SCARLET by Jessica Drew Part 4 It is the morning after the night before for Agent Sam Fields, as he struggles with his role aboard Ramirez's yacht. Meanwhile, Rivers receives startling news that may just change everything. * * * * * * * * * *

The “Oro del Diablo” was quiet, with only the gentle creak of timber frames and the distant wash of waves against the hull audible from its empty corridors.

Sam Fields tip-toed across the plush carpets. In one hand he carried his red high heels, the imitation diamonds of the ankle straps twinkling in the early morning light that filtered in from the deck above. In his other hand he held his white dress, which he pressed protectively to his naked body, hoping to make it to his room before anyone spotted him. He figured it was early enough that no-one would be up and about yet. Carlos and Maria had certainly not stirred when he had disentangled himself from their sleeping bodies.

Sam carefully opened the door to his room, giving a last look down the corridor, before slipping inside and shutting it tight behind him. He drew a deep breath, leaning back against the door, his eyes closing. His high heels clattered together as he dropped them to the floor. He still held his dress to his body, caressing it in his hands as if it was all that remained of a long lost friend.

Sam stepped forwards slowly, as if in a daze, and carefully laid the dress out onto the bed. He rubbed at his head which still ached from the residual effects of the alcohol. He felt a strong urge to take a hot shower.

Sam passed the free-standing full length mirror, then stopped, taking a step back. He turned to look at his naked female body. He still could not get used to the sight of Antoinette’s body; her feminine face, her blonde hair and blue eyes, the swell of her large breasts, her small waist, her wide hips and long supple legs. He had, or so he thought, at least become more accustomed to the complicated mixture of feelings that welled up inside of him, every time he looked in the mirror. Except this time.

This time everything felt different.

If before it had felt like he was teetering on the edge of a precipice, then now it felt like he had gone over and was in free-fall. Sam’s hands ran over his waist, then down to his tummy. He felt butterflies play in his stomach.

Last night he had been seduced by Maria Ramirez. Seduced from the very moment that she had appeared in his room to help get him ready. With hindsight he could see that everything, from the shaving, to the makeup and clothes, had been made to be erotic, with shared nudity, lingering glances and sensual caresses. By the time she had thrust her hand between his legs in the toilet cubicle, Sam had scarcely any willpower left to try and stop her. He had then been left in such a state of arousal that he had eagerly followed her to the bedroom.

It was then that things had changed.

It had all been a trick at Sam’s expense. He had been foolish enough to believe that Carlos Ramirez did not want him, and that he would be left to an evening alone with Maria. Instead, Carlos had watched the whole thing from behind the one-way glass of the mirrored walls of the bedroom. He had watched as Sam had moaned and writhed on the bed to his wife’s touch. Finally, Ramirez had revealed himself, hard and eager to take his rightful place.

And Sam had let him. He had to. He was in the body of Carlos Ramirez’s sex-slave. To think he could pose as her and not be expected to have sex was ridiculous. Rivers had known this, of course. It was why he’d done what he had at the bar. But even that had been scant preparation for what Sam had submitted himself to. He looked down, past the flatness of his naval, to his slit.

His pussy.

He recalled the weight of Ramirez atop him, his foul odor, the awful lunge of his cock as it slid relentlessly inside his vagina. He clasped his thighs tighter as he shivered with the thought. And then, finally, the awful moment when Ramirez had finished inside of him, his face creasing into a grimace. Somewhere deep inside of him, a million of Ramirez’s sperms wriggled, and for the first time Sam thought to the womb nestled within his abdomen.

His womanhood.

Sam ran to the en suite bathroom, his naked breasts slapping against his chest. He hurriedly pulled open the small cabinet that hung on one wall. His hands shook as he emptied its contents into the empty wash basin, picking up packet after packet.

Aspirin… Tampons… Anti-Depressants… Contraceptive Pill…

Sam found what he was looking for.

Morning After Pill.

He popped the capsule from the foil and took it into his mouth. He stopped for a moment, and then popped a contraceptive pill, and an aspirin as well, for good measure. He swallowed the tablets down with water from the tap. His hands massaged his lower belly, as if it might somehow speed the effect of the pills.

Sam stroked blonde hair away from his face and raised the closed lid of the toilet, remembering this time to keep the seat down. It felt cold to his backside as he sat down, his legs clasped together as he began to pee. He could feel it all beginning again. Another day as a woman. Another day trapped on the yacht. He just hoped that Rivers had found Antoinette and his body.

* * * * * * * * * *

The electronic chime of Rivers’ cell phone pierced the air and he awoke with a start, his arms flailing as he searched. He grasped it from the bedside table, struggling to focus on the caller I.D.

unKNOWN.

The unusual mixture of lower and upper-case lettering let him know immediately who it was.

“Shit. The Agency,” Rivers murmured as he sat up. He blinked several times, slapping his cheek with the flat of his palm as struggled back to alertness. It felt early. Too early.

“Hello?” Rivers’ voice came groggy as he flipped the cell open. Then he remembered protocol and keyed in his unique ID, swiping his thumb across the touch display.

“Hello?” he repeated, his voice little clearer than before.

“Agent Rivers? This is Director Millar. Are you alone?”

Millar? What the hell was Millar doing contacting him? Rivers looked around the hotel room, remembering how Ashley had abruptly left last night.

“Yes, I’m alone.”

“Rivers, where the hell are you? You’re supposed to be at the bunker in Turin.”

“I… had something else to take care of. I was going to head back there this morning.” Rivers climbed out of bed, wrapping the bed sheet around his waist. He walked to the balcony window, peering out through the blinds.

“So let me get this straight, you potentially have the key to opening up the whole Scarlet operation sat in that bunker. And you “had something else to take care of”?” Millar’s voice mocked coldly.

“She was unresponsive yesterday, I was leaving her to sweat,” Rivers gesticulated with his free hand as he paced the room, “Bravo team has her under full surveillance.”

“Rivers, we’ve been trying to contact Bravo team for the last two-hours. We’ve lost contact with the bunker.”

Rivers stopped pacing.

“What?”

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam gently patted a fresh white towel to his chest as he dried himself from the shower. By now the aspirin had started to take effect and his head felt a little better. He finished drying his wet body, then took a smaller towel from the bathroom rail, rubbing it at his damp hair which he had thoroughly washed in the shower with shampoo and conditioner. He carefully wrapped the towel around his head like Maria had done for him yesterday.

Sam silently tidied away the assorted packets that he had left strewn across the bathroom, before beginning to fill the sink with hot water. He reached forward and rubbed at the mirror that had steamed up from the shower, slowly revealing his feminine reflection. He found himself beginning to wonder about just who the woman in the mirror really was.

Sam lifted his bare left leg up onto the closed toilet lid and began to pour shaving cream from the bottle into his right palm. He started to rub the cream into his leg, starting with his calf and working his way up to his thigh.

If Antoinette was indeed just a sex-slave, then Sam had received only the briefest taste of what she would have had to have put up with every day since… well, quite possibly since she was a child. Wasn’t that enough motivation for her to attempt to swap bodies with someone?

Sam took a fresh disposable razor from its packet, bringing it to his leg, beginning to remove the cream from his leg in long even strokes.

Rivers had said that the Agency believed Antoinette to be working for another organisation. Carlos and Maria Ramirez certainly didn’t seem to know anything about the swap, or if they did they were doing a good job of disguising it. Sam recalled how confident Antoinette had been with a gun, jabbing it into Sam’s side and using him as a human shield. She’d even managed to take Rivers down before getting away. Everything pointed towards Antoinette being a professional agent, though the longer he stared into her innocent blue eyes in the mirror, the more he saw just a scared victim looking back at him.

Sam looked back to his leg and swept the razor across the last of his thigh, before washing it out in the sink. He swapped legs and began to lather once more with the shaving cream.

After the events of last night, Sam had begun to empathise with the woman whose body he now inhabited. Whereas before he had been angry, not to mention frightened, about what Antoinette had done, now he felt like he just needed to talk to her. If he could just understand why she had done it… But the whole thing was a puzzle with too many of the pieces missing.

Sam began to shave at his right leg until it was as silky smooth as his left. When he had finished he wiped both of them dry and ran his hands over his soft legs. He was surprised that he hadn’t nicked himself at all with the razor. As a man, Sam would always shave with an electric razor, as any attempt to wet shave would invariably leave his face cut to ribbons.

Sam washed out the razor once more and looked down at his naked body. He had only his underarms and pubic area left to do.

* * * * * * * * * *

Rivers barged through the door to the parking bay, still struggling to pull on his suit jacket. He had his head cocked to one side, clamping his cell phone between his chin and his shoulder. It was the fourth time he’d tried calling Tanner and his team, but there was still no answer.

“Fuck.” Rivers took his cell and clamped it shut, shrugging his suit into place. The indicator lights of the Lamborghini flashed as he unlocked it with his remote.

“What?” Rivers took a step back as he observed the deep key scratch running along the length of the driver side door. “That bitch!”

Rivers didn’t have time to think about the car or Ashley right now. He quickly slipped into the driver’s seat and fired up the GPS, plotting a course back to the bunker in Turin, Italy.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam padded barefoot back into the bedroom, his bath towel wrapped around his slender body, with the smaller towel wrapped around his wet hair. He could feel his freshly shaved thighs brushing against one another as he walked, along with a slight zing of tenderness from where he had just finished shaving under his arms and between his legs.

Sam sat down onto the edge of the bed, next to the free standing mirror. He pulled the towel from his head, rubbing at his long hair a few times.

Sam knew that he couldn’t set foot outside his room without looking anything less than immaculate. This meant that in addition to shaving his body, he would also need to apply his own make-up, and style his hair. Sam took a plain black hair band and collected up his blonde hair, pulling it through into a pony tail. He had decided to start with his make-up, since he figured that would prove to be the most difficult, and likely take the most time.

Sam crossed his left leg over his right as he began to arrange the various brushes, powders and colors that he would need into a semi-circle around him on the bed. He looked down, not knowing where on Earth to start.

“Come on Sam, think…” he whispered to himself, trying to remember what Maria had started with yesterday.

“Eye shadow.”

Sam opened a clam-shell case which held various shades of eye shadow, each arranged into small colored squares. He selected a small brush and leant towards the mirror, beginning to apply some dark shading above each of his eyes. He could feel his brow furrowing with his concentration as he tried to keep his hand steady.

When he had finished, Sam unscrewed the cap of a black mascara brush, sweeping the brush carefully across his upper and lower eye lashes.

He leant back, taking in the finished result.

Sam’s shoulders dropped with disappointment. His blue eyes looked as though they had disappeared into a murky grey mess, like some gothic harlequin. He swore, reaching across the bed for a packet of make-up removal wipes. He pulled a couple free and began to undo all that he had done.

Sam readied his make-up again to start over. This time he picked a collection of more subtle beige tones for his eye shadow, dipping the brush carefully into the first color. He tried again, taking things slower this time.

As he began to work the brush into the recesses above his eyes, Sam found his mind drifting once more to what had happened in the bedroom last night, but he actively fought it, focusing instead on the mission at hand.

Last night, at the dinner table, before things had gone too far, Sam had learnt a few things. Ramirez was headed for Rome, where he hoped to strike some sort of deal with the mafia. That would be his chance to escape, Sam decided. Once they hit land he’d have to keep his wits about him and look for a chance to break away. But was that all he had on Ramirez? A vague mafia connection? It hardly seemed worth everything he’d been through.

Sam switched to a larger brush, using a different beige tone to blend in the color over his eyelids.

He searched his mind for what else had been said. He remembered that Ramirez had been concerned about something. Scarab? No, Scarlet. But who were they? He had to find out more.

Sam switched to a darker tone, blending the very edges of his eyelids, before switching to an eyeliner pencil, drawing in some extra definition around his eyes. When he had finished, he selected a lighter mascara brush and began to lightly flick across his long eyelashes.

After last night, having experienced first-hand Antoinette’s plight, he wanted desperately to crack open Ramirez’s sex-trafficking ring. That was the goal. If he could find out something, anything, that could in some way contribute, to stop the suffering of countless women and children… Then it would all have been worth it. It would even be worth enduring sex with Carlos Ramirez again. Put into perspective, it seemed like a small price to pay for other people’s freedom.

Sam shook his head, throwing away the mental images that crept into his mind, and instead focused back on the present. His eyes widened as he focused back on his reflection in the mirror, slowly lowering the mascara brush. He blinked his eyes a couple of times, his perfectly tinted eye lashes fluttering. His blue eyes were now subtlely but effectively accented with shadow and eye liner. Sam’s mind had been elsewhere and he had scarcely thought about what he had been doing.

Sam exhaled with relief, feeling himself relax a little. He didn’t know quite how he’d managed it, but he had. After the delicacy needed with his eye makeup, Sam figured that the rest had to be easier. He set aside the clam-shell case of eye makeup and moved on, his confidence growing as he selected the large blusher that had been used on his cheeks yesterday. He gently dabbed it into a powdered light pink blush, sucking in his cheeks a little to push out his cheek bones. He lightly swept the brush over his cheeks watching as they picked up the soft pastel coloring.

Finally, Sam searched for a lipstick that he could wear. He settled on a hot pink-colored lip gloss, deciding to vary things a little from yesterday, hoping that he might curry favor by showing a little initiative. He pulled off the lid and twisted the end, watching as the pink-colored applicator swivelled upwards.

Sam pouted just a little as he began to apply the color, sweeping the lip gloss in arching strokes across his lips. He sucked his lips inward, and though the shiny gloss felt greasy to wear, it certainly looked the part. His lips now looked full and moist, glistening with hot pink.

Sam leant in closer to the mirror, using his long fingernail to wipe away a stray clump of mascara from the corner of his eye

* * * * * * * * * *

The whir of the hair dryer subsided for the final time as Sam brushed at his long blonde hair with the paddle brush. It already looked luxurious and glossy from the mirror, though Sam still intended to use the hair straighteners on the ends of his hair to give that slight curl.

Sam unplugged the dryer at the wall point and plugged in the straighteners, leaving them to heat up for a few minutes. He shrugged off his bathrobe, sitting naked on the bed. Blow drying his hair had already made him feel hot and the last thing he wanted was to sweat off all his makeup and have to start over.

Sam took the straighteners in one hand, using his free hand to take a small handful of his hair, which he then crimped between the hot ceramic plates. When he released the hair it bounced over his shoulders, wavy, but with a slight flick-up at the end. He slowly repeated the process, being mindful of his makeup and stopping for a few minutes whenever the heat proved too much.

Sam’s eyes glanced down at his naked female body, his large breasts full and firm as they rose and fell with his breathing. Between his splayed hips and thighs, Sam could see the split of his freshly shaved vagina. It felt even stranger now when he looked down at his body. All he could picture were Carlos and Maria’s hands touching him. It wasn’t even that he felt violated. That would have been too strong a word, as he had made a conscious decision to allow it to happen. But still, Sam felt as though something deeply intimate had been taken away from him.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam had by now spent the last couple of hours trying to perfect his appearance. He had showered, washed his hair, shaved his body, applied his make-up, dried his hair, styled his hair, and just now, applied a fresh coat of polish to his fingernails and toenails.

Sam flexed his fingers, looking down at his pink painted fingernails. He had remembered how Maria had told him to always remove the previous day’s nail polish and to apply a fresh coat. He had diligently removed every last trace of red with the acetone remover, before applying a bright pink to his toenails and fingernails, matching the color of his lip-gloss.

Sam had tried hard to copy the same style of hair and make-up that Maria had applied yesterday. He flicked his long blonde hair back over his bare shoulders, which now hung in silky waves over his back. His eye makeup looked subtle but effective, his lashes looking long and full with the mascara. His cheeks now had a slight pinkness to them and his pouting lips glistened under the light with a hot pink lip gloss.

Sam turned to the bed, picking up the pink bikini thong that he had selected from the drawer. He carefully threaded his feet through the leg openings, drawing it up his smooth legs until it sat snuggly against his shaved mound. He turned around and looked over his shoulder into the mirror, seeing how the string of the thong disappeared between his full feminine buttocks. Once again Sam’s gaze drifted to the small “Fleur de Lys” tattoo at the small of his back, wondering if it meant anything.

Sam picked up the matching bikini top, bringing his blonde hair forward to tie it first behind his neck, and then around his back. The two triangles of pink fabric that made up the bikini seemed tiny, and he had to carefully position them so that they covered his nipples, though they still left most of his large breasts exposed.

Finally, Sam slipped his feet into a pair of pink high heeled sandals, bending lithely at the waist to fasten them at his ankles. He stepped back, his heels indenting the carpet, as he took in his reflection, cocking one leg and perching his hands on his wide hips.

Pink for a girl, Sam had thought.

This time he would get everything right.

* * * * * * * * * *

Joseph looked out to the horizon from his vantage point on the bridge of the “Oro del Diablo”. The skies were cloudless and the sea was calm. It was going to be another hot one. He gently turned the wheel to port, beginning to steer the yacht towards the west coast of Italy.

They would haul anchor just outside of Civitavecchia and wait till nightfall before mooring up at one of the piers. Joseph was glad that he’d probably get a day or two to himself while Ramirez travelled inland to Rome.

He paced the small bridge, stopping to crank up the air conditioning a couple of notches, since the bridge tended to act as a natural greenhouse. He looked out to the rear deck. On the mid-level below he could see Maria Ramirez eating breakfast as Eduardo tip-toed around her, serving fresh juice. On the lower-most level, Joseph could see the door open, as long shapely legs stepped out onto the wooden panelled decking. It was Antoinette.

At first , Joseph had to double-take, as from the rear it looked as though she were naked, but looking more closely he saw that she wore a pink bikini, the bottom half of which ran right up between her tight round ass. Her hips and backside swayed from side to side as she walked out across the deck in her high heels, stopping to look out over the railing that ran around the edge of the lower deck.

She was a curious one. Antoinette had not been at all what he had expected when they had met yesterday. She seemed very intelligent, but naíve, like she had just accidentally wandered in from somewhere, without knowing quite why she was there. She was certainly unlike any girl that Carlos and Maria had chosen before.

Joseph continued to watch Antoinette as the door behind her opened once more.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam gripped the metal railing in his small hands as he looked out to the morning waters of the sea, his eyes protected from the Sun by a pair of large, white rimmed sunglasses. The propellers churned the water below with a hum and he noticed that the yacht had begun to change its heading.

Sam could hear him approaching first, his sandals slapping slowly across the deck, like some sort of walrus hefting its bulk to shore. Then Sam could feel him, his shadow, his wheezing breath.

Sam drew a deep breath, bracing himself. This was it. He probably didn’t have a lot of time left before they reached Italy. He had to start pushing, using whatever he had to get the information he needed. The only problem was, all he had at his disposal was the body of a beautiful blonde woman.

Carlos Ramirez’s hands gripped the railing either side of Sam’s and he slowly pressed his body against him from behind.

“There you are Antoinette.” Ramirez leant in to Sam’s neck, breathing in. “We missed you this morning.”

Sam struggled not to choke on the cigar smoke still very much evident on Ramirez’s breath. He turned his head back towards him, though his body was pinned and he could not turn far enough to see his face.

“I wanted to make myself presentable for you,” Sam answered, his eyes darting, unable to gauge Ramirez’s reaction.

“Very good. I approve of your efforts.” Ramirez’s Spanish-accented voice was low and deliberate and he audibly groaned as he slapped Sam hard on his exposed backside. Sam gasped from the shock, feeling Ramirez push his body tighter against his.

“I am glad I have pleased you,” Sam’s feminine voice wavered, failing to convince.

Sam gripped the railing, feeling Carlos start to slide his crotch against his buttocks, his cock hardening from beneath his pants.

“My dear, you have only just begun.”

Sam felt Ramirez’s large hands slide down to his small waist causing Sam’s high heels to click on the decking as he shifted uneasily.

“Monsieur?” Sam began, his French accent producing a perfectly nuanced pronunciation, “Why did you pick me? You must have hundreds of women to choose from.”

“Thousands, my pet, thousands.”

“Thousands…” Sam repeated. “And yet still you bought me?” Sam bit his lip, waiting for the answer.

“The whore likes to talk today.” Ramirez chuckled, his hands sliding down, feeling the outline of Sam’s hips. “I make a lot of money from the trash that I sell, but that does not mean that I wish to stick my cock in it.” Sam felt Ramirez lift a handful of his blonde hair. “I prefer to dine on finer cuts of meat.”

Sam looked out to the sea. He could feel his heart beat pulsing as Ramirez began to roll the waistband of his bikini thong down over his hips. As Ramirez pushed at Sam’s back, bending him forwards, Sam desperately thought of the “thousands” that Carlos had boasted of. He was doing this for them. He would find where they were. He would help them.

The blunt, hard end of Carlos Ramirez’s penis brushed against the swell of Sam’s vagina from behind, causing his body to jerk, his breath quickening into shallow gasps. It slid up and down, blindly searching, before finding purchase at the tight entrance to his pussy. Sam’s body was unprepared. There had been no sensual foreplay at the hands of Maria Ramirez this time.

Sam cried out with pain as Carlos pushed forwards, wedging the tip of his cock inside. Sam’s insides felt dry and tight, refusing to yield. He thrust again and Sam squealed as another inch wormed its way up. Ramirez pulled at Sam’s hips, pulling him back against his hardness, finally working all the way in, his pubic bone pressed against Sam’s backside.

Carlos began to rock his hips against Sam from behind, though to start with Sam’s body moved with his, his pussy tightly wedged around his stunted cock. Gradually Sam’s body began to lubricate of its own accord, seemingly aware of what was happening to it despite his lack of arousal. Carlos’ cock slid more freely now, in and out of Sam’s moistened vagina. He began to pick up the pace, his balls audibly slapping against Sam’s body from behind.

Sam simply gazed into the waters below, gripping the railing tightly, watching the V-shaped wash produced by the moving yacht. His breasts swung beneath his bikini top with every thrust and he could hear the clink of metal from the gold chains that Ramirez wore around his neck.

Sam felt Ramirez’s hands grip his hips tightly as he groaned, long and loud, cumming deep inside of Sam’s female body. Sam gasped shrilly with each of Carlos’ final thrusts, as he milked the last drops from his throbbing penis.

Sam could feel Ramirez withdraw, leaving a cold, empty dampness between his legs.

“Mmm, good girl. I could fuck that pink pussy all day, but unfortunately I have some work to attend to.”

Sam could hear the rustle of Ramirez’s clothing as he tucked himself back in, a plume of smoke billowing back over the yacht as he lit up a cigar.

Sam straightened a little, listening as Ramirez withdrew, his sandals slapping back to the doorway leading into the yacht. Sam closed his eyes, his bottom lip quivering as a single tear broke free and rolled across his cheek, finally falling to join the endless sea below. He drew a deep breath and reached down, pulling his pink thong back up.

As he slowly turned, Sam was shocked to discover that he had an audience. As Ramirez disappeared into the yacht, the towering figure of Gaul turned from his post beside the door, his face as impassive as ever, his eyes hidden behind his dark sunglasses. He had presumably been waiting there the whole time, encase Sam had tried to make a break for it.

As Gaul ducked his head to follow Ramirez back in, Sam looked up to the middle deck. The silhouette of Maria Ramirez lent against the railing, looking down at him. Looking further up, Sam could also see the shadow of a figure on the bridge of the yacht, which withdrew almost as quickly as he had seen it.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam’s pink high-heeled sandals clicked slowly as he made his way up the steps to the open veranda. He could feel his legs still shaking, a clammy dampness now present between his thighs. He felt his way along the railing, over to the round dining table that was now laid out with various fruits, yoghurts and cereals. He inched his way around it, holding onto its edge for support, still in a daze, the heat of the morning Sun bearing down on him.

“Antoinette? Are you listening to me?”

The voice of Maria Ramirez snapped back into clarity and Sam murmured in response, still unsure as to what she had just asked of him. He watched as Maria swung her long legs from the sun lounger that she had been laying on. As she stood, Sam saw that she wore a gold-colored bikini over her lithe body, and her long dark hair hung loose over her bare shoulders and back.

Sam stood nervously before her, rubbing at one arm, still visibly trembling. Maria began to walk slowly around him, her gold high heeled sandals thudding on the wooden decking, as she inspected him from every angle.

“Good. Very good,” Maria purred in her silky Spanish accent, stopping behind Sam. She stroked at his long blonde hair, pulling it over his shoulders so that it hung fully over his back. He could feel the flicked-up ends of his hair tickling against the middle of his bare back.

“Our time together yesterday would seem to have paid off,” Maria continued, sliding a hand over the upper slope of Sam’s buttocks as she walked back around to face him.

Sam swallowed as she studied his face, reaching to slide his sunglasses up so that they sat on top of his head. He could tell she was assessing his make-up and hoped that he had done a sufficient job. Maria lent in closer, using her thumb to wipe at the corner of Sam’s lipstick covered mouth. “Very nice. Pink suits you.” She glanced down at his swollen breasts which heaved under his thin pink bikini top.

Sam drew a breath, feeling some small relief that he had passed inspection. However, he still felt an enormous tension hanging in the air from having just submitted to sex with Maria’s husband in full view of her.

“Come Antoinette, lie next to me.”

Maria turned back towards her sun lounger, bending forward to adjust the towel that she had laid across it. Sam lowered his sunglasses back over his eyes and found his gaze drifting to Maria’s firm backside, fully revealed by the gold bikini thong that she wore. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the thoughts that he was having.

A second sun lounger lay next to Maria’s, with a small wooden table set between them. A half empty glass of orange juice sat on the table, gradually warming in the sun. Sam set about adjusting the towel that hung over the second lounger, before lying himself down next to Maria. The backs of the loungers sat upright, giving them both an unrestricted view behind the boat. Sam adjusted his bikini top, struggling to keep his modesty intact in the skimpy garment.

Maria Ramirez sighed as she settled back into the lounger. Almost immediately, her half-empty glass was whisked away by Eduardo, to be replaced by two fresh cold glasses, and a small bowl of fruit. Eduardo worked quickly and silently, trying hard not to be noticed, though Sam could not help but wonder if he too had seen what had happened just now on the deck below.

“I am pleased that you seduced my husband this morning. I find it usually makes him more agreeable for the rest of the day.” Maria looked out to the horizon, bringing one of the glasses of juice to her lips.

Sam could feel his cheeks and chest flushing red. He really didn’t want to be talking about what had just happened. He was having a hard enough time as it was trying to hold it together.

“A word of advice though,” Maria began, shifting onto her side to look at Sam, the corners of her mouth turning up into a sly smile, “You may want to take care of yourself a little bit beforehand. It will make things more pleasant for you, and trust me, it will be the only way you ever cum from my husband’s little cock.”

Maria giggled, her voice seeming to fade in and out, as if Sam’s mind was continuously searching for the right station.

“Y…yes Madame,” Sam nervously trembled, taking a sip of his own juice, the ice in the glass rattling. He recalled the night before and the dull, muted orgasm that had briefly shook his body.

“And one more thing,” Maria continued, her eyes drifting down over Sam’s female body. “You may also wish to change your bikini bottoms afterwards.”

Sam lent forwards a little, looking down over the obstruction of his breasts to his pink bikini covered crotch. He brought a hand to his face as he gasped. There was now an obvious cloudy wet patch between his legs. He quickly brought a hand down to cover himself, horrified that Maria had noticed.

“Do not worry about it now. Today is going to be hot, so the cum will soon dry out.” Maria watched Sam closely, seemingly fascinated as he grew increasingly more uncomfortable. “Move your hand away, let the Sun get to it.”

Sam hesitantly moved his hand, exposing his damp crotch once more, though he silently wished for the ground to open and swallow him up.

Maria held a manicured hand out, briefly admiring her own polished fingernails. “Speaking of which, you really should put some sun cream on. We do not want you damaging that beautiful fair skin of yours.” Sam watched as Maria reached down beside her to pick up a yellow bottle. “Here, sit up.”

Sam swung his legs to the side of the sun lounger and sat upright with his back to Maria. She swept his long blonde hair forward, past his shoulders, and began to slowly untie his bikini top from the back. Sam quickly grasped his chest, holding the bikini in place as it slackened.

Sam shivered as Maria’s cold, cream covered hands touched his bare skin and began to rub the lotion into his back. Her touch was sensual, the lotion making her hands soft and slippery. She slid her hands up over his bare shoulders, gently beginning to massage them. Sam’s body jerked and he gasped, as Maria kneaded her palms into his knotted shoulders.

Her hands slid down over his slender arms as she whispered into his ear, “You are very tense Antoinette. Try to relax.”

Sam turned his head as Maria’s hands left briefly to pour more lotion, returning to his waist, sliding over the soft area of flesh where his waist ran out to meet the curve of his hips. One hand dipped under the waist band of his bikini thong, rubbing cream into the upper most swell of his buttocks.

“Turn around.”

Sam swung his legs around, turning to face Maria. He could feel his heart beat pounding as she looked deep into his eyes, her hypnotic allure already beginning to affect him. Maria pulled Sam’s hand away from his chest, his bikini top peeling from his breasts. He breathed heavily, his exposed chest rising and falling.

“One good thing about being on a yacht in the middle of the nowhere is that you can sunbathe topless.” Maria smiled at Sam, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of his large breasts and thick pink nipples. She poured a large helping of sun lotion into her hands, rubbing her palms together before bringing them to Sam’s heavy tits. She ran her slippery hands around his flesh in large, sensuous circles, her fingers teasing his nipples which instantly hardened at her touch. Sam closed his eyes, finding himself melting once more to the sensual eroticism of her touch.

He felt Maria gently guide his body back onto the sun lounger, laying him on his back, as her cream covered hands began to slide along his silky smooth legs, causing them to writhe. Sam’s eyes flickered open, looking up at the clear blue sky above. He could feel a grey cloud of despair begin to descend over him.

Despite his best efforts to control the mission, Sam felt like he was sliding relentlessly into the role of the submissive slave whose body he now inhabited.

* * * * * * * * * *

The Lamborghini Gallardo skidded to a halt, mud splattering across the white body work. The door swung open and Rivers stepped out, quickly spinning around to take in his surroundings. The fields surrounding the old barn were quiet, with hardly a breeze to rouse the trees. Even the birds seemed to have abandoned the area, casting an eerie silence, broken only by the whir of the fans cooling the car engine.

Rivers walked over to the black jeep that he had parked up alongside, cupping his hands to peer through the tinted windows. He stepped backwards.

Bravo team had been assigned two vehicles. Where was the other jeep?

Rivers looked down at the mud, finding tyre tracks leading away, back down the lane that he had just driven up. He looked back up to the barn. It looked dark and cold, as if it were sucking light from the surrounding area.

Rivers quickly shrugged off his sense of unease and began to work his way up towards the barn, his mud-stained Italian leather shoes scuffing against the stony shingle of the path.

* * * * * * * * * *

The barn door was ajar and creaked ominously as Rivers pushed it open further. He stood silent, the sunlight casting his shadow inwards. He had taken only a couple of steps in when he saw it.

There on the ground by one of the animal paddocks.

Amongst the matted straw and mud.

A body.

* * * * * * * * * *

Rivers instinctively reached to the gun holster hidden beneath the left breast of his suit jacket, drawing his pistol. He held it upright, one hand clasped around the other as he cautiously approached, planting one foot slowly in front of the other. All the while he looked around, constantly reassessing the environment for possible signs of danger.

Rivers knelt at the body, recognising the black combat fatigues of Bravo team instantly. Blood had soaked into the straw around it from several bullet wounds to the back. He rolled it over, a man’s pale young face staring unblinkingly upwards.

“Jesus.” It was Matthews. The kid was young.

Rivers tightened his grip on his pistol as he glanced back around the barn. He could see splintered wood and bullet holes in the far wall. The gun fire had been erratic. Most probably a semi-automatic.

Rivers turned back to the boy, closing his eye lids. Before him, the trapdoor leading down to the underground bunker hung wide open, the inner security hatch slid aside, revealing the imposing darkness below.

* * * * * * * * * *

Rivers’ feet clattered against the metallic floor as he stepped from the spiral steps that wound down beneath the barn. The echo reverberated down the length of the sparsely lit corridor. He held his pistol straight ahead, his breathing slow and calm.

Rivers walked slowly forward, reaching the turn in the corridor, backing up tight against the wall, flexing his grip on the gun. He swivelled around the corner, his aim snapping ahead.

The faulty light panel flickered as Rivers stepped forward, its harsh flashing intermittently illuminating two more slumped bodies, just outside of the open door to the control room. Rivers cautiously approached, quickly identifying the men as Willis and Keyes.

“Damn it,” Rivers muttered under his breath, wiping sweat from his brow from the stifling heat of the underground tunnel.

He stepped into the control room, its sparse confines revealing nothing but a metal table and naked cables trailing the floor. The team’s Agency supplied laptops were missing. Rivers stood up straighter, holstering his gun.

She was gone. The bitch had taken the laptops and one of the jeeps, and was gone.

“Fuck!” Rivers kicked at the metal table in frustration, denting one of its legs. He ran his hand through his short hair, the ramifications of what had just happened proving too much to contemplate.

He looked to the large window that overlooked the interrogation room, seeing only an inky blackness. Without a laptop, he had no means of con

trolling the variable tint to see through to the room beyond.

It was then that Rivers noticed the door to the interrogation room. It was locked shut. Every other door along the escape route had been left open.

Rivers stepped up to the keypad beside the door, tapping in his unlock code and swiping his thumb against the fingerprint sensor. The door hissed open, a rush of humid air escaping. As he entered he thought to drawing his gun again.

It was at that moment that Rivers was attacked.

TO BE CONTINUED…

* * * * * * * * * *