Operation: Thrustmaster (Rock Hardin: Agent of A.S.S. Book 1) (5 page)

     
Agent Hardin took a breath as he stood, then wasted no more time in finding the switchblade he always carried with him. He cut the ropes holding his hands together, and grabbed his watch. He opened it up, saw it still carried a charge, and radioed Maverick. “Tex, come in, Tex,” he said, voice betraying the urgency of the situation. Silence. “Mav, come in, man,” he said, saying a quick prayer under his breath.
 

     “
North, go for Tex,” came the faint, static-ridden reply.
 

     “
Goldilocks is out of the cottage,” he said, lying straight out… but hopefully not for long.
 

     “
Roger, putting Papa Bear to bed,” came the reply. Without further ado, Rock shut down and strapped on the watch. He didn’t have much time to catch them. Throwing his jacket on quickly, he stuffed everything else in his pockets, keeping only his switchblade out. They’d, of course, taken his gun, but he still had the mini-uzi in his boot if he needed it.
 

     
With care, Rock pushed on the wooden door, but it didn’t give at all. Instead of fussing around with it for much too long, he took a step back and kicked it, again and again. Wood cracked and splintered, then finally the lock on the outside gave way as he kicked the door open. No shouts were raised, so he took a leap of faith and plunged into the hallway outside. It was clear. He found his way to the steps upstairs, and slowed his pace slightly, trying to listen for enemies. The staircase twisted round in a circle, and he followed it up to a bright entrance, large wall length windows showcasing the French countryside… from on top of a large hill, or mountain.
 

     
As Rock moved through the room, he heard noises coming from the next. He slowed his pace, heart thumping in his chest as he approached the door. Easing it open, he snuck a glance and saw two ladies having what appeared to be a very good, if somewhat unusual, time. A tall, lithe black woman with an afro stood dressed in a black leather dominatrix outfit, complete with tall boots and silver studs lined up and down her costume. She circled around a smaller woman, naked save for a collar, who was on her hands and knees. The white brunette sobbed into what appeared to be a riding bit, like what was used to guide horses. As the tears streaked down her face, he just knew he had to get involved even though time was against him.
 

     
All he had on him was the knife, though since it was just a woman (even though she was a very tall and very strong looking woman, she was a woman nevertheless), confidence surged through him and he didn’t get the micro uzi hidden in his boot. Agent Hardin opened the door, and strode inside. He pointed the knife at the black woman coming fully into the room as he demanded, “Get away from her.”
 

     
Both women stopped what they were doing and looked at him. The black woman recovered much more quickly, and reached over to pick up something while the perfect ‘O’ of surprise on the white girl’s face made her drop her bit. “You should be dead!” she exclaimed.
 

     
The confusion which ran through him must have showed on his face, for when the taller woman turned back to him, holding a long bull whip in her hand. “Don’t worry, M,” she said, her French accent sexy and dangerous all at the same time. “He will be, soon.”
 

     “
Uh…” he said, somewhat ungainly looking between the two of them. The white girl stood up, her perfect breasts bouncing as she strode towards him, following the taller black woman. “Aren’t you… in trouble?”
 

     
The white girl glanced to her mistress, who nodded allowing her permission to speak. “I want to be here, you stupid man,” she said, taking off the bit and keeping it in her hand, most likely to use as a weapon. “Squares like you don’t get us, man, but we’re the future,” she said.
 

     “
That’s enough, M,” the black woman said, cutting her off sharply. “This one is mine.”
 

     “
Yes, Mistress S,” she said, bowing her head.
 

     
M cracked her whip, narrowly missing Rock as he moved back. “Slave M is right, though, we are the future,” she said as the two women split up, one on each side. “You, though, you and your Establishment belong in the past.”  She laughed throatily as they circled him, cutting off any means of escape, and he weighed his options. S exuded exotic danger with every step, confidence and arrogance pouring off of her in waves. M seemed more subdued, but eager… eager to please her mistress, the dominatrix. His choice made, he moved swiftly, surprising the smaller woman. She attempted to punch him, but his superior training helped him to easily dodge the blow, and grab her arm, spinning her around and jamming her arm halfway up her back.
 

     
She cried out in pain and ecstasy both as he wrenched her arm. “Yes! Yes! Oh God!” Somewhat horrified and definitely surprised by her reaction, he loosened his grip, though he didn’t let her go. “No! More! I want more!”
 

     S lashed out with the whip, striking her slave, who moaned again in pleasure. “Stupid slut,” she said. “No one hurts you but
me!
”
 

     “
No one should be hurting anyone!” he exclaimed, bewildered by the pair. A man being a sexual sadist he understood. It was about power more than sex, about exerting control over another being… and that was a man’s thing. The two women confused him completely, throwing his world view slightly out of kink. “I’m just passing through… you can go back to your… activities.”
 

     M wiggled against him, her bare ass stroking his cock through his jeans, bringing it to life. He groaned as he backed up, trying to ignore his more primal instincts. Distracted by the wanton writhing in his arms, he didn’t sense her movement until it was too late. M raised her foot and stomped his,
hard
. He let go of her and hopped backwards as S raised the whip again. M dodged out of the way, and the whip licked along his chest, raising red welts where it hit him on his pec. “Mmm… yes, Agent Hardin,” she said, her voice low and throaty. “I’ll so enjoy beating you.”
 

     He didn’t want to hit a woman, much less two of them. It went against everything in his nature, everything his father had taught him, and his own experience had confirmed. It was a new world, however, and to live, he had to adapt to it. Maybe he could find a compromise, however, giving the ladies what they seemed to want and subduing them at the same time. The thought was a balm to his ethics, soothing his conscience as he knew what he had to do. He had to become part of their scene, become a master to M but a slave to S all at the same time if had any hopes of surviving this while keeping his ethics intact. He might be a bastard, but he wasn’t a
fucking
bastard, and that fact had kept him in espionage for all these long years. He had to know what he was doing was right, else he could do the things he did.
 

     Rock moved forward again dropping his knife as M danced before him, not being able to anticipate what he was going to do. As S lashed out with her whip again, striking him on his back, he dodge M’s clumsy strike once more, and grabbed her by her hair, yanking it hard to force her head back. She cried out, her hand flying to his, and kissed her brutally. She moaned into his mouth, and he knew he’d have her, easily enough… S was going to be another matter. When she lashed his back again, he groaned, feeling the heat of the whip burn into his skin. The heat seemed to arouse his senses rather than dull them. His erection throbbed in time to the lines on his back, and wounds caused by LeMarchand. He turned, keeping M in line with a tight grip, and used her as a shield. “Don’t you want a chance to master a man, S?” he asked, his voice hoarse and husky. “Or should I say,
Mistress
S?”
 

     
Her arm had been cranked back to whip him again, but it shook slightly with his words. She licked her red, red lips, and looked him up and down slowly, devouring him with her eyes. “I see the Master has already been at you,” she said. “I’m just going to finish the job.”
 

     “
The ‘Master’, eh?” he said as M struggled in his arms. He jerked her head back further, and she moaned, her breasts sticking straight out. “But he’s not here now, is he? You’re going to kill me… but don’t you want to play with me, first?”
 

     “
Yes, Mistress!” M exclaimed. “Let’s play with him!” She moaned and writhed in his arms as his free hand rolled down her chest, cupping one of her heavy breasts...then pinching her nipple, hard, causing the girl to cry out in pleasure in his arms.
 

     “
Very well, Agent Hardin,” S said, spying her slave’s pleasure in his arms. “You’ll be my instrument then.” She lowered the whip, but kept it in hand, letting the length of it snake along the floor behind her. “Beat that slave,” she said, knowing he had an aversion to hitting women. She had to have known… one didn’t get into her sort of kink without understanding the plays of power between people.
 

     
He whipped M around in his arms and gazed deeply into her green eyes, trying to form a connection, to understand the need to pain. ‘It’s alright,’ she mouthed to him, looking bright and eager. Her head nodded slightly, and he could tell she wanted it. While she had been in his arms, her skin had been hot and flushed, scorching to the touch. Against all of his instincts, he cranked his arm back and slapped her across the face, hard… though not as hard as he could have. She cried out, and fell back as he let go of her. S purred and nodded in approval. “Again,” she said. “The slut deserves to be beaten….” When he glanced over to the mistress, he saw that she had maneuvered herself to a desk while he’d been distracted by the wanton M, and had pulled a revolver from a drawer. The ebony mistress held it steady on him.
 

     Having no choice now, he damned himself for being so foolish and slapped M again, backhanded this time, on the other cheek. M moaned and fell to her knees before him, scrabbling after his jeans. As she unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, his cock grew even harder and he double damned himself.
Shit,
he thought.
Maybe Maverick was right.
 

     
That was neither here nor there though, and he kicked off his shoes. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d fought and won naked, nor would it be the last if he had his way. When she lowered his jeans, his cock sprung free, hard and ready to go. S laughed derisively, “You might look down on us for our… playtime, but you’re no better. I knew this was what you wanted.”
 

     “
You’re both so beautiful,” he said, looking down at M. “How could I not be hard?”
 

     “
You live up to your name well, Agent Hard… in,” she laughed, throatily. Her voice turned hard as steel, “Now, beat that slut. I want to hear her scream.”
 

     
Now fully naked, Rock grabbed M by her hair again, yanking her up roughly. He let his instincts take over, and while he tried to cushion the blows as best as possible, he slapped her full, heavy breasts over and over again as she writhed and moaned in pleasure. He angled each slap to do the least amount of damage, and kept his hand slightly cupped for a louder, sharper slap sound to please Mistress S. The flurry of blows drove M back against an overstuffed chair, her back to its back.
 

     
He grabbed her arm and whipped her around. “I want your ass,” he said, and heard a warning noise from Mistress S. Ducking his head submissively, he cut a glance to her, “With your permission, Mistress.”
 

     
She must have heard the capitalization in his voice, and she nodded her acquiescence. As M wiggled her ass provocatively, he began to spank her. At first it was light, even though her rear was already red from S’s attention before. As Rock warmed her up, she moaned and gripped the chair, thrusting her ass back at him. He picked up the pace, giving her one, two, three hard spanks, causing the flesh on her ass to vibrate and jiggle. He pinched the cheeks, getting a big bit of her skin in between his fingers to lessen the severity of the pinches, but he squeezed… and hard. A cry erupted from M’s lips, along with, “Yes! Yes! More!”
 

     With her cries and moans, he couldn’t help but to feel her passion. She dragged him along with her, down into her dark desire. He wanted to hurt her, a savagery he hadn’t know he possessed before took hold of him, and he began to spank her again, each blow harder than the last. Each wiggle, each cry, each little whimper of pain and pleasure intermingled together made him want to take her, hard. The rational part of his mind kept tabs on the situation and tried not to let him go too far, but it was so hard, and she was so very tempting. So very…
very
tempting.
 

     “
That’s enough,” Mistress S said, cutting through his haze. “Here, slaves,” she commanded, bringing them both to heel. M scampered over to her Mistress, kissing her boots adoringly, whimpering with pain and pleasure both. Rock moved over more slowly, almost as if he were in a dream from which he couldn’t wake. Mistress S sat down in a chair with no arm, and spread her legs wide, showing her beautiful dark pussy through an opening in her leather dominatrix outfit. Rock licked his lips as he knelt slowly near M. “You’ve done so well warming her up, Agent Hardin, I didn’t know you had it in you,” she said. “One final show before the end then… Slave M, lick my pussy.” M dove in eagerly, shoving her face into the ebony goddess’ wetness as Mistress S regarded him. “Fuck Slave M, Slave Hardin,” she said, her voice coming rough.