Agents In Harms Way (4 page)

Chapter Five

Mallory saw her chance! The kneeling woman tightened her muscles, and with all the strength she could muster, she struck, lashing out with a lightening jab, burying her fist in the softness of the vulnerable crotch of the man who towered over her. He screamed, buckled over, clutching his injured manhood, as the girls scrambled to their feet, and Mallory lunged across the desk to make a grab for the gun.

“You godamned bitch!” he shrieked, in his outrage and his pain “Get them! GET THEM!!”

It took a split second for the two men to react, and by then Mallory’s fingers had closed on the .38. But Dwayne reached across and pinned her wrist to the desk. In the tussle, the second gun went flying to skitter across the floor, with both Kip and Merc, in hot pursuit. Now Dwayne had Mallory’s wrist in steel grip, and he twisted it upwards as he leapt around the desk to get to her.

Kip scooped up the second gun, but Merc was on her from behind to grab her in a bear-like grip. Kip tried a Karate maneuver she had been trained to use in just this sort of situation. ‘Use your attacker’s weight’ her instructor had preached. The girl set her stance and spun, intending to use her hip as a fulcrum, in an effort to throw the big man down. But he merely slipped down into a squat, and used his superior weight to drag her down with him until she was toppled over backward. He wrestled with the girl, grinning and laughing as he pinned her wiry body to the floor, feeling her frantic squirming under him, enjoying himself immensely.

Meanwhile, the scuffle between Dwayne and Mallory was frantic but brief. He had forced her to drop the gun. She immediately lashed out at him with stiffened fingers in a Karate chop. He ducked, and it missed his neck, her blow glancing off his shoulder. He was quick, very quick. He wrapped her up in his arms, held her tight, and edged behind her. Then he lifted the naked girl off her feet, while she kicked and shrieked in a furious struggle to shake herself free. Somehow he managed to get her right arm tucked up behind her, and with the right application of pressure, forced her forward, to bend at the hips and topple down over the back of a padded chair. In a flash, he fell down on her, pressing her down with his superior weight, carefully applying just enough pressure to stop her struggling.

“Whoooa! Slow down, baby, I’d hate to break this pretty arm of yours,” he breathed, inching the arm upward just past the pain threshold — a sharp reminder. Mallory jerked back with the stab of pain, grunting. Panting heavily, she lay quiet, feeling the weight of the man’s body on her, the warmth, the sweaty smell of him, his heavy breathing told of his recent exertions.

The Captain, having recovered enough to walk, had gathered up the handcuffs and now assisted his henchmen in subduing their struggling victims. This time, Mallory’s hands were secured behind her; the handcuffs locked with a definite click of finality that made it certain that their brief window of freedom was now firmly closed.

“Take them away. It’s time they learned that they have to pay for doing stupid things like that. Get them ready. You know what to do.”

The Captain’s voice was strained; he was flushed, his breathing still a bit ragged, but he was regaining his control. His calm, ruffled exterior had been shattered when he doubled over in pain and fell to his knees, his dignity lost before the women, and before his crew. And this was a proud man who would not suffer that loss of dignity. He would see to it that these women paid for their rash actions.

It was no trouble for the powerful crewmen to easily hoist up the two handcuffed girls up, and sling them over their shoulders like two sacks of potatoes. Laughing and joking, they hauled the naked women off back down the hall to the ship’s playroom, there to await the Captain’s pleasure.

***

Mallory’s world was upside down; her view restricted to a few inches framed between the sturdy legs of the heavy chair over which she had been tied. Folded at the hips, the long-legged brunette found herself draped over the padded velvet chair back. Her mane of long black hair fell forward, sweeping the floor as her head hung between her outstretched arms that, by means of leather wrist cuffs, had been attached to the floor. A second set of cuffs banded her ankles so that she was held securely in place over the large chair. At her side, her naked companion had been stretched over the back of an identical padded chair. The hated ball gags were back in place; the two girls were now quite helpless, forced to bear the ultimate indignity of being held in this humiliating position, their bottoms placed on obscene display.

Tethered as she was, she couldn’t see the crewmen moving about, but she could hear them making crude jokes and snickering as they made some sort of preparations. Once tied in place, the women had been left alone, although both men had thoroughly enjoyed running their hands all over their naked bodies, feeling their chests, fondling their vulnerable bottoms, and groping between their splayed legs, freely enjoying themselves with their bound and gagged captives, while ostensibly seeing to their restraints.

Since Mallory was positioned so that her inverted head faced the doors, she was the first to see him enter. Booted and dressed in all in black, she watched him stride imperiously into the room like a pirate captain, sure and confident in his stride. He circled behind the tethered women, murmuring to his assistants.

Then he came to her, squatting down beside her partially shrouded face — in his gloved hands, a short-handled paddle with a study but flexible blade. One side of the pliant blade had a coarsely textured rubber facing, like those used for table tennis. The full realization of her position came to Mallory. She was about to be spanked!

“That was a naughty thing you did, Number 9,” he said, lightly tapping the heel of his palm with the paddle; holding it just before her eyes. “More than naughty. It was stupid!”

“I have no time for stupid people. I normally dispose of them.” He let that sink in. “But I don’t think you’re stupid. In fact, I think you’re a smart girl. Smart and pretty — a lethal combination.” He brushed back that long silky fall of hair, to run two joined fingers down her cheek. She flinched. Because he was squatting at her side, he couldn’t see the look of pure hatred in her eyes.

“So you do understand that we wouldn’t want to do anything to permanently mar the merchandise,” he patted her cheek. “Oh no, you’re too valuable to us, just the way your are — intact with that lovely skin and that pretty face of yours.” The fingers had trailed down her cheek, followed a line down the front of her neck to her chest, where they idly toyed, drawing small circles around her nipples.

“Dwayne here, suggested that if we tattooed the letters of your big-deal Washington outfit on your ass, you’d never be able to take an undercover assignment again. But Dwayne’s a crude man. He doesn’t understand that such exquisite skin cannot be marked, doesn’t appreciate that there are more proper ways to punish naughty girls, ways that leave no scars.”

He rose to his full height. “It’s time you two were taught the price of disobedience on my ship,” he muttered, reaching down to where Kip’s head hung, bowed between her extended arms, to playfully ruffle the short fringe. Then he stepped behind the bent-over women.

Mallory tensed, every muscle of her lean body drawn taut. The sides of her elongated bottom cheeks hollowed as her buttocks clenched until the crack between them was drawn into a thin compressed slit.

THWACK!

The crisp smack sent a shuddering impact through Mallory’s thin frame, and she threw back her head and screeched into her gag as the stinging pain electrified her body, driving her up onto her toes.

THWACK!

The wicked blade whacked the hardened muscles and ricocheted off, imparting a stinging smack that sounded like a gunshot in the room.

“No, no, Cunt 9,” he tsked. “You must learn to take your punishment properly. I don’t like it when you tighten your ass like that. This ass is mine!” Gloved fingers dug into her bottom, causing the girl to rear up and toss her head. “And I want it all nice and soft and ready for me. Loosen up! Go on, let go!” he insisted.

But Mallory held herself rigid.

So the Captain sighed as the gloved hand slid between her legs and fingered the soft folds of her vagina. One of his fingers worked its way inside her, and she wiggled helplessly. A few minutes of this intimate fondling, and the girl couldn’t help moving against those teasing fingers; her butt muscles relaxed into the elongated ovals they formed when she was first pulled over the chair. Her tormentor smiled and raised his hand and gave her a decisive whack with the paddle squarely across her hardened butt.

THWACK! THWACK!...THWACK!...THWACK!

The howls of outrage were muted by the effective gag; the paddle continued its deadly course, spanking the bounding mounds again and again, in rapid-fire succession until Mallory felt the intense sting that lingered, each melding into the next, so that the ache built — the throbbing hurting, burning in her butt. She couldn’t hold still under the repeated slapping but her twisting, struggling, and writhing were in vain as the relentless disciplinarian peppered her ass with a rapid set of smacks, each precisely delivered with a snap of the wrist.

Again she tensed up, more in reflex. Again, he paused, and ordered her to relax. He waited; threatened that with each reminder three additional strokes would be added to her punishment. He laid the rubberized blade lightly on her burning butt. Moved it slowly over the twin ovals in a soft caress, waiting, waiting, gently coaxing her to relax, for the man was a connoisseur of discipline, and he knew how to be patient. He would wait, wanting her bottom all warm and soft, and open to him
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offered to him, properly presented and just for him. Slowly, the proffered rear cheeks slackened. And as he saw those plump cheeks soften, he drew back his hand and paused, and then, with an exquisite sense of timing, he struck.

THWACK!

The hardwood blade splattered the pliant mounds. The bouncing rebound sent them into a shimmying wobble, while the girl screeched and wiggled her hips in fiery agitation — the only movement her bonds would allow.

The paddling of Special Agent Mallory Channing continued for perhaps five minutes, although to her it seemed much longer. Then he must have decided that she had had enough. When the paddling abruptly stopped there was a voluminous silence, broken only by the slight creak of his boots. Mallory shifted her hips. Her butt was on fire, the sting having faded to a dull throbbing pain, her shoulders heaving as she struggled for breath.

She heard him moving behind her, positioning himself behind Kip’s jutting rear end. Compared to the sleek ovals of Mallory’s elegantly curved behind, Kip’s boyish rump was small, high-set and more neatly rounded. The Captain smiled to himself. It would be a profound pleasure to indulge himself by comparing the feminine bottoms, their bouncy resiliency and the deep-seated pliancy of the mounds as the paddle struck repeatedly, whapping the vulnerable cheeks with satisfying, solid thuds.

He began the paddling with quick but light taps, smiling to see Kip’s cheeks cowering in anticipation of the smack. Then he struck with more authority

THWACK!

Young Kip jerked convulsively, bounding up each time the punishing paddle bit into her soft wiggling behind. The paddle repeatedly slapped her wobbly little ass, slowly and not hard, but with precise deliberation. The pirate captain would happily paddle the girl, until he had her small jittering cheeks reddening and bounding under his punishing hand. Kip’s ordeal continued, the pace and force quickening. In no time, he had the girl mewing into the rubber stopper at each glancing slap of those little bobbing rear cheeks. The paddle slammed into her bouncy butt, again and again.

Then he seemed to conclude that she too, had had enough. Kip’s shoulders were heaving as she struggled for breath and shook her stinging bottom in wild agitation; the master disciplinarian stepped back to admire his handiwork — the ruddy blush imparted to Kip’s hard, young buttocks. There was a pause as the two girls struggled to regain their equilibrium. He rested a gloved hand on Mallory’s upraised buttocks, ran the hand over that throbbing rump, thoughtfully caressing Mallory’s well-punished posterior, while his still-inverted victim winced at even the slightest touch.

“Untie this one. I want her to see this,” the voice behind her said.

Mallory was being untied. Drained and hurting from her ordeal, she slid to her knees but as her sensitive bottom touched the carpet she bounded up abruptly.

“Put her there.”

Strong hands grabbed her under the arms, hauled her to her feet, and plunked her down in the chair she had so recently been bent over. The gag was thankfully removed. The nude girl sat gingerly on one cheek, shifting and squirming in her discomfit. She would much rather be standing at the moment, but he had wanted her sitting there, and sit there she must.

The chair had been turned so that she faced her comrade, who looked at her from between still extended and tethered arms, with desperation in those big moist eyes. Her heart went out to the poor girl, but there was nothing she could do.

The Pirate Captain grinned at her and stepped up behind her partner. She saw him work open the front of his pants to release a full-blown erection that stood proud and stiff lewdly pointing, like an arrow, to the underarch of the bent-over girl bound tightly before him.