Caging Caitlyn

by Reese Gabriel

  Antonio pulled a pistol from the belt slung low at his waist. A single shot reverberated through the air and Martinez was a dead man, his body falling backwards onto the hard stone floor. The last look on his face as the bullet penetrated his skull had been one of pure shock

  "Shall we get down to business?” said Draco as though nothing had happened.

  It was one of his own henchmen who finished hooking Caitlyn up. They'd soaked her down in order to help the current. Draco stood watching, hands behind his back as the device was activated. He felt strangely sexy in his cruel predatory stance, arrogant, jaw thrust out, eyes of a killer, powerful chest barely concealed by the khaki shirt. If she were not chained up, he would have her on her knees before him, begging. She was his slave. His property.

  Still he had to remember she was an agent. With a code of silence. A code of death.

  The electricity ripped through Caitlyn's body, animating the nerves like puppet strings. She jerked in her bonds, twisting and contorting in time to the movements of the black knob on the machine.

  "More,” demanded the still offended Antonio, and the assistant increased the punishment.

  There wasn't even time for her to talk if she wanted to, but they didn't care. It was the erotic stimulation they craved. The ultimate high of seeing a beautiful woman naked and tortured.

  "Enough,” said Draco as she screamed out, threatening to bite off her own tongue.

  It was a Middle Easterner who stepped forward to interrogate her first. “What are your country's intelligence assets in Morocco?"

  Antonio snorted in disgust. “How would she know that? She's not CIA."

  The Middle Easterner pulled a blade from his long dashiki. “Keep talking infidel pig and I will feed you your own heart on a tray."

  Antonio scowled, but offered no further challenge. “Just hurry it up,” he said. “We all await our turn."

  The Arab turned the blade on the girl. “Answer the question or I shall slice off your left breast."

  Caitlyn sobbed softly. “I don't know, sir, and if I did I couldn't tell you."

  He touched the side of the blade to her erect nipple. “Do you think that I am only bluffing?"

  She shook her head, indicating she believed him completely.

  "No blood,” said Draco, having fixed in his mind a new policy.

  "You've been paid,” the man looked at him in disgust. “She is no longer your concern."

  Draco's heart was pounding. He did not want Agent Ross’ breast sliced off. In fact he did not want this terrorist or any of the others touching her. He hadn't expected this reaction. Presumably he was interested in punishing her more himself, but a part of him wondered if there might not be deeper emotions involved.

  If so, that would not be a good thing at all.

  "I will return all of your money,” he told the assembled men.

  Antonio had his pistol out again, this time aimed at Draco's head. “Not good enough."

  Draco's teeth set on edge. “If you kill me, you will never leave this house alive."

  "That will be my problem,” he cocked the trigger. “Not yours."

  Draco's men were aiming sub machine guns at Antonio's chest.

  "It seems we all be meeting our maker today,” Draco observed.

  The Middle Easterner moved the blade into striking position. “Allah be praised."

  As Draco saw it, his best option was to take out Antonio by himself and let his guards handle the rest. Fortunately Largo was in their lead, which gave them half a chance. A quick eye motion to scar faced islander on Draco's part and the plan was in place.

  Draco dropped low, lunging forward to grab Antonio's arm. The gun fired three times into the ceiling before the man collapsed backward under Anton's weight. Draco seized the weapon and shot him point blank in the chest. Largo, meanwhile, took out the Arab while the rest of his men mowed down the others.

  "Release the girl,” was all Draco said when they were done. “Use her if you like."

  They turned down the gift.

  "Thanks boss,” Largo answered for them. “The only love making in my immediate future is to a full bottle of tequila."

  "Suit yourselves. Just put her in my bedroom for me. In the cage."

  Caitlyn was unconscious as they undid the chains and took her up in their arms. After what she'd just been through the cage sounded good to her, damned good.

  Chapter Four

  Special Agent in Charge Lucas Dumont pressed the intercom button on his desk, calling for Sarah Renfrew, the new agent trainee. Fresh out of the academy, twenty three year old Sarah was a total hottie with silky yellow hair, a tight little body and perfect blue eyes. From the moment he laid eyes on her he determined to fuck her. She would probably resist his advances-the straight arrow newbies always did-but she'd learn in a hurry how things worked outside the nice safe little fantasy world of the classroom and the academy shooting range.

  It wasn't like he didn't need and deserve sexual relief. As agent-in-charge he was responsible for a hundred plus agents, not to mention the total operations of a field office currently handling over ten thousand separate cases in co-ordination with nearly three dozen local, state and federal law enforcement agencies.

  Caitlyn's disappearance had made things that much harder. He hadn't realized how much he relied on her, on her mouth, cunt and ass for his stress reductions. He'd pushed her pretty damned hard that last night, fucking her like a dog than spilling his rum soaked guts about being in love.

  Had she really run off on him and the rest of her life because of that? A note had been found in her apartment indicating she was taking time off to deal with the stress of the Draco case. He didn't buy it. Cait was an agent first, a human being second. The note was a fake. She'd been kidnapped or killed. But by whom?

  The coincidental accident involving the Department of Corrections bus transporting Anton Draco to prison had piqued his interest. According to dental records, his body was there, burnt beyond recognition, but if there was one thing that made Luke suspicious it was when things tied together too neatly.

  Could it be Draco hadn't died, that he'd managed to escape and subsequently capture Agent Ross? Luke had a dozen men on it right now, tracking down every possible lead. If he were Draco, he would slip south of the border, and if he'd done that, then they'd never see him again.

  Or Caitlyn Ross.

  Luke patted his hard-on safely hidden behind his desk. He had it bad today and every thought of Cait made it worse. He hadn't slept in a week since she left. It was time to get his head together. Caity Ross was gone and no matter what had happened, the results would speak for themselves.

  And not a damned thing he could do right now would change it.

  "You wanted to see me, sir?"

  Sarah Renfrew stood before him in a white blouse, gray slacks and pumps. He liked it when she called him sir. He liked it when any girl called him sir.

  "Yes, Agent Renfrew. I have called you here to inform you I am not pleased with your work."

  The magnificent, shapely shoulders slumped slightly. Her eyes dimmed a tiny bit. “Sir?"

  He imagined her crawling to him, kissing and licking his shoes to beg for another chance.

  "You're not in the academy any longer,” he told her. “I'm aware of your record there, and I can tell you, I don't give a damn about it."

  It was an impressive record at that. Third in her class academically. Second in marksmanship, fourth in forensics. She'd be a fine agent one day. She'd be a chief. He'd help her get there, too, but first she'd have to help him.

  "I know that, sir. And I apologize if I've given the impression that—"

  "Shut up, Agent Renfrew. You'll speak when spoken to."

  Christ, this went so far beyond sexual harassment. He was a pig, a goddamn pig. But his dick was hard as a rock and swear-to-god he would make her a career out of this in compensation, just like he he'd done for Caitlyn. Veteran, hard nosed Caitlyn who once upon a time, two years ago had com
e to him a drifting, scattered mess.

  Renfrew opened her mouth as if to object, but thought better of it. “Yes, sir,” she replied instead.

  Smart girl.

  "Do you want to know why I am not pleased with your work, Agent Renfrew?"

  "Yes, sir. I do."

  "It's because you're not up my ass, or anyone else's for that matter."

  She cocked her head in confusion.

  "With a record like yours,” he tapped the file on his desk, “you ought to be chomping at the bit to get into the real shit. You ought to be bugging the shit out of every one you can find to get a real case. Tell me, agent, what have you done so far since you've been here?"

  "F-filing mostly."

  "Filing. Fucking brilliant."

  Sarah lowered her eyes. Such a wonderful contradiction is a woman, he thought, tough as nails when she needs to be, ten times stronger than any male and yet when it came to sex they were soft as kittens.

  "I'll try to do better, sir."

  Luke pounded his desk. “Bullshit. What you'll do, Agent Renfrew is join me for drinks tonight after work."

  She went a shade paler. “Sir, I'm not sure—"

  "Not sure of what?” he interrupted. “That you're attracted to me? That you should be dating your boss?"

  "Yes ... both."

  He smiled inwardly, enjoying the way she was standing there, so completely at his mercy. Oh, yes, he was a pig all right.

  "So you don't think you're attracted to me? You wouldn't want to have sex with me?"

  She swallowed hard. Under more equal circumstances she'd be free to run away, slap him or tell him to fuck off. “Please, sir. That's a very personal question."

  Luke frowned. For some reason her sudden burst of squeamishness put him off big time. “Let me show you something, Little Miss Perfect Agent."

  Caitlyn's picture was in the file he'd started. It was a black and white, a face shot, but one that still showed the radiance of her whole body. “This is Agent Ross,” he showed her. “You've heard about her? She went deep cover, posing as a go between for a cartel. She put her life, her sex on the line to put Anton Draco behind bars. And now she's disappeared and there's a good chance he has her. What do you think he's doing to her, assuming she's still alive? Raping her-that's a given. Torture, too. Can you imagine it? Your body in the hands of a madman-completely at his mercy? And her only hope of escape is my finding her, given what I know about Draco and his habits. That is assuming I can make some guess where in the hell he's hiding. So don't stand there like it's all some game where you stand on your high horse and judge the rest of us. This is life and death, Agent Renfrew. All of which means that when I ask you a question, you answer, goddamn it!"

  "Yes!” She cried, her lips trembling. “I admit it, yes."

  He leaned back in his seat, recovering from his polemics. “Yes, what, Agent Renfrew?"

  She blinked, her cheeks flush. “I am attracted to you ... sir."

  "You would like to fuck me?"

  Another blink, this time moist. Her voice was very small as she looked past him to the picture of the president on the back wall. “Yes, sir."

  "Are you a slut, Agent Renfrew?"

  "N-no."

  "But you want to have sex with your boss,” he pointed out. “That's the behavior of a slut, is it not?"

  "Yes, sir,” she murmured, sensing she was in no position to disagree.

  Luke leaned back in his leather chair. His cock was going to explode in his trousers. “Have you any idea, agent, what happens undercover? Where and how we use pretty young women?"

  She shook her head, fighting back tears. She knew all right, she just didn't want to admit it. What Luke was going to say would be ugly, but it was a reality she'd have to face. With that body and face and hair, she was going to have a hell of an uphill fight.

  "They can be whores for one thing. Bait for johns and pimps, for crooked cops and judges and politicians who pay for hot, tight pussy. You could also pass for a gangster's toy, his sex slave, or a stripper. There's lots of them in the underworld."

  "I will do whatever is required of me,” she replied, recovering something of her dignity.

  Luke opted to cut her back down, fast. “Were you given permission to speak?"

  Her eyes lit up in realization of her error-and also of the humiliation of the command. “No, sir."

  "You're a bad girl, Agent Sarah. Bad girls need punishment."

  She shook her head. “You can't ... you can't do this ... sir."

  "I can, Agent Renfrew. It's part of your training. Now you will come over here, lie across my lap and receive the spanking you deserve."

  "It's not allowed,” she backed towards the door.

  "Walk out and you're through. Don't be naïve. You're thinking of protests and lawsuits and disciplinary actions but the truth is I'm agent-in-charge here and you're a peon. I've got a brass nameplate on an oak desk and you have yours on masking tape on a locker. Want to go back to fucking waitressing or whatever the hell else you did before the academy? Because that's where you're headed it you keep fucking with me."

  "Why,” sobbed Special Agent Sarah Renfrew, making no more moves to leave. “Why are you doing this to me?"

  He was tempted to say ‘because I can.’ Instead he said, “To make you strong. You want to beat the male dominated criminal world? Than learn it. Know it, backward and forward. You have the potential to be the best, Sarah. The best I've ever seen. You can put the bad guys behind bars and you can lead the troops, too. But it has to start here."

  This was the moment of truth. He pushed his chair back and patted his lap. Either she'd submit or flee. Either way, she would never be the same again. He'd changed her already, irrevocably, for better or worse.

  "Just so you know,” she wiped her eyes defiantly. “Off the record, I think you are a horrible man."

  "Thank you for your honesty. And just so you know, I think you are a delicious little piece of ass."

  She glared furiously, the look extra yummy on her lovely face. “Let's just get this over with."

  "Pants down first,” he told her, waiting till she was right in front of him.

  Sarah looked at him like she wanted to unload a clip or two into him from the pistol at her side. “I hope you rot in hell."

  He smirked watching as she unclipped the holster from her waistband and laid her nine-millimeter on his desk. The pants had a button and a zipper and underneath she wore pink panties. It never failed to turn him on, seeing how these professional women were just hot chicks underneath. No matter how hard they hid the fact, they wanted to be pleasing as sex objects to men.

  "Every smart ass comment only adds to your sentence,” he informed her.

  The pants came down over the perfect ass. If he had time, he'd make her take it all off. But that would have to wait for tonight, after drinks.

  Sarah was taller than Caitlyn and a little thinner. At five six, she was only two inches shorter than him. He outweighed her, though and out muscled her in every important way. For a moment she just looked at his crotch, but then pretended she hadn't. It was comical to watch her laying herself down, trying so hard not to actually touch her pelvis or any other part of her. Well, he'd fix that soon enough.

  "Hands on the floor,” he commanded. “Palms down."

  The clever girl made a bridge of herself, trying to keep from having to touch her crotch to his. Very hard to do, with her pants bunched at her ankles, in heels, bowed over a leather seat.

  Rubbing his hand very lightly over her ass, he added to her discomfort. Agent Sarah was in heat. He could smell her arousal. She was his now if he wanted her, but this, too, was something she was going to have to wait for.

  "You want this,” he told her.

  Sarah whimpered as he rubbed her panty-clad flesh intimately, like a lover. So sweet and soft, so easily wounded.

  The girl squealed with the first hard smack. Very un-agent-like, but totally like a female. Which is what she was. A woman
, over the lap of the stronger male being taught her place.

  Three more times he struck at her quivering globes. They were not love taps. She was down hard on his lap now, her crotch grinding into his throbbing hard cock. He toyed with the idea of having him suck her off, but decided not to push her too hard. She'd have plenty of chances to submit to him, so why rush the matter.

  "What do you have to say for yourself, Sarah?"

  "I-I'm sorry, sir,” she sniffled, sounding every bit the little girl she'd been not so very long ago.

  "Are you going to be good from now on?"

  "I-I'll try, sir.” He heard her panting. She was undulating, too, ever so slightly, pushing herself down against him. It was sheer female instinct. Punish a man and he will strike back. Punish a female and she will come crawling, begging to please.

  "You will meet me for drinks tonight."

  "Yes, sir."

  "And you'll wear something sexy. Leave early to change if you have to."

  "Yes ... sir.” Each reply was more like a moan than the last.

  "You're mine now, Sarah. You know that."

  She gave her affirmation, the very words making her quiver on his lap.

  "Do you have a boyfriend?"

  "I do, sir."

  "Break up with him."

  "S-sir,” she hissed. “I'm going to—"

  "No orgasms, Agent Renfrew. “Not till I say."

  He had her get up off his lap and put her clothes back on. Before pulling up her pants he had her test the wetness of her cunt. Her fingers came back glistening.

  "Lick them clean,” he ordered.

  Sarah's eyes were narrow slits. She was one of the readiest, pushover bitches he'd ever seen. He intended to take advantage of that tonight, riding her till the springs popped on his bed or the alarm clock went off for work tomorrow, whichever came first.

  "Now come here."

  She came to him like a small child. He zipped and buttoned her pants for her and clipped the pistol back in place. As a finishing touch, he spun her about by the waist and delivered a nice firm smack in the ass for good measure. Not punitive, but proprietary.