The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Emily breezed through her outer office, her tall green heels clicking rhythmically on the tile. The usual buzz of the firebrand Congresswoman’s office was muted today; in truth, it had been steadily falling in tempo over the last number of days. Her many aides and assistants went about the business of phone calls and paperwork and strategy sessions with glum, defeated looks. When they cast eyes at Emily, it was no longer with a proud smile, but instead with dull resignation. The stress of their boss’s recent change of heart was getting to all of them.

Emily didn’t notice. She entered her private office humming a happy little tune, her eyes straight ahead of her, her step filled with purpose. Congressman Wilde’s cum still squished delightfully inside of her. She could feel it with each step, every movement of her legs, reminding her of the powerful, delicious fuck she had just enjoyed. Wilde’s second, smaller load lingered on the inside of her cheeks. Wilde had liked it when she had offered her mouth to him. He’d liked it so enthusiastically that Emily’s throat ached from the force of his thrusts. She was going to have to practice her deepthroating.

She went straight to the vanity in her office’s private bathroom and began touching up her makeup. Her hair had survived Wilde’s passion more or less intact, but her mascara had run considerably from the tears that streamed down her face as she had gagged on his cock, and her lipstick was gone completely. There was no excuse for not looking her best.

Her mind whirled with all the things that she was going to have to take care of this afternoon. Between and after her bouts of being bent over Wilde’s desk—and thrown on top of it—they had discussed strategy for getting the votes they needed for the reworked CRRLA bill. It was going to be a tough fight, but they had a plan of attack: Wilde would rally the support of his fellow Republicans, convincing them that Emily was legitimate and not somehow conning them into a trap. Meanwhile, Emily would work on Democrats who could possibly be convinced to go along with things. She’d probably have to fuck quite a few of them, maybe even convince some that they were in love, but she could manage it. She’d been doing it her entire life.

“Emily?” Moira’s voice out in the main part of the office suite was surprising. She almost never called her old friend by her first name. Decorum demanded that Emily be addressed as either Congresswoman or Representative. “Where are you?”

It was a purely rhetorical question. Moira appeared in the open door of the bathroom in seconds, relief mixed with horror on her face. “Emily, where have you been? Your meeting ended hours ago.”

“I got pulled into a second meeting,” Emily waved her off. “With Wilde. It went good.” She paused, miffed at her slip of grammar. “Well. It went well.”

Moira shook the issue out of her head. “I need to talk to you. Now.”

The sharp tone in her voice brought Emily’s head around. “Are you ok? What’s wrong?”

“Just… come here a sec, would you?”

Obligingly, Emily put the last touch on her light red lipstick and followed Moira back out into the office proper. Moira pulled up a leather, brass-fastened armchair and virtually pulled Emily down into another opposite her.

Emily’s brow furrowed with worry. Moira was agitated, which would have been troubling enough on any other staffer. For her Chief, though, it was genuinely scary. Moira was the most poised, methodical person that Emily knew, a hard-edged political operative to her core. For her, this kind of nervous energy might as well have been a screaming panic fit.

It was a shame that Moira couldn’t lighten up, Emily reflected as she frequently had recently. She had so much going for her; she was as smart and talented as they came, and she had the balance of long-term vision and ruthless ambition that made for success in Washington. On top of that, she was devastatingly beautiful. She carried herself with a verve that belied her petiteness, and running competitive track had kept her whipcord lean. More than one frat boy at Berkeley had known her as “that Fairie Princess over in Alpha Phi.” Most of them probably still thought about her in their lonely moments late at night.

But instead of enjoying all those advantages and using them to her benefit, Moira let herself be crushed under the weight of responsibilities and tradition. Her pantsuit today, like all days, had absolutely no frills and barely any color, having opted for a powder blue blouse buttoned up high under her jacket. She was an incredibly fun person, just as long as she didn’t let the stress of her job get to her, which she clearly was right now.

Emily said none of that out loud. Her suggestions to Moira to loosen up over the last couple of weeks had only made Moira angry, so she just clammed up and waited for her Chief of Staff to air out whatever was on her mind.

“Emily, listen. I want you to take a trip with me.”

Emily definitely hadn’t been expecting that. “A trip?”

“Yeah. Right now, walk out of the office with me and leave the Capitol. Leave Washington.”

Emily frowned. She didn’t like this. “What are you talking about? Where would we go?”

Moira looked stricken. “I’m not going to tell you that. You just have to trust me.”

“Moira, you’re acting crazy. I have a job, I can’t just leave for no reason.”

“Emily.” Moira bit her lip. She looked more vulnerable than Emily had ever seen. “I want you to do something for me. Because you can.”

Emily shut up. Her mind whirled. The phrase was an inside joke that the two of them had come up with when they had first met as freshmen back at Berkeley. They had bonded over many things, among them their favorite childhood movie: “The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants,” which they had both grown up on. Over the next few years it became tradition to go back and watch the movie every year or so, especially when one of them was going through hard times. The line that Moira had just quoted had developed into a sort of signal between the two of them, a code that meant, ‘I’m on your side, I need you, trust me, just go with it.’

No one ever asked questions when that line was invoked. It was sacrosanct. The last time Moira had spoken it was when her father had been diagnosed with cancer. She wouldn’t be using it right now unless she meant business. And nothing could keep Emily from helping her dearest friend. Not meetings, not a bill, not anything.

She thought long and hard, descending into problem-solving mode, hyper aware of anything that might have brought trouble down on them to the degree that Moira needed to drag her out of town on a mysterious errand. She couldn’t think of anything. Everything had been going so well.

“All right. Let’s go,” she said finally.

The relief on Moira’s face was heartbreaking. “Thank you,” she groaned.

Emily went to grab her purse, but Moira stopped her with a hand. “Leave it.”

The plot thickened, and not in a way that Emily was comfortable with. But she took a deep breath and pulled her hand away, leaving her money and ID and cell phone behind. She trusted Moira.

The two of them walked in silence, out through the doors of Emily’s outer office. They turned right down the hall, towards a small side exit from the Capitol that Emily seldom used. Moira’s eyes roamed the halls like a squirrel checking the skies for circling hawks.

The men and women they passed in the corridors blessed Emily—and Moira, a bit—with stares that ranged from hateful to hungry, but Emily couldn’t enjoy them. Not when her friend and confidant was showing every sign of a major mental breakdown. Or, worse, genuine danger around the corner.

They made it outside and down the path to Independence Ave. Moira had her phone out, casting glances down the street in both directions. After just a few seconds a black Mercedes pulled up and Moira opened the door for Emily. It was an Uber.

The driver treated himself to a generous eyeful of Emily’s bouncing boobs as she climbed into the back seat. He started to talk, but a quick “No talking” from Moira shut him up quick.

A few minutes later they were dropped off in a small parking lot in the southwest waterfront area. There was only one car in the lot, and surrounding buildings shielded them from prying eyes on the street. Moira immediately unlocked the waiting car, a battered old Honda, and got in the drivers side. Emily wasted no time getting in next to her.

“What is this?” Emily finally asked as they pulled onto highway 695. “Where’s your car? Where are we going?”

“Chances are, they’re watching my car.” Moira didn’t bother to answer the other questions.

“Someone’s watching you? Who?”

“Mainly watching you.” Moira’s delicate lips were tight with fear. “I don’t know who yet. But someone, I promise you that.”

Emily looked out the window at the nation’s capital as it whizzed by. It was a nice day, surprisingly mild for summer in Washington. But lurking beneath the puffy white clouds and purposeful goings-on of the people on the street, she felt the oppressive stone of the solemn buildings they passed by, every one of the a hall of power.

“Moira, you’re scaring me.”

Moira reached over the center console and squeezed Emily’s hand in solidarity. “Welcome to the party,” she said wryly as they left D.C. behind.

“What do you mean, she’s ‘gone?’” Devin struggled to keep his voice from becoming a snarl.

The beleaguered-looking staffer in Emily’s outer office was having none of it. “I don’t know how I can make it any more clear,” the young man sighed. “The Congresswoman isn’t in the office.”

“When do you expect her back?”

“I really don’t know.”

“Where did she go?”

“I don’t know that either. Besides, I’m not accustomed to giving out the Congresswoman’s private schedule to reporters.”

Devin could have reached across the narrow desk between them and strangled the staffer. A quick glance around the office told him that he’d get no further with anyone else nearby; Hobart’s staff looked like they were about to be forced on a death march. Hardly a helpful mood to find them in. Devin briefly toyed with the idea of getting one or two of them alone so he could work his magic on them, but it was entirely possible that no one genuinely knew the bitch’s whereabouts.

That would be in keeping with what they had heard. While Hobart had been out of the office in meetings, Moira Casselbeck had used the inner office for some phone calls and face-to-face conversations that she had hoped to keep confidential, all having to do with her alarm over her boss’s erratic behavior of late. It had sounded like she suspected foul play, such as it was, and was about to take action against them. Devin had gotten to JFK as fast as he could and flown to Washington, but he had already been too late. Casselbeck was gone, and so was the Congresswoman.

“Thanks for your time,” Devin ground out before stalking out of the office, his bullshit press credential flopping flaccidly against his chest.

His mind raced. Casselbeck knew almost nothing and had guessed little more, according to the audio feed. She had put two and two together and determined that Devin was the source of the changes in Emily’s behavior, but she didn’t know how or why. She was casting about with a net in the dark, trying to catch a lucky break before things devolved any further. That was the good news.

The bad news was that she was desperate, and thus dangerous. Devin cursed himself for moving too quickly and too dramatically with Hobart. He might have taken his time, really massaged the situation to minimize the chance of this exact type of problem. He probably would have, if there hadn’t been a natural voting deadline created by Congressional procedure. Casselbeck was simply too smart and too dedicated to Hobart’s well-being. Devin had underestimated her, and now he was paying for it.

He raced back to his D.C. home, a Georgetown brownstone that had been elegantly decorated by the same designer who had appointed the Clinton White House. Once there, he threw his bag on the floor and parked himself in front of his desk to figure things out.

Hobart’s phone was a non-starter. The GPS signal said it was still in her private office, and the audio feed confirmed that. Her car was still parked near Capitol Hill. The audio from her home was just background hum.

Devin held out a brief hope that Casselbeck had been stupid enough to take her own car, but that was a no-go also. He didn’t have a tap on her cell, and he didn’t have the authority to track her by credit card or anything fancy like that…

He perked up in his chair. He didn’t have that kind of authority, but someone did. He just had to find out who. Maybe a little outside consulting was exactly what he needed here. It was the Washington way, after all.

He considered, then picked up his phone and dialed a number he hadn’t used in quite some time.

The phone rang just once before a sultry voice answered. “Well there’s a number I didn’t expect to pop up today.”

Devin spared a satisfied smile for the person on the other end of the phone. “Hello, Vivian. I trust you’re well.”

“Better than I have any right to be. Are you in Washington?”

“I am, as a matter of fact,” Devin confirmed. “Are you busy tonight?”

There was a brief pause. Devin noticed he was holding his breath and forced himself to let it out.

“Wilfred and I have tickets to the Kennedy Center tonight,” Vivian finally said. “It’s James Galway.” Devin’s stomach leapt into his throat as Vivian continued. “But I could skip it, if you’re here.”

Devin blew out his cheeks in relief. He hadn’t seen Vivian in almost a year. He had been afraid that her devotion to him would have faded in that time; his technology was reliable, but required periodic reinforcing to stay potent. Otherwise, the mind had a tendency to revert back to its natural course. Had she decided to shun him in favor of seeing some flutist with her husband, that would have been a very, very bad sign.

Instead, she was on Devin’s doorstep in an hour, and kneeling in front of his couch a moment after that. Devin sat back with his fly undone, Vivian’s delicate lips kissing up and down his shaft. He was of two minds about the situation; speed was of the essence, but when he had first conditioned Vivian years before, he had linked her obedience to him to sexual contact. It was a sloppy, inefficient system, but she had been an unusual dalliance. Now he had no choice but to sit back and enjoy her expert attention while her dependence on him resolidified after all this time.

Vivian was a couple years shy of 50, with a body and tasteful affect that only a trophy wife could manage. Her chestnut curls were piled on her head and secured with a few long pins, while her striped cotton dress managed to be respectable and playful all at once. Devin had met her at one fundraiser or another and was immediately taken with her easy, confident laugh, and with the wonderful curves of her hips. He had taken a long time breaking her mind, and enjoyed every minute of it.

As a happy coincidence, Vivian’s husband was a big muckity-muck at the Department of Defense, and as such she was exceptionally well-connected in Washington, especially in circles that had suddenly become relevant to him.

“Trying to find someone?” Vivian repeated after Devin once he had asked her the pressing question. “Like, someone who doesn’t want to be found?” Her lacquered fingernails teased against his balls while her hot breath kissed his cock shaft.

“Exactly.” Devin brushed a little hair out of her face as she continued to service him.

“You want the NSA,” Vivian announced, as if Devin should have already known that. Which he had. He just couldn’t do anything with that.

“Who do you know at the NSA who could help me?”

“Madison Koory,” Vivian replied in an instant. “She’s head of Falling Rock.”

“Falling Rock?”

“It’s an experimental surveillance program. I don’t know how it works. It’s Top Secret.”

The hair on Devin’s neck pricked up. Vivian could go to jail for life for leaking him Top Secret information. At least now he no longer had doubts about her devotion to him.

“Vivian, can you get me alone in a room with her?”

“Of course, my love. I can do anything for you.” A smile on her face, Vivian’s mouth descended onto Devin’s cock, making happy little grunts as she sucked his cock. Devin allowed himself a genuine smile as he let her work. She really was a wonderful specimen. The life of the party, an easy wit, and a genuine love of giving pleasure. He had never had to implant that in her, just direct it at him.

He couldn’t dawdle here for long. Fortunately, with Vivian his climax was never far away.

After Vivian had gleefully swallowed what Devin gave her, she set up the meeting. Ninety minutes later, he was sitting on a bench near the National Mall, checking that his nullifiers were situated in his ears as Madison sat down next to him. His phone was already radiating. There was no time to waste on pleasantries.

“You’re Vallet?” she asked him. Clearly she wasn’t much for pleasantries either.

“Madison?” He sized her up. She was young for a project head at the NSA, but not crazily so. He supposed that in the high-flying world of cyber security and information brokering, youth was a trend. Her red hair was shaved down the left side in an edgy style that was several years out of date, and she had a large amethyst stud in her nose. None of that distracted from a set of voluptuous curves that filled out her slacks and mock turtleneck incredibly well. Her short stature, pale skin, and generous hips made her look somehow exotic, like a Norwegian sex imp of some kind.

She sat on the bench next to him but didn’t lean back. “What’s so important that you had to drag me all the way down to the District?”

Devin couldn’t tell her the truth; that he was terrified of setting foot in the NSA headquarters in Fort Meade. He’d never tested his system against military-grade electromagnetic countermeasures, and he never wanted to. For all he knew he would have gone to Madison’s office, flipped the switch to start work on her, and immediately brought the hammer of the greatest spy network in history down right on his head. A neutral meeting place had been key to this.

“It’s a good thing you did come,” Devin reassured her. “What I have to say is incredibly sensitive and dangerous. It needs to stay between us.”

“That’s not how the NSA works,” Madison cautioned, an edge in her voice. “It’s right in the name. ‘Agency.’ We don’t work as lone wolves.”

“You’re not a lone wolf. You’re working with me. You and I are partners on this.”

Madison blinked. “You and me?”

“Yes. We’re partners.”

“But I don’t even know you.”

“You’ll get to know me. But it’s important that we start trusting each other right away. That’s what partners do.”

Madison shifted on the bench and shook her head. Devin knew the gesture, similar to trying to clear out cobwebs. He saw it often. “Vivian’s a good friend. If she says you’re on the level, the least I can do is listen.”

“Exactly. I’m glad you’re on board with me.”

Madison held up a hand. Her three middle fingers glinted with silver and black rings. “One step at a time.”

He couldn’t dance around it forever. “I’m afraid there’s been a kidnapping.”

Madison shook her head ruefully. Devin imagined that he had just confirmed some of her misgivings about the meeting. “You want local PD for that, Vallet, not the Agency.” Devin was glad that Madison was the kind of person who kept reminding him about his current alias. It made remembering the identity that much easier.

“No. You’re the only one who can help me. You need to help me.” Devin grated under the stilted way that he was talking, but simple, direct statements made for the fastest conditioning, as long as he could work them seamlessly into the conversation.

Madison frowned. On her pouty features, the expression was absolutely adorable. It had probably melted a lot of hearts and ended a lot of arguments with boys back in her teen years. Probably still did today.

“I need to help you?” The frown deepened. Suddenly it was a lot less adorable and a lot more alarming. “Listen, I… I should go.” She blinked again, forcefully. “If you send some information along to my office, I’ll… I’ll get it into proper channels. See if it’s appropriate…” She trailed off for a moment, then shook herself. “Appropriate for agency involvement.”

She stood, and Devin stood with her, cursing silently. Something had aroused suspicion in her. He had never worked on a professional spy; was there something in her training or tradecraft that made her less willing to listen to odd strangers? Actually, on reflection, that seemed very likely.

“Thank you for your time,” Devin said graciously. “I appreciate you making the trip. Let me walk you to your car.” That should at least buy him another couple of minutes.

“Sure,” Madison agreed, already walking down the brick pathway that lead off the lawn of the Mall. The Washington Monument loomed ominously nearby, like the watchful eye of Big Brother.

“You really are a good friend to Vivian, coming all this way just for a favor. She and I are also really close. Which makes you and me really close, too. Friend of a friend.”

Madison stumbled slightly. The bricks didn’t look uneven. “Yeah, she’s great. She and my mom have known each other for like thirty years. Vivian was basically like an aunt to me growing up. Her husband Wilfred actually got me started at the Agency.”

Ok, good. She was more willing to talk about personal things. Start there, then get to business. That was a not-uncommon hurdle that Devin often came across. “That’s very sweet. She’s more like a sister to me.” Hardly. “We’ve known each other for so long and been through so much, we have this incredible connection. We can open up to each other about anything. Just like you and I can open up to each other about anything.”

Madison said nothing. Her steps, in addition to carrying her forward, drifted left and right as well, in a wavy motion that made Devin think of a drunk person. Devin appreciated the way her ass filled out her pants, huge and swaying. “Yeah. It’s nice to have someone to talk to.”

Just then, Madison stopped walking, as if she’d just heard a distant sound that grabbed her attention. With visible effort she forced herself to keep going, casting an uncertain look at Devin. “Wait, what are we talking about?”

Devin laughed. “Oh, look at you getting all confused. You really are adorable, always forgetting what’s going on when we talk. It doesn’t matter how lost you get, it’s just really nice talking to me.”

Madison nodded absently. “You’re really nice.”

“Thanks, Madison. Do you ever go by Maddy?”

She nodded again. “My boyfriend calls me that.”

“I’ll call you Maddy too, then. You can think of me like your boyfriend. A nicer version.”

“But… You’re not my boyfriend.”

“Of course not, silly. I’m better than your boyfriend.”

“You’re… better than my boyfriend?”

“Mm hmm. Exactly.” Devin slid his arm around her shoulder. “Say that again. It’s nice to hear.”

“You’re better than my boyfriend.”

“Thanks, Maddy. Why am I better than your boyfriend?” Madison paused, deep in thought, and Devin prompted her. “There are so many ways, but I’m sure you can think of a few.”

“I can trust you?” Madison ventured. “More than I can trust him?”

“Exactly,” Devin cooed, his hand rubbing along her arm as they walked. “You can trust me more than anyone.”

“I can trust you more than anyone.”

“You and I would never hurt each other. We always want to help.”

“We would never… Never…”

Madison stopped walking again and crouched right there on the bricks, her head in her hands. The suddenness of the motion rocked Devin back on his heels. For a moment he thought she might be crying. She mumbled something, and he leaned closer to hear.

“What are you doing?” she repeated.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Devin lied.

“I feel strange. Something’s happening.”

Devin didn’t know where she was getting this kind of response from. It must have been some element of her training. Psychological warfare, tricks to resist torture, something like that. But he could bust through it, or work around it. He had to.

“You just feel happy, that’s all,” he countered. “You’re just happy to be out here with me. Spending time with a friend, enjoying yourself.”

“No. That can’t be it,” she said in the direction of the bricks.

Devin had to get her out of here. There were a lot of people milling around today, and they were starting to draw attention. All he needed was one concerned police officer to come check on them, and his exposure would skyrocket.

“It is. You’re just not used to being happy.” She looked at him with shining, confused eyes. She was so close, despite fighting the silent noise in her brain. “Be honest, Maddy. Before you came here today, were you a happy person overall?”

“Happy?”

“Did you feel good about life most of the time?”

Slowly, she shook her head.

“How do you feel most of the time?”

“Stressed,” she admitted, as if she’d been itching to confess it for years. “So stressed. Overworked. You have no idea what it’s like at the NSA. Clawing for promotions, trying to stay ahead of things, trying to innovate, compete. I don’t get to have fun like I used to. Like I want to. I don’t get to spend time with my family, or with my boyfriend, or anything. I gave up fencing, and I loved fencing. I don’t get to be happy.”

The words spilled out of her in a flood. She’d really been holding on to that for a while. Devin nodded knowingly, suppressing a smile.

“And now you’re here with me, your friend Devin, and that’s nice. It makes you happy. But you’re not used to being happy. Just be ok with feeling strange for a while. It’ll pass and everything will be better.” Madison tried to close her eyes. Tried to look away. Tried to concentrate on something other than what Devin was saying, but he put his hand on her chin and guided her gaze back to his. “Listen. What you’re feeling right now is just happiness. You’re with the best man you know, and that makes you happy. I’m better than your boyfriend. Better than anyone. Doesn’t that make you happy?”

A tear rolled down Madison’s cheek. “Yes. It makes me happy being with you.”

“It makes you happy trusting me.”

“It makes me happy trusting you,” she sobbed.

“Good, honey. You’re so sweet. You trust me more than anyone.”

“I do. I trust you so much.”

“That’s so sweet, Maddy honey. Here, stand up. Let’s keep walking.”

She did, and they continued down the path. Devin held her hand and kept his other arm protectively around her. “Honey, do you have any surveillance gear on you? I know how you NSA types can be.” He didn’t, but he suspected.

“Yeah,” she admitted. “I record all my work conversations.”

He’d been afraid of that. “Maddy, you really don’t need to do that with me. I’m special. You know that, right?” She nodded. “Go ahead and give me the recording device.”

She handed over her cell phone, along with a wireless microphone that he hadn’t noticed nestled in her tasteful faux-jeweled necklace. Devin held it out for her. “Go ahead and delete the recording of what we’ve been talking about.” He watched her stop the recording, select the file, and delete it, then took the phone back from her. “I’ll hold onto this. Does anyone else know who you’re meeting with?”

“No. Vivian said I should keep it secret.”

“Vivian is smart like that. Not like you, you cute little dummy. But at least you’re good taking instructions.”

Another sob wracked Madison. “I’m sorry. I want to do better. I try so hard.”

Good god, her job must really have tied her up in knots for a long time. “I know you do, sweetie. And I’m here to help. Just do what I say and everything will be great.”

“Of course. Thank you, thank you,” she repeated for a moment.

“You’re welcome, honey. You know I care so much about you. I only want to make you feel good.” Devin stopped and turned to her. He brushed a tear off of Madison’s cheek, then leaned down and gently kissed her. She returned it eagerly, pressing herself into him, her tongue pressing past his lips with the desperation of a woman clinging to a lifeboat in a storm.

When the kiss finally broke, Devin chuckled a little. “Well, I don’t think your boyfriend would like that very much.” Guilt flooded Madison’s face, but Devin nuzzled her a little to calm her down. “I’m kidding, sweetie. Obviously you should break up with him. I’m a better than than he is, you know. You should be with me.”

A grin blossomed on Madison’s face, the first real smile he’d seen from her, as she nodded and threw herself back into a kiss with Devin.

They finally came up for air a few minutes later, and Devin began to guide a now-cheery Madison back toward where she said her car was. The imperceptible hum of Devin’s phone still hung over them. Devin continued to whisper sweet nothings to her the whole way, reassuring her new way of looking at him.

“Now honey, there’s something I need to ask you,” he said when they got to her car and climbed in. She had assured him that the NSA wasn’t tracking her car. She would know.

“Sure, baby, what’s on your mind?” Her cheery face was still red and streaked from tears, now long forgotten.

“Remember when I told you that someone I know was kidnapped? I need to find them, and I can’t do it on my own. They’re really important. Could you use some of your tricks at work to help?”

“I don’t know, it depends,” she mused. “Misappropriation of resources is a felony. Especially if I have to keep it secret. Then it could get a lot more serious if they find out what I did. Could be illegal surveillance, could be treason. I could lose my job. Or go to jail.”

Devin nodded. “I understand. But you know I wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you, right? And even if something bad did happen, you really want to help me. It would be worth going to jail to help me.”

Madison looked stricken. “But I’ve always wanted to be a spy. I’ve been trying to get to the Agency my whole life. That kind of a risk… That would be horrible. It’s stressful, but I still love this kind of work. I can’t lose it.”

Devin reached out and rubbed her cheek in an intimate gesture, then let his hand run down her check and over her sweater, feeling the incredible curves underneath. Her breasts were huge; not upturned and proud like Hobart’s, but powerful as a pagan statue’s. She sucked air in through her teeth as his fingers tweaked her nipples through the fabric of the sweater.

“No, sweetie. What you can’t lose is me.”

“I… I can’t lose you.”

“You love me more than your job. You’d do anything to make me happy.”

“Yes. Yes, anything. God, your hands…”

“If it’s treason, that’s ok. You’ll commit treason for me.”

Madison bit her lip. Her eyes were shut so tight that tears leaked out the corners. “Yes. I’ll commit treason for you. Of course, baby. Don’t stop.”

“You’ll do anything I ask. Lie for me. Steal for me.”

“Yes, baby. Anything.”

“And if you do a very good job, I’ll let you swallow my cum like a good girlfriend does.”

Eyes still closed, she blindly pawed at his pants until her hand found the hardening bulge under his zipper. She mewed happily. “Tell me what I can do. I want your cum. Please, tell me.”

Devin grinned. His hands still roaming her body, he began to tell his new girl about who he needed found, and the two of them made plans for how she could use the full weight of the United States covert services to find them.