The spy (4)

“Did we say you can close your eyes?” Someone spanks my thighs, and my eyes snap open.

“No, Sir,” I say amid a breathy moan and bite my lip as a wave of pleasure replaces the fading pain. My gaze follows the muscle contours on Thirst Trap, all the way down to where his abs taper into a V that disappears behind the waistband of his sweatpants. A little lower, I notice his cock is now fuller, unlike the first time he arrived, and it is poking through his pants. It seems I’m not the only one feeling the effects of the incense.

“Do you want that?” the First Guy asks, squeezing my throat, and Thirst Trap pulls the waistband of his pants low enough for his hard cock to spring out of it. The size is just right, not too big nor too small. The glans is already darker, its outline appetizing, and veins decorate its shaft. The view alone is enough to excite my lady parts, and I grind against the chair, wanting some relief.

“Yes, Sir,” I shout, squirming on the chair when I get no relief where I need it most because of my current position. Frustration builds up in me, and my eyes water, not because of pain, but because my body is thoroughly uncomfortable from the pressure buildup down there. My juices are already dripping on the chair—something that has never happened to me ever.

“Good girl,” the First Guy praises, letting go of me and standing in front of me. I can see his cock poking his pants as well, but he is not as hard as Thirst Trap yet. Maybe he is quite resistant to whatever is in the air. “This is how we are going to play this game,” he says, and my ears perk up. “We are going to ask you some questions, and if you give us a satisfactory answer, you get a reward.” He strokes his chin and adds, “But you can still use your safe word any time if you don’t want to play this game.”

Smart move, big man. Really smart move. Getting me hooked to this point and then finally revealing his plan. In my many missions since I started this job, this is the first time I’ve encountered such an interrogation method. It’s either that they are the most genius brothers, or the most perverted. In this case, I’d say both. I’ve known pain as a torture method, but it is the first time I’ve encountered pleasure as a torture method. The fact that I even have a safe word leaves me confused. Maybe they aren’t as beastly as rumor has it.

Do I want to end the game? Who is he kidding? He’s made sure I’m at the point of no return, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’ll get something out of me.  Honestly, I don’t know how much I can hold on, but I’m not a quitter. I’ll hold on till the last minute. There’s no way I’m stopping until I have a taste of those cocks.

Speaking of cocks, Thirst Trap still has his cock out, and he’s making sure I get a good view of it. He strokes the tip a little and bites his lower lip while looking at me with the most bedroom eyes ever. I can’t take my eyes off him as he thrusts his hips forward slowly, mimicking the pumping motion.

I’m heaving now, and my hips quiver in anticipation, which slowly transitions into frustration when he pulls his pants back up. My swollen bean has long become uncomfortable from lack of physical stimulation, and my dripping wet opening keeps reminding me how that cock would fit perfectly in there.

“How long have you been spying on us?” The First Guy asks, tugging on my nipples. He’s asking the obvious, and I can bet they know the answer. They are just testing my truthfulness. Normally, I shouldn’t give them anything, but I’m itching for some relief.

“Three months, sir,” I say, reaching up and licking the side of his face when he leans down to me.

“Good girl,” he praises. “You get a reward.”

Thirst Trap sits behind me on the space remaining on my chair and wraps his arms around me. I can feel his cock pocking me as he presses me against him and licks the side of my neck. His hand moves to my inner thighs and caresses my skin until it stops right where I need it most.

“Aaah!” A breathy moan escapes me as he touches my wetness and starts rubbing my bean in circular motion with the right pressure. The First Guy stands in front of me and takes my lips in his, threading his fingers through my hair. Damn! Those lips are as soft as I imagined, and he’s a good kisser.

I must say Thirst Trap really knows how to use those hands because the pleasure coursing through me is on another level. It doesn’t take long for pressure to build in the pit of my stomach. The scent of me fills the air, and it makes me even more aroused than I already am. Thirst Trap’s cock twitches against my lower back, and that is the deal breaker. My legs start to quiver, and I feel a climax approaching.

“Noo!” I cry out when they both stop touching me right before I can climax. I was so close!

“Easy, girl,” the First Guy says, cupping my cheeks. “Next question. Who is your inside person?”

“Allan McCoy, Sir,” I answer without missing a beat. I want these questions to be over so I can get my climax. It’s all I can think about.

“Where is he?”

“Dead, sir,” I reply as fast, but his brow creases, like he doesn’t believe me. I want less talking and more action right now. “Your men got him. How else do you think my cover was blown?” I snap.

“Anyone else?”

“No, sir.”

The two men exchange looks. Thirst Trap nods. “Good girl. You get another reward.”

A sigh of relief escapes me as Thirst Trap resumes his position behind me and continues getting me off with his hand. His skin against mine makes the experience so much better. Within no time, the pressure builds again, even stronger this time, and my inner muscles start to tighten. My legs start to shake, and First Guy tightens his hand around my throat, making me feel like I’m floating. Rhythmic contractions of my core muscles follow as I hit an explosive climax.