Getting back to the matter at hand, depending on the intelligence of my target, I can be subtle or completely outrageous. If he’s not too bright, I’ll stagger around a bit, so he knows I’m easy prey. If he’s smart, and looks like he’s seen that trick before, I’ll clasp my gin and tonic tightly, and miss my straw once or twice. The smart ones notice that kind of thing, and sometimes less is more. The trick is to watch them without them knowing they’re being watched. It’s an art form, trust me. You need to use your ears just as much as your eyes.
At the moment, I’m watching no one and nothing. The room, which was illuminated just seconds ago, is now blacker than tar, and it grips me with a deathly cold embrace. Today, I am afraid of the dark – and with good reason. This is because some asshole has tipped me upside down and suspended me in a large tank, which is now rapidly filling with cold water. That water is currently cascading over my body and closing in over my eyes. It’s fucking scary, and as far as dark, twisted forms of torture go - this one is up there with the rack and the Iron Maiden. Waterboarding looks like child’s play, when compared to this baby.
My legs are attached to the ceiling high above me, and my hands are restrained behind me with thick, metal chain. My nipples feel like fire, due to a nasty pair of clamps and there’s some kind of dildo or vibrator over my pussy. Inside my mouth is a thick plastic tube which will allow me to breathe when the water level rises above my face. It’s not exactly a comforting thought. I already feel like I’m suffocating, and we haven’t even begun yet.
The surrounding tank is filling at an alarming rate, and I know that before long half it will submerge half my body in a freezing cold, plastic prison. Normally, I’d be working on my escape plan but if I can’t see, I can’t escape – so I may as well keep my eyes closed and concentrate on something else. Something like dying.
It bothers me that I can’t hear anything. I mean, I can, but only the rush and splatter of the water as it tumbles into the vessel beneath me. The sound roars in my ears, and by all rights I should be wetting myself about now (and I could, and no one would know), but I need to keep it together. This is one of those situations where it doesn’t matter how badly you want to lose your shit, you can’t. This is because if you do, you’re going to be in even deeper shit. I’m talking sewerage plant style, here. I have a sinking feeling this is not going to be my day.
“Whatever you do, do not panic and for fuck’s sake don’t let go of that breathing tube.” A familiar voice breaks through the noise of spluttering water, and it calms me. James sounds oddly breathless, though. I wonder if Alain’s been up to his old tricks, sprinkling half a dozen spanners and a circular saw into the mix. It wouldn’t surprise me. Whatever has happened, I’m glad he’s here. Although I can’t see a thing, the sound of James’s raised voice alongside me is comforting. It isn’t a cup-of-cocoa-by-the-fire type comforting, but it’s a damn site better than being left to fend for myself in this fish tank.
First things first - I am not going to panic. There are a number of rules assassins live by, and they differ from person to person, but my number one rule is: do not panic. You can’t think clearly when that happens, and you begin to make stupid choices and bad decisions. The ones that get you killed. Once you’ve succumbed to panic, it’s hard to pull yourself back from the brink. An elevated heart rate and a body full of cortisone and adrenaline is good for only one thing – running. Clearly, I wasn’t going to be sprinting anywhere, so I needed to keep a lid on the fight or flight. Rolling my eyes, aware that James wouldn’t be able to see me, I wondered what other words of wisdom he might care to share with me shortly.
Raising his voice again, so I could hear him over the sound of rushing water, he said, “I’m going to talk quickly because you won’t be able to hear me soon. Here’s what happens. The tank fills, and you’re submerged up to your waist. You’ll be able to breathe while you hold on to that tube. You’re down here until you orgasm at least fifteen times. All you need to do is last out the distance. You cannot scream. If you scream, you open your mouth. As soon as you lose that tube, you will have to physically pull yourself out of the tank for each breath you take, and I am not allowed to help you. It won’t take long for exhaustion to set in, and once you can’t get your head out of the water or start choking – that’s it – game over. There’s going to be some pain involved, too, but I know…”
James’s voice was lost for a moment as water began to lap around my ears. He’s given me enough, though. I know the rules of engagement. The rest should be self-explanatory.
“Lois, you have to hold on to that tube. If you don’t make it through this…” Those are the last words I hear before my eardrums pop as they are fully submerged. I can fill in the blanks. Either James was going to say something about skewering Alain’s brain with a pitchfork, or he was talking about killing himself. If it was the former, I applaud him. If it’s the latter, I don’t want to hear it. Seriously – I have enough going on right now.
When James cuts the elastic band around my head, I can feel it break. The breathing tube sways in my mouth, but I suck it inwards and keep a hold of it. I know it’s my lifeline, and there’s no way I’m letting go of it without a fight. Thankfully, it stays where it’s supposed to. Meanwhile, the water level is now up to my chin. The tank is probably a third filled with water, and as it closes in over my face, I try my best to keep focused. Fifteen orgasms and this is all over. As soon as the thought enters my head, the vibrator between my leg’s springs into life. It’s a powerful beast, but I should probably be thankful for that. While the tingle is forceful, it isn’t unpleasant. My clit doesn’t take long to sit up and pay attention. You’d think the last thing on my mind would be pleasure at this moment in time. Apparently not. My body knows James is on the other side of that tank and it responds accordingly. For once, I am thankful of the fact.
I’m currently trying to work out how many minutes I’ll have between climaxes if I want to complete this thing within an hour. It’s a good way to keep myself occupied, while trying not to think about dying in a dark, wet hole. Thankfully, my brain is still in good working order because I soon compute that if I want to do this reasonably quickly, I’ll need to orgasm faster than once every four minutes. Holy hell. I’m already doomed to failure. I can’t even imagine coping with all that inside of an hour, and it’s safe to say I have never managed that many in a day before, let alone an hour. Now I like pleasure as much as the next girl, but this has pain written all over it. I might get to enjoy the first three or four, but after that James is going to have fun squeezing them out of me. Still, if anyone can do it, it will be him.
When the vibrator is pulled out of my pussy with a little pop, I immediately miss it. The feeling of being filled was nice and the strong pulses against my clit were heavenly. I don’t have time to pout for long, though. James’s fingers replace the vibe and it’s as if my body can feel the electric current between us because my first orgasm is nearly instantaneous. Maybe it’s the adrenaline and the thought that I might die here, but I dissolve into soft spasms that have my body swaying slightly back and forth in the water. James instantly pulls his fingers away, and I’d frown if I thought there was any chance he could see me. I could have had a bit more fun with that if he’d let me. Then it comes to me. He wants me ready for orgasm number two as quickly as possible. He’s already thinking ahead. Very shortly my clit is going to become horribly swollen, and each further episode with his fingers will make it more so. It won’t be long before any pressure down there will be pain, so he’s trying to protect me from that as much as possible. I really should stop feeling sorry for myself. When he pats my thigh gently, it’s as if he’s giving me a reward for a job well done, and I’d smile if could. By all rights James should hate me, but he doesn’t – or not as much as he should, anyway.
I now realise why he made me suck his cock in front of Alain. It wasn’t to humiliate me, and it wasn’t an act of revenge. He knew he’d stand a better chance of getting m
e through this ordeal than Alain would. James was trying to protect me. I remember stumbling from that room, with my torn panties and ravaged throat, wondering what the hell had just happened. I’d had tears pouring down my face, and my body had disintegrated to mush. At the time, I’d wondered how he could do that to someone, but now I know. If Alain had been the one alongside me now, my body would have been as stiff as a board, and I’d be scared witless. Trying to climax with him calling the shots would have been almost impossible, and I’d have been down here for hours. Alain would have tried every trick in the book to make me lose the breathing tube, too. The bastard would find the idea of killing me in front of Adie and James highly entertaining. That sick and twisted little mind of his would revel in their suffering. Thank God I had James. Even though he didn’t like me very much at the moment, he didn’t hate me. This was proof, as far as I was concerned.
My thoughts were suddenly distracted as two fingers, slick with lube, entered me. He didn’t need it because I was already dripping wet. He only had to stand near me for that to happen, but I guess he wasn’t taking any chances with our little test this evening. If I’d have been scared witless, and by all rights I should have been - my pussy would be dry. Thankfully, we didn’t have that problem to deal with. He slid inside me as if his fingers were skating upon ice, and they sunk in deep. It felt good. Really good. When he pulled back to pulse inside me, tormenting my G-spot, I groaned around the tube inside me. Although I’d only come seconds before, it wouldn’t be long before I could go again. Around Adie and James my hormones seem to have revved up to a whole new level. I was now a walking, talking sex doll for these men, and I dropped to my knees at the click of a finger when one of them came calling. My previous sex life paled in comparison to what I’d learnt these past couple of weeks, and I wasn’t sure I could ever return to what I’d deem as ‘normal sex.’ If I wasn’t careful around these two, they’d spoil me for all future relationships – although that might not be a problem if Alain had his way. There was a good chance I’d be buried six foot under in less than an hour’s time.
Thankfully, James’s fingers don’t let me linger on that thought. They are thrusting inside me, with sure, swift strokes, and my PC muscles are spasming, trying to keep them exactly where I want them. I’m sure James is shaking his head, wondering how the hell I can be ready for another when I’ve only just come mere seconds ago, but he takes my body’s response as a good sign, and gently aligns his thumb with my clit. Letting it rest very gently over the seam of my sex, I can feel the rough pad torment me as he moves it to and fro. It can’t be more than thirty seconds since I last exploded, but I can feel another beast building inside me, jumping to get out. He continues with the soft pressure for maybe a minute, before his fingers become firmer. Before I know what’s happening, I’m off like a rocket, with wet tendrils of hair swirling around my head as my body rocks in gentle, undulating waves of pleasure. Maybe this won’t be as bad as I’d thought. I’m already two down, with thirteen to go, and my breathing tube is firmly anchored in place.
James’s fingers immediately return to sinking between my legs, as he tries his best to work my Kegel muscles once more. When I contract around him, he pats my leg, so I know this is what he wants, and I’m happy to oblige him. If my pelvic floor contractions are helping us move this along, I’ll try my best to squeeze the life out of his fingers. Besides, I still need another climax. These short, sharp bursts are all very well, but they leave me wanting. It’s a bit like being edged, but without the enormous firework at the end. I wonder if they’ll improve as we go along, or whether they’ll get worse. I have a feeling it’s the latter, but time will tell.
We fall into a rhythm after that, and though it takes James a little longer to pull out each subsequent climax, we work fairly well together until number seven. By now, both my body and clit are getting tired, and my focus is off. I’m thinking about all sorts of things, rather than what I should be thinking of – namely how to get myself off as quickly as possible. The trouble is, there are lots of crazy things that I need to consider. How do I kill Alain? How are James and I going to cope when we set off for Italy in two days’ time? Will we be able to pose as man and wife without getting into trouble? Where is the stash of cocaine? Would Alain really kill Adie if we failed?
A short, sharp smack on my right leg makes me jump. It appears James has noticed that I’m no longer paying any attention to his antics, and he intends to rectify that. Giving me four, hard swats with his hand on my inner thigh, I gurgle through my tube, and it shifts around in my mouth. Fuck. Sucking it back into my jaw tightly, my heart-rate speeds up as I realise what could have just happened. Concentrate, Lois. Time is off the essence here. Taking my clit between his forefinger and thumb, he then squeezes hard and I yelp. Thankfully, the tube stays where it’s supposed to because the swats were warning enough that I have to be careful.
James’s fingers are then infinitely gentle as he trails them down my thighs. My clit throbs in the wake of the pinch, but I’m guessing that’s the idea. He then dumps a handful of cold water between my legs, before pinching my clit again. There’s another loud grunt from me, but I’m holding on to the tube for dear life. I can’t help but wonder if James is trying to prepare me for what’s to come. He does this several times before his tactics change.
When his fingers dive back inside me, I’m already imagining a James and Adie threesome sandwich, and all I want is his fingers back where they belong – on my clit. This time, he seems to be tormenting me because he draws it out, pushing three fingers inside me and dragging them out slowly. With each tug he liberally smears my juices over my clit, but there’s not enough contact for me to enjoy it. Another minute goes by, and then another, before finally I get his hands back where I want them. Rubbing the pads of three fingers over my clit heavily, he almost has me screaming in seconds. The tube jumps around in my mouth, and I nearly choke on it, but somehow I hold on to the thing. Jesus. This takes water torture to a whole new level. I need to be careful.
By now, both my nipples and clit are protesting. My nipples have been clamped with balloon-style floats, and as soon as the water in the tank was full, they rose along with it, pulling to get free. Those little, yellow, air-filled balloons are causing my poor little teats no end of distress as they try their best to rise to the surface. Each movement I make in the water is echoed by subsequent mini jerks of pain. This is nothing compared to the throbbing that is going on between my legs. The tiny little organ nestled there is now bleating in agony, having suffered through seven consecutive orgasms. It had been fun at first, but we’d moved past that. Any pressure on my clit now spells agony, and I have a feeling things are about to get worse. Don’t panic. Ha! We weren’t even at the half-way point, and here I was, almost suicidal at the thought of another ‘little death.’ Focus, Lois.
To distract me from my woes, James runs his fingernails up and down my thighs. Giving me the occasional swat, which sends my body swaying through the water, he begins to ramp up my endorphin levels. When I feel the tap of the paddle against my leg, I know the warm-up session is over. Above me, I suspect that Alain’s calling the shots, and he’s bored. That man won’t be happy until I’m blue in the face and gasping for my last breath. I need to keep my wits about me. James is trying to prepare me for the battle ahead, and I have to figure out how to get through this. The tube in my mouth is my lifeline, and whatever happens I cannot lose it.
The paddle, when it comes down, is fast and furious. It sends my body swinging from one end of my murky, water-filled box to the other, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. The force of the swats push me all over the place, and I have to go with the flow. My makeshift snorkel doesn’t like the motion, and it begins to slip from my mouth. Clamping down on my jaw and sucking with my lips as tightly as I can, I keep a hold of it, but only just. Holy hell. If this is what I’ve got to look forward to, I’m not going to last much longer.
James delivers twenty swats with the pad
dle before he tips it on its edge and uses it to smack my clitoris. The pain is breath-taking, but also mind-blowing. He delivers a further five hard slices to my clit, before my body dissolves into convulsions – whereupon I start shaking uncontrollably. It’s the first decent orgasm I’ve had since this has begun, and the most dangerous. My mouth opens a fraction too far in a blissful purr of pleasure, and my precious cargo slips from my mouth. Oh, fuck.
The next three seconds are the slowest of my life. I feel the firm slide of plastic as it slips from my mouth, and my face twists into a caricature of horror. Automatically telling my mouth to close, I realise I’m too late because I taste nothing but water. It’s the kiss of death, in my deep, dark hole. If I don’t want to drown in front of James, I have a split second to rectify this situation – and it’s a long shot at best. Twisting my body, I open my eyes and shoot upwards from the waist. All I can see is swirling hair, writhing around me like snakes, but I know the tube will float upwards, and that’s where I need to be. When my nose bumps against something hard, I know it’s within my reach, but will I be able to suck it back inside my mouth? It’s unlikely, but it’s worth a go. Opening my lips as wide as I can, I angle my neck and suck as hard as I can. I get a mouthful of water for my trouble. Swallowing it down, I try again. I move quicker this time, and literally yank that bastard back inside my mouth, scraping my lip raw as I do so. Once again, my mouth is filled with water, but I retrieve my snorkel. Unfortunately, it is also filled with water. By now, I am running out of air, and I will need some to clear the tube. What the hell do I do now? Do not panic. Whatever you do, keep it together. It’s kind of hard not to panic, though, when you see your life ticking down in front of your eyes. I’m now starring in my own slow-motion movie, and it’s a film noir version. There is no happy ending for me here. The princess in this fairy tale has no knight coming to save her. If she wants to live, she has to save herself.
Embers: A Dark Romance Love Triangle (A Special Agent Novel Book 5) Page 2