by Jesse Jordan
Stephen struggles and I twist his wrist a little, and he finally reaches out with a hand and taps the ground, giving up. I don’t let go, and I see a flare of panic in his eyes. “Hey, what the fuck? I tapped!”
“In this world, you don’t let go when someone taps out, you stop when they are dead or crippled,” I growl, grinding my elbow into his neck a little more until his face is pressed into the concrete hard enough to leave marks. I let go and get up, stepping back to my table while he recovers. “Now, are you going to listen, or am I going to have your body dumped in mountains to be eaten by the animals, mourners please omit flowers?”
Stephen rolls over, rubbing the back of his neck. “You cheated. I thought you were hurt.”
I laugh and sit down, shrugging. “Again, in this world there is no such thing as cheating. I don’t know all the details of the rule book you’ve been going by Knightsbridge, but you need to throw it out the window. It’s just going to get you killed. So… shall we begin?”
Stephen
My neck aches, I’ve got a scratch on my cheek that itches now, my left shoulder and wrist hurt, but I think the more painful part is the look in Larissa’s eyes as she asks me if we should begin. I’m tempted to tell her to fuck off, this isn’t in the CIA rule book, but then I remember Chastity Hendrick’s smiling face, and then what she looked like on that beach. Grudgingly, I get up off the floor and go over to the table, sitting down. “Okay, okay. I’m listening. Just... can the Brit slang, please?”
Larissa studies me with those disturbingly violet eyes of hers, and I take a moment to think that even if she hadn’t faked twisting her ankle, it never would have been a fair fight between us. She’s beautiful, more beautiful than my sister even, her pictures in her file didn’t even start to do her justice. Voluptuous, her top molds itself to her generous curves like it was custom made for her, emphasizing the deep hollow between her breasts and the golden olive tone of her skin. Her face, even when she’s angry or arrogant, which so far is all I’ve seen her, is the kind that would haunt a man’s dreams with one glimpse, but most arresting of all is her eyes. Violet doesn’t even begin to cover the depths of what’s looking out at me, full of intelligence, but also a haughtiness that is regal.
Simply put, fighting her was like fighting a walking sex goddess. The Greeks have the myth of Aphrodite, and maybe that’s who Larissa shares a bond with, because she’s pure seduction in almost every movement she makes. She’s a fantasy in the flesh, but when she talks or looks at me, all I want to do is figure out a way to wipe that smug, arrogant grin off her face.
Still, she kicked my ass and I lost. And she was right, in Deep Cover there’s no giving up just because you’re in a bad position. Larissa takes a moment to study me some more, then nods, sitting back.
“Okay. Let me start off by giving you the quick summary of what you’re involved in. If I repeat what you already know from your briefing, don’t worry, I make it a lot more interesting than what some dull briefing file can communicate.” Larissa sits back, and I do my best to focus on her words, but my body’s remembering the feeling of hers when she was about to kick my ass. My cock whispers that this woman isn’t like any other woman I’ve ever known, but at the same time, it doesn’t want to be at her mercy ever again. “Hey, Yank! Pay some fucking attention!”
“My name’s Stephen,” I growl, glancing back up at her face. “I’m not a Yank! Go on.”
Larissa rolls her eyes and leans forward. “I belong to a criminal organization called The Network. It stretches world wide, although this area, the Mediterranean, is the primary hub. I’m one of the capo.”
“Who specializes in information and assassinations,” I complete, and Larissa shakes her head. “That’s what my file said.”
“Oh, I still do that, but since one of your countrymen eliminated The Network’s man in the Middle East, most of the contacts and Mideast trade flows through my area. I have the contacts that moves weapons, drugs, women and more through there to the tune of about two and a half billion dollars a year. You must realize Stephen, if The Network was a normal company, it would be in the Fortune 100.”
“A fortune of crime,” I fume, angry again. Isn’t she supposed to be on my side? “Yet you sound like you’re proud of being part of such a group. Why?”
Larissa shakes her head, muttering under her breath in something, maybe Greek, before she looks at me again. “You think that The Network exists outside of legitimate areas of power, don’t you? Let me guess, you think that the US government and your CIA are the good guys, and The Network is the bad guys. Am I close to the mark?”
I nod once, glaring at her. “I’m not totally ignorant, I know the CIA has to do some bad things, but it’s for a better purpose.”
“I’m sure that a lot of good, innocent people have said the same thing right before they did atrocities as well,” she shoots back. “Stephen, if I wanted to I can give the American capo a call, and by the end of the hour get you a list of over a hundred members of your own government who are customers of The Network. For America, it’s mostly drugs and girls, a few boys too. You don’t want to know just how many ‘housemaids’ there are working for politicians and billionaires who came to America on a Network boat.”
I want to argue her, but I see it in her eyes, she’s dead serious. “Still… why? Why are you still doing this, and not taking them down? Aren't you supposed to be helping your country?”
Larissa laughs, and I think she’s genuinely amused. “Aww Stephen, you’re so cute with your innocence. It’s very simple why The Network is allowed to continue, it allows our governments to do the things that it doesn’t want the people to know about. Think about it, do you really want to know how it is that every ‘resistance fighter’ in the world is fighting with Russian made rifles while using American electronics? It’s because our governments use The Network as the under the table suppliers. The Network allows those with power in our countries to do whatever it is they want without having to look the people in the eye to tell them how bad they’re fucking them over.”
“So why continue to do it?” I ask, searching for any sign of humanity in this woman. Nobody can be this beautiful and be this empty at the same time, can they? “Why? It mentioned in your file that you were a kidnap victim. So why keep this going?”
“You don’t listen very well, do you?” Larissa says in frustration. “Stephen, this will continue whether we shut The Network down or not. The best that we can do, and I’m being one hundred percent fucking serious, is to steer what we can to protect the actual innocent and occasionally we get to try and stop the worst of the worst. Like who I suspect is who we’re looking for.”
“Who?” I ask, willing to set aside my frustration about Larissa for now. “You have a lead?”
She nods, sighing. “You mentioned a moment ago about me being a kidnap victim. You know a lot. When I was just seven, I was taken from my home and sold to be a sex slave. I stabbed the bastard before he could touch me. The group we’re going to have to go after, they’re the type that would have kidnapped me. You see, The Network at least has some rules. These guys, I call them The Circle just for convenience’s sake, they don’t.”
The way Larissa, who’s been through more than I can even imagine before she was even ten years old, says they don’t makes me shiver. “What do you mean?”
“They specialize in corruption, even more than I do,” Larissa says. “If you want a sex tour beyond the outer limits, and you’ve got a couple million dollars, they’ll get you anything you want.”
“Anything?” I ask, confused, and she nods.
“Anything. I see you don’t understand. Have you ever seen A Serbian Film?”
“No. I’ve heard about it though.”
Larissa sighs and shakes her head in frustration again. “I see. Let me guess, wild sex for you has meant getting a little bit of a blowjob before missionary and you get real wild by leaving the lights on. No… this is something you can’t even imagine then
. The Network may be corrupt Stephen, but The Circle… they’re evil. Not in the whole ‘moral equivalence’ evil, but the big, capital letters, no questions asked evil. But because of that, and because of the money they’ve got and the power they can influence, they’re hard to get their hands on. I’ve been able to identify some names, some locations of their minor people, but that’s it. I could never confront them directly until now. And now, we have to get you ready.”
“Ready?” I ask, confused. “What do you mean?”
Larissa stands up and rubs my shoulder. “The bare chested look is nice, but not quite right for work, and I can never get you anywhere we need to go dressed like you were. You have a lot to learn about who you came to hunt. Come on, I’m taking you shopping.”
I feel ridiculous, but at the same time strangely turned on as Larissa takes me to four different stores in the town of Kalamata in order to, as she says ‘properly outfit me.’
Part of it is that I’ve never been one for fashion. The CIA handbook says that in the office I’m to wear a certain type of suit, so that’s what I wear. I wore khakis for the airplane flight over because I didn’t want to mess with jeans, and the polo shirt is again part of the handbook. But I have to admit, as Larissa smooths the button down shirt she calls a ‘resort shirt’ over my chest and arms, I like the way this all feels.
Most of it, I hate to admit to myself, is that Larissa’s been very interested in me the whole time. Whether it’s her evaluating look as I turn this way and that in a pair of pants, or even when she of all things checked me out in my underwear, declaring my standard briefs as ‘boring tighty whities,’ her eyes have roamed over me constantly, and her hands too. My cock’s been humming, and it’s taken every bit of willpower in me to not get hard in front of her. Not that I'm doing a good job of that, honestly.
Still, I can’t help but flirt back a little. “Like what you feel?”
Larissa chuckles and pats my chest before squeezing my arm and looking at me with those piercing violet eyes. Since stepping out of the warehouse she's shifted to an American accent, and it's both easier to deal with and a lot less sexy than her British one, thankfully. “You’ve got a lot to work with buddy. And you’ve got the type of body that these clothes were designed for. I know a few people in Paris and Milan who’d love to get their hands on you.”
“No thanks. I’m not interested in being a model,” I reply, and Larissa laughs. “What?”
“I didn’t say they wanted to get their hands on you as a model. I said they’d want to get their hands on you. You gotta learn to pay attention better. All right, you’re wearing that for now, let’s get you a light dinner and then I’m taking you to a club,” she says, turning to the shop assistant and rattling off some Greek that’s both sensual and commanding. She's got a presence in her native language, and with the way everyone's jumped at her every command, I can tell she's used to being obeyed.
But as I watch her move, as I watch her order the shop assistants around and even when she touches me, I want her. Not in the vanilla, plain way that she made fun of me at the warehouse, but in another way, something I’m not sure I even understand. I want to claim her, to turn that arrogance around on itself and make her humble before me. I don’t know exactly how I could do that though, which is frustrating too.
Larissa drives us to what looks like a business area of Kalamata, which so far has seemed more like a mixed resort and shipping town than anything else. That and the olives, there’s the namesake olive fucking everywhere in this town. But this part of town is different, and as we pull up, there’s nobody out front. “Lively place. What’s the waiting list to get in, five seconds?”
“The waiting list for a trial membership is currently two years for a normal person, but for someone like you we’d make exceptions,” Larissa says, smirking. “This isn’t a dance club.”
The valet outside takes the keys from Larissa like she’s a queen, and I realize that whatever this place is, she’s either the owner or controller of it. “Network?”
“Mmm-hmm. Now, in here, I have no name. I am either Mistress or The Dryad. Got it?” she says, her eyes twinkling but deadly serious at the same time. “Let’s start your education.”
The doorman lets Larissa through with a bow, but stops me to frisk me, his partner ready to help if I cause any trouble. I can see the imprint of the guns under their jackets, and I keep still, even as the guard cups by crotch. He makes a comment to Larissa, who laughs. “What did he say?”
“He says you’re armed, but maybe not dangerous,” Larissa says, then says something to the guard who lets me through. “By the way, what foreign languages do you speak?”
“Chinese and German,” I answer. “Nothing that’d help here.”
“You’d be surprised. In any case, I’ll make sure you meet people who can speak English here,” she says. “Hold onto your hat Dorothy, you’re not in Kansas any more.”
The first thing I notice when I step through the doors is the lights. They’re dimmed, but nowhere like a dance club. Instead they’ve been brought to almost a mysterious level, with circles of light that highlight certain areas of the club. What’s in those areas strikes me next, as in one of them two men are dressed in leather on a what looks like a narrow platform, making out while they grope each other, one of them fishing out the other’s cock to start jacking it off. I turn to look in another direction to see a girl who’s on something that looks like a big X, her body almost totally naked except for the ball gag in her mouth and the red cloth in her hand.
“You brought me to a sex club,” I comment, disgusted and turned on at the same time. Here’s what I’ve never had in my life before, and even though I personally wouldn’t be interested in joining the two leather boys on the couch, the sounds they’re making are at least more satisfied than anything I’ve ever made in the bedroom. Still… this is perverse, isn’t it? I mean, I've read stories, and there's sites I've visited on dark nights with my tablet.... but that's fantasy, not this. Nothing I've ever done or seen has prepared me for this.
“Of course I did,” Larissa says, leading me over to the bar where she puts in an order. “You need to learn what your prey thinks, what they want, what they’re looking for. Look around, what do you see? Not on the surface, look deeper.”
I look around, seeing quickly the ‘customers’ and the ‘workers.’ The girl on the X, she’s a worker, but at the same time she’s enjoying herself as she shows her lean, youthful body to whoever wants to do something with her. The two gay men are more difficult to discern, but I figure it out eventually as the pro rides the customer’s cock. “This isn’t just a club, it’s a brothel. The girl on the X, she’s a worker.”
“She’s one of my best,” Larissa confirms leading me over. She hands me a glass, and I'm pleased that it's a good scotch, I wonder how she knew that's my preferred drink, or maybe we share similar tastes. “She’s a natural submissive, all the girls in this club are. There’s another club for customers who want to be dominated, it makes it easier for me to keep them separated. Or else the staff starts playing together, and I don’t need that.”
I’ve heard her terms before, but I don’t really understand, I just see that the girl has a small wire running from between her legs, leading to a control on the side of the X. Larissa notices my eyes, smiling. “You want to try?”
“She’s bound and gagged. How can she enjoy this?” I ask, disgusted, but my cock is rock hard in my pants. Of course it is, there’s a beautiful naked girl on the X shaped table in front of me, and the air reeks of sex. There’s probably enough pheromones in the air to wake up a dead man. “She’s only doing this for money.”
Larissa ignores me, leaning over and releasing the ball gag from the girl’s mouth. “Are you enjoying this, pet?”
The girl moans, nodding through heavy lidded eyes and gasping. Larissa leans into the girl and kisses her, my cock jumping in my pants as the bound girl and this new, darkly sensual woman I just met kiss deeply. Whe
n they part, the girl is panting, and I can smell her arousal in the air even over the musky odor of the rest of the club. When she speaks, she’s got a German accent, but still I can understand her. “Mistress… you give me attention. Thank you.”
“Mmm, you’ve been a very good pet for a while. I think I’ll show my friend here exactly how much you are enjoying this,” Larissa says, reaching down and hitting the control on the X. “You are under strict orders not to come until I command. Understand, pet?”
“Yes Mistress,” the girl immediately answers, but I can hear a faint humming from the table, and realize there’s some sort of sex toy inside her pussy. The girl moans again and takes a deep breath, then looks at me. “Master likes what he sees.”
“He’s no Master yet,” Larissa says, taking a light riding crop off the back of the X and showing it to the slave. “Let’s be nice, just a little play. Then we’ll see if my friend wants to join in. I’ll keep both of you safe.”
My eyes bulge along with my cock as I watch Larissa tease the girl’s body with the riding crop over her breasts which jut up proudly until they’re capped by bubblegum pink nipples that are stiff and hard. Larissa swings the crop, smacking the girl in her right nipple with just the tip, and the girl cries out. I want to stop her, but I heard something in the girl’s cry… she’s not in pain. Well, she is, but she’s feeling something more She wants this, she likes the pain that Larissa is inflicting.
Larissa, for her part, keeps a studious, watchful look on her face as she strikes the girl again and again, mostly on the legs and stomach, but sometimes on the breasts as well. “One of my rules is to never let a customer strike one of my girls in the face or in a vital area,” Larissa says almost as if she’s discussing any normal business. “These girls and boys are too precious to me to let them get hurt that way. Aren’t you, pet?”
