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The Doctor’s Captive by Loki Renard – Sample

Chapter One

The Doctor's Captive LokiKatie was helpless.

Little beads of sweat rolled down the underside of her breasts. Her muscles were fatigued and she was physically exhausted, but her sexual organs were humming with excitement. Thick straps held her naked form to a medical exam table, thighs spread on two swiveling stirrups. Her breasts rose and fell as she breathed deep, ragged breaths, erect nipples clamped firmly by metal clasps.

“One more.” A deep, masculine voice growled the words from somewhere beyond the bright lights that lit up her trembling body. “She needs one more.”

A humming began between her thighs. Katie tried to look down, but couldn’t see what the source of the sound was. She felt it though, when the warm flared head of a mechanical phallus began to slide up and down her pussy lips, coating her labia and clitoris with gel. She could feel it being spread on, a substance that made her womanhood tingle from the top of her clit to the sensitive area around her anus.

It surged forward, sliding inside her pussy to the very hilt, filling her completely. An auxiliary probe deployed beneath the main phallus, a slightly smaller protrusion that made contact with the bud of her anus with a firm vibration. The clamps on her nipples began to pulse too, hard and then soft, sending jolts of erotic energy coursing through her body.

She tried her best to resist the waves of pleasure, but the unrelenting stimulation was making yet another climax build. She was too tired to resist, the muscles of her arms, legs and lower abdomen trembling as they contracted with each demanding pulse.

There were footsteps as her tormentor drew closer, and she was shadowed by a face she could not make out for the fact that the lights behind it were so very bright.

“Cum for me, Katie.”

The voice was still harsh and demanding, but she heard a faint cajoling note there too. The man at the controls of the instruments knew precisely what he was doing. He knew exactly how much her writhing body could take.

Katie strained at her bonds as the dildo began a slow thrusting inside her pussy. The man slid his hand over her tight abdomen and his fingers began to toy with her clit as the dildo’s pace increased, the thrusting harder, more demanding, just like the man who strummed the hard bud of her clitoris, forcing her toward yet another peak.

She let out a wail as it approached, a climax more powerful than any she could imagine, starting at the nexus of her clit, where his fingers made the final command, sending her into stratospheric ecstasy…

Katie sat bolt upright in bed. The sweat from the dream still claimed her, but the rest of it faded almost immediately back into the recesses of her mind. Why, then, could she still feel the memory of straps around her ankles, wrists, and waist? Why was her clit throbbing?

She looked around the drab hotel room, comforted by the sight of faded wallpaper peeling at the edges. This was no sexual pleasure chamber. There were no instruments of erotic torture here, just a big old television and a rickety bed covered by a comforter that smelled like mothballs. She was where she was supposed to be, on assignment in Oak Brook Falls, a very small town on the edge of a vast wilderness in which lurked all manner of beasts—including the man she had been chasing for five long years.

“Shower,” she mumbled to herself as she made her way to the bathroom. She needed to clean up and calm down. Today was not a day for indulging odd thoughts or wild fantasies. She had work to do.

She showered quickly and dressed in cargo pants and a sweater. Casual clothing that allowed her to carry a great deal of equipment and would ensure that she did not stand out in any way. Her guns were holstered at her hips, hidden by the long fall of her hooded sweater; her throwing knives were strapped to the small of her back. She had several other surprises lurking about her person too, all neatly snapped into place under the most casual of civilian clothing.

Finishing the illusion of normality, Katie tied her long dark hair back into a ponytail, put on a ball cap and a pair of sunglasses, becoming perfectly anonymous. Nobody would remember seeing her. Everything about her was calculated to be perfectly forgettable, from the generic sunglasses to the oversized fit of her hooded sweatshirt, which obscured the curves and lines of her body.

Before leaving the room, Katie gave the file stored on her phone one last look. Her target was known as ‘the Doctor,’ real name, Jason Blake. He was the worst kind of enemy agent—a rogue one turned independent, doing work for the highest bidder. A traitor to the country and a betrayer of everything Katie believed in.

Use Extreme Caution, the profile stated in bold red letters. Recommended: Terminate At Distance.

A drone would have been the most effective way of terminating at distance, but Katie’s overseers wanted eyes on the ground, visual and tissue confirmation of the kill. There could be no mistakes with this one. They had been hunting the Doctor for years to no avail. He was impeccable in his work, leaving no traces to follow, not even the slightest clue—until three days ago when he’d made a call on an unsecured network to a known contact. It had only lasted twenty seconds, but that had been enough. Just one slip in five years was all it took to bring the hammer down. Katie was that hammer. She took no great pleasure in her job, but she did it exceedingly well and she did it for the good of the nation.

She swiped down and looked at the picture of the Doctor again. She didn’t really need to. His face was emblazoned in her mind. She’d seen it almost every day since being assigned to the case. The picture in the file was from a surveillance run five years ago. The last time he’d been seen.

His hair was dark and short, his facial features hard. He had a square jaw, high cheekbones, and a roman nose, which gave more than a touch of arrogance to his expression when his upper lip was curled as it was in the picture. He had obviously been aware of the photographer, because his eyes were cut right at the lens, slivers of green against dark lashes.

Her reaction to his picture was visceral. She found her own lip curling in a snarl. This was going to be a very satisfying day for her. Nine agents had been lost trying to find this man. Nine people had given their lives in the quest to end his. Katie was absolutely determined that no more lives would be lost.

After checking out, she got into an old Jeep fitted with several unseen extras, and began the drive up into the hills. The Doctor had chosen his base with care. It was out of cell phone range, densely wooded to avoid satellite coverage, and far enough off the beaten track that getting to it by car was impossible. The only reason they even knew it was there was because they’d run stealth drones all over the area days after his call was picked up. Modern technology meant that there really was no place to run or hide once the clandestine government agency known only as Oversight had you on their radar.

As the road turned from asphalt to gravel and then eventually to dirt, Katie was forced to leave her car on the side of the narrow trail and pack the rest of her gear on her back. The walk was estimated to take about five hours, all going well.

Five hours of walking was ample time to run over her plan several times. The easiest method of disposal would have been to perch in a tree and wait for the target to come into range, but that meant she would only have one shot and the Doctor was not a one-shot sort of problem. If she missed, he would vanish and she would be strongly censured. Katie was determined to make sure she took care of the problem thoroughly.

First she would scope out his cabin and determine his whereabouts. She’d have her rifle out in case he did happen to wander into range during that time, but that wasn’t her first plan of attack. Her first plan of attack was to wait until he was asleep, sneak into the cabin, and finish him without him ever waking up. It was the most humane of the methods at her disposal, and the safest for her.

Soon enough, she was at the spot indicated by the drones, and sure enough, there was a little cabin sitting innocuously in the middle of the woods. It was obviously hand-built and had a storybook kind of quality to it.

Katie hunkered down into the leaf litter and started her observation. Through binoculars that detected heat signatures, the cabin appeared to be entirely empty. She watched it for a good hour before deciding to make an entrance through the front door. Other agents might have chosen the window, but Katie knew the window was far more likely to be booby-trapped than the door. Only intruders made their way through windows.

She ran toward the cabin in a crouch, and upon reaching the front door, stayed back behind the wall as she tested the handle. It was not locked. It turned almost silently and the door swung open without a sound to reveal a very simply furnished interior. Stove. Table. Two wooden chairs. One armchair. A fireplace. A bed. No occupants.

She sidled in and shut the front door behind her, sweeping the room carefully as she made her way to the door in the rear. It opened to reveal a bathroom. Shower. Toilet. There was electricity in the place, provided by an exterior generator. All in all, it was fairly cozy.

Knowing her time was limited, Katie got to work. First things first, a camera. Once she had that in place she could sit half a mile away and monitor her target’s movements when he returned. That would let her know when to strike. She decided to put it underneath a chair, facing the bed. It was a good position for observing most of the room, and judging by the dust accumulated around the leg of the chair, it wasn’t often moved.

She crouched down and began the relatively quick process of installing the camera. She did not hear any sounds in the cabin. Certainly didn’t hear the door open, or the soft footsteps of the man approaching her. She did, however, feel the cold press of a blade against the back of her neck, poised with surgical perfection between the C4 and C5 vertebrae.

“Hello, Katie.” The voice was calm and congenial. There was no need for verbal threat when the blade at her neck did all the talking.

If he’d wanted to stab her, he could have done that at the outset. The knife was designed to make her freeze, but freezing was the worst thing she could have done. The second worst thing, actually. The worst thing she could have done, she’d already done—which was be caught by her prey. Katie kicked back hard, aiming for the kneecap. She made contact with thin air as the Doctor moved to avoid her kick, but her motion bought her around to face the most wanted man in the underworld.

There he was—Jason Blake, aka the Doctor—looking at her with a dark smirk on his handsome face. He looked just like his picture, albeit with a bit more rough stubble about his jawline. The eyes were always the best methods of identification, and his were locked on her with emerald intensity. It was him alright, though he was taller than she’d expected him to be. And wider too. Or maybe she was smaller than she thought she was. Either way, she had the uncomfortable sensation of being thoroughly dwarfed by the man.

“You’re late,” he drawled, his voice somehow unsettlingly familiar. She didn’t know how he knew her name, but she guessed he must have weaseled it out of some other agent, or one of his contacts. She had no intention of letting him know she was intimidated by him, or letting herself be distracted by his odd comments.

Deciding to shoot first and ask questions later, Katie drew her pistol. Before she had it out from under her sweater, he threw the knife with a hard flick of his fingers. It struck the hilt of her weapon and the pistol went spinning from her hand, leaving her with a pink graze on her middle finger. The casual, surgical precision with which he wielded his weapon was chilling, but Katie wasn’t done yet.

“Put your hands up,” he said, motioning with his own pistol drawn from the holster on his thigh.

Katie declined. “If you want to kill me, shoot me,” she said. “I’m not going to put my hands up for you.”

“Katie, Katie,” he tutted, sounding disappointed. “If I’d wanted to, I could have killed you six different ways by now. You’re getting sloppy, girl.”

Sloppy was not a word that had ever been used to describe Katie. It was like a barb in her soul, angering her instantly. Anger didn’t have any place in an assassination. Emotion was the enemy, but Katie couldn’t quite contain herself. She was afraid of him in a way she couldn’t explain. He was just another target, and yes, though she’d botched the job thus far, it wasn’t the first time things had gone wrong. She was trained to deal with unexpected resistance and surprises—and she had a few of her own, like the ten-inch retractable blade strapped to the inside of her wrist, hidden by the sleeve of her sweater. Things were about to get messy.

She put her hands behind her back as the Doctor approached, his gun trained on her. All it took was a quick manipulation of the release mechanism and she was in possession of what amounted to an arm-mounted sword. As he came into range, she side-stepped his gun and slashed the blade toward his throat.

A hot pink line flashed across his neck, followed by a trickle of hot red blood. He lurched backwards and for a brief moment, Katie was sure she’d gotten him. A split-second later, he bought his knee up, driving his foot into her solar plexus and sending her sprawling backwards onto her ass, breaking the blade as she landed. It clattered away from her and landed harmlessly underneath the old stove. He wiped his neck on his hand, revealing nothing more than a deep scratch.

“Turn over, put your hands behind your back, and surrender like a good girl,” he ordered, standing over her, his gun still drawn. “I don’t want to hurt you, Katie.”

“Sure you don’t,” she spat, kipping back up to her feet. “You’ve killed nine other agents.”

“You’re special,” he said, deadpan. “I’ve got other plans for you.”

She could well imagine what those plans would be. He was not called the Doctor just because he was a good shot. He was called the Doctor because he was capable of surgical precision in a number of ways, none of which she wanted to be on the receiving end.

“You’re a sick, sadistic son of a bitch, and I’ll die before I let you take me.”

He tilted his head to the side and nodded briefly. “That can probably be arranged.”

Katie didn’t give him a chance to make good on the threat. She was going to end him with her bare hands if she had to. She dashed forward, planning to use her speed to strike him at his throat, collapse his airway, and end his miserable life.

Her fist shot forward and her fingers extended sharply, but Jason blocked the blow and instead of making contact with his throat, her hand slid harmlessly over his shoulder. He took advantage of the moment to grab her arm and spin her around, facing away from him.

It took her less than a second to realize that she’d made a huge mistake. A grappling match was never going to go her way. Jason outweighed her, was much stronger and more skillful too. He had her in a submission hold before she could so much as touch him, arm wrapped around her neck, his fingers hard against a pressure point, which made her body slump to the floor as if she had suddenly become a ragdoll.

“Very sloppy,” he chastised her, pulling her arms behind her back before she could recover. A zip-tie was quickly applied, the narrow plastic band a devastatingly effective shackle. Katie focused on keeping her breathing regular and not panicking. Yes, he had her. But she wasn’t dead yet, and where there was life, there was hope.

Cold steel against her lower back made her freeze in place as Jason ran a surgically sharp knife, blade side up, down her back and between the crevice of her cheeks, slicing through her panties and pants as if they were wisps of silk. In seconds she was completely naked from the waist down, her clothing lying on the floor as he hauled her up to her feet and pushed her over the back of an armchair.

His hands were all over her, running up her back, under her belly, around her arms and everywhere else. “Quite a few tricks you’ve got up your sleeve,” he noted, pulling the throwing knives out of their holsters and pulling hidden guns out of the crevices of her clothing. In seconds she was stripped of every weapon she had and left feeling much more naked for their loss.

The Doctor smoothed his hand over her bare bottom and patted her skin. “I’m going to enjoy this next part,” he growled menacingly.

Katie knew what was coming next and steeled herself for it. She heard the sound of his belt being unbuckled and the leather being slipped out of the loops. The sick son of a bitch was going to force himself on her before he put her out of her misery. Cold fury consumed Katie as she once again found the will to fight. She pulled her legs as close to the couch as she could and tried to stand up. He grabbed her by the back of the neck and forced her back down none too gently.

“You coward!” She spat the words back at him. “You disgusting freak!”

He said nothing; he was too busy securing her in place by wrapping rope around her upper thighs and the chair back. She was unable to do more than squirm, she certainly couldn’t stand up or take her feet. Instead she was forced to dangle there, her bare bottom and pussy exposed to one of the most dangerous men in the world.

She looked over her shoulder, determined to show him how much she hated him, and realized that although his belt had been taken off, his pants were undisturbed. He had looped the belt in two and was holding it in one hand. She saw his lips twist in a wry smile as his arm rose, and suddenly she realized that she’d been completely wrong about his intentions. He wasn’t about to have sex with her. He was about to beat her.

“Consider this thrashing punishment for your poor performance,” he drawled. “I expected better from you.”

“This is exactly the sick shit I expected from you,” she spat back. “You fu… umph!”

She did not finish her sentence. Instead she swallowed it as coiled leather was unleashed against her bottom. He did not speak a word as he thrashed her and she did not allow him the satisfaction of hearing her pain, but there was no denying it as it burst across her bottom stroke after stroke, her flesh welting and burning under the lash of the leather.

“You always were a mouthy one,” he said casually, pausing between strokes to examine and admire his handiwork. “And you always did have a bottom made for discipline.”

“You must have me mistaken for someone else,” Katie said through gritted teeth. “We’ve never met. I don’t mingle with traitors.”

He snorted and began thrashing her bottom again, plying the belt hard against her skin with methodical stroke after stroke, each one landing precisely overlapping the last so both burned much more intensely than either would have done on their own.

She had never in her life been punished this way. Her bottom was a red hot mass of welts and still he was landing fresh strokes, which made her want to scream with anger and frustration. All she allowed herself were growls and grunts as some of the harder lashes landed on particularly sensitive spots of her anatomy.

She was certain that the belt must be about to break skin when he stopped and let out a triumphant chuckle. “You’re wet.”

“Liar,” she shot back over her shoulder.

Without any further discussion, he thrust two fingers inside her pussy. It should have been a painful intrusion, but he was right. She was wet. Not just wet, but completely soaked. Her pussy clasped his fingers tightly, but welcomed the rough invasion.

He began to thrust back and forth, hard and fast, finger-fucking her traitorous cunt as she finally lost control and began to wail. While her mind had been focused on hating him, her body had been reacting to something else entirely. She could feel the hot trickle of her juices on her inner thighs. Her clit was grinding against the rough fabric of the chair and her response was as powerful as it was inevitable. She came on his fingers, her pussy contracting hard against his digits, milking them as if they were a cock.

Even as the orgasm rolled through her, Katie could not believe that she had cum for him. She could not fathom how her body could have responded to a man like Jason. He was everything she despised. He had captured her. Bound her. Beaten her. Yet her pussy was quivering with the aftermath of her climax—and things were about to take a turn for the worse.

“You’ve taken your pleasure,” he said, coming to stand by her side, his hard cock now in his hand, the throbbing thick head menacingly protruding from his fist. “Now it’s time for mine.”

“Put that thing in my mouth and I’ll bite it off,” she promised fiercely.

“I’ll use your mouth later,” he said as he began to stroke himself. “Right now, I want you to know exactly where you stand with me, girl.”

She watched, partially horrified, partially aroused, her wet pussy now devoid of his touch but still clenching as if it wished it were being filled as Jason stroked himself to a powerful climax, his semen shooting from his cock and landing in great ropey splashes against her cheek, lips, and nose.

Katie let out a cry of dismay and surprise as she was coated in his cum. She could taste him on her lips and smell him, rich and powerful, as the scent pervaded her nostrils. Squirming did no good, except to make it run down her face and cover more of her skin.

She let out a squeal of pure outrage as cum dripped from her chin onto the cushion below. “You… you asshole!

Jason made a tutting sound and shook his head. “Be a good girl and ask me nicely and I’ll clean you up,” he said. “Otherwise I’ll leave you like this and go have a nice shower myself.” He looked down at her, his eyes gleaming with triumph as his seed made a warm viscous path down her face.

Katie gathered all her loathing into three words. “Go fuck yourself.”

He smirked. “No need, is there, not now that I have you.”

Her jaw dropped as he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving her wet at both ends and thoroughly coated in his essence.

Jason closed the bathroom door behind himself and let out a long breath. The orgasm had been good, but this whole process was already harder than he wanted it to be. His instinct was to go back to Katie, untie her, clean her off, apologize profusely, hold her close, and never let her go.

She looked just as he remembered her. Her figure had not changed a great deal. She still had a great ass and shapely thighs, toned, but not slim. Katie had never been a waif. She was feminine, but athletic and he’d never tired of running his hands over her hips, thighs, and derriere.

Though five years had gone by, her facial features were likewise still so very much the same. So many nights he’d dreamed of her face, of those full lips that tended to a pout, her flashing blue eyes that could dance with mischief or narrow in malice, and her snub nose with a smattering of freckles that never entirely went away, even in the depths of winter.

Restraining the urge to go to her was the hardest thing he’d ever done. If only he could hold her close and kiss her lips and her cheeks and every other part of her body until she screamed his name.

But that wouldn’t work. That would get him dead and leave her in the same mental slavery she’d been in for five years. She’d looked at him with perfect loathing. He couldn’t blame her for it. He was the one who had instilled that cold killing potential in her. He was the one who had indoctrinated her into an organization that did not leave any part of its operatives untouched—including their minds.

He had been one of them once, a perfect killer, conditioned by the same government agency. Once he had thought as she did, behaved as she did. He had taken his orders and he had carried them out without remorse or feeling. Until she had shown him otherwise, broken his conditioning by the sacrifice she had made. She had no idea who he was anymore, but she was the one who had set him free. Now he hoped to do the same for her.

It wasn’t going to be easy. Her conditioning had been very specific and very sexual. He knew that because he had overseen it himself. To overcome it, he was going to have to dominate her to the point that it broke down and allowed her true nature to emerge. Katie wasn’t a killer, not in her heart. She was vital and she was dangerous and she was brave, but her first instinct had always been to preserve life. She’d saved his. More than that, she’d saved his soul.

He turned the shower on and looked at himself in the mirror as the room began to fill with steam. It wasn’t his face he saw, really. He was playing the scene in his mind over and over again. The rounds of her cheeks writhing under his belt, her pussy flowering with need even as she cursed him for everything that he was.

The silver lining of the situation was that Katie had always enjoyed being dominated. Though she fought it tooth and nail, her body always responded exquisitely to his touch. That was the key to freeing her mind. Total, utter, unrelenting sexual domination.

As he stepped into the shower, a slow smile spread over his face. It wasn’t going to be an entirely unpleasant task. His detractors weren’t entirely off the mark when they reviled him as a sadist. There was something beautiful about the arch of Katie’s body when she quivered under his touch, caught between pleasure and pain, her panting resistance only making her inevitable surrender that much more delicious.

For five long years he had hungered for her. Yearned was perhaps a better word. His love for her had never wavered once in that time, and now that he had her, he was going to do anything and everything necessary to free her from the monster she had become.

Katie heard the shower running and the sounds of water intermittently splashing on the shower floor. He was actually leaving her there alone while he cleaned himself off. The asshole. The bastard. The sick fucking…

She channeled her anger into something productive and began to squirm and wriggle in an attempt to loosen her bonds. She managed to get a little wiggle room around her thighs by swaying her body back and forth, using her legs like a pendulum. If she could just tip the chair over and land hard enough to break it, she might be able to free herself and sneak up on him while he was distracted, naked, and gloating in the shower.

The first part of her plan soon came to fruition as one side of the chair lifted off the floor an inch or two, and then on the next rock the entire thing tipped over, landing her hard on the floor with a crash that was a lot louder than she’d hoped it would be.

The chair seemed to have held its shape, but being on her side meant that she could at least wriggle around a bit. She began awkwardly snaking her way across the floor, contorting her upper body, then sort of dragging the chair with her. Progress was slow, but all she had to do was get to something sharp and shear her bonds. The shower was still running, which meant he probably hadn’t heard the noise thus far. She still had a chance of catching him unawares.

It took several torturously slow minutes to drag her chair across to the table where her knives had been stashed for later disposal. She set about nudging the table with her knees until several clattered onto the floor, their sharp edges promises of escape.

There was a lot more wriggling before she managed to turn around and take one of the knives in her tied hands. What followed was a frustrating attempt at cutting through rope while being almost unable to move.

A masculine tutting sound made her freeze.

“I leave you alone for five minutes, and look at what you get up to,” Jason said. He was wearing black tactical pants and a black vest, his hair was glistening wet, and his eyes gleamed with visceral amusement at her predicament. She could imagine how she looked, half naked and lying on the floor with a chair tied to her, her face still coated in his sticky seed. She must look like easy prey to a monster like him.

He walked up to her, until his sock-clad feet were right in her face. He had large feet. Feet that managed to be intimidating all on their own. Katie took a deep breath and tried to get a grip on herself. She was reacting to every part of this man, and that was distracting.

“Naughty girl,” he tutted as he bent over and laid a slap on her bare bottom. “Trying to escape, weren’t you.”

“Of course I was!”

“I suppose it is to be expected,” he agreed as he picked her and the chair up in one smooth motion, lifting her without any trouble at all. He was so damn strong. For the first time in a long time, Katie cursed her relatively weak frame. If she were just a little stronger, a little bigger, a little faster…

“Let me see here,” he said. “What does a girl like you deserve?” He walked away for a moment to retrieve something. Katie tensed and shut her eyes, waiting for pain. She thoroughly expected him to beat her, or worse.

Instead she felt something warm and wet on her face. It turned out to be a cloth, smoothing over her skin and removing the now sticky semen. A small mercy, and an unexpected one, but it did not go very far toward earning her goodwill. She was going to very much enjoy carrying out her mission as soon as she got the chance—and it seemed that she was going to get it, as Jason was more intent on toying with her than doing the sensible thing and disposing of her.


“Oh, yeah, thanks very much,” she spat sarcastically.

“Ungrateful and irritable,” he noted mildly. “Your blood sugar must be low.”

Katie’s blood sugar was the least of her concerns. She tensed as his hands went to her bonds and began to loosen them.

Eager to take any opportunity for freedom, Katie yanked her hands free as soon as humanly possible, but her thighs were still tied to the back of the chair and all she could do was flail.

“Settle down,” Jason said in that mild but oh so dangerous tone he had. “I promise you, if you try to fight me, things will go very badly for you.”

“Things are already going badly,” she snapped.

“They will go worse.” He tugged at the end of the rope and it fell away completely. Katie sprang up, ready to destroy him, only to find that he’d taken the precaution of pointing a gun at her.

“Sit down on the chair, Katie.”

Reluctantly, she did as she was told. As her backside met the wood, she felt a fresh hot tingle of sensation where he’d thrashed her, each lash of the belt igniting anew.

“Uncomfortable, isn’t it,” he noted as he began to bind her to the chair once more. “There’s very little like sitting on a hard wooden chair after your bottom has been thoroughly lashed.”

His tone was conversational, but his words almost made Katie blush. Everything Jason did was calculated to have some kind of an impact. Now she found herself tied just as securely as before, perhaps slightly less vulnerable in terms of access to her nether regions, but they were heated without him needing to lay a finger on her.

“Now,” he said. “Food. I’m afraid I don’t have much in the way of cuisine to offer,” he said. “But porridge should keep you going.”

Ordinarily, Katie loved porridge. It reminded her of breakfasts with her grandfather when on cold winter days he would boil up a pot and coat the rolled oats in sticky brown sugar. Delicious.

Jason put a pot on the stove and began to heat some hot water, milk, and rolled oats. She watched him angrily, knowing that this was no real kindness, but a vehicle to allow him to further torture her. If he didn’t feed her, she’d soon lose strength and eventually consciousness. Apparently, he wanted her alert for every little torment.

It didn’t take long to prepare. Jason pushed Katie’s chair toward the table, sat down in the other chair and lifted a spoonful of porridge toward her face. “Open up,” he said, green eyes gleaming with perverse triumph.

She wanted to keep her mouth firmly shut in spite of knowing that turning down nourishment was bad strategy. She’d need to keep her strength up. In the little time they’d been in one another’s presence, he’d taken so much from her. She wanted to reclaim a little ground, eat on her own terms.

“Do I need to make choo-choo noises?”

“You need to mmphhh…” Her words were cut off as he slipped the spoon into her mouth.

“Good girl,” he encouraged her, filling the spoon again.

Katie narrowed her eyes and spoke with complete derision. “Are you so afraid I’ll kill you with a spoon if you leave me one hand free to feed myself?”

“I know you’re capable of all sorts of mischief with one hand, let alone a spoon,” Jason said. “So, for the moment you’ll have to put up with being fed this way I’m afraid, until I know I can trust you.”

“Trust me? You’ll never be… mmmph!”

Another spoonful of porridge made its way into her mouth, forcing her to stop arguing and swallow instead. It was completely maddening to be treated in such a way by a brute of a man, someone she knew had perpetrated unforgivable acts against the state and her fellow agents.

“Relax,” he said. “You’ll give yourself an upset stomach if you keep fuming like that.”

Katie fell silent and clamped her mouth shut. She’d eaten enough to ensure that she wouldn’t starve. She certainly wasn’t going to take part in this humiliating ritual anymore. When she didn’t open her mouth for the next spoonful, he pinched her nose until she ran out of breath and slid the spoon in yet again.

“You need to understand,” he said as he began to scrape the bottom of the bowl. “I’m in charge here, Katie. You can acknowledge that, and things will go easier for you. Or you can fight me. Either way, I’ll win.”

“Asshole.” She ground the word out between clenched teeth.

He raised a brow at her and shook his head. “Of course you’re going to do things the hard way,” he said. “I wouldn’t expect anything else from Oversight’s favorite little pet.”

She stared at him, stony-faced as he gathered another spoonful of food. “One more,” he said.

He tried the nose-pinching trick again, forcing her to once more open her mouth. This time, Katie had no intention of swallowing. As soon as the porridge hit her tongue, she spat it back at him, coating his chin and chest in glutinous goo.

His eyes widened and for a split-second, he looked surprised. That flash of expression was enough to make her laugh. It was a small, petty revenge, but as that was all she had going for her at that moment it would have to do.

He stood up, and for a minute she was afraid he was going to strike her. Instead he went to the kitchen bench and brushed off his face and shirt with a hand towel, a slow smile spreading over his lips. Now he seemed pleased by something. “You do realize you’re going to pay for that, don’t you.”

She gave a little shrug. She didn’t care. What she had done could not be undone. He would not be unporridged.

“Let me see,” he said, standing up and walking over to a leather bag. “What do I have in here for a girl who thinks her dinner looks better on me?” The question was almost playful, but what he pulled out of the bag was not. A gag. Of sorts. It was not solid, something that would prevent speech or complaint. It was circular in shape, with a hole in the center.

Jason walked back over to her, put his hand under her jaw, and squeezed hard enough to make her open her mouth. The moment she did, he slid the gag in and deftly fastened it behind her head. With her lips spread around the device, her mouth was open in an uncomfortable and vulnerable position.

“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 onto 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.

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