Ann could tell something was up. Hale hadn't done anything to her in a little while. She heard soft voices a couple times, but couldn't make out any words over her own breath and pounding heartbeat. They were up to something. Hopefully they weren't about to call off the test and send her away after she had come so far. She didn't know what else should could have done differently.
Her fears were confirmed. She heard subdued laughing over towards Peters's table, no doubt at her expense. They must be loving this even if it was all in the line of duty, primitive masculine instincts getting some playtime. The other women were probably not so turned on by all of this. The interrogation was blurry in her mind, strangely blurry actually. Regardless, she knew that she had told them far too much about her secret desires. She must seem like quite the slut. She even told them about her magician's assistant fantasy--she never told anyone about that one. She regretted it all now and didn't know what got into her. Embarrassment washed over her as she blushed head to toe. I will not cry. I won't. Fuck this damn drool! At least the drool might disguise the other wet drips she was leaving on the carpet.
She felt Hale's approaching steps through the floor, that fucking bastard. She was starting to hate him. He was loving his job too much. Was she a joke to him? A play toy? Another wet pussy?
Ann tried to relax, not that she had an alternative. Her inevitable fucking wouldn't be long now. The lack of attention to her pussy, so far, was part of the theatrical buildup. The pattern was all too obvious, not that it made a difference. She was still angry as hell and frustrated. Hugely frustrated. No: gigantically frustrated. They were playing her like a fiddle. She knew it, but it still worked. The frustration fed her anger, but it also fed her lust. Yes, horny and frustrated was more like it, in that order. She wanted to be freed or fucked. No, wrong again, not fucked. She just wanted to come. I need an orgasm. Is that so wrong? What about my primitive responses?
She felt herself starting to lose it. Holding still was taking a lot of her precious remaining willpower. Fuck these damn nipple clamps! God they're awful! Bastard! She needed relief from the tension of just kneeling there trying to resist the urge to struggle, trying not to scratch the itch. Don't get the weights swinging again. Hold still.
She could spread her legs wider and try rubbing her pussy on the carpet. Yeah, they would love that. She was almost desperate enough to try it. Why don't they just get on with it?
Accepting that she was helplessness was something she just couldn't do, even though she was completely out of escape ideas. Escape was involuntarily preoccupying most of her thoughts not connected to her unquenchable lust, but the flood of sensations was too strong for much deliberate thinking. She knew that Hale was just playing a part, and she hated him for it anyway. She hated his smug attitude. His touch. His strength. His...ownership. In her blacked out, blindfolded world, he was the hands that touched her, hurt her. He had become the enemy. She would not be the instrument of his pleasure if she could help it. She couldn't wait around, trussed up, until he raped her. There, she said it. That word. It would feel like that. She couldn't stand the idea of him inside her. Will I feel the same way in the field? Can I really do this?
She half-heartedly re-tested her bonds. She was just too worn out to put up much fight now. As good as fucked. How will he do it? Hopefully, he would wear a condom. She wasn't on any birth control. Somehow it wouldn't seem as bad if she didn't have his seed inside her after it was done. Should she try to fight it? She just about had to didn't she? But. Yes, the "but." If I fight him, he'll hurt me until I stop. That's what they'll do in the field.
She was also embarrassed that she wanted it. Well, not really. She was embarrassed that they knew she wanted it so bad. The orgasm that is, not the fucking. Yes, that's right, the result, not the method. It would all be recorded by the little spying sensors. Her lust captured as data and graphed out. More embarrassment. OK, get on with it Hale, please, for the love of God.
Almost immediately, she wished she was still waiting. The sharp backwards yank of her hair told her Hale was ready.
"Lay on your back bitch. Spread your legs. Lift that pussy up."
Ann let him pull her all the way down to the floor by her hair, laying on her bound arms, almost the familiar supta virasana yoga pose. Not hard at all.
"Wider, slut." He gave each leg a stinging slap on the inside of her thighs.
She wiggled around until she could get her legs apart more. The thigh straps forced an inch-by-inch approach as her folded legs rocked back and forth. At least the nipple weights weren't quite as bad while laying horizontal, even though they twisted sideways.
Ann gasped around the gag as Hale slowly pulled the chain between the nipple clamps just to the point where there was tension. "You're not going to move are you?"
As he pulled the chain stretching her nipples more, Ann could feel the clamps squeeze tighter on her pinched buds. They must have some kind of spring. She frantically said, "No!" as best as she could through the gag while shaking her head "no."
The cold head of a dildo pressed against her already engorged lower lips. It only took her moments to realize some gel lubed plastic invader was penetrating her. Unceremoniously, Hale just kept pushing it in deeper and deeper. It was short and soon the entire length was inside, well past her vulval vestibule. She felt him slip his fingertips back out and her labia resume their original swollen pucker.
"Oh holy fuck!" She wanted to start squirming on the floor. She couldn't believe she didn't come all over the place when he shoved it in. It just wasn't quite enough, but oh so close. Bastard! He knew he wasn't going to fuck me all along. She felt harsh pain on her nipple clamps as the chain was pulled tight again.
"I told you not to move slut."
Ann froze as best she could. He's not done? Oh God, what else? She felt something slipping up her body. A stiff fabric covered rod was riding up her ass crack. In front, there was some kind of reinforced fabric pad. As Hale continued, it felt like some kind of panty. Tension from the rod (probably plastic) in her ass crack was balanced by the patch of fabric over her mound. The fit was firm and snug. She remembered seeing something like it online, a c-string, she thought.
As Hale slipped the clip on panties the rest of the way on, both sides neatly fell into place cupping her sex and gripping her ass crack from behind. It was then that she noticed something extra. Some kind of round knob also slipped into place right over her clit. It pushed rather firmly. Within a second, it started to vibrate. "Oh!......OH! UUUUCCKKKKK!!" The dildo inside her came to life as well, probably by remote control. Her nipples erupted in agony as Hale snatched the clamps off. The returning circulation was equally as painful as the original clamping, maybe worse. "Hooaaallllyyyy hhhittttt!" The combination of sensations turned both keys and hit the red button for the launch sequence. She detonated. The orgasm electrified her whole body. She was starting to feel faint as her eyes rolled back into her head and her legs twitched within their straps. The spasms went on and on. Ann couldn't remember coming so hard before.
Southworthy and Timor watched the graph with Evans. The pink line was way near the top edge of the plot area, almost off the scale. Evans spoke softly so that Ann could not hear. "That indicates her sexuo-neuro response level is higher than all previous samples."
Southworthy scoffed. "So much for a baseline. How many samples?"
"They included data for an assortment of a thousand women ranging from housewives to whores."
"So, you're saying..."
"That our horny little file clerk had an orgasm with more neural activity than the previously sampled one thousand women."
"Damn."
"I suspect they were in some kind of controlled lab setting though," corrected Peters.
Timor considered for a moment. "Judging by this other line, quite a lot more neural activity. Skip the baseline then. We know everything we need to know. She can fuck with the best of them. Hopefully she's a good lay too. Good enough. Let's move on to pain tolerance."
Peter's clicked away on the computer, saving the results. "We'll need to give her a half-hour or so to rest up and recover. I'll dial back her little friends and we can just let her simmer for a while. Judging from these readings, she can handle being in the arm binder for quite a while yet." He picked up a black remote control and pushed a button repeatedly. The number on small display dropped from 7 down to 2. He picked up a second white remote control and turned a knob all the way to the left.
Timor pointed to the pink line on the computer. "How come the line is still going up and down like that?"
"Aftershocks. She's still having some mild orgasmic contractions," answered Peters. "Is there any more of that coffee left?"
Ann tried rolling onto her stomach for a while. She had managed to sit back up and carefully fall back down. In the end, she found that she could maneuver herself into a few different positions with some exertion and difficulty. What she couldn't do was find a way to get the straps off her frog-tied legs. Hale had positioned them within the natural curve of her ankles and behind the widest part of her thigh. Nice trick, asshole. It reminded her how little she knew and how she was in way over her head. It didn't matter. All that mattered is whether or not she could take it. She just needed to get through the mission.
The armbinder was completely hopeless; she knew that it would be from the outset, but she was optimistic about her chances with the other gear. Wrong. The results were disheartening. The blindfold proved impossible. She had even tried sliding her face along the carpet. She couldn't even get the clip-on panties off, and she thought that was a sure thing. It didn't seem like they were on all that securely. The gag was its own variety of impossible. Is it possible to completely fatigue your tongue? Yes it is. Do you ever stop drooling? That remained to be seen.
At this point, the frustration was overcome by exhaustion and she gave up trying to get free. She hadn't given up completely, just for now, time to switch priorities. She needed to conserve her strength and the relentless vibrations teasing her sex were now impossible to ignore. She desperately wanted to come. She would have been horny even without the vibrators. Bondage had always been a turn on for her, but the real thing, being truly helpless and at someone's mercy, was like the turbocharged version of her own self-bondage attempts.
She suspected Hale was deliberately increasing the speed of the vibrators in measured amounts while making sure not to give her a chance to climax. It was probably all neatly graphed out using the sensor data, keep her below the line. They were wearing her down. Trying to break her will. Torturing her with denial and frustration. It was working. Again, knowing the plan was no help.
The anger was returning. She could hear the muffled talking, sugar packets being torn open...they were even eating the cookies she had found in the kitchen for them. Hope they like the show! Next time I'll fucking make them popcorn.
She rolled back to her stomach. If she humped the carpet a little, she could feel a little extra sensation. Maybe it would work? Suddenly she was all too conscious that they were watching her. It was easy to forget in her darkened world. She had limits to how much humiliation she was willing to endure or have recorded. She rolled over on her back again and tried to calm down. Damn. Back to her stomach, she kept forgetting the drool was hard to swallow when her head was back.
"Hhoooaaa! heeeyy!," Ann protested as she felt arms on each side lifting her up using the armbinder and thigh straps like luggage handles. Did they intend to spread her legs that wide on purpose? They set her down on something higher up. Her breasts were pressed against cold polished wood. Timor's Desk. She could smell papers, tobacco, ink, photocopies, coffee. Her legs dangled over the side. Thank God! She felt them unstrap her legs. She tentatively stretched her legs out. Pleasant pain. Significant stiffness. She wasn't going to be walking for a bit. She could feel the floor with her tip toes. At least the heels were useful for something. Fuck! The freedom was only temporary as she felt her ankles being bound together with a strap. As if that wasn't enough, they fastened another strap above her knees.
Shit, what now? Firm hands gripped the shoulder straps of her armbinder. They were smaller, not Hale's. "Yaooooh! ucccck!" The slap on her ass took her by surprise. What the hell? Again, the other butt cheek. What? Am I a naughty schoolgirl now?
The flurry of spanks that came overwhelmed Ann completely. Hale worked up and down each ass cheek, harder and harder. She tried not to make a sound, tried to be the stoic agent. Name. Rank. Serial Number. She tried to hide in some dark corner of her mind, wait it out. UFO abductions? Really? Area 51? That's what my mind wants to distract me with? Her body kept trying to call her back, but it wasn't the pain in her rear doing the calling. The slow simmer of lust was boiling now. Did they turn the vibrators up again? They had to have.
"Aaaaaaooooww!" The spanks were really hard now. They shook her whole body. Each smack sounded like a thunderclap. She couldn't take it anymore. She started to fight, but the hands kept her shoulders down. She squirmed and twisted, thrashed and arched. "Uuuuucckk!" She couldn't evade the slaps.
Peters checked the black line on the monitor. He needed a bit more. So far so good. He motioned for Hale to come closer and whispered, "Harder yet if you would sergeant."
"My hand is stinging, sir. Is there a belt or a whip? I don't see anything on the cart."
"Must be those big hands of yours," answered Peters, humor in his voice.
"Here," Southworthy volunteered and took off his thick leather belt.
Hale folded it in half and tested it against his hand. "This should do nicely."
"OK, sergeant, about 6 good strikes should do it. Start high and work down to her lower cheeks. Put the last one at the bottom of her cheeks, just at the edge of her upper thighs, the sensitive area."
Hale could hear her breathing. It sounded like she had been crying to him. He felt bad for her, but she needed be able to do this. Too many lives were at stake for her to lose it just from a little spanking.
The pause was welcome at first, but then the surprise blow came. Ann tried to arch straight up with the pain. The belt was a new horror beyond Hale's hand. Holy Fuck. He sudden movement caught the hands holding her shoulders down by surprise, but she was quickly slammed back down on the desk. The pain from her crushed breasts momentarily equaled that of her ass. Her ass was actually more sensitive now, must be the swelling. Hale tried to be quick. He didn't want to give her time to recover. He swung again, still remembering to stagger the rhythm.
"Aaatthhherrr! peeaassee ssstooop! I..ill bee oooodd! I woonnnt oo iiit agaaiiin." Ann's thoughts found that dark place to hide, but it wasn't a pleasant place. A memory she had hoped to forget someday that also cowered in the darkest corners of her mind.
Hale finished the last strike right as Peters said, top of the thighs, bottom of the ass. She was fighting the restraints like a tigress. He stepped back to admire his work. Wow, she was red and puffy looking. He suspected total black and blue tomorrow.
After he stopped, she still kept fighting. Her energy level was impressive. He realized she had no way to know it wasn't over, then he heard the buzzing and understood. Peters was still working on her. They were quiet though and motioned for him to be quiet. It was then that he saw Director Timor was on the red phone.
"Yes, Mr. President," said Timor as he pushed the speakerphone button.
"She's right here on the desk, but still gagged," said Timor a little louder towards the microphone.
"Video feed established," stated Peters. He reached over to turn on Timor's desk lamp, lighting up Ann better for the camera.
"Wow, that's quite a red ass. I should have you over to the White House First Sergeant. You could help keep the First Lady in line for me," joked the President.
"What's with the buzzing sound?" asked Timor with the phone on mute. He unmuted the phone then said, "Just a moment sir, we have some background noise coming through on the line."
Peters stepped closer to the phone, "Sorry sir, I'm still using the vibrators on her, finishing up the biometric response data. The vibration is travelling through the desktop to the microphone."
Ann felt the hands again pulling her up by the shoulders. She couldn't step, but she didn't need to. Her body was lifted backwards and placed on a wooden chair, probably the same one as before. The hard wood hurt like hell. The soreness in her ass was way worse than any of the times she had been punished as a child.
They removed the blindfold. She didn't know what to expect, but she found she was looking at a small camera lens on one side and Director Timor on the other. Not exactly how I wanted to meet the President.
She felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. Hey, they aren't removing the gag! What the fuck! She was on camera with the President, drooling around a ball gag. Come on Peters! Turn off the fucking vibrators!
"I just discussed your plan with the joint chiefs, and I'm giving you the green light. This project is a go at the highest levels if you think that you've found the right agent," said the President.
Timor responded, "She's completely committed and the tests look good. We'll prepare her as well as we can."
"You have 10 days, no more."
Timor looked at Peters. Peters nodded reluctantly.
"Acknowledged, sir."
Ann felt the vibrations increase. Oh God, I can't hold it back.
"On behalf of a grateful nation, I'd like to thank you ahead of time for your upcoming service Miss. Best of luck."
The President laughed, "You have my permission to launch the fireworks."
Ann's eyes rolled back and her whole body shook. She felt Hale's hands on her shoulders steady her and prevent her from falling off the chair as the orgasm tore through her. She couldn't help but make a few grunting noises behind the gag and thrash around with the spasms. The throbbing tension echoed in a long, slowly diminishing, series of contractions. She couldn't help trying to squeeze her legs to make it last a little longer. It was just so delicious after the endless teasing, but, ashamed as she was to admit it, the spanking had really fueled the fire.
The President laughed. "Can't say she isn't extremely willing to support her country. Quite the patriot."
Ann was mortified, but at the same time she felt a cold chill from the President's earlier choice of words. They could be using those same words again soon, this time with the flag and funeral to go with them.