Subject A(Gisard meant Mary, according to established comms protocol)was present at a meeting between Leopard and Ashcan. Will attempt interrogation.
* * *
Mary
I only truly understood the importance of our mission when Monsieur Beaumont discussed the deal for the power grid with the man he called Georgy, while I knelt in front of them, sucking their cocks.
“She’s good, isn’t she?” Beaumont asked, in English—thankfully the only language that both he and Georgy felt comfortable in.
I felt Georgy’s hand tangle in my hair, yanking my head back roughly. My jaw ached from the stretch of accommodating his thick shaft, but I didn’t dare complain.
“She is skilled,” Georgy agreed, his thick Russian accent making the words sound harsh. “But I want to see how her cunt feels before I make any judgments.”
Beaumont chuckled, a sound that sent chills down my spine. “Of course, my friend, of course. In good time.”
As Georgy guided my mouth back to his member, I tried to focus on the conversation happening above me. I told myself, probably for the millionth time in the past three days, that my mission depended on gathering as much information as possible, even as my body was used for these men’s pleasure.
“Now, about grid nine two eight,” Beaumont said, his voice casual as if discussing the weather rather than a deal that would affect millions of lives. “I trust everything is in order on your end?”
Georgy grunted, thrusting deeper into my throat. I fought against my gag reflex, tears springing to my eyes. “Yes, yes. My men are in position. We can divert power to the target areas within hours of receiving payment.”
“Excellent,” Beaumont replied. His hand reached across the foot or so between the half naked men and stroked my hair almost tenderly, a stark contrast to the brutality of his words. “And you’re certain there will be no way to trace it back to us?”
“Of course not,” Georgy scoffed. “We have taken every precaution. The local authorities will blame it on infrastructure failure. By the time they realize it was deliberate, months from now, the trail will be cold.”
My mind reeled at the casual way they discussed such a devastating act. I redoubled my efforts on Georgy’s cock, hoping to keep him distracted and talking.
“Tell me more about the diversion,” Beaumont urged, a note of excitement creeping into his voice. “I want to be sure we’re getting our money’s worth.”
Georgy laughed, a harsh sound that made me flinch. “Oh, the diversion will be a thing of beauty, my friend. The big hospital in Szczecin alone… they overpower that facility shamefully. Why should weaklings be kept alive at the expense of those who pay?”
I felt my stomach churn at his words. Hundreds of lives, snuffed out so casually. And for what? Profit? Power? The enormity of what was at stake hit me like a physical blow.
“Mmm, yes,” Beaumont purred. “May I?”
“By all means,” Georgy said.
I felt my owner’s fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me off Georgy’s cock so that he could force my mouth down on his own. His hips jerked slightly as I worked my mouth on him, desperately trying to give the pleasure that seemed to keep me from being noticed as anything more than a piece of furniture.
I wished suddenly that Camille were there, so that we could confer later about what Beaumont and Georgy were saying. Beaumont had brought both of us to his bed the night we arrived, but after he had used us we each had been put in separate bedrooms—cells, more like, which must once have been maids’ living quarters—on the floor above the master suite.
Jean, the guard who had brought us to our rooms, told us that we would be kept separate so that when Beaumont gave the guards permission to use us, it would be easy to fuck one of us at any time without waking up the other—or disturbing a colleague who was already fucking the other girl.
The first night, in Monsieur’s bed, Beaumont had made Camille and me kneel before him as he sat on the edge of the massive four-poster. The silk sheets had rustled beneath him as he spread his legs, his thick cock already hard and glistening at the tip.
“Show me how well you work together, little whores,” he had commanded, his voice rough with lust.
Trembling, Camille and I had leaned in, our tongues meeting on the underside of his shaft. I remember the salty taste of his skin, the musky scent of his arousal filling my nostrils. We licked and sucked in tandem, our mouths occasionally meeting in a perverse kiss around the head of his cock.
Beaumont’s hand had tangled in my hair, forcing me to take him deeper. I gagged slightly, tears springing to my eyes. Then he had yanked me off, pushing Camille down instead. We alternated like that for what felt like hours, our jaws aching, lips swollen and slick with saliva and pre-cum.
“That’s it,” Beaumont had groaned. “Such good little cocksuckers. Now, open your mouths and stick out your tongues.”
We had obeyed, kneeling side by side, faces upturned. Beaumont stroked himself furiously, his breath coming in harsh pants. With a guttural cry, he had come, thick ropes of semen splattering across our faces and into our waiting mouths. The taste was bitter and overwhelming, making me want to gag, but I forced myself to swallow.
“Beautiful,” Beaumont had murmured, using his softening cock to smear his cum across our cheeks and lips. “Now, up on the bed. I want you on either side of me.”
We had climbed onto the luxurious bed, the silk sheets cool against our heated skin. Beaumont had lain between us, one arm wrapped possessively around each of our waists. His fingers had idly traced patterns on our skin as he drifted off to sleep.