Read Top Secret Spy Fantasies Online
Authors: Holly Sinclair
Top Secret Spy Fantasies
TOP
SECRET
SPY
FANTASIES
Written
By: Holly Sinclair
©
2013
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hard work of this author.
Rosalyn
and Dante, two strangers, have a date that is part of an elaborate game which
ends with he as the predator and she as the prey.
He’s
been sitting at the bar for more than half an hour, watching the anxious woman
occasionally walk by the bar windows and look in nervously. He likes this part
of the job. He gets to sit here and slowly enjoy a stiff drink while knowing
and that her nerves are frazzled and soon will only get worse.
Of
course it’s a game. She has a card in her purse to remind herself what the
“escape word” is and the fact that none, absolutely none, of what seems to be
happening actually is. None of it, until they start fucking, that is. That’s
always very real, and it’s obviously the best part of the job.
She
finally pulls herself together, and with trepidation, enters the bar. You’d
call what she’s wearing business casual, but the worn out nature of her
appearance undermines it somewhat. She is clearly warring with herself over her
craving for someone new and exciting versus–from looking at her–at least two
decades of built-up adult stuffiness.
She
sits down, and the man, whose name is irrelevant, but who goes by Dante on
these “missions,” holds a lone finger to his mouth to keep the woman from
speaking, as she begins to open hers. Instead, he inclines his head to the
bartender, who brings her a drink, her favorite, as it turns out, and a small
envelope.
She
takes a reaffirming sip of the cocktail, the ice rattling as her hand shakes,
then opens the envelope. Inside are a note and a Polaroid of a young girl, a
teenager, tied to a chair. The girl’s eyes are huge over the gag in her mouth,
and she looks terrified.
The
woman, Rosalyn, who knew what she asked for this evening, but not how it would
be accomplished, is utterly shocked. She almost drops the photo before
disgustedly shoving it back into the envelope, the image gone from her eyes,
but still engrained in her mind. The note reads:
We
have your sister. Call this number to confirm that she is still alive. If you
cooperate fully, that is how she will remain.
Dante
slides a prepaid phone across the bar to her. She eyes him, the reality of what
she has become caught up in and the level of his involvement now clear. She
opens her lips, but he gives her a hard look and a quick shake of his head to
quiet her before she can find the words.
She
picks up the phone and dials. The voice message, even though it is from a
stranger pretending to be her sister, brings tears to her eyes. At the end of
the message, the recording says, “To continue your session, press one.”
Dante
watches closely as she brings the phone down into her hand and looks at it.
After a long pause, she pushes the 1 key and brings the phone back up to her
ear.
Dante
knows what instructions she is getting now: to take the key that he will give
her, to go up to the corresponding hotel room, and to do everything she is
told. That is, interestingly, he thinks, her fantasy after all. She looks like
she’s ready to jump out of her skin, but apparently this is exactly what she
wants.
And
I think we’ll leave our kidnapper and his blackmail victim alone for just a
moment now. My name is Victor, and arranging these little games is what I do. I
help put the spring in the step of people who are downtrodden or bored with the
tedium of their everyday lives. I realize that everyone wants an adventure, and
most adults would like that adventure served up with a side of sex, the kind of
recreational, exciting, crazy sex they feel like they can’t have in real life.
Honeymoon sex.
Hotel room sex.
Business
trip sex.
That, packaged with a fantasy experience and a sense of
adventure, is what I sell.
What
my clients don’t know is that it all gets videotaped for my own personal
amusement. It’s a wonderful side benefit, considering all the work I do. This
is an excellent example of what I sell to people, an experience that arouses
the senses and excites the mind and which, in the end, also provides a
substantial release of pent-up sexual energy.
Most
of the experiences we sell, since they are adventurous, relate to one level or
another of crime or espionage. It’s not what people always expect, but it has
turned out to be the easiest way to scratch certain itches. But I’m getting
ahead of myself.
Rosalyn
is almost quivering with tension, fear, perhaps even arousal when Dante slides
the small envelope with the hotel room number on the outside and the hotel key
on the inside. There are also instructions inside, but she doesn’t know that.
Once
more she almost speaks, but this time she thinks better of it and quiets
herself. Instead she finishes her drink in a long, dramatic pull, swallows
hard, straightens her skirt, and turns to walk to the elevators.
Dante
lets her go, knowing he will catch up with her soon.
In
the elevator she opens the envelope and finds a small set of instructions
wrapped around the key.
When
you arrive in the room, you will see a small suitcase on the bed. Take off your
clothes, all of them, and put them in the bag. Put on the clothes that are in
the bag. Your host for the evening will join you soon after and will give you
further instructions.
Your
escape word remains “bronze.” If you wish to pass on intelligence, the pass
phrase is “Aardvark.”
Rosalyn
didn’t know how it worked, but she was completely lost in the scenario. She
didn’t have a family, really never had, but she was somehow so worried about
that poor girl tied to the chair. Of course it was
fake
,
it was part of the game, but the immediacy of it seemed to fool her mind. She knew
that she’d do whatever she had to
tonight,
and the
first reason why would be to save that girl, even if she wasn’t real. The fact
that anonymous sex in a hotel room, sex that was forced upon her so she could
enjoy it without guilt, so she could surrender, where she would put on whatever
was offered to her and do as she was told, by now that reason felt secondary.
She
enters the hotel room, which is spacious and comfortable, and immediately sees
the small, carryon suitcase on the bed. She opens it and inside
are
the most salacious clothes she would have ever worn. A
small, rubber-looking set of
boyshorts
, a bra that is
all straps and no cups, heels twice as tall as she was used to wearing and…she
gulps.
A collar.
This
time she doesn’t hesitate, however. She takes off the clothes she had been
wearing, date clothes, her nice clothes, she thought, and folds them carefully,
then puts them in the suitcase.
Then,
with hesitation, she dresses herself in the clothes that had been left for her.
They
fit,
of course, they knew things about her, like
her favorite drink was a Rob Roy. She doesn’t think twice about that, but does
question her comfort level and the fact that she is so exposed in such a
ridiculous outfit. She feels like a grown-up pervert’s Barbie or something.
Once
she changes, she slides the suitcase under the bed and sits down atop the
mattress. She looks around, takes the room in and out of the corner of her eyes
catches sight of the cuffs. They hang over the top of the door that joins to the
other room, at just the right height to latch someone’s wrists to the top of
the door. Her heart freezes for just a moment as she stares intently, a million
thoughts racing through her mind. She sits there practically naked, anxious and
wondering what happens next.
She
jumps at the sound of the swipe of the key card in the lock outside the door.
Then he enters. It is the same man from the bar, and she hadn’t noticed until
now just how powerful he looked. He wasn’t tall, rather compact actually, but
she could tell from his stance that he knew how to move and it made her afraid
anew.
“Move
over to the door,” he commands to her, his voice level, but treacherous.
“I
don’t—“ she starts, and in two steps he is on top of her, a hand in her hair,
pulling her head back as she starts to scream without even thinking about it.
His other hand leaps up and covers her mouth and she freezes like a panicked
animal.
“You
know what this
is,
you know why you’re here. You know
what I want from you. You tell me what I want to know, we all go home. In the
meantime, you do what the fuck I tell you to do, or it’ll be very bad for you.”
His
hand slips away from her mouth, leaving her room to speak.
“Yes,
but—“
With
his free hand, he finds a spot on her torso and manipulates it just so with his
thumb. Her breath explodes out of her lungs as if she had been kicked and she
sags into his arms. She gasps as he half
carries,
half
drags her over to the door, stands her up and pushes her against it. Before she
knows what is happening, her arms are locked above her. She’s not
uncomfortable, just now exposed to an ever greater degree and conscious, very
conscious, of how this pose makes her breasts jut out. With another quick
series of movements, the man pulls something, a small bar of metal, out from
under the TV stand, and uses it to lock her legs open in a spread position.
She
opens her mouth to speak again, and this time instead of hushing her, he slams
his fist in to the door right next to her face. She flinches away.
“You
speak again and I’ll gag you. Clear?” he says.
She
realizes that he hadn’t said anything in a threatening manner yet, his voice
had been very calm, but his actions were terrifying. She gives a shivering nod
and he walks away. He retrieves a drink from the
minibar
,
goes into the bathroom and has a piss with the door open, then sits on the bed
and watches TV. He never even glances over at her, and she isn’t sure if she
should be offended that she is so easy to ignore or glad that he isn’t looking
at her.
Finally,
he rises up, gives a stretch and a groan, and approaches.
“Would
you like some water?” he asks.
She
realizes then that yes, she is parched, and while she remains carefully silent,
she gratefully accepts some refreshment, which he lets her drink from a plastic
bottle in small sips.
“Now,
I’m going to ask you some questions. If I need you to speak, I’ll tell you that
you are allowed to speak? Clear?”
She
hesitates for a moment and then nods.
“Good.
Do you know why you’re here?”
She
is about to nod, of course she knew why, she paid to be here, but in terms of
the
game
? She shakes her head.
“We
have your little sister. We don’t want to hurt her, but we will if we have to.
All we want from you is a password for the mainframe. You know what it is, we
know you have it, and we can do all the rest without you. So, would you like to
make it easy on yourself and just tell me what it is?”
“I
can’t do that,” she says, the words coming out of her mouth before she even
knows what she is saying. Now that she understands what the stakes are, what
the rules of the game are, she cannot resist pushing her luck a little bit.
The
man shakes his head in disappointment. Then his hand flashes out and grasps her
by the chin. She tries to pull away, in surprise and fear, but he holds her
tight and brings his face in close. She can smell the drinks on his hot breath,
and also some kind of spicy cologne scent from his body. His reply makes her
feel as if she was in a movie, and it is just like she’d hoped it would
be.
“You
can,” he says, “You can and you will.”