CHAPTER4
Georg
Damn, Briana looked gorgeous, naked and bound, squirming over the metal chair. I had seen her picture in a briefing a few months back, on one of the rare occasions when I’d managed to make contact with my station chief. The picture, though, had only shown the blonde, blue-eyed girl’s lovely face; it hadn’t given a hint as to the loveliness of her petite body, the pertness of her B-cup breasts, or the perfection of the slight but definitely feminine curve of her hips.
Briana Tragner. Watch out for her,the text from control had told me. We’re not sure Opal will take her, but the modeling shows a pretty good chance.
Opal was the agency’s codename for Nicolai Garonov—aka at the moment Papa Nicolai.
My primary target, as part of the agency’s effort to defend Omislavan energy markets from his—and the other regional warlords’ corruption and pressure. When I thought about the various components of the organization I had joined five years ago, fresh out of college, it always seemed simpler just to call it the agency. In reality, as far as I could tell, my bosses comprised a flexible partnership of several Western governments, a few megacorps—the ubiquitous Selecta chief among them—and at least one shadowy, secretive NGO that apparently spoke in Latin a good deal of the time.
The complexity of it made my head hurt whenever I tried to figure it out, but in practice, in the field and undercover with Opal’s little army of power-hungry criminals, I didn’t think about it. I did my job, which had just gotten very, very complicated.
“Papa,” I corrected, still using the voice of authority. “Call me Papa Georg.”
“Yes, Papa Georg,” Briana said automatically, her eyes wide and troubled. Tears streamed down her face from the hard face-fucking that little prick Ivan had just given her. She didn’t seem in real distress, though, which tracked well with what I knew of her training. These bad girls were made of tough stuff—indeed, that pretty much represented the point of the synergy Selecta had established with the military on the SRD program.
Geopolitical affairs—currently in a state many pundits had already labeled The Energy Wars—had reached a point where specialized Western military deployments like the Lumberjacks had grown commonplace. From what I knew, Selecta had taken advantage, leveraging existing assets as they always did: in this case, the bad girl ‘intervention’ program that had originally sent its reformed submissives to wealthy men had proven a priceless source of the SRDs that current military doctrine viewed as essential to maintaining morale in the field.
After a successful tryout at stateside bases, bad girls had begun going into the field in a variety of different situations. The vast majority of them, from what I had heard at one of the many briefings I had suffered through as I trained for this assignment undercover with Opal’s organization, had accomplished remarkable things—indeed, several of the first few SRDs had joined up as soldiers and field agents after the tours of government-mandated service that finished off their judicial sentences.
Looking into Briana’s wide eyes, I thought I could see that her experience so far with the spec ops crew that called themselves the Lumberjacks had set her up nicely to do the same. If she and I could survive the next few days—at the most, I hoped—and I could get her back to them.
“See, Ivan,” Nicolai said to his henchman in Russian, “Georg knows how to do it.”
“Suck the cock, whore,” I told Briana, in my practiced German-accented English, still using the voice of authority. “Show me your skill.”
Her brows knit, and I could see in the tension of her features how difficult she must find it to realize that somehow her body’s responses had been attuned to my voice. I wished I could wink, or send some sign—any sign at all—that she had an actual ally in the room. I hoped that my not seizing her head and thrusting my hard cock down her throat might serve at least a little in that capacity.
She bent her head and, with her eyes still fixed on my face, gave my rigid penis a long swirling lick that demonstrated just how much she had learned in Advanced Guidance. I couldn’t suppress a grunt from deep in my chest at the surge of pleasure that shot through my whole body.
“Eyes down,” I told her, knowing the peremptory command would please Nicolai. When she had lowered her gaze to my lap, her cheeks reddening so deeply that I felt my cock leap against her lips, I turned my attention to Ivan. I spoke to him in Russian.
“If you only fuck her face,” I told him, “you don’t get to know what she can do.” Then, very theatrically, I caressed Briana’s head with my left hand, tenderly stroking her cheek. I spoke next in English, looking down at her golden head.
“This girl is a trained fuck toy. Don’t treat her like an inflatable doll.”
* * *
Briana
My mind raced.
Trained fuck toy. He spoke so much like one of my daddies, with that indescribable mixture of affection and degradation. Was this man with the German accent… this Papa Georg… trying to tell me something? How could he use the voice of authority? They had told me… my Advanced Guidance daddies had told me that only the men whose voices they had attuned me to could do that… could make my body obey them.
I gave a little sob. Fear surged in my belly, up to my neck so that I felt I could hardly breathe for a moment. I would display… I probably had already displayed… to Papa Nicolai and to Ivan the difference between my body’s reactions to the real voice and its response to their vain attempts to imitate it.
They would realize something was amiss, that I had tried to fool them. They would get rid of me.
My breath came hard and fast between my open lips as I encircled the head of Papa Georg’s hard cock with my lips, using my tongue gently in that spot just underneath that gives a daddy so much pleasure. Automatically, my breathing adjusted, coming more slowly and steadily through my nose. I blushed as I realized that the act of sucking a man’s rigid penis had this soothing effect on me, even with my hands bound behind the back of a hard metal chair.
I let out a submissive whimper as it became clear to me that I probably didn’t have anything to fear; as long as I kept up the act of the reluctant but wanton innocent, the slut who nevertheless clung to her modesty, I could make the two responses seem identical.
I raised my eyes to look up into Papa Georg’s face, suddenly wondering if he had intentionally commanded this oral service to give me time to think. If my body were somehow attuned to his voice, he might be an undercover agent, right? He might be planning right now how to get me out of here and back to my daddies—or maybe he had already planned it, and he only meant to kill time before the Lumberjacks arrived.
Foolishly, I gave in to hope and I beamed that hope and all my questions into the handsome, blue-eyed face above me. I tried to read the expression of the man whose cock I now took much more of into my mouth. I slid my lips down the shaft with a little whimper of need, feeling my forehead crease at the shame of giving that lewd service to a man I had never seen before five minutes ago.
His eyes said that he had no intention of helping me at all.
“Did I tell you to look up, whore?” he asked in a harsh voice. “Eyes down.”