by Loki Renard
“Seems to me you need someone to make good use of that mouth of yours, as you don’t know how to make good use of it,” he said conversationally, simultaneously sliding the zipper of his fly down. His cock sprang free, already perversely aroused by his plans for her.
Katie made a noise of complaint, but it was incoherent and quickly cut off as he slid his cock straight into her waiting mouth. Without the option to bite, she had to take the length of his hard, salty rod as he pressed it all the way to the back of her tongue, stopping just short of her gag reflex.
She could taste faint traces of soap on his penis as he thrust himself in and out with firm, possessive strokes. She had never imagined that her mouth could be punished, fucked in such a fashion. He was using her for his pleasure and censuring her at the same time, each stroke of his thick manhood a reminder of just how much he controlled her.
Tears began to pool in the corner of her eyes, completely unbidden. He had made her entirely helpless, and for reasons she could not fathom, having her mouth filled with his cock drove that point home more than anything else had.
His fingers were curled at the top of her scalp as he looked down at her, locking eyes with her so he could see the wetness forming about her lashes.
“Oh, you’re not going to cry for me, are you, Katie?”
Was that tenderness in his voice? No. It had to be sadism. That’s what he was, a cruel, sadistic bastard. She let out a guttural low growl as he slid his cock out, then thrust it in again, the head of his penis seeping pre-cum over her tongue.
“Remember,” he said. “You earned this. This is what happens when you disobey me.”
She couldn’t have replied if she’d wanted to. Not that he seemed to care about her opinion on the matter. He kept sliding himself in and out of her mouth, his cock growing harder with each stroke until she could sense that he was on the verge of orgasm again.
This time there was no hot cum splashing on her face. This time it was all channeled down her throat. She swallowed instinctively, tasting him on the back of her tongue as the last drops of his semen slid into the depths of her belly.
By the time he removed the gag, her resistance was shaken. The brief triumph she’d felt spitting porridge on him had completely evaporated, leaving her feeling more at his mercy than before.
Only when she was freed from his grasp, with his cum sliding down her throat, did Katie suddenly realize that she was feeling drowsy. Not naturally sleepy, but drugged. The porridge. The fucking porridge…
* * *
Jason chuckled to himself as he lifted Katie’s insensate form into the 4WD he had stashed out the back. In addition to being a ruthless assassin, she really was a complete brat. He really hadn’t seen the porridge coming because it was such a juvenile sort of thing to do. Oversight agents didn’t act out like that. They were cooler than that, more collected. That one little act of rebellion gave him fresh hope that the Katie he had once known was still in there.
Back in the day, she had been a spitfire, always challenging him, always getting herself into trouble. Oversight had knocked most of the playfulness out of her fairly quickly, so much so that the Katie he’d found in his cabin was a shadow of her former self, personality-wise.
It had been hard not to laugh, perhaps give her a swat on her deserving bottom. But Jason knew all too well that such a response would have been interpreted as weakness. If he was going to break Oversight’s pet agent of her conditioning, she had to see him as a relentless authority figure. Anything less and she’d just keep trying to kill him.
He laid her carefully in the back seat and ensured that she was well secured. They had quite a drive ahead of them, away from the area Oversight had staked out. He’d already pushed his luck staying for the couple of hours it had taken to make a first impression on Katie. In a few hours the place would be swarming with agents. It was imperative that he get both Katie and himself to a much more secure location to begin the rest of her deconditioning.
Chapter Two
Katie woke to bright sunshine, lying on soft sheets and with the soft scent of pine air drifting into her nostrils. For a few moments, she was happy. A deep sense of satisfaction and well-being pervaded her mind, until she made to stretch her arms and found that they were bound to a bed. She came to full wakefulness immediately, yanking at the ropes that held her frustratingly captive. A primal shout escaped her, a cry for freedom denied.
“Easy, Katie,” Jason’s deep voice cut through her panic as he entered the room and stood at the end of the bed, tall, unyielding, and downright scary. He had the face of a man who could do anything, and would. The complete lawlessness of a man who had abandoned all that was right in the world to do battle against the government.
“You’ll hurt yourself,” he said when she kept tugging at the bonds.
“And that’s your job,” she bit out. “Let me go.”
“You know I’m not going to let you go,” he said. “But I will untie you, now that I have you somewhere more secure. First we need to have a little talk. You might have noticed that there’s a collar around your neck.”
She hadn’t noticed. She had been too busy yanking at the ropes to notice the relatively light circlet around her throat.
“Now listen close,” he said. “Because this is important. That collar is essentially a personalized Taser. If you take any aggressive action or try to escape, I’ll activate it and you’ll be a very unhappy girl. Do you need a demonstration?”
Katie looked at him with searing hate as he waited for some kind of response.
He opened his hand and showed her the control. It looked innocuous enough, a dial and a couple of buttons. Could have been anything. A garage door opener, a personalized alarm. It occurred to Katie that he might actually be bluffing. If he thought he could make her cower with the threat of an oversized electric dog collar, he had severely underestimated her.
“Do you need a demonstration, Katie?”
“No,” she replied. “I can guess how it works.”
Jason spun open a butterfly knife, the blade flashing in brilliant morning sun. “Then I’ll release you. Now Katie, I warn you, if you make any aggressive move or if you try to leave this house, the collar will activate and it’s more than capable of disabling you.”
Katie said nothing as he cut the ropes holding her. Did nothing until the last one fell away. And then she moved. Fast. Faster than he expected, judging by the way he lurched backward. She went for the knife, seeking to wrest it from him. She was partially successful in that endeavor, slamming his wrist hard enough to make his hand release the blade just enough for her to pluck it. Spinning it in her hand, she thrust the knife toward his belly and…
Whack!
She was hit by a freight train. The shock was so powerful she not only dropped the knife, but lost control of her body entirely and fell to the floor, just barely clinging to consciousness.
Jason stood over her, shaking his head as she groaned groggily. Her arms and legs felt like heavy weights, refusing to respond to her instructions.
“You never used to be a slow learner,” he said. “The years have made you much more stubborn.”
Again with the talking as if he knew her. Katie could barely pay attention to his lies because the pain was too great. Every muscle in her body had spasmed and it hurt like hell.
Jason sighed and bent down to scoop her up, depositing her back on the bed. “You’ll feel better in a couple of hours,” he said. “The headache might persist a little longer.”
Katie let out a groan and curled up on her side, pulling the covers over her. She noticed, vaguely, that he had stripped her down to her vest. She was still panty-less, thanks to him cutting her underwear off the previous day, but he had left her some modesty. If it could be considered modesty to end up spasming on the floor naked from the waist down.
She heard his footsteps as he walked away, leaving her to her misery. She was trembling all over as her muscles recovered from the shock, leaving he
* * *
Jason went to the kitchen and poured himself a coffee, jaw tense as he, too, tried to relax. He did not like seeing Katie hurt. And he probably should have seen that attack coming. Some part of him was living a fantasy in which they were still lovers. Some part of him wanted to believe she cared about him so badly that it was making him careless. And that carelessness was going to get them both hurt if he wasn’t careful.
There was a pinprick of blood on his shirt. She’d actually made contact with the knife; a fraction of a second more and it would have mangled his guts. She was a ruthless piece of work, and this was a good reminder to treat her as such. Being soft wasn’t going to get either of them anywhere.
He did have to check on her though, make sure she hadn’t gone into shock. The collar wasn’t without risks. It was less lethal, not non-lethal. He was going to have to find a way to convince her to stop trying to kill him without shocking her into an early grave. With any luck, one dose would have done it, but he’d never been lucky where Katie had been concerned.
Sipping his coffee, he went back to the bedroom to see how she was doing. She was curled up in the bed, and for a fleeting moment he could almost let himself imagine that she was just sleeping in after a long night of lovemaking. That illusion was shattered when she rolled over and looked at him with hunted eyes.
“You’re an asshole,” she said through chattering teeth.
“That was a low setting,” he said, making sure his tone was appropriately callous. “A higher one will leave you entirely unconscious, and I don’t think you want to be unconscious around me, do you, Katie?”
“I hate you,” she growled. “And this collar isn’t going to do a damn thing to stop me killing you.”
“That’s where we’ll just have to agree to disagree,” he said, perching on the edge of the bed. She glared at him. He was glad to see that she was shaking a lot less. The effects of the collar were already wearing off. She’d be ready to make another attempt on his life in a few minutes.
He drank the rest of his coffee, put the cup down, and yanked back the blankets. Katie grabbed them, pulling them to her chest in a primal protective gesture that did nothing to help her. Her butt was bared and he leaned down and gave it a hearty slap, more out of desire to feel her bottom under his palm than for any other reason. She had such a beautiful ass, so firm and yet soft under his fingers. He let his hand linger for a long moment, until she started squirming.
There it was. The response she couldn’t contain. She came alive under his hand, her body responding to him in a way her mind did not. Her body remembered him. Her body knew that she was his. Now he just had to convince her mind of the same.
“Do you want a shower?”
“Why?” She cut her eyes at him. “Are you going to shower me yourself? Is this another one of your sick, sexual games?”
“No,” he said. “The bathroom is through there.” He pointed at a door. “There’s some clothing in there too. Should be your size.”
“So you’re going to watch? You pervert?”
“I’ll leave you in peace,” he said. “You have ten minutes before I check on you. And don’t bother using that time to try to turn a toothbrush into a shiv, or make a bomb out of bubble bath. A thrashing on a wet backside hurts like hell, so I’ve been told.”
* * *
Katie took the offer of a shower, because she needed one. The hot water would soothe the spasms, and it would give her a chance to collect herself. She had not been trained for this kind of scenario. Her training was to get in and get out, complete the job and go home. She had, of course, been trained to resist torture, but what Jason was doing wasn’t torture per se. It was something else. Something she didn’t understand.
She’d clearly been taken to a new location. They were no longer in the cabin. She didn’t know where they were, but the accommodations were impressively modern. The view out of the window was impressive too. They were somewhere up a mountain. She could see treetops and jagged ranges rising all around.
“This is a fucking lair,” she muttered to herself as she showered. It was a glass shower against a glass wall and she could see out into what seemed like eternity as she scrubbed her skin clean of the grime and dirt of the past twenty-four hours.
Upon getting out of the shower, she found the clothing he’d been talking about. It was… odd. There was a silk bra and panty set in her size, a simple white blouse and a skirt. She didn’t wear skirts, but for some reason she really rather liked the particular skirt he had chosen for her. It was clean, but it didn’t look entirely new. It was an A-line affair that would allow her to move, largely black, with contrasting cream lace detailing at the hem, which traveled up the sides of the skirt and became wave-like embroidery. It was simple, but clearly well-made and she was not surprised to see a designer’s label on the inside. She dressed in the panties, bra, and blouse, but stood for some minutes with the skirt in her hands, trying to work out why it felt so familiar while also being so completely foreign.
“One minute!” Jason banged on the door.
She swore under her breath and pulled the skirt on. It fit her like an old friend, leaving her with that strange, discombobulated feeling all over again.
She pulled open the door and gave him a hateful glare.
“You look beautiful.”
The compliment was so sincere, for a moment she forgot it was coming from a psychopath who had captured her, ravished her body, and was likely to torture her at any moment.
“Thanks,” she said. “I like the skirt. Is it from one of your previous victims?”
“In a manner of speaking,” he said. “It’s yours.”
“Mine,” she laughed. “I don’t wear things like this.”
“You used to,” he replied. “You used to have a wardrobe full of things like that. Cost a fortune.”
Irritation set in. “I don’t know why you insist on lying to me about things I already know are lies,” she snapped. “Seems like a waste of time. I know my own life.”
“Actually, you don’t. Are you hungry?”
The outrageous statement followed by the perfectly reasonable question threw Katie for a loop yet again. Jason was coming at her from all angles, confusing her, angering her, caring for her in some odd way she didn’t understand.
“I’m fine.”
“Come and eat.”
It was strange, being ‘loose’ in his presence with just the collar to stop her from launching an attack. She knew damn well that he still had the control for it in his hand, so as congenial as their conversation might be, it was no different than if she had still been bound.
He had prepared French toast. It looked good and it smelled even better. Katie found her mind flashing between the states of an angry captive and a hungry guest. There really was very little in the way of visual cues to let her know how very captured she was. If someone had taken a photograph of the little scene, they would have looked like a nice couple sitting down to breakfast.
Katie ate a piece of toast to regain her strength a little before turning on Jason once more. “Why don’t you take this collar off and let me fight you fairly? Why are you so afraid of me?”
He shook his head at her and waved the controller, just in case she’d forgotten that he could incapacitate her at a moment’s notice. “You’re not ready.”
“I was born ready, asshole.”
“You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you? Eat your breakfast, Katie. You’ll need your strength.”
“I can feed myself now? You’ve gotten over your fear of spoons now, have you?” she said in mocking tones.
“I’ll spank you for being a smart ass, Katie,” he said dryly “So watch that mouth of yours.”
She sneered and made a threatening gesture with her fork. He sat still, his brow raised. “I guess you’re getting spanked after breakfast.”
Katie found it hard to suppress a smile. Not because she was amused, really, or because the situation was funny, but because something about the way he spoke to her made her feel… naughty. And naughty wasn’t something she’d felt in a really long time.
“Think that’s funny, do you?”
“A bit,” she admitted. She picked up her coffee and thought about dashing it in his face. But that would have been petty and wouldn’t have helped her achieve her mission. The profile called for termination, and she was going to carry it out to the letter.
“You always were a brat, Katie.”
“And you always were… oh, wait, I have no idea, because we don’t know each other.” She rolled her eyes to the heavens.
“You’re wrong, Katie. You’re wrong about a lot of things.”
“Like what? Is my name not Katie either?”
“Your name is one of the very few things they left you with.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your employers, Oversight. They’re not precisely who you think they are. And you’re not who you are, thanks to the conditioning techniques they used on you. Oversight doesn’t tolerate mistakes, does it, Katie? There are no margins for human error in what they do, and that means that there’s no room for humans either.”
“I’m human,” she scowled.
“Biologically, sure. Mentally? You’re not like any human that ever lived. They’ve twisted all your natural drives to one end—killing.”
“I’m good at my job,” she said. “I’m not a monster. I’m not like you.”
“You’re more like me than you can possibly imagine. When you were recruited to Oversight, you were put through an exceptionally rigorous training program.”
“I know that.”
“You know some of it. What you don’t know is the part when they poisoned your mind, essentially suspended your consciousness and put you through a conditioning treatment designed to wipe away everything besides what they want you to think. They turned you from a smart, fairly lethal agent into the perfect killing machine. That’s why you’re so efficient, Katie. It’s why you no longer understand or have any interest in normal people. It’s why you live alone, why you’ve never taken a lover, and why even now you’re planning ways to cut out my heart with that butter knife.”
-->
