Chapter 3

Harry made the drop at the bar and breathed a lot easier now that the drugs were off his hands. He knew his commission would be almost a half year’s pay and he was eager to line up his next mission.

The residents of Boca Muerte were noticeably upset that the central government had sent a contingent of Drug Enforcement agents down to their neck of the jungle to weed out the drug cartel members.

One of those agents was a young female who had been blackmailed into the job because she had been caught by customs with a rather large load of cannabis in her flight bag. The fact that she was a former airline hostess made her a valuable addition to the Drug Enforcement staff and her new boss Pablo Morales had personally interrogated her to break her down and get a proper confession.

It is difficult to admit his methods were not quite proper.

Poor Teresa was in a sorry state after his initial briefing with her panties torn and her tiny brown eye bearing the brunt of his brutal approach.

Still, she knew she was in the wrong and she had done it just to help out her older sister who was the original messenger hired by the cartel for the mission. Her sister was sick in bed with the flu and unable to carry out the mission. Teresa was mortified at her treatment but understood that she was guilty and deserved punishment.

Teresa was scared by Pablo and his tools of torture.

As a result, she “broke” easily and told him she would do “anything” to pay for her sins.

It was her use of the word “anything” that gave Pablo the idea of using her undercover to find out the routes used by the drug cartel to smuggle the product through his territory.

The former air hostess was mounted on the spanking bench with her posterior raised at the perfect angle for rearward insertion. It was warmly glowing with reddened exterior due to his spirited spanking session just ended. Teresa’s tears were flowing copiously down to the cold cement floor stained with the blood and tears of many victims of Pablo’s unique style of hearing full confessions of crime against the state.

He slowly wrapped the naked girl’s long black hair in his closed fist and pulled back on her head slightly so he could see her eyes and her facial features in the light of day coming through the barred window high on the far wall of the sound-proof cell for torture. Teresa’s sobs and pleas for mercy were absorbed by the insulation and she knew nobody would be able to hear her verbal outrage at the humiliation heaped on her quivering naked form being drilled with precision from the rear by the huge tool of passion hanging dangerously from Pablo’s long, lean body.

Her feminine core was stretched to the breaking point by his thrusting action. At some point, he withdrew and switched to her brown eye waiting patiently for its turn at the painful experience. Her screams changed quickly to pants of degradation as he explored every dark corner of her rectal geography with his infamous tool of torture.

Eventually, she started to moan with pent-up pleasure from his delicious friction inside her rear door channel. She hated her reaction to the humiliating treatment but her need for cock outweighed her displeasure at being abused in such a manner.

She had her first orgasm long before he finally spurted his full load of cream inside her plump twin globes of female flesh.

Teresa was given a nice, warm bath and two servant girls massaged and oiled her body from scalp to toe making her almost purr with feminine contentment.

Then, she was dressed in fashionable clothing including sexy undies that were far too expensive for her taste, but she loved the silky feel of them snug between her legs covering her sweet pussy and other assets.

Commissioner Pablo stood in front of the girl and squeezed her tits with his nasty fingers.

Teresa winced but kept silent being well-trained after three weeks under the constant training from the master of punishment and incarceration.

“My little bird, you will go to this gentlemen’s club and let the men know that your ass is for sale. Do you understand me?”

Teresa was aghast at the thought, but she knew she was under the full control of Pablo’s Drug Enforcement Unit and must obey his every command if she ever hoped to see her family again.

He lifted her skirt in the rear and slowly mauled her ass cheeks in front of his smiling minions. She was terribly embarrassed by the indignity but knew she had to at least pretend complete compliance and wait for an opportunity to escape from this horror of forced covert activity.

When Teresa first entered the “all naked, 24 hours” club, she knew she stood out because she was a lot prettier and sexier than most of the wash-up females in the establishment.

She went up to Miguel the head barman as instructed by Pablo and he looked at her work papers and her health stamp to verify she had not tested positive for any transmittable diseases in the last 72 hours. He motioned her to the locker room where she would be expected to shed her clothes for the dancing on the stage and just sitting and mingling with the customers. She noticed that most of the girls were only wearing a tiny thong on their pussy that they removed at the side of the stage. They also had a garter on one leg to hold the paper cash the customers gave them for special poses in the dance routine.

Teresa saw some of the women leading men up to the second floor for private dances. She had no problem with private dances as long as the bouncers protected her against rape from an unruly customer. She had been warned that she would be solicited for sex but had the right to refuse as it was prohibited by law inside the city limits. Of course, several of the girls provided sexual services for the additional fee according to the men’s selection of sexual tricks desired.

It was easy for her to identify the members of the cartel just from the way they were treated by the barman and the bouncers, and the girls tended to allow them to do anything they wanted even if they were just sitting down with them at a table drinking the non-alcoholic tea, they substituted for the supposed mixed drink that helped them make their quota for the right to work.

One customer, a good-looking young man with beautiful hair took her upstairs for a private dance. She knew he was a cartel member because of his ability to order drinks on the cuff and not have to produce any cash except tips for the dancer. His name was Pedro and he told her he was from a neighboring city and not “this shit-hole called Boca Muerte”