Undercover Secrets

by Zoe Le Verdier

  Anna stood up. ‘Is there something wrong?’

  The hint of nervousness in her eyes was almost enough to make him hard. ‘Nothing’s wrong. It’s standard procedure. I just need to check that you’re still in peak condition. Working in the lab, you’re exposed to tiny amounts of chemicals. They shouldn’t affect you at all, but we’d like to be sure that you’re not having an adverse reaction to any of these substances.’

  ‘I see.’ She slowly unbuttoned her dress.

  Galloway moved towards her, his breathing deepening. Raising his hand, he watched her as he gently opened up her dress.

  He moved slowly, bathing in her attention as she followed his every move. Putting the earpieces into his ears, he warmed the silver end of his stethoscope in his hands for a moment. Then he raised it to her chest.

  ‘Deep breath in,’ he said, standing a little too close so that his voice dripped on to her skin. Her breasts rose as she did as she was told. ‘And out.’ He moved the ‘scope slightly, easing the disc just underneath the edge of her bra. ‘Breathe in again.’ He could feel her eyes on his face.

  ‘And out.’

  With gentle fingers, he pulled at the bra cup, crumpling the soft satin and lace until it was folded beneath her pert breast. ‘Breathe in.’ Her pink nipple rose towards him. Sliding the stethoscope down, he covered her areola with the silver disc. Her heart quickened, racing loudly in his ears.

  When he dropped the stethoscope from his fingers, her areola had crinkled and darkened, shocked by the cool metal. ‘Was that too cold for you?’ Peter whispered. ‘Let me warm you up again.’ Sliding his fingers over her exquisite breast, he rubbed her with his warm palm. Even without the ‘scope, he could feel her pulse reverberating.

  Keeping his hand on her, he pulled the delicate material away from her other breast. Gently pushing backward and forward with his thumb, he made the pink silkiness at the tip of her breast darken to brown. Squeezing her full curves, teasing her engorged nipples, he allowed himself a sigh of pleasure.

  ‘Peter?’ Her voice was faint and hesitant.

  He paused in his worship of her flesh. ‘What is it, Anna?’

  Her lips parted. Unsure, she looked up at him.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘You said this was a medical check-up.’

  ‘It is.’

  She swallowed, as if she was trying to pluck up courage. ‘Then… Why are you touching me like that?’

  ‘Because you want me to.’

  Her mouth opened slightly, as if she was about to contradict, but closed again without a word. Anna lowered her eyes, then slowly, slowly raised them again. As Peter watched her, studying her pale green eyes, he saw her expression gradually change from protest, to confusion, to acceptance. She was struggling with herself, and losing the battle.

  All his instincts about Anna had been right. She was different; she was a spy; and she was enjoying Peter’s domination. It felt so good to be right. As if the sun had just come out, a stroke of warmth caressed the back of Peter’s neck. Having her under his control was deeply satisfying; so satisfying he felt his penis stiffening in his trousers.

  ‘I’m right, aren’t I? You want me to touch you.’

  Almost imperceptibly, she nodded. ‘Yes,’ she breathed.

  Having got his answer, he let go of her. ‘I have to take your temperature now. Turn around,’ he commanded.

  ‘Kneel on the chair.’ She followed his orders, resting her knees on the soft leather seat. ‘Now bend forward. Hold on to the back.’ He pressed her shoulders down until she leant towards the chair’s high back, her bottom pouting towards him. Sliding his hand down her spine, down over her buttocks, he pushed her dress up over her hips. Taking a second for the splendour of her arse to sink in, he traced his fingers over the tautness of one cheek. Then he pulled her panties down over the lacy tops of her cream hold-ups.

  Picking the thermometer out of his breast pocket, he lubricated it in his mouth. Rolling his tongue around it, he coated the tip with his saliva. If he had really wanted Anna’s temperature, that would have been pointless; but Anna no doubt knew as well as he did that this examination was not for the medical records.

  Rubbing the thermometer’s bulbous red tip around her anus, he stimulated the tightly pursed muscles with their sensitive nerve-endings. Anna’s buttocks twitched in response, and her fingers made the leather creak as she dug her nails into the chair’s back. Knowing what was coming, she held on tight and held her breath.

  With a swift, wicked thrust, Peter inserted the glass rod between her open cheeks. It was bigger than the average thermometer: as thick as his finger and long as his hand. Pushing in and out of her pink anus, he heard her whimper and watched her tiny hole grasp to stop the invasion. The backs of Anna’s thighs quivered with pleasure. Reaching forward, Peter put his other hand to her chin and turned her face until he could see it. Her mouth was open in abandon, but her eyes were tightly shut as if she was trying to block out what was happening.

  ‘You want this,’ he reminded her, urging her to give up the fight with herself. ‘There’s no need to be ashamed. You’re a dirty girl, Anna. Accept it.’

  He pushed the rod deeper inside her and she squealed in anguish. Turning her head away, she pressed her face into the chair.

  ‘It feels good, doesn’t it?’

  She replied with a languid arch of her lower back. Spreading her knees wider apart on the seat, she made her buttocks more open for him. What a wanton, Peter laughed to himself: a confident, clever girl who was so willing to show her dirty, depraved inner self that it only took a nudge and she was over the edge, writhing and moaning and exposing her true needs. That was what he loved, more than almost anything else in the world — to see a woman stripped of pretence and unable to stop herself. And Anna couldn’t have stopped herself now even if she’d wanted to. She was probably making excuses for her behaviour inside her mind, telling herself that she had to do these naughty things for the sake of her espionage. But deep down she knew, as Peter did, that she had lost control. Her mind and body were his.

  Leaving the thermometer sticking out of her arse, Peter stepped backward and sat on the edge of the desk. He looked at her for a minute: her hips undulating with pleasure, her tiny anus plundered, her pussy open and slick between folds of plump flesh and curls of black hair. She was his prisoner, waiting for his next move. Like a torturer, he had complete control over her. Her pleasure, and the pain that came with it, were in his hands.

  He plucked the instrument from her arse and her body sighed with disappointment. She wouldn’t be disappointed for long, he thought. ‘Stand up and face me, Anna.’

  She turned around, rather pointlessly pushing her dress back down. Peter stopped her as she bent over to pull up her panties.

  ‘Take those off.’ She did. ‘Put one foot up on here.’ Peter patted the desk next to his hip. Anna raised her thigh and placed one foot where he directed. Standing just a few inches away from him, she watched, softly panting, as his eyes took her in all over again. Her dress was gaping, her stiff-tipped breasts tumbling from her bra, her sex lips open; open for him. Her mind was open for him, too, and he could look inside her head and see exactly what she wanted. She wanted him to touch her, to sink his fingers inside her slit and then replace his hand with his hard, throbbing cock. But she wouldn’t get what she wanted; that was his power.

  He pulled the cream plastic rod from his hip pocket. Holding it up in front of her face, he told her he needed to take a sample of her sexual juices. Then he turned the base until it began to hum.

  ‘Put this inside your vagina,’ he purred. ‘Make it nice and wet for me.’

  She gulped, but didn’t question him. Frightened and thrilled at the same time, she took the vibrator with trembling fingers. Holding his gaze, she lowered her hand.

  ‘Do exactly as I tell you,’ Peter said.

  She paused, awaiting her instructions while the gentle buzzing hovered between her thighs.

  ‘Stro
ke your pussy lips.’

  Peter looked down as she slowly brought the stem to her open labia. As she touched the toy’s smooth tip to her sex he could smell her, faint but noticeable in the air; she smelt sweet and musky. Rubbing the vibrator’s head up and down against her sensitive inner flesh made her sigh loudly, and Peter granted her an encouraging nod, as if she was an excellent pupil.

  ‘Now put it inside you,’ he said. ‘Slowly.’

  Wrapping his hand round her ankle, he braced himself as the ridged length slowly disappeared into the secret of her pussy. Inch by inch, she swallowed the toy until only its base was left visible; a pale, rigid contrast to the dark softness of her cunt.

  ‘Good girl.’ He paused to steady his tremulous voice.

  ‘Now, move it in and out.’

  As she slid the vibrator in and out of her hungry pussy, Peter’s hand slid up her shin on to her thigh. Her muscles were tense with her leg lifted so high on the desk; his muscles were tense, too. He wanted to snatch the vibrator out of her hand, throw it away, grab her hips and fill her with his prick. But he wouldn’t because, unlike Simon, he had learnt self-control. This game was not about his pleasure. It was about asserting himself over Anna, and making her feel helpless.

  She certainly looked helpless. Once again, she was caught in the sticky web of her own lust. With neither the power nor the desire to escape, she had no choice but to let this happen.

  She moaned as she stroked the inner walls of her sex with the vibrator. Her eyelids lowered for a moment and she almost lost her balance. Grabbing her free hand, Galloway placed it on his shoulder so that she could hold herself steady. Her fingers dug fiercely into his skin, but he enjoyed the pain. He savoured the turmoil raging in her body; a lethal mixture of shame and abandon.

  ‘Look,’ he said, nodding downward to her busy hand.

  ‘Look at the way that vibrator slides so easily into your wet pussy.’

  She bowed her head and looked, her breath catching at the sight. Every time she withdrew her hand her swollen, crimson labia dragged against the cream plastic, leaving it shining with her honey. Every time she pushed inside herself, her inner thighs trembled. Transfixed, she watched as her own hand, finding some impetus from her subconscious, began to pump more rapidly.

  ‘That’s it, Anna. Give yourself what you want.’ He put his hand to the back of her head, keeping her head bowed, making her watch. ‘Fuck yourself, hard. Faster, Anna. Harder. Watch yourself come.’

  She was frantic, desperate for release. Her nails bit into Peter’s shoulder while her other hand accelerated urgently. She bit down on her lower lip, keeping her moans inside, building them up for the final cry of relief. She was almost there.

  In fright, she gasped as the door opened behind her. Peter snatched at her ankle as she tried to pull it off the desk, and with his other hand he gripped her wrist, forcing her to keep the buzzing rod inside her. ‘Stay still,’ he soothed. He looked over Anna’s shoulder at the doorway. ‘Come in, Frank. You haven’t met Anna yet, have you?’

  She stared at Peter with wide eyes, begging him to let her go. He just smiled. ‘Anna, this is Frank. Frank — Anna, our latest recruit.’

  Frank came and leant against the desk, perching himself just beside Anna’s raised foot. Studying Anna’s face as all three stood in silence, Peter was amused by her reactions. Humiliation flickered across her green eyes, but it was amazing how quickly she forgot that she was standing there, legs wide apart, breasts and pussy wantonly on show, a humming sex toy buried between her sex lips. As she noticed how beautiful Frank was, her humiliation was overcome by curiosity and arousal. Her gaze fell rapidly down his body and back up again, taking him in.

  Peter couldn’t blame her; Frank was stunning. The twenty-two-year-old was his pride and joy — a living, breathing person created from the passion of two other people. When Frank had been born, it had been the happiest moment of Peter and Joan’s marriage. Every time he looked at him, Peter felt a surge of satisfaction and wonder.

  Frank was six foot four. He had golden hair cut short. Thick and messy, it stuck up at all angles, which infuriated his precise mother but charmed the pants off the girls, as it gave him an innocence which was at odds with the power of his body. He was very well built, with hard muscles all over, long arms and legs and a wide chest and shoulders. His skin was sun-kissed, as if he spent most of his time outdoors. Deep-blue eyes sparkled from his chiselled face. He had high cheekbones, a strong jaw and a long, Roman nose. He was, as Joan never tired of saying, perfection.

  Anna obviously thought so too. The look of horror she’d had when the door had opened had transformed into a look of shy admiration. A slight smile crept on to her lips.

  ‘Hello,’ she said at last.

  ‘Hello,’ Frank said, staring at her breasts. Her hard, dark nipples stared back.

  ‘Anna’s been here two weeks now,’ Peter told Frank.

  ‘She’s getting on very well. We’re all very pleased with her progress.’

  Frank murmured his approval as his eyes dropped to her bush.

  ‘She’s been working with Simon all this week,’ Peter added.

  ‘Can she work with me next week?’

  Peter smiled, touched by Frank’s simplistic view of the way the Institute worked. He patted his shoulder. ‘We’ll see.’

  ‘She’s so pretty,’ Frank said plaintively. ‘I want her to work with me.’

  ‘I told you, we’ll see.’

  Frank turned to Dr Galloway, sighing petulantly. ‘Why can’t I ever have what I want?’

  Peter tried to reason with him before he made a scene. ‘There are other scientists working here, Frank, and they all need assistants. I can’t take Anna away from Simon just because you suddenly decide you want her.’

  Chastened, Frank looked down at his feet.

  ‘Now, Anna was just about to come before you interrupted us. Would you like to see her come?’

  ‘Yes,’ he gasped, his eyes bright and eager again as he looked up.

  ‘Anna, please continue where you left off.’

  He let go of her wrist at last, and slowly she began to plunge the vibrator in and out again. Her pleasure had swelled now, and was close to flooding her body; not only did she have the shameful helplessness of her situation to deal with but, as well as Peter avidly watching, she now had Frank there, too. Galloway could tell, as her eyes fluttered nervously from one man to the other, that it was torment for her. He wondered how Simon was coping next door.

  Gradually, her hand worked up to the speed she’d reached before. Soon, she was thrusting quickly and deeply and moaning with every stroke. Beside Peter, Frank’s breathing became loud and slow. Peter couldn’t take much more himself.

  ‘You’re ready, Anna. You need to come.’ Snatching the vibrator, he flung her fingers away. With a deft twist of the base, he turned the hum into an urgent, angry roar. Spreading the fingers of one hand over her pussy, he flattened her soft curls and exposed the angry red nub of her clitoris. Her open labia wept as they were deprived of the pulsating phallus, but Peter knew exactly where her need lay now. He knew precisely where to put the screaming rod in order to make her scream with ecstasy. Resting its length between her gaping lips, he pressed the smooth end hard against her clit.

  Immediately, a tremor shook her body. Reaching for help, she clutched at Peter’s shoulder with one hand, and at Frank’s with the other. Her mouth twisted with the agony of it, and Peter could see that it was so good she wanted it to end. Her fingers twitched spasmodically; her neck rolled and she cried out in protest. He knew just how hard it was for a woman to handle the full strength of the vibrator as it sent pulsing waves deep into her clit. But he also knew that only by enduring the first shock of pleasure could she climb on to the next plane. So he told her to ‘Keep still, don’t fight it’, and he tortured her with ecstasy.

  He pushed the rod into her tender skin. Rolling it slightly from side to side under his palm, he put intolerable pressure on h
er clit. Tears welled up in her eyes as he rocked the hard tip over the engorged lump of nerveendings, making her swell even more. And then she was coming, shuddering violently like a wild animal caught in a trap. Whimpering imploringly, she clung on to the two men as a foaming, sticky tide of relief roared over her quaking limbs.

  Exhausted, unaware of anything apart from her slowly subsiding climax, Anna sat slumped in the comfort of the leather chair. Frank and Peter talked quietly for a moment, but she didn’t even try to listen. Her mind was too overloaded with pleasure for her to take in anything else.

  ‘You liked him, didn’t you?’

  ‘Huh?’ Blinking, she tried to rouse herself.

  ‘Frank. All the women like him.’

  Looking round, Anna was surprised to find that she and Peter were alone again. Still in shock at what had just happened, she hadn’t heard Frank leave. ‘Mmmm,’ she murmured in reply, although she’d already forgotten what the question was.

  ‘He’s a good-looking young man, isn’t he?’

  Oh yes, Frank. ‘He’s stunning,’ she sighed. Her pussy clenched at the thought of him: those eyes, burning lustfully into her flesh; that body, poised casually as she brought herself off; that face, so wonderfully masculine.

  ‘I think he’s the most perfect man I’ve ever seen.’

  Peter nodded, seeming pleased at her answer. ‘You’re right. Perfection — that’s exactly what he is.’

  Anna stirred at the vague memory of something Simon had said: ‘Perfection, that’s what we’re aiming for.’ The echo was eerie, as if Simon had been repeating the party line. ‘Has Frank been here long?’

  ‘Since the beginning. Frank’s been working with me for years now. You could say he’s dedicated his life to…’ Galloway appeared to be searching for the right word. ‘Progress.’

  ‘Is there any chance… Will I be working with him?’