If you're new to the series, please take note: this story is in the Nonconsent category. As usual, in addition to graphic nonconsent, this episode also features pervasive coercion and humiliation. Consider yourself warned!
This story is a fantasy. The author does not condone any real-world nonconsensual touching or sexual activity, infliction of pain or emotional distress, or mistreatment of any person.
CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia, June 2007
Amanda sat at her desk, bleary-eyed, sipping her extra-large coffee. She'd suffered yet another episode of nightmares the night before. Normally, she'd be disappointed by the unusually meager stack of interecepts in her in basket, but today she was grateful for the respite.
Maybe she had time to meet with Percy today. She wasn't looking forward it, but she would have to confront him sooner or later. She couldn't endure the nightmares much longer, and her work quality was beginning to slip.
She'd completed every task Percy had assigned, and executed every order. Every one. Now he had to upgrade her status and give her the mission he'd dangled. No more stalling.
She dialed Natasha.
An hour later, as she waited in Percy's office, her thoughts returned to her mission debrief two weeks earlier. She reminded herself this wasn't the time or place to process those events. But as the minutes wore on with no sign of Percy, and no intercepts with which to distract herself, she struggled to avoid the memory.
Natasha poked her head in. "He's still with Harlan. No telling how long he'll be. Call you when he's back?"
"Thanks, Natasha, but I'll wait."
"Suit yourself."
Amanda shifted in the uncomfortable chair, recrossed her legs, and tucked the fabric of her skirt beneath her. Maybe it would help her decide what to say to Percy now, if she spent a minute remembering the debrief.
* * *
The final part of the team's presentation, which she narrated, featured the most graphic footage of her sexual exploitation. These climactic moments conclusively demonstrated her ability to leverage her sex appeal to achieve the mission's objective.
However, the exploitation was traumatic, and her retelling was particularly humiliating, even if an essential element of leadership's review. She pushed through to the end, but as the video concluded, she broke down in tears.
After a few minutes, the wave of emotion passed, and she dried her eyes with her handkerchief, until she noticed Tyler grinning at her from across the table. Following his gaze, she realized he was looking down the front of her little cocktail dress, and she took an apple from beside Emma's handbag and threw it at him, striking him in the head.
"Ow! That hurt!" said Tyler, as the room erupted in laughter.
"That was my lunch," said Emma as she slapped Amanda on the back of the head. More laughter.
"I thought you'd seen enough of my chest by now, Tyler," said Amanda, as she wiped streaks of mascara from her cheeks.
Still rubbing his temple, Tyler came around the table, knelt beside her, took her hand in his, and kissed it lightly. "I'll never get enough of your beautiful breasts, Amanda. Will you marry me?" He reached up and squeezed both her breasts.
Amanda hit him in the cheekbone with a closed fist. He fell over onto his hip.
Wilson stood up. "Tyler, get back in your chair before you embarrass yourself any further." As he sat down, he exchanged glances with Harlan, who wore a bemused expression.
Percy extended his arms along the sides of the table. "Let's calm down. Now, next steps. I assume Tyler will go back to Dubai, show Amir the video, and tell him our terms. Unless you've decided to replace him, Wilson?"
Wilson shook his head. "I'll stick with Tyler. Despite his recent lapses in judgement."
"I have to say," said Percy, "Amanda has demonstrated more ability and initiative than your other two team members put together. Not to mention, she's hot as fuck."
"I'm right here!" said Amanda. Heat from the large monitor made the room very warm, and she pulled her arms from the sleeves of her cardigan.
Wilson gave Amanda a long look. "I agree, but those aren't the primary qualifications to successfully negotiate with Amir. For one thing, he doesn't respect her. Furthermore, she's still in provisional status. And frankly, I don't care if she brings me OBL's head on a platter, I'm not giving her a major operational role until she's fully proven herself."
Amanda looked at Percy. "I've completed the training and put in my time. You can take me off provisional status any time."
Percy nodded. "True. But I'm still seeing some problematic behavior. For example, you tried to honeypot Amir, but when he tried to feel your tits, you grabbed his wrists, and when he reached for your pussy, you clamped your legs together like the gates to Ft. Knox."
Wilson and Tyler nodded their agreement.
Amanda pursed her lips. She'd grown accustomed to Percy's vulgar language, but she still bristled when he referred to her own body.
"Then Tyler assembled an informative report on his successful operation, highlighting your own contribution, and you stopped his presentation because you're still embarrassed for anyone to see you naked. Which, by the way, is something you expressly agreed to, in writing, as a condition of employment."
Percy shook his head. "Frankly, Amanda, I don't know what to do with you. I've spent countless hours on your remedial habituation, and called in favors from other leaders for private sessions. Each time, you improve for a while, but then I see another case of willful disobedience. Before I invest more effort, you need to fully commit to our goals and demonstrate a better grasp of your own role."
Amanda felt this criticism like a flurry of punches to the gut. Ashamed, she hung her head for a long minute. When she looked up, she saw Tyler and Emma smirking, which was almost too much to bear. She thought about quitting right then and there.
But then she remembered why she was here. She'd joined the CIA to avenge her father. That need still burned within her. To get to this point, she'd overcome so many obstacles. What a waste it would be to quit now, with her goal in sight.
She forced herself to focus on Percy's feedback, painful as it was to hear. The answer was right in front of her. She simply had to conquer her excessive modesty, her puritanical thinking, her sense of shame. These impediments were all of her own making.
The others were all talking, but when she stood, they quieted. She turned to face Percy squarely and used her most sincere voice. "I'm so sorry for wasting your time, Percy. Please give me another chance to demonstrate my commitment."
He looked at her for a few beats, then motioned her closer.
She walked over to stand beside him, put her hands behind her back, and bowed her head.
"What's the name of that new guy, again?"
She looked at him blankly. "What guy?"
"You know. The man you're meeting for cocktails tonight. The one for whom you dressed up so pretty, and put on all that elaborate makeup."
How did he know already? She didn't want to have this conversation.
Percy's intrusive questions highlighted a disadvantage of dating people from work. But whenever she met anyone outside the CIA, it fell apart. Invariably, they couldn't tolerate her unwillingness to discuss her work, not to mention her abrupt, unexplained disappearances.
Now her shoulders slumped. "Um, Jason. Jason Carruthers. If that's even his real name."
Percy picked up the phone. "Get Jason Carruthers down here."
He huddled with Wilson briefly, then turned back to Amanda. "What's the purpose of the CIA?"
Taken aback, she thought for a moment, then opened her mouth to speak.
Percy gestured. "Tell them."
She turned to face the group. "To serve --"
The door swung open, and Jason eased his imposing form inside. When he saw Amanda standing beside Percy in her short black cocktail dress, he smiled and sat down.
She avoided Jason's eye. "To serve as the nation's first line of defense. To give America's leaders the intelligence they need to keep this country safe."
Percy nodded. "And as a woman in NCS, what's your role in that?"
"To carry out the mission to which I've been assigned."
"And currently, what is that mission?"
She bit her lip. Her eyes flicked toward Jason, then away.
"Tell them."
She watched Jason study her long legs, barely covered by the short hem of her cocktail dress. She drew a deep breath, and looked at the ceiling. "I'm a sex toy." The corners of her mouth inverted.
She turned back to Percy. "My role is to gratify the sexual urges of the targets you specify."
"How well are you doing? What would Tyler and Emma say?"
She looked over at Emma. Emma sneered back at her.
"Not a complete success, I guess." Her cheek twitched.
"What should we do about that?" He flicked his eyes toward her butt.
"Oh. Oh, no, Percy. Please."
"What should we do about that?" he repeated, more sharply.
"Please. Not here, in front of --" She cut her eyes toward Jason again, then quickly looked away. "Everyone." Her chin quivered.
Percy stood up. "I'm waiting."
She really did deserve it, she thought to herself.
She drew in her breath, reached out a shaky hand, flattened her palm against the tabletop, and leaned forward. She felt the low neckline of her dress shift.
"Really?" said Percy. "That's the best you can do?"
She grimaced, but after a moment she put her other palm on the table and bent over further. The hard edge of the table pressed against the fronts of her upper thighs.
The narrow skirt of her dress stretched taut. She eased her feet a little closer together, but the fabric still felt very tight across her bottom.
She couldn't resist the urge to glance down at her chest. Her breasts hung away from her body, and as she'd feared, the plunging neckline of her dress strained to contain them. Jason stared. A blush crept across her cheeks.
"Move to the left," said Percy, pointing her toward Jason. He pulled at her shoulder. "No, lower." He pushed down on her back.
She supported herself on her elbows and closed her eyes. She couldn't bear to watch Jason look straight down the front of her dress. A cold tear traced a path down her hot cheek.
"You were going to show him later anyway," said Percy.
True, she thought to herself. But I wanted him to invest some effort, to win me over first. To buy me dinner. To kiss me softly, tentatively, then again with more passion.
I wanted him to wrap his powerful arms around me, she thought. I wanted to feel the hard muscles of his chest against my breasts. I wanted him to whisper his desire for me as he unwrapped me in private, as he saw the panties I wore just for him, as he appreciated my body for the first time. I wanted to see how hard I made him.
Another tear plopped onto the table.
"You're forgetting something," Percy prompted.
