An Inquisitive Federal Agent

An Inquisitive Federal Agent

East Coast Slaver Organization Story - XII

Chapter 05 – Learning Her Proper Place (or Meeting a Film Star)

Special Agent Samantha Valiant was happy; she was at work engaged in her favorite pastime, concentrating fully on her case files long before anyone else in the office came in to start their day. “Nice and quiet,” she thought, actually humming at the same time. Deciding to get more comfortable, Samantha took off her jacket and hung it over the guest chair in her public cubicle. Happy that none of her chauvinistic coworkers were around, she remained standing to loosen her already tight muscles. She twisted her torso about from side to side, watching her fat melon-sized breasts lurching about at the abrupt movements. The quick exercise session was finished with a few toe touches, drastically moving her mountainous tits about while her long, tight skirt snugly pulled across her meaty ass cheeks. Smugly satisfied with the voluptuous body with its underlay of well-toned muscles that was hers alone to enjoy, Samantha Louis Valiant sat back down at her desk fully at peace with herself.

Feeling much better, she hummed again as clicked open her computer desktop mailbox. “Not there,” she complained aloud. Slack bastard!” She'd been expecting a promised reply to a request for information about an unsolved case. Her computer beeped, indicating new mail. It was from Christine Taylor; Samantha frowned, thinking it unusual that her acquaintance was already at work. “Everyone knows she's the typical government employee, she just does the minimum, never arriving at work early and running for the door promptly at the end of her eight hour shift.”

The message was simple and to the point:

“Good news on your case! Meet me for breakfast in the cafeteria – 0800”

Samantha looked at her watch, “Two more hours.” Her horrible experience with her coworker was already fading in her memory; she was only too happy to start erasing that event. Deciding she had plenty of time, and too busy to deal with the distraction, Samantha turned back her files.

Christine Taylor was also content. After hitting the send key to get her message off to Samantha, she leaned back in her chair and stretched, enjoying the soreness in her breasts as they moved within her bra. Catlike, she brought her hands over her head and reached as far up as she could, appreciating the tinges of pain throughout her heavy body. “Hmmm,” she whispered. “Whatta night of sex! That was certainly one for the record books.” Then, confused, she looked about, “Fuck! I only came in early to get this message to Samantha done. Now what do I do?”

Across town, Aaron Clarke sat in his car as the doors of his warehouse closed behind him. He looked about from the driver's seat of his 2005 SLK 350 Roadster and grinned, “Memories, … oh so many wonderful memories.” His fingers slipped appreciatively across the smooth leather on the steering wheel and he remembered how he had taken it while capturing Emily Davis, a twenty-six-year-old trophy housewife with a driving need to lace her frequent parties with cocaine. The huge-titted blonde was one of the first slaves Aaron acquired while establishing his Miami base of operations. Aaron had killed her drug dealer, capturing her in the raid, and sold her, along with his own wife, to an Egyptian slave owner, Hosni Yassin. Hosni needed four American sluts to work as sex-workers in his construction firm's first European office in Marseille , France . To give himself an edge over his competition, Hosni included a restaurant with world-class chefs, beautiful guest suites, and his captive hostesses, available for a wide range of entertainment. Altogether, Aaron sold him four, top-quality, general-purpose sex sluts.

Aaron clicked the warehouse remote hidden in his console and smiled in satisfaction as the overhead lights clicked on loudly in rapid sequence, revealing the interior of a cavernous space. The slaver had returned to his original processing and training center. The elaborate slave cages and temporary living areas in the center of the warehouse were long gone as his training center was now relocated to a quiet spot in the Caribbean . However, the remainder of his facilities were still intact, including the full-size swimming pool, extensive exercise facilities, and the slave training classrooms. Certain that everything was in order, Aaron glanced at his watch. “ Six o'clock ,” he muttered, “she should be here soon.” He reached back into his convertible and grabbed his Grande black coffee from Starbucks. “Only the best,” he again muttered, this time in real satisfaction as he contemplated his plan for the two local federal agents.

Fifteen minutes later and Aaron was still strolling about his warehouse reliving memories of domination and sex over his first slaves. He stopped at one of his nearly empty security cages that had held weapons, bondage gear, and items confiscated when he captured his slaves. “Hmmm,” he muttered, “there are still four of these security cages; each has heavy steel mesh bars on wall and ceiling.” He knew that only one of the cages now held any contents at all; new bondage equipment that had never been contaminated by contact with his slaves. Most of the items remained in their original packing. “Everything else was shipped off to the Caribbean site,” he mused. He was still thinking about the possibilities of using at least two of the cages to hold unwilling toys, such as the federal agents, when his cell phone rang. “ Kandy ,” he answered, “I'm looking forward to meeting you and your crew.”

A husky female voice dripping with sexuality answered, “Oh, … well, … Robert Morgan, I'm so glad to finally get a chance to meet you. This is a wonderful opportunity you've given me. We have so much to celebrate if this project works out as you think it will.” The two spoke for a few minutes more and she ended with, “I'm two minutes away, you can open up the doors now.”

Aaron watched bemusedly as a dusty twenty-six foot U-Haul van pulled into the warehouse and parked behind his BMW. A platinum blonde opened the yellow door of the truck and stuck out a sexy foot with a black four-inch stiletto heel. The woman oozed out to stand on the running board. She posed theatrically to show off her gigantic tits bursting from her tight top and her fabulous thighs shown off to perfection with her tight leather miniskirt. Aaron called out, “Welcome! And, I have to say, … Kandy Sweetness, you look far better in real life than on the silver screen.” The warehouse doors rumbling down temporarily interrupted any further conversation.

The well-known porno starlet grinned widely and continued her preening before she responded, “Flattery, … it'll get whatever you want from me.” Her hands hefted her heavy jugs up invitingly and she added, “Keep that up and this will be our dream come true.” Laughing, she hopped down, with hardly a jiggle from her balloon-tight, massively-enhanced mammaries. She ran over to grab Aaron in a tight hug.

Aaron reached a hand down to cup a taut ass cheek. “Nice ass,” he thought. He grabbed the other cheek and whispered in her ear, “Be careful what you promise, you should know about my preferences by now. I don't think you've starred in any S&M or BDSM movies yet. Want to begin now?”

Kandy stiffened in his arms. She answered in her throaty voice, “Yes, you're right, … it's tempting, … but I'll pass. Maybe I can help you play with your new toys instead?”

Aaron took Kandy 's now sweaty palm in hand as he walked her through the warehouse facilities, “Altogether you have two bedrooms, two kitchens, two media lounges, three classrooms, a sauna, a hottub, a swimming pool, and the exercise areas. This should give you plenty of variety for your filming. Plus, there's plenty of room for your film crew and prop people. Have you got scripts and storyboards all done?”

Pleased to be on familiar ground, Kandy tightened her grip on his arm and throatily answered, “Yes, … I've got at least five different screenplays already drafted out and the scripts on my laptop. We can stay busy here for weeks filming the various interior scenes. I've got all the necessary equipment in the truck and the cast and crew arrive over the next couple of days. The only problem is, that as I told you, I am missing actresses for the hardcore S&M scenes. They are especially important in the uncut versions you want for private release showing explicitly forbidden acts.”

Aaron Clarke grinned at the porn star turned director and answered, “I already have one big-titted blonde lined up. You will meet her at lunch today. She's a newbie and with some careful makeup can be used in any general-purpose sex or BDSM scene. For the real violent scenes, I hope to recruit someone this afternoon. She has ‘volunteered' to star as your punishment / pain slut in the films, … no holds barred. Any of the whipping, torture, piercing, tattooing, and branding scenes we spoke about are all fine. You will be able to make some very explicit sex films.”

Kandy shivered at the cold look on the man's face as he talked about the actress he was ‘recruiting' that very day. “Wonder what she did to piss off this man?” she asked herself. She took a deep breath to calm herself and responded, “Nice, … as you suggested, I intend to film multiple versions of each film to increase revenue. So, the mild version of a story might go for a late-night cable series. The same film with a name change and the addition of more explicit scenes can go into the VHS and DVD market. The ‘uncut' version of that film can be sold for release through porno theater outlets. Lastly, the ‘Director's Edition' can include forbidden scenes for private sales. I think your idea has the potential for greatly increasing our profit.”

Returning from the swimming pool area, Aaron gently steered her toward Bedroom 4B as she continued to discuss the details of her film ideas. At the entry to the room, Kandy blanched at the sight of the items laid out on the bed's comforter and the video cameras already set up in the room's corners. He changed his grip on his right hand to clasp around the back of her neck, “You've seen enough films, … you must know the drill?” He pushed down on her neck, Kandy obediently slipped to her knees, just feet from the bed. “Stay!” Aaron commanded.

Kandy 's stomach was churning with distress. “I was warned that this might happen,” she thought. “Roland Heath told me there'd be a payment that couldn't be met with money. Fuck! Do I have to go along with this?” All she knew about the man named Roland who'd arranged for her contract with Robert was that he was filthy rich, was interested in limited edition pornographic films, and seemed to have extensive business and film industry contacts. She blushed as she remembered the fee he'd charged. “His only referral fee is that he wanted a film clip of me giving him my famous deep-throat action. What a stud he was. I'd never have guessed he was sixty-eight.” Kandy had no way of knowing that the man who'd arranged to have her dream come true about transitioning from pornographic actress to adult film producer and director was a retired slaver. Roland had known that Aaron's warehouse was gathering dust in Miami and that Aaron could easily manage another project, especially given that his primary slave training facility was now located in the Caribbean and able to run smoothly without his full attention. Roland Heath also realized that Robert Morgan was in a semi-retired status less than a year after starting his fledgling slaver business. Aaron Clarke had already brought in enough millions that he could afford to carefully pick his projects. Money was no longer a problem.

The statuesque porno queen started to speak, Aaron tightened his grip on her neck. Unfazed, he spoke quietly, “Do I need to remind you of our deal? I'm bankrolling your films, providing you facilities, and letting you have free artistic rein with a budget of up to three hundred and fifty thousand dollars in cash. For the risk I'm going to incur, I don't want much; a chance to get my investment back, without any interest or profit, if you submit fully to me for the entire period of the effort and the private little film project we talked about. Roland told me you promised to sell your soul for this help. You better understand, Roland isn't the only one that would like to sample your charms; only, … my tastes can afford to be more exotic given my investment.”

Kandy whispered, “I'm sure Roland told you that nobody else was willing to give me a chance producing and directing films. The industry is happy to keep me a porno slut actress appearing only in the roles that I'm offered. They fear the competition from new directors rising from within the industry.” Fearful at what she was doing, she bowed her head and spoke in an even quieter and much more formal voice, “I Candice Sweetness do fully submit to Robert Morgan to be his toy as stipulated for the entire duration of my project.”

Aaron smiled at the fun he could have with his own personal nympho slut porno actress. He picked up a remote control training collar and handed it to Kandy . “If you really mean it, then latch this around your throat. There will be no safeword, if you know what that is. Once on, … it will be too late to change your mind, you become mine until I remove it upon completion of our project.”

Kandy cried softly and grabbed the device from his hand. She shivered when it latched shut. The collar was somewhat loose and she could easily fit her finger between the wide band and her neck. Surprised at the poor fit, she looked up to tell Robert and then paused in astonishment when it started to vibrate and the collar drew itself tighter and tighter around her neck. Kandy was in a panic at how snug the collar was getting; but, just as it became difficult to breathe, the collar stopping its tightening motion and loosened slightly. Kandy calmed her breathing.

His gentle words belied his intent, “Try and speak.”

Knowing there was a catch, but unable to resist his command, she opened her mouth and started to speak. The instant response from her collar was like a bolt of lightening piercing up from her torso to skewer deep into her skull. She collapsed limply to the ground, barely conscious of what was going on around her. When she could focus again, Kandy shivered and thought, “He's staring at me like a bug under a microscope, or a toy he's trying to figure out how to play with.” Kandy felt the collar once again begin to tighten while Robert stared intently at her. “Unghhh,” she grunted; her fingers automatically clawed at the collar to free her neck. It was no use, the collar continued to tighten until Kandy couldn't breathe and the room started to dim.

When she became aware of her surroundings once again, she saw Robert sitting in an overstuffed chair, watching her intently. “ Kandy ,” he started, “I think the collar has taught you the ground rules. You obey, … or else. Now, … we've got until eleven this morning; how much fun can we have in five and a half hours?”

Kandy stripped off her clothes, no longer feeling the least bit sexy in the process. She stumbled a little as she tried to sway and dance on her tall heels as the clothes fell to the floor. “Scared,” she admitted to herself. “Never done BDSM, S&M, or the Master / Slave thing.” She sunk to her knees at his silent command, done with a simple hand gesture. “Of course,” she told herself, “I have to obey to keep the collar from killing me.” She swallowed hard and wriggled her panties down her legs. Kandy found it hard work to strip the rest of the way while remaining subserviently on her knees. Finally, she was done and slipped her hands behind her back. Cold handcuffs clicked against her wrists locking her arms behind her. Kandy struggled against the bonds and stopped when the ensuing pain on her wrists convinced her of the strength of the cuffs. Her body was forced over, raising and exposing her naked ass. A tear rolled down from the corner of one eye. A whistling swish came from behind; a burning firebrand seemed to roll across her ass. Unable to hold it back, she shrieked in pain; mercilessly, the collar no longer punished her outbursts. Kandy cringed as she heard another stroke from the whip starting up behind her. She howled again as the pain burned its way across her upper back.

After just ten strokes of the thin flexible rod, Aaron Clarke stopped. He needed only to take the edge of pride off this too successful and too beautiful woman before he began to use her for his own sexual pleasure. The shivering form sobbed loudly below him. Aaron ran his appreciative fingers across her smooth ass, now highlighted by a series of thin, red streaks from the rod. “Be thankful this isn't the heavy punishment cane so popular in punishing criminals. This hurts like hell but won't cut the skin or leave scars.” Aaron laughed softly as he shifted astride her bent form to face her feet so that both hands could now caress the inside of her taut ass cheeks and her sensitive inner thighs. “This will leave stripes that last for several days. I'm sure that your fresh markings will be mentioned today on your outing with the other girls.”

Aaron wasn't surprised that his questing fingers found her cunt already loosening up and beginning to lubricate itself. His caressing hands started to knead her flesh harder, fingers grabbing big chunks of ass flesh to pull about. While his left hand spread her pussy lips apart and spread her slick nectar about the juncture between her legs, his right hand reached behind his back to pull a short cat-of-nine-tails from where it was stuck in his belt. He swung the cat down across her spread-open pussy, catching the backside of his own hand in the stroke. Kandy howled below him in renewed anguish. He swung the multi-stranded whip twice more before shifting his position to kneel behind the sobbing woman. Without any other preparation, Aaron jammed the fingers of his right hand hard into her inflamed cunt, slipping deep into her slippery core in one, relentless push. Her grunt of discomfort only fueled his desire to drive his fist deep inside the gorgeous blonde fuckslut.

Kandy 's back arched and she continued to groan and grunt in pain as his fingers swept about the inside of the juicy cunt. After his knuckles bottomed out, he left his right hand in her pussy while his left unzipped his fly and then slipped on a condom with practiced ease. His stiff cock knob slipped into the cavern formed by the fingers on his right hand buried in her quim, picking up gobs of her sex lube from his fingers. When his cock drove into her ass, the overloaded nerves of the woman exploded in uncontrollable orgasm and screams for more. Even with the awkward position, Aaron was able to simultaneously piston his cock into her rectum and jam all the fingers in his right hand into her yawing pussy. “You, … are … such … a … pain … slut,” he panted in rhythm to his fucking. Another orgasm rippled through her pussy and rectal muscles, massaging his cock and fingers in a most amazing way. Carefully maintaining his fuck pace, Aaron slowly reached his left hand for the cat-o-nine-tails. Without missing a beat, he swept the cat under and up onto her belly. He added a stroking rhythm of the cat to his measured tempo of cock and finger fucking. The caress of the whip on her sensitive breasts, neck, and belly elicited animalistic moans, grunts, and squeals. Aaron picked up the pace, beginning to lose control of his bottled up jism. Finally, he pulled his slimy hand out of her cunt, dropped the whip, and then grabbed a fat mammary in each hand. Now on much steadier footing, Aaron began to thrust forward into her ass as hard as he could while yanking her body back onto his cock by using the handholds he had on her massive tits. When he finally spurted uncontrollably into the condom, he and Kandy both fell forward flat on the floor, stuck together with sweat and sticky cum.

FBI Agents Samantha Valiant and Christine Taylor stood nervously waiting in the entry foyer of the expensive French restaurant. The statuesque twenty-eight-year-old brunette and the chunky blonde, fourteen years her elder, were an odd pair. The dowdy blonde wore rumpled slacks, soft-soled shoes, and a cheap blouse while her younger companion wore an immaculately pressed woman's suit with matching navy blue jacket and skirt, hose, navy heels, and an expensive white blouse.

When Christine asked if their table was ready, Samantha was amused when she heard Christine give the name of the reservation as, “Master, … Robert Master.” “Well,” Samantha told herself dryly, “that's one way to remain anonymous. Robert Master is clearly the mysterious Robert Morgan that Christine told me about.”

The table was already set for four, with neat little nametags discreetly laid beside the water glasses. As her eyes scanned the table, she saw:

Kandy , Chrissy, Sammy, and Miss Ingrid

in cursive script on the little tags. Samantha was not amused to see the nametags. Nonetheless, she dutifully sat down at her place opposite from Chrissy and to squelch her curiosity, looked around the semi-private alcove in which they were seated. “This is nice,” she thought, “I haven't been out for lunch in forever.” There were only three tables in their area of the restaurant; none was occupied except theirs, which was the only table set for service.

Their waitress introduced herself and announced, “Robert Master has taken care of your lunch, everything is already ordered. He wishes you to just relax and enjoy yourselves.” She busied herself filling water glasses and arranging two wine glasses beside each plate. As she poured she chattered, “You girls are so lucky to have someone pamper you like this. What a nice reward! He must be a great boss! By the way, the first wine is a Sauvignon Blanc for your appetizers and salad; the second is a Viognier to go along with your desert fruit platters.” She whisked a plate of appetizers from a serving stand and set it on the crisp white linen tablecloth. “Enjoy!” she cheerfully chirped as she walked away.

Christine picked up her glass of Sauvignon Blanc and held it up for Samantha to tap against her glass. “To your fun filled week,” Christine toasted with a little bit of a smirk on her face.

“Thank you, Chrissy ,” Samantha responded with a superior smirk of her own.

The two women almost glared at each other for a moment before Christine relaxed and responded, “Well, … Sammy , … you were the one that was curious about this lifestyle. I admit I don't know much about what is going to happen over the next several days except from the nametags, Master Robert has probably turned the first few days' worth of orientations over to his slave Mistress Ingrid.” Christine silently thought about her scheduled meeting the next night with Master Robert. “You slut,” she told herself, “you get the fucking of your life and within hours you are already lusting after more of the same.”

Samantha ignored her friend's faraway look and rose to greet two women approaching the table. The first was a self-assured slender woman with dark hair dressed in dark, conservative business dress. “Must be Mistress Ingrid,” Samantha thought. Her mental processes froze as she saw the platinum blonde creature that followed Mistress Ingrid. “Whatta freaking bimbo,” she thought as the woman tottered into the dining area on hideously tall heels. “Those hooters are astounding!”

The four women introduced themselves all around and then sat down. Ingrid Gaviard, slave to slaver Aaron Clarke and sometime Training Mistress to slaves and other foolish women ensnared by her Master, coolly took charge of the luncheon and forced the conversation to remain focused on things innocuous and unrelated to the true reason for meeting. However, she was firm from the onset in one regard, each participant was to be addressed only by the name on their nametag. Later, she slowly brought the conversation to the topic of domination and subjugation after several bottles of wine were consumed.

“So, Sammy, I understand that you've contracted to investigate our alternative lifestyle?” Ingrid asked with a knowing smile.

Samantha finished swallowing her bite of appetizer and answered, “Yes, … but that's a rather odd way of stating it.”

“Are you quibbling with me about your decision to participate in the activities that Master Robert has arranged?” the Mistress shot back.

Christine Taylor glared at Samantha and kicked at her under the table. Realizing the threat, Samantha stuttered back, “Nnno, Mistress Ingrid. I am committed to discovering the nuances of what S&M and BDSM mean; it is important to me to help solve a difficult case involving a number of missing women.”

“Good,” Ingrid responded with an easy grin. “I will establish the ground rules right now.” She ticked off a finger and held it up, “First, the four of us are going to have a lot of fun today, getting the full treatment at a world-class spa, going shopping for new lingerie and night wear, and lastly going out on the town. I've even arranged a limousine for the day. Sammy, you will think this is frivolous, but you have to learn to think of yourself as both a modern woman and as a deeply sexual creature before we delve into the possibilities of domination and subjugation. I might point out that this is a complicated voyage and you may never really come to embrace, or even understand, everything that the initials S&M and BDSM really mean.” Ingrid took a long sip of her wine before continuing. “Second, you have already begun an introduction from which there is no, … and I mean no, means of withdrawing. Failure to complete your agreement, made through your colleague Chrissy, will result in consequences for the two of you that I will not address. Suffice it to say, Master Robert will take care of those issues and they would be most unpleasant. Nothing changes him from loving Master to vengeful Punisher like a liar or a cheat. He considers your word a binding contract. Break it at your extreme peril.”

Samantha could feel the sweat beading on her brow as she wondered how she had gotten into a situation so out of her control. She looked at her two companions and realized that she was the only woman at the table not wearing a collar. “Mistress Ingrid's collar is slim and golden while Chrissy and Kandy are wearing thick and heavy looking stainless steel collars.” Samantha risked another quick glance around the table and noted that each collar sported a sturdy loop that hung down to the hollow at the base of their throats. “Perhaps for a leash,” she thought with an inward grimace. She looked again; the only other difference Samantha saw was that Chrissy and Kandy 's collars had a small set of holes above the loop. Mistress Ingrid's voice interrupted her musing.

“Third,” she said firmly, “you will obey every order you are given. In fact, all four of us are similar in that regard; we have no choice but to follow orders from our Master.” Without pausing for any comments, Mistress Ingrid ticked off a fourth finger. “Fourth, we are all sluts; while that fact has yet to be demonstrated to Sammy, Kandy has proven it by her choice of vocation - a pornographic actress, Chrissy has shown it to the world by giving up her body for BDSM activities when she's not at work, and I am of course happy to be whatever kind of slut my Master chooses for me to be.” Ingrid caught a glimpse of Chrissy's mouth curling up in a smirk so she quickly added, “Of course, … Master Robert has probably noticed that Chrissy's extreme behavior is much closer to that of a whore than a true slut.”

Chrissy's facial expression shifted quickly from a pleased smile to the sulking scowl of a spoiled little girl.

Silence descended upon the table. Ingrid watched as the women took sips of wine and then began to fidget as they worried about what was to come. “OK girls,” she said gaily, “hands on the table. We are going to do a little game of Simon Says. The loser in this game is the one that hesitates the most in following orders. There will be no trick commands.” She looked about the table and stopped at Chrissy with piercing eyes. “However, Chrissy is not dressed properly for this game. Chrissy, … Simon says stand up with your hands at your sides! Yes, you are certainly an obedient little slut. Now, Simon says kick off those disgusting shoes that you are wearing! From now on, you will never wear such shoes again unless you are at the gym, on the running track, or walking about in the wilderness. Let's see, … I think Master Robert will be pleased with any heel two inches or greater for a start. He will let you know if I've been too soft-hearted in mandating such a small heel.”

Samantha watched her coworker follow the commands as if she were a automaton. She did grin secretly at the red flush of embarrassment that crept up Chrissy's face as she was called an obedient slut. The red flush on her coworker's face deepened as the commands continued. Despite the uncharted territory she was in, Samantha realized that she was actually enjoying the luncheon with the other women and was eager to see what would happen at the spa. She actually felt a little spasm of arousal as Mistress Ingrid continued her commands.

“Chrissy, Simon says undo your belt, unzip those slacks, and step out of them. Kick everything under the table and then return to your seat with your hands on the table.”

While Chrissy's heavy slacks fluttered to the floor, Samantha's eyes were drawn to the tiny gold triangle of cloth that covered her friend's pubic area. “The slut,” she told herself, “the slut is actually wearing a thong.” Samantha Valiant considered thongs as vulgar, ugly things. “She should know better, … a thong at her age, really! And with her ass, … yuck.”

Chrissy, face now bright red with embarrassment, stepped forward and followed Mistress Ingrid's commands, then seating herself and placing her hands back on the linen tabletop.

“Now girls, those of us with skirts on will use their hands to grasp your skirt hems and pull the cloth up under your butts and gather it around your waists. Next, I want you to slip off your panties, hold them in your right hand, and set your bare butts down on the chairs. When you are finished, Simon says put your hands back on the table.”

Samantha started to follow the orders blindly, feeling a flush of embarrassment of her own creep up her throat. She noticed Mistress Ingrid rising up, clearly following her own orders. Then Samantha froze in place as their waitress swept into the room with an armful of plates. Samantha's thumbs remained hooked under her panty's waistband, her skirt rolled up to her hips, and her body hunched up awkwardly over her chair as the waitress busied herself arranging small salads, rolls, and butter in front of each woman. Undeterred by the waitress' entrance, Mistress Ingrid and the bimbo Kandy brought their clenched right fists up onto the tabletop, clearly displaying their removed lingerie. When the waitress ignored what had to be bizarre activities from the lunch patrons, Samantha finished dragging her panties down her hips, her thighs, and more awkwardly over her black heels. The job was made more difficult because she wore pantyhose over her pink panties. With a deep sigh of resignation, her own pink, cottony panty jointed the other two silken ones already displayed, along with her wadded up pantyhose. She had time to look around the table and couldn't help but grin at the sight of her chubby coworker still struggling to get her g-string up onto the table. The four women soon sat at the linen-topped table with panties held tightly in their right fists.

Mistress Ingrid pointed to Samantha's underwear, “You are all forbidden to ever wear pantyhose again. Punishment for this infraction will be drastic. If you need hose, you either use garters and a garterbelt to keep them up, or use thigh-highs with stay-top bands.” She visibly shuddered at the funky pantyhose and drew an opaque plastic bag from her purse. “Put everything in here and then throw the bag under the table. Slut Chrissy, you can crawl under and put your shoes and pants in the bag as well.”

“Now,” Mistress Ingrid continued, “since we had a pair of trousers and a pair of pantyhose, Simon says Kandy , Sammy, and I have to take off our skirts so we can all be punished. We will all be panty less and bottomless sluts.”

Samantha unzipped her zipper on her hip and let her skirt fall to the floor. As directed, she folded it and handed it to Mistress Ingrid. She watched the Mistress stride away to the edge of the room with the skirts in hand. “She has a perfect ass,” Samantha observed. She made no comment about the exposed pussy lips clearly visible between her well-toned thighs. After making a short phone call, Mistress Ingrid returned to their table, leaving the three skirts behind. Samantha's pulse quickened at the sight of Mistress Ingrid's bare pussy scarcely covered by the tails of her blouse.

“To sluts, … may they always have bare cunts, and wet, slimy sex holes ready to please,” Mistress Ingrid's too loud voice and raunchy toast startled Samantha back to paying attention, she had been completely distracted by the wanton display of the woman's pussy. She hurriedly picked up her wine glass and clicked glasses with the others. A deep swallow of the crisp, dry wine helped settle her nerves and her queasy stomach. The next command from Mistress Ingrid didn't help her increasingly nervous tummy.

“Sluts, … reach over to the bitch to your right and rest your hands on their left knee. That's right, … now, rub little soft circles up their thigh as you head toward the fuck hole men love so much.”

The constant flow of disgusting language from the beautiful, well-dressed woman in charge of their luncheon had grated on Samantha's nerves and upset her sensibility. She turned to the left and opened her mouth to object when Mistress Ingrid's open right fist backhanded her across the cheek in a blow savage enough to knock Samantha off her chair and onto her ass. In shock, she stared wide-eyed at the woman that had slapped her so hard. Belatedly, she realized that during the fall her knees had spread wide-open, displaying her hairy pussy to the glowering gaze of Mistress Ingrid. She scrabbled about on the floor to get onto her knees and get her obscenely spread legs closed.

“Sluts keep their worthless mouths shut unless they are asked questions!” Mistress Ingrid hissed in irritation. “This lunch has been going so well. Now in addition to Chrissy's punishment for her improper clothing, I will have to add something for Sammy's inability to control her tongue.” Ingrid grabbed her purse and pulled out another collar identical to that worn by Chrissy and Kandy . “Get over here and kneel by my chair,” Mistress Ingrid snapped in a voice dripping with irritation.

Barely able to hold back the quivering little sobbing hiccups created by the unexpected blow, Sammy shuffled over on her knees toward the Mistress. She winced as her hair was grasped in a vicious grip and yanked backward, drawing her eyes up to make contact with the pissed-off Mistress. “Take this slave collar and lock it on your neck with the snap-loop facing forward.”

Special Agent Samantha Louise Valiant took the heavy collar in hand and almost defiantly fitted the male tongue of the collar into the female recess on the other side. She shivered when it latched shut. Samantha was surprised at the heavy weight and poor fit of the collar; she could easily fit her finger between the wide band and her neck. Uncertain what to do about the poor fit, she was amazed when it started to vibrate and the collar drew itself tighter and tighter around her neck. Samantha forced herself to remain calm as the collar snugged up beyond what was comfortable. Her held-in breath wheezed out in relief when the collar stopped its tightening motion and loosened slightly. “It's got sensors and some sort of programming logic,” Samantha decided with her analytical thinking. “This thing is gonna be a problem.”

Samantha saw clearly sympathetic faces on her other two companions at the table. Each winced at Mistress Ingrid's next quietly spoken command. “Try and speak now.”

It was clear it was a trick; but unable to resist the command, she opened her mouth and started to speak. The instant response from her collar felt like a jet of molten steel piercing up from her spinal column to skewer deep into her skull. Samantha collapsed limply to the carpet below her Training Mistress, barely conscious of what was going on around her as residual electric shocks echoed painfully through her brain.

“Samantha,” Mistress Ingrid whispered dryly, “I'll go over the intricacies of the collar later; you've probably already picked up the basics – you can be punished remotely and the collar will automatically punish you if I want silence.”

Feeling a little like a robot on remote control, Samantha eased herself up and climbed woodenly back onto her chair. She set her hands back on the table and vowed to pay better attention and control her responses better. “It's odd,” she told herself bitterly, “I bet that under other circumstances, I could easily kick Mistress Ingrid's ass into tearful submission.” Samantha knew there was no chance that she could fight back given her own professional vulnerability, not to mention her own driving need to solve the cases of the mysteriously missing women.

“Sammy,” Mistress Ingrid said calmly and with the patience of instructing an errant child, “you better learn that ladies, virgins, and children have breasts, vaginas, and rectums. With their polite and tender natures, they are free to talk about their boobs, boobies, or pussies. On the other hand, sluts like us have tits, cunts, and assholes; it's as simple as that. You can guess some of the other words: hooters, fun bags, slits, fuck holes, … whatever phrase is earthy and to the point. We don't talk around the issue of sex, we embrace it. Ladies can have sex or engage in a romantic affair; we fuck, suck, and do whatever our Masters or Owners tell us.”

“So, Kandy,” Mistress Ingrid said after shifting her attention to the platinum blonde with EE hooters, “Simon says tell us when the last time you had sex was, how many orgasms you had, who it was with, and which sex holes were used.”

Kandy , despite being an experienced worker in the sex industry, blushed and cringed at the same time. She had hoped to avoid any personal attention from her employer's head Slave Training Mistress. She took a moment to compose her thoughts and plunged in, “Mmistress, … it was this morning, … actually all morning right up to ten minutes before Mistress Ingrid picked me up. In the almost six hours that Master Robert played with my body, I orgasmed too many times to count; perhaps more than I'd previously cum in my life. As to how he took me, … he used every one of my ssex hholes.”

Mistress Ingrid smiled and said, “Good, … perfect answer Kandy . Keep that up and we'll get along well.” She steepled her fingers in front of her face and asked in a somewhat catty manner, “And, … Kandy , please describe the foreplay technique that he used to warm you up.”

Startled that Mistress Ingrid might know the details of her morning ordeal, Kandy whipped her head toward the questioner before gulping. “Hhe, collared me and then caned and whipped me to remind me of my status.”

“What status was that and how did it stop?” Mistress Ingrid responded.

“He wanted me to know that I'm His slut toy to use as he wishes.” She hesitated and then continued in a quieter voice, “The caning stopped when I begged him to use me, … to fuck me, … to do anything He wanted to me as long a the pain went away.” Her face sunk in horrified understanding. She quietly whimpered, “He called me a pain slut. He said that's why I came so much when he whipped me while we fucked.”

“Yes, I see,” Mistress Ingrid smiled. She next turned toward the F.B.I. forensics technician, “Chrissy, what about you?”

Chrissy was still staring open-mouthed at the platinum blonde film star in amazement, “How could he have the energy to fuck that bimbo after taking me all night long?” She blinked to focus her thoughts and turned toward the Training Mistress, “Mistress Ingrid, for me it was last night. Master Robert had me arrange myself in self-bondage and then he took me all night long, fucking me for hours. I also came too many times to count.” Her face took on a dreamy look and she added, “It was wonderful, … He fucked me every way a Man can take a submissive slut like me At one point, he gave me the best oral sex I've ever had. And afterwards, the knob of his cock felt bigger and more swollen than ever before.” Her face took on a defiant look, “It was amazing, Mistress, … absolutely amazing, He's a sex machine. I'd sell my soul to have that everyday.”

Mistress Ingrid once again nodded in satisfaction, her glance of approval saying it all. She turned to Samantha Valiant and said, “I know it's not really fair to ask someone so innocent, … but, what about you, Sammy?”

Samantha had been even more shocked than Christine to discover that her mentor-to-be, Robert Morgan, had the stamina and testosterone to take on and fully satisfy both Christine and the porno actress. “It sounds like he fucked them into complete submission,” she thought with wonder. She flushed with embarrassment to answer such questions with such sexually experienced women at the table. “I haven't had sex since before I decided to apply to the F.B.I. Academy ,” she whispered.

“So, … I take it that you're an anal and oral virgin?” Mistress Ingrid snapped back.

Samantha's embarrassed silence answered that question as eloquently as words.

“And, you've never had more than a single orgasm in a day?” Mistress Ingrid responded.

The humiliated F.B.I. agent could only shake her head in the negative.

Both Christine and Kandy smiled superior smiles at Samantha's inexperience.

Mistress Ingrid ignored Samantha's clear discomfort at speaking so openly about sex. She searched through her purse hanging beside her, withdrew a sealed envelope, and set it on the table in front of her. “Sammy, you've heard both these two sluts speak of their ‘oh so very satisfying sex' with my Master. Which one of these two do you think gave him the most pleasure, the hot-bodied, experienced porno star, or the middle-aged, overweight office worker? The twenty-six-year-old or the forty-two-year-old? In simple terms, which one do you think is the best fuck?”

Samantha's eyes flickered between the two women in question. “There is no doubt,” she thought, “it has to be the porno queen with the body men dream of sexing.” She nodded toward Kandy and said, “ Kandy , Mistress, … it has to be Kandy .”

“Open the envelope, Sammy, and read it aloud,” Mistress Ingrid offered with a smile.

“Obviously, Agent Valiant, you've misjudged the role that enthusiasm plays in sex,” Sammy began to read Aaron Clarke's written statement in a barely audible tone. “ Kandy 's body is young and tight from her years of dance, exercise, and nearly continuous sex. Those monstrous hooters mounted atop such bodily perfection are enough to make a normal man cum from just a mere glance at her overwhelming sexuality.” Samantha stopped to appraise Kandy Sweetness' voluptuous form before she continued, “In the porno industry, Kandy has done everything on film that can be called sex. On the other hand, there is your coworker.” Samantha once again stopped so that she could appraise the second subject of the letter. She smirked a little at Christine Taylor's matronly body and then lowered her gaze to read again, “The difference is so drastic that I won't even go over the details. If given a choice of one of the two sluts, there is no doubt which one most men would select, … Kandy the platinum-blonde with a body to die for.” Samantha nodded as she agreed that men would declare the big-titted bimbo the fuck of a lifetime. When she started to read again, she was momentarily at a loss for words as the significance of the next sentence sunk in. “Alas,” the letter continued, “those poor men that pass up on a chance to dominate Christine will have passed up on the most enthusiastic fuck of their lives. Her holes are always hot and tight and she gets wetter than any nymphomaniac I've ever met. No matter what you do to abuse or love her body, she responds with sex lube so plentiful, you'd think it came from a faucet.”

Samantha had to stop and look around the table. Mistress Ingrid had a knowing smile on her face, clearly showing that she had known the answer to her questions and was enjoying the look of surprise on everyone else's faces. The F.B.I. agent was pleased to note that both Kandy and Christine were open-mouthed in frozen amazement. “Looks like Kandy has come down a sexual notch or two,” Samantha told herself smugly. ”There might be hope for the ‘normal' women out there.” She looked back to the final paragraph and continued, “Yes, … if you haven't figured it out yet, Christine is a world-class fuck and once you get her going, she is sure to please. There isn't much better than to lay there under her, watching her tits flopping around wildly as she bounces exuberantly on your dick. Her pussy can sure suck a cock dry.”

“Well, that was fun,” Mistress Ingrid said sweetly. “I think that it's time for our chubby slut Chrissy to pay a little penalty. Simon says slut Chrissy is to scoot under the table and await her instructions. That's it, … good little slut. Now, Simon says use your right hand's fingers like a dipstick and check out Kandy 's fuck box for lubrications.”

Samantha felt her sex spasm at the humiliating commands that her acquaintance was being forced to follow. “Bet I'm leaving a damp streak on the chair,” she told herself with worry. “And, … it's not the first time something today has gotten me excited.” She grinned across the table at Kandy 's sudden leap of surprise. A moment later a set of glistening fingers were stuck up triumphantly over the edge of the table. “Go ahead, Chrissy,” Samantha heard the Mistress command, “Simon says finish off the slut, she's clearly horny beyond belief.”

“Go ahead, Kandy , Simon says scoot forward on the chair, and let the slut have better access to your slimy quim.”

The beginning of Kandy 's orgasm was marked by a widening of her eyes, a stiffening of her body, and a narrow string of saliva hanging unknown from the corner of her mouth. When she sagged in completion, Mistress Ingrid's command was simple, “Well, get going slut, Simon says you've got two more to go.”

Samantha stiffened as wet fingers glanced off her bare thighs and bumped into her exposed pussy. She jumped as the fingers thrust deep inside her without a hint of foreplay or gentleness. A squeak of surprise escaped her lips, then a faint moan of pleasure. The angle of Chrissy's thrusting fingers changed and the fingertips grazed her ‘g spot.' Samantha couldn't help but rotate her hips to let the fingers have easier access to her sexual heart.

Mistress Ingrid's command only dimly made it to Samantha's brain that did not understand a single word. “OK, slut, that's it, Simon says relax and let Chrissy's fingers and lips get you off.”

Samantha Valiant, calm and collected F.B.I. agent, humped her hips strongly against the hot, wet lips sucking on her sex. It was wonderful, … fantastic, … astounding! Unbidden, she stuck her hands under the table and grasped the side of Christine's head to pull her lips further into her sexual core. She never thought to think of the spectacle she was making in front of the other women. Gasping for breath, Samantha shivered in relief as the orgasm swept over her.

--- To Be Continued ---

Author: Desert Dog ****** E-Mail: Desertlickingdog at yahoo dot com

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