pushing her deeper over his cock. She motioned at the barkeep, "House special." This drink, of course, did not actually exist. The Jackson's Man she negotiated with had provided her with a few keywords to notify their people that she wasn't a partygoer. The bartender widened his eyes and motioned his head to side of the counter. She made her way over to the other side of the counter. The bartender led her through a door that read "Employees Only." "Go all the way down to the end of hallway and take the door on the left." She walked in gingerly and made straight for the end of the hallway. She glanced around at every door, looking for suspicious activity. So far, it looked pretty legitimate. Refrigerators, kitchens, break rooms and other pretty typical rooms lined the hallway. When she got to the final door on the left, she knocked on it instead of the opening it. A gruff voiced yelled out angrily. "What?" "I work on Wall Street." she replied, another phrase provided to her by the negotiator. The door opened after a couple keys clicked. A rather large man beckoned her inside. The room was filled with just a few chairs and sofas around a large table. Maybe half a dozen men were watching the Knicks game. They were about to turn to her when they all jumped up shouting and cheering. Carmelo Anthony had just drained a 3-point buzzer beater, capping off a 37-point half. As the men congratulated each other on what would later become Anthony's record-breaking 62-point performance, Paige scanned the room. She noticed a lot of interesting decorations. A portrait of Thomas Jefferson dominated the wall. An interesting idol choice for a group of people who would probably disagree with virtually everything Thomas Jefferson had to say about government. Underneath the portrait was a banner with the quote from America's 3rd President, "I believe that banking institutions are far more dangerous to our liberties than any standing army." What the hell? Paige thought, I thought this was a radicalized, militant offshoot of Occupy, not a radicalized, militant offshoot of the Tea Party. It was in Paige's brief, however, that the group often tried to hijack the legacies of popular historical figures by taking a quote and extrapolating it way beyond reason so that they can claim the historical justification of revered Americans. Although, Paige didn't exactly remember too much from that portion of the briefing because she hadn't buttoned up her cardigan enough that day. Her boss, feeling particularly raunchy that day, had raced through the important parts of her briefing before making her strip topless. He gave the rest of the report while enjoying the pleasures of Paige's hot lips around his aging, hard dick. When he had felt her lips around the base of his dick, pressing against his balls, enough times, he fucked her tight pussy on the conference table, using her vast tits as both funbags and leverage. After finishing between her tits, he left a massive pearl necklace for her and then left her, like a used whore. She didn't have any tissues or anything to clean herself up and would need to walk past several cubicles to get the women's restroom. She remembered cursing out her boss to herself. She had just used the shirt underneath her cardigan to wipe up the cum, which meant she had to wear just a cardigan over her bra. The large spaces between the buttons had left large parts of her bra-clad tits exposed. The men at her office leered at her more than ever. Two of her superiors had even asked her to take care of their erections for them, just as her boss had. She titfucked the manager of the entire Secret Service branch underneath his desk as he was meeting with a member of the Securities and Exchange Commission about a potential case of counterfeiting by a Brooklyn crime syndicate. He pushed Paige all the way underneath his desk and slid his chair all the way in, telling her to keep quiet and titfuck him. He went through the entire meeting with Paige pumping her tits around his slick dick. Occasionally, he reached down to grope her wonderful funbags. She could only imagine the facial expressions he made. Then, a supervisor from the Department of Homeland Security fucked her violently on his office's couch before depositing his rather disgusting tasting semen in her mouth to swallow. After the guys had settled down from Anthony going off on the Charlotte Bobcats, they finally acknowledged her and immediately started leering. "Well, well," one of them said, "what do we have here?" "I'm here to speak to the President about a transaction." she replied. "Give me the name." "He has no name. He is the people." Another keyphrase. "Alright, now your name." "Bouvier Lee." Another keyphrase. The man grabbed an iPad on the table and scrolled through it, probably looking for her name and picture the negotiator took. He apparently found it, nodding. "Alright, well, we need to search you now." he said. Paige sighed inwardly, hoping to avoid another experience of unabashed groping. "A bouncer did a pretty Goddamned thorough job of that already." she said, already realizing it was futile. "Those meatheads aren't with us," came the inevitable reply, "we'll need you to stick your arms out and spread your legs." She did as she was told. "James," he gestured at one of his men, a shapely black fellow, "it's your turn, I think." The man looked at Paige and smiled, probably rubbing his hands together in his mind. "Alright, then." he said. He walked over to her and started down at her feet, removing her shoes and actually checking them for contraband. He slid his hands over her stockings-clad legs completely. He checked every fold of her skirt for any hard material. He only briefly checked her ass before moving to her torso. He ran his hands over her slim hips and flat stomach. Then he slid his hands between her breasts and checked the cups of her bra by cupping her breasts from below. He moved and grabbed her hair, running his hands thoroughly through her silky locks. He stepped back and mumbled something to the first man. Holy shit, she thought, an actual search and not a manic groping. Apparently she spoke too soon because James turned back to her, grinning slyly. "It looks alright, but I couldn't be sure that there wasn't something hidden in your brassiere," he said, "if you could just remove your shirt." She sighed, but realized what had to be done. She grasped the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head. She shook her hair out. All the men outwardly groaned as her tits, encased in a half-cup, lacy white bra. They jutted out from her chest, defying gravity entirely. They must've spent a good 30 seconds just admiring the mountainous peaks of her breasts. Finally, James snapped out of his trance and reached out for her magnificent tits. He gripped and kneaded the warm flesh, relishing in the feeling. He shook her tits, watching the flesh quiver. He rubbed through the lace to find her nipples and twist them cruelly. Paige gasped from the sudden pain. At long last, he let go of her tits, almost whimpering as he did so. "Alright, bitch, now you've got to something for me." he said, a demonic glint in his eyes. Are you kidding? she thought, desperate to get through this mess. James grabbed her slim arm and led her to the table, where the other guys began clearing a space. She was pushed on her back on the table. James then climbed over her, straddling her hips. She knew what was coming and steeled herself for it. Stop psyching yourself out, she thought, how many times have you done this? James unbuckled his belt, slid his slacks down and pulled a monster from his briefs. This was definitely one of largest cocks Paige had seen. Her eyes widened, glad she didn't have to pleasure that with one of her delightful orifices. It was rock hard and jutting out at the ceiling. On her back, Paige's tits swelled outwards every time she breathed. Even the effects of gravity weren't able to flatten her mountainous tits. James groaned as he sank his dick between Paige's wondrous funbags. His dick was raging hot, so her flesh felt cold to the touch. The contrast felt incredible. "Push your tits around it, slut." he growled. "Let me take off my bra first," Paige said, "it's not comfortable." "Did I fucking tell you to take your bra off?" he said through gritted teeth. Paige grimaced and placed her hands at the side of her breasts, pushing them against each other, encasing James' dick and forming a ridiculously tight cleavage for his red hot dick to fuck. He groaned with pleasure, her soft titflesh surrounding his iron cock. He had to push deeper into this cleavage of the heavens. He slowly started sawing his dick from between her tits. The envelope formed was so tight that he had a hard time doing so and the friction from that almost made him blow right there. The feeling of her massive, magnificent tits, pushed together to form a tight envelope of pleasure was exacerbated to new heights by his thrusting, pumping motions. The tightness of her tits made pumping them feel like pumping an unflowered virgin on exploring the confines of a woman's constricting throat. He felt his cock ripple every time it thrust in and out of the valley formed by her tits. He reached down to grasp her tits some more. She squealed in pain from his rough handling. He groaned as he continued to aggressively thrust his dick between her tits. Every time he pushed all the way through, the tip of dick would spear her chin, leaving a trail of precum all over her neck. She would try to wipe the slimy liquid off herself but James would grab her hands and pin them on the table. He quite liked the look of a woman with a man's juice dripping all over her. He felt himself owning this hot slut as he took possession of her delightful titflesh. He could feel the lacy texture of her bra around the base of his cock and even his ballsack as he speared between the valley formed by her mountainous breasts. Her tits were jiggling as they were fucked, threatening to burst from the low-cut half-cup bra. While James felt like he had ascended into heaven, Paige was a different story. She had to push her tits together tightly to squeeze around this bastard's cock. A complete lack of lubrication left her tits chafed, red and irritated. She had to arch her back a little bit to meet him. And his dick kept smacking her chin, neck and face. Her neck already sore from the vicious throatfucking she received earlier, was bent at an odd angle so that her tits met her assaulter's dick. James' eyes went hazy as he continued the incessant slamming of his dick between her tits. The warm encasement of her pillows between his rod was impossibly tight and felt like a fresh, virgin cunt. He was grunting every time his dick shot through her tits. Every inch of his cock was pleasured by the titfucking. His ballsack felt great against the lace of her bra. His head, wider than his shaft, felt even more tight between her tits when he pulled out of her tit valley. He loved the feeling of his head spearing her chin and her subsequent squirming, trying to stop the battering ram of his cock from leaving its slimy precum all over her face. "Hmphf, mhphf, ugh." Paige squealed, as James started jabbing his cock at her face. He grabbed her hair for leverage and started sawing faster and faster, realizing he was very close. Paige's head was now forced to crane upwards by James' forceful hands. This angry dick was completely having its way with her, hitting her face every time it speared upwards. Her tits were rubbed raw by his cock, being used entirely for his pleasure. He felt the pulsing of his dick every time he surged between her tits. He felt the pulsating cum but tried to hold it off as long as possible, wanting prolong this incredible titfucking feeling. He suddenly got an idea. He grabbed her head and started angling her head toward his dick. "Open your fucking mouth." She obliged, yielding her pretty, glossy lips to his thrusting meatrod. He started thrusting between her tits and into her mouth, receiving a blowjob as he received a titfuck. Sensing how close he was, she started flicking her lips against his head. He continued pumping his shaft between her tits and his head into her hot, sucking mouth. Her lips formed that tight oval that applied the pressure that drove guys wild with lust. "Unh, unh, unh." he grunted unintelligibly. Suddenly, he could hold it no longer. His mouth forming a silent scream, his hands grasping her hair angrily and forcing her head forward, he thrust his cock all the way up her tits and down as far her mouth as he could force it. He erupted violently into her mouth, the semen flooding her orifice. The awkward angle made it impossible for her to swallow it as the cum kept flowing in, so most of it ended up being coughed back onto his dick and her neck. When he was finally done with her and moved off her, she gagged and coughed up most of the semen onto her tits, forming a slick pearl necklace. She drew a couple rattling breaths, some of the cum slipping down her throat and into her windpipe. James grabbed her hair and yanked her mouth over his dick. With a muffled scream, she struggled slightly. "Suck it clean!" She calmed down and dutifully obliged, licking all the spit and cum off his dick and lapping at his wrinkly ballsack. He pushed off her, groaning in exhaustion and collapsed to clean himself up. Paige was kind of scared that the 5 other men would seek to use her like James just did, but the first man to talk to her spoke. "You can head through that door and take the center door to speak to the President." "Can I please get a towel or something?" She looked down at her chest, coated in cum. Her bra was also soaked. He smiled mischievously, "Nah." "God, come on," she said exasperatedly, "seriously!" "You look hot like that, you filthy little slut." She was really pissed off at that, but decided not to fight it. She took off her bra - which caused every guy there other than James to grab their uncomfortably erect dicks - and wiped up her chest as much as possible. She put her shirt back on, not bothering with the bra. She threw that on the ground. Getting up unsteadily, she walked over to the door, her tits jiggling inside her tight T-shirt, completely unrestrained by a bra. Her nipples jutted out clearly against the cotton material. One of the guys reached out and groped her tit repeatedly. She stood there, a little hazy, and let him finish. He slapped her tit and then her face to tell her he had finished with her. She almost angrily attacked him, but restrained herself at the last moment. She quickly jogged the rest of the way over to the door, her tits bouncing even more delightfully, stretching out the Whitesnake logo. She opened the door, walked through and quickly closed it behind her. There, she saw a vestibule-like area, leading to four different doors. There was a portrait of Woodrow Wilson next to a portrait of Ronald Reagan. Both of the former Presidents had red Xs spray painted over their faces. Paige briefly thought it was odd - people who disliked one tended to like the other - but realized that these people literally hated everybody. She turned to only door directly in front of her, centered in the room. It was adorned by a large number of various symbols and motifs. She could most distinctly make out many 99%'s, the circle-A anarchy symbol and crossed hammers and sickles. She shook her head, realizing she shouldn't be admiring this guy's furniture. She grabbed the knob - something she did a lot - and closed her eyes, steeling herself for one of the most important busts of her short career. Her arms were weak from the abuse she had received, but she realized how important this following procedure was and hardened herself. Both apprehensive and anxious to see what was on the other side, she turned the knob and swung the door open... Secret Service She looked at him closely, understanding dawning that he had his own turmoil, his own war inside. Believing and supporting the ideology of hatred against Hannah and her people, and caring about his friend. She gave him a surprisingly sunny smile. "Thank you, Karl. But...you have to understand, you...your country...the Nazis...you have taken everything from me. Everything. All I have left is my mama and papa. All we have left is each other. You invaded our homeland. My husband was shot. My brother sent away. My home taken away. My friends. Aunts. Uncles. Cousins. All gone. All taken from me. From us. All we have now is each other. I cannot sacrifice them to save myself." "I am sorry, Hannah," he said, squeezing her shoulders. "I know, Karl. I am, too." He pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly for a moment. Hannah hugged him back, knowing she was leaving him to find her death. She leaned back to look up at him, giving him another smile before stepping out of his arms, through the door, and into her fate.