Hero Undercover: 25 Breathtaking Bad Boys

by Annabel Joseph

  Disobedient at Harvest

  As if to punctuate the shame of her transgression, the black rubber fringed cups, still linked to the machine in her stall, were draped over one shoulder, reminding the viewer of the reason for her current predicament.

  Other women were bound in elaborate harnesses, nearly suspending them above the cold floor, only their bulging, pale breasts left loose, giving forth their yield, so cruelly drawn from them. Still another was tended by another pair of men, a stocky, olive-skinned man on one knee at her hip, his pale gray suit coat draped casually over one of the bars, the sleeves of his white dress shirt rolled up to the elbows as his long, dripping fingers relentlessly plundered the soaking, deep red slot of the kneeling penitent’s sex. The wet sounds his intimate explorations made were loud, and he smiled at her embarrassed whimpers.

  Another man, dressed in a dark green polo shirt and deck shorts that showed off his tanned, muscular legs, knelt at her head, reaching down to slowly squeeze both of her breasts at the base, the dark hair of his strong hands contrasting dramatically against the vulnerable paleness of her soft, bulging flesh.

  She moaned loudly as he kneaded her again, harder, fresh squirts of milk clouding the inside walls of the clear tubing.

  He murmured to her to be quiet, to obey, to be his good girl.

  Eldon didn’t know how long he stood there watching the lurid tableau, but the gentle touch at his arm broke the spell.

  “Over here, sir. This is the first patient.”

  The term ‘patient’ was almost as surreal as the dairy-themed subjugation theater all around him, but he simply went with it, knowing he only had to put one foot in front of the other. Get the job done.

  Leading him over to a corner of the large chamber, well away from the main scene, he spotted a man crouched next to another naked woman. She was blessed with particularly wide hips and a soft, rounded ass. She knelt in that same corner, her bare back to the room, her arms too, suspended with chains, secured high enough to extend her arms, but allowing her to rest her bounteous backside on her soft, vulnerable heels, her feet folded neatly underneath her. Though her head was bowed between her arms, her straight, fine hair, the color of midnight, descended to almost the cleft of her bottom. She had been well-spanked, and recently too, the fresh, mottled hand and finger prints a storm across her otherwise alabaster buttocks.

  As they approached, the man with her looked up, smiling even as his dark brow curved upward slightly. He had a thick, dark beard, a touch of gray at the chin, his build powerful indeed, even the dark blue dress shirt failing to fully conceal his muscled physique.

  He stood, offering a hand. “Hi, I’m Jack Temple. No Dr. Forster?” He said it to Tamara, but kept his eyes on Eldon as he shook his hand.

  “He was unable to attend, so he sent me in his place. I’m Eldon, his assistant. What can I do for you?”

  The man shrugged, his grin fading a little. “I was hoping for the doctor, but maybe you can help me too. My brother’s flying in from a business deal in Dubai, and I like to loan out my wife to him anytime he’s in town. He’s had a soft spot for her since we were all kids, and it’s the least I can do for snatching her away from him.”

  “You mean… her?” Eldon tipped his head toward the kneeling woman.

  “Of course.” The man gave him a quizzical look, as if such a question was ridiculous. “Anyway, here’s my problem. My brother is known to have, uh, proclivities that run to… well, when it comes to sex, he likes it a little rough. How much is safe, though? I want him to enjoy himself, and frankly, she’s never more obedient and docile than when she comes back to me from a hard night in his bed, but I don’t want things to go too far either. Other than spanking her ass when she needs it—as you can see—I go relatively easy on her now, as it is.”

  Eldon was mystified as to what he meant by ‘now.’

  Jesus, this place keeps getting more insane.

  Then the man had his wife turn and face them. She was tightly blindfolded, her teeth worrying her lip, her cheeks blazing scarlet as she turned her face up to them.

  “Say hello, girl,” the man said, his voice cool. “You know what’s expected. Spread your legs like you’ve been taught.”

  Her blush burning brighter, she forced a wan smile. “H-hello. I’m… Jessica.”

  Eldon just managed to keep his jaw from hitting the floor. The woman was quite pregnant, easily into her seventh month, her nipples darkened and thick, her belly very round and heavy. Now it was clear why the man was worried about his wife engaging in the rough stuff.

  Eldon tried to roll with the fact this man was okay with—and even appeared to look forward to—the prospect of sharing his pregnant wife, letting her service his own brother sexually.

  Lord.

  Fortunately, he’d heard enough questions like it while working in Forster’s practice that he felt comfortable telling him what he’d heard the doctor convey on more than one occasion.

  “I’m not an OB, so I’ll have to confirm with Dr. Forster. If he doesn’t have your contact information, I’ll need that to… get back to you.”

  Eldon looked to Tamara.

  “The director has it. I can provide it if you need it.”

  “Thank you.” Eldon cleared his throat, turning his attention back to the man, all the while trying to keep his eyes off the dark delta of hair at the apex of Jessica’s lush, spread thighs as she knelt in embarrassed silence. It was especially surreal to speak to her husband with her present, as if her being there didn’t matter in the least when it came to discussing how she was to be used.

  Used. Don’t let yourself become this person.

  Eldon pressed on. “Sex is perfectly safe, barring any restrictions from her OB—Dr. Forster, I assume?”

  The woman’s husband nodded. “He gave her a clean bill of health at her last check-up.”

  “Okay, that’s good. Obviously, in her condition, missionary is out and having her on her back at all can be problematic due to compression of nerves and blood vessels. Spanking should be, uh, fine… but anything else is wise to cease at that point—especially anything super stimulative of the nipples, as that can sometimes induce early labor.”

  “Hmm,” Jack looked down at his wife, scratching his jaw. “She’s destined to join her sisters at the pumps, but not until after our baby is born.” He met Eldon’s gaze then, a glint in the man’s eyes that was pure lustful avarice. “There’s no way she’ll be allowed to end lactation until I’m ready, though—if ever.”

  Jessica paled at that pronouncement.

  Her strict husband continued. “I brought her down to the harvest sheds to see what awaits her once the time is right. She proved recalcitrant when she saw what they do here, so I bound and blindfolded her, then disciplined her. Forcing her to face the wall and listen in obedient silence to what happens in here is a lesson I don’t expect she’ll forget soon.”

  Jack took Eldon’s hand once more, shaking it vigorously. “Nice to meet you, Eldon. See you around sometime?”

  His half-hearted reply to the man was interrupted by a whisper at Eldon’s ear, Tamara’s warm breath sending a welcome frisson down his spine. “We need to see the other one, sir.”

  Parting ways with the Temple couple, Eldon tried to shake off the troubling mixture of shock and fascination sinking its claws deeper into him by the minute.

  Taking him to one of the last stalls, Tamara stood aside, revealing another woman, kneeling obediently within its metallic confines. She was raven-haired and voluptuous, her figure perhaps the most shapely yet—save Tamara’s. She was the oldest of the women he’d seen yet, perhaps in her early forties.

  You need to bury that shit, right now. That’s the last thing you need.

  Already extremely well-endowed, the woman’s figure was rendered even more dramatic by the waist cincher which squeezed and lifted her generous bosom, proffering the large bare breasts in blatant sexual display. The grip of the black lace waist cincher was so tight, th
e woman was practically panting.

  She knelt at the feet of a man in a charcoal blazer and slate-gray slacks. Standing in silence, looking upon the other women being milked, his flinty gray-eyed gaze suddenly alighted upon them. His fist was clenched tight about the leash affixed to the snug collar about her neck. Her plump mons was entirely shaven, her mound fetchingly prominent, much like the large brown nipples of her breasts. Unlike the others though, she was not subject to yielding to the cups.

  She gazed at the floor, blushing to the roots of her hair, flinching a little as one of the women across the room cried out with a sharp gasp, followed by a pleased rumble of male voices.

  “This is Mr. Drayton,” Tamara said, giving the man a deferential nod and a slight smile. He inclined his chin, tugging at the leash. His kneeling companion knelt higher.

  “Heller told me we were sans MD today.” He looked Eldon up and down as an angler might a borderline catch, determining whether or not to throw the flopping fish back in. “I suppose he’ll do though, in a pinch.”

  The man had a slight English accent, barely detectable. The clipped, aristocratic tone only made Eldon want to knock the man’s teeth down his throat even more.

  “My Gia’s been dealing with a mild case of mastitis,” Drayton said. “I was hoping there was a way to clear it up as soon as possible. I want her fully contributing her fair share. My wife is a little… resistant to totally surrendering thus far. There’s no better way to impart the importance of that requirement than what this place demands of girls like her.”

  Eldon was unsure how to handle the inquiry. He was out of his depth here, even if he had to do everything to hide that fact.

  “I’m afraid Dr. Forster will need to handle—”

  “Well, at least examine her, sir.” Drayton scowled at him, tugging on the leash twice more and peering down at the kneeling woman. “Present those tits properly, Gia.”

  Oh shit.

  The woman had pivoted on her knees to face Eldon, drawing her arms behind her and pulling her shoulders back, throwing her luscious breasts into outrageous prominence. Her blush darkened even more, her gaze not leaving the tips of his shoes.

  Forcing himself to crouch down, Eldon dared to tip her chin up until he could see her quite pretty brown eyes, mouthing to her, “It’s okay…” even though inside he knew this was anything but.

  Having no real idea what he was looking for, he took her heavy breasts in his hands, gently palpating them to feel for lumps or swollen nodes. The right felt considerably tighter, especially behind the areola.

  Feigning clinical coolness as much as he could, Eldon looked up at Drayton. “Was it the right side?”

  “It was—she developed it there almost immediately, unfortunately.”

  Horrified, as Eldon continued the manual exam, his cock came suddenly to life, but all he could think of was how Tamara’s breasts might feel instead. How he’d clench them tight until she groaned, luxuriating in the vulnerable, smooth flesh, squeezing and kneading them until she cried out for mercy… or for no mercy at all.

  Stop it! What the fuck is wrong with you?

  He let the woman go and stood, his hands shaking slightly, hoping the jeans he wore helped lessen the obviousness of the bulge growing at his crotch. If anything would give him up as a total bullshit artist, it would be sporting a fucking erection at the mere sight of a few naked boobs.

  He was in serious danger here.

  “What do you say?” Drayton’s hawkish eyes watched him very intently indeed. “Is there anything to be done?”

  “Uh, I know that antibiotics are usually tried first, but I can’t prescribe—”

  Drayton waved his free hand dismissively. “I’ll inquire with Dr. Forster on a prescription later. What else then?”

  “The infection doesn’t always respond to antibiotics very well, and it can recur. If the mastitis returns, lactation is usually ceased permanently.”

  The man winced. “Let’s hope she’s one of the lucky ones then.” He knelt down, grasping one of Gia’s great breasts, shaking it like a dog might a chew toy. “It would be a damned shame not to see beauties like these used to their full potential!”

  You need to get out of here. Right now.

  Like an answer from Heaven above, Eldon’s radio crackled to life. “Need you back at the residence as soon as you’re able.”

  It was Director Heller.

  His heart sank, even if it afforded him a chance to gather his composure again—away from the twisted scene in the harvest shed.

  Eldon knew it meant something had gone wrong.

  Chapter 4

  I watched Eldon closely as we made our way through the central residence. The doors opened onto a massive open lobby area that soared up three floors, luxurious, and well-appointed loft/mezzanine spaces on each level flanking the lobby. At the back, a massive polished wood staircase led up, splitting as it diverged to the left and right on its way to the second floor, the plush upholstered runner a crimson ribbon dripping down the center of the risers. It looked like nothing less than the stunning lobby to a great lodge or alpine hotel.

  The sight never ceased to inspire at least a tiny bit of awe in me. Judging by the way the enigmatic Eldon gawked at the surroundings, it was clear I wasn’t the only one subject to the effect.

  He followed me in silence down the long corridor toward the director’s suite, nodding deferentially to the black-clad hulks MacAllan and Luske—Heller’s two personal bodyguards—as they punched me and Eldon into the director’s personal sanctum. The familiar smell of pine and a subtle hint of a mild perfume washed over us as we walked into the man’s cool, shadowed office.

  He was on the phone, the gray headset in one hand as he waved us in with his other. He gave us a grin that was far more wolfish than warm.

  We sat in the upholstered chairs set before his massive cherry wood desk. The thing seemed to take up half the room, even more so when a woman had been called to prostrate herself over it for a tight twelve with the cane.

  Fortunately, I’d never been called upon to render such service, but I’d been witness to it on countless occasions. The man was fearsome with the rattan, that was for certain.

  I admired that fact almost as much as I feared it.

  Fortunately, the director did not make us wait long, hanging up and lighting a stout Cuban from an ornate gold-filigreed humidor atop his desk. “I’ve largely quit the habit—unhealthy, of course—but on certain occasions, it’s called for. Especially celebrations.”

  “Uh, celebrations, Mr. Heller?” Eldon had pulled his knee up, crossing his legs with a forced casualness. It was duly noted by the keen eyes of the director.

  Eldon was exceedingly nervous. But about what?

  Can I blame him? What normal, kind man wouldn’t be after what he’s just seen?

  That fact only intrigued me more, a quality in a man that was so rare here, a hint at a character of principle, and kindness—and perhaps even more.

  For I’d spied the bulging evidence of quite another aspect of Eldon’s character as he’d examined Drayton’s wife-cum-slavegirl. Even Drayton had seemed to notice it, though he’d gracefully said nothing to embarrass the newcomer. It wasn’t as if such a thing were unknown; Dr. Forster greatly enjoyed his work at the farm, tending to subjugated females something that regularly rewarded him… in more ways than one.

  Though I’d never been assigned to attend Dr. Forster in his quarters—mine was a special case, after all—nearly every other inmate at the place had, at one time or another. He was voracious, and appreciated variety almost as much as he appreciated abject obedience and a keen willingness to please.

  Which made me all the more curious to know about why Eldon had been sent in his stead.

  “We’ll get to the celebration topic in due time, Eldon.” Heller puffed on the cigar, blue smoke wafting around him, the note smooth and subtle on the air. “For now, let’s get you situated. Since you’ll be staying overnight, I’ve assigned y
ou to one of our suites on the fifth floor. Good views from up there, when the fog’s away, that is.”

  “That… that’ll be nice. Thank you, Mr. Heller.” Eldon tucked a lock of his dark hair back from his eyes, fixing his gaze upon the man. “I do have a couple more questions, if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course,” Heller said, waving the cigar, leaving an s-trail of bluish smoke in the air before him. “I thought you might have a few more… inquiries.”

  “One of the patients—she’ll need a prescription. I can’t write one.”

  “You can tell Dr. Forster when you arrive tomorrow morning.”

  Eldon visibly relaxed at the words. “That… that’ll be fine too.”

  “Anything else?” Heller tapped some ash into the sparkling, cut glass ashtray on his desk.

  “Well, I suppose I need to ask about… what’s going on in the harvest shed.”

  “It’s exactly as it seems.” Heller took a long drag on his cigar, his eyes narrowing as he looked at them both. “We cater to a very particular—and voracious—market. Not everyone can provide the product that we do. Not everyone has the means to obtain the product in the way that we can.” He looked out the window in the direction of the sprawling harvest shed. “That milk is practically liquid gold, Eldon. And nobody ever enjoyed obtaining it more than I do—along with everyone else here. The Dominion Trust affords us a certain… latitude… to operate in the way we think is best. In return, we provide them with a valuable commodity—and an even more valuable service for certain women in need of the tough love one tends to find in this place.” He smiled slyly. “Intrigued, aren’t you?”

  “I… I don’t really know what I am,” Eldon said, scrubbing a hand across his face. Then he straightened, seeming to gather himself. “But it doesn’t matter. I came here to do a job for Dr. Forster—and for you—and I hope I’ve done it to your satisfaction.”