Chapter 11: Penetrated Agent

“Remember, guys,” Zara announced, “I’m here to provide medical support. The injections given to Billie and Jackie would kill most humans. Addicts might survive, perhaps. I’m just looking out for my girls. Jackie is mostly incapacitated—she’s really a killer.”

“I still think those two guarding us is a joke,” Joe complained. “I can break their backs with my bare hands.”

“I think they’re just precious,” the pregnant Debbie exclaimed as she rose and approached Billie and me. “Remember when we first played with each other.”

“That was a long time ago,” Joe said. “We were just kids.”

“You will have wild monkey sex with these two,” Zara commanded, “I’m available, too—but you need to fuck Jackie’s pussy and take her cherry. Do Billie, too. None of us three will get pregnant. Don’t expect much—those two girls are doped to the gills and won’t resist.”

I remember only bits and pieces of the next several hours. When my pulse accelerated, I’d fade out. If I relaxed, my eyes closed, and someone would wake me. What did Zara give me?

“You two are so cute!” Debbie gushed while I was suckling her swollen breasts. “I wish I had the same body.”

“If you did,” Zara commented, “you couldn’t have children.”

I fell asleep—again—as Zara explained that Billie and I suffered from a birth defect—our ovaries failed to develop. My dreams were influenced by the conversations around me. I didn’t know who was talking about a preference for bald pussies. I woke up with Joe pushing his penis into my vagina.

“She is a dead fuck!” Joe complained. I wasn’t about to argue—too much effort.

“I’m next, Boss,” Paul said as he stuck his head between my thighs and began licking me.

What I experienced next was disassociation. It was happening to someone else. Why was I doped up? Did I want to have the whole experience? What was so fascinating about shoving a cock up someone’s asshole? I thought I was hallucinating that Paul sucked Joe’s cock and then Joe fucked Paul’s ass. Mine felt as if someone had shoved a baseball bat inside and left it there.

It beats getting shot or stabbed!

Connie was bathing me. Debbie was washing Billie when I regained full awareness. I felt depleted and sore. The other three women were chatting.

“Well,” I announced, emotionless, “that was fun. I suppose it’s all downhill from here.”

All three women laughed until they cried, and then they laughed some more.

“You made me pee the floor,” Debbie giggled. Gales of laughter erupted.

“I’ll clean that up,” Connie left me behind and knelt on the floor next to the tub.

“Ew!” Billie remarked.

“What’s going on?” I asked. I wasn’t able to see.

“She’s licking the floor!” Billie said. “That’s not right!”

“It IS for submissives,” Debbie explained. “Connie and Paul are my slaves. I’m Joe’s slave.”

“May I clean your body, Dominus?” Connie asked.

“What’s going on in here?” Gail surprised me—when did she get here? “Finish up. We have a conference.”

When I allowed myself to form opinions, I hated conferences. Briefings were for the brass to show off, to strut their stuff. Most conferences waste time. I did learn to appreciate standing around or getting to sit down someplace quiet. Marching under fire is no fun.

“I could use a cup of coffee, ma’am,” I announced. A cup of coffee and sitting someplace soft would be an improvement, but I wasn’t about to complain over the bath that was finishing up.

Minutes later ... we four hadn’t bothered to put anything on. Paul was also naked, serving coffee. Dressed and present were Zara, Joe, Gail, Willard—and Major Blake? My internal dialog was asking if we should take out ads in the Berliner Zeitung and London Times—oh, wait, I was in America. There were these new things called radio and television—and daily newspapers.

“I’ll bet you are wondering why you’re here,” Zara began.

“You are developing a cover for me to penetrate a radical revolutionary gang of guerilla fighters,” I guessed.

“You feel more penetrated than penetrator at the moment,” Billie added. “I feel penetrated.”

“Stop,” Debbie giggled. “I’ll pee all over the floor again!”

“Silence!” Joe commanded as he pounded the table with his fist, reminding me of the times that I had to ditch a mission leader to keep from getting killed, to ensure mission success. “We’re going to Miami. Anybody speak Spanish?”

“Jackie and I speak Spanish,” Billie offered up.

“Jackie is conversant in Russian, too,” Major Blake offered.

“Officially, Jackie is fluent in English, Italian, French and German because she was educated at a finishing school in Switzerland,” Zara stated. “That’s the reason why Jackie was picked for this mission. Billie is an expert pilot—multi-engine, sea plane, helicopter.”