There is a moment in the life of every spy, when they look back and wonder why they became one. Some do it for their country, some do it for the thrill, some are just pushed into it. As Sani's naked body shivered, her wheatish skin covered in goose bumps, her dark nipples hard, she tried to free herself from the binds that tied her hands inches away from the floor, knowing well enough this was that moment.
A year ago, an agency so secretive that it's referred to just as 'the Agency' recruited her straight out of college in Delhi. She was virtually invisible during her time as a student. A very small group of friends, she spent most weekends studying, reading or just staying in. Her academics weren't the best, but she was smart. Clearly, or else the Agency would not have approached her.
First, they enticed her at a job fair, disguised as a recruitment firm. At a follow-up interview, they made an offer, she accepted. During the training, they asked something of her, and she wasn't sure that she could reciprocate.
She had been saving herself for marriage. She had been in a couple of relationships, but the most she would allow was being kissed and having her breasts fondled, but never under her clothes. She had only once considered giving a handjob before promptly dismissing it, and never once entertained the idea of giving head. Both relationships had ended long before the interview.
She had never been naked in front of anyone before joining the Agency, yet here she was now, sitting naked in an empty room, having been seen by at least three people that day alone. Ropes tied her hands to a hook on the floor, in the centre of the room. She could barely sit up straight, let alone stand up. She spent most of the two days she had been stuck there curled up on the floor.
She was last fed some oatmeal and warm milk two days ago and locked in a filthy toilet, handcuffed and barefoot, for an hour. She tried to find and escape route or just figure out where the hell she is, in vain. The small vent by the ceiling was double-meshed and she could only make out that there was some sunlight outside. She tried screaming for help, but was shut up by solid bangs on the door.
She could do nothing else, so she sat down and went about with her business. There was nothing in the toilet that she could possibly use as a weapon; no mirrors, no exposed cisterns, nothing sharp, nothing hard. The most damage she could do was clog the toilet. She just sat there in silence till someone would open the door. Her weapons instructor would not be happy.
With a loud rumble, a man with his face covered unlocked the toilet and dragged her out. He was a strong and imposing, a giant relative to her petite frame. He took her to a room with tiled walls and started ripping her clothes apart.
Sani had been wearing the same clothes she had worn when they took her the day before: a white shirt, slacks and black lace underwear. Only her headscarf and shoes were not with her anymore.
He began with her top. He did not rip it along the buttons. He turned her around, grabbed the collar and tore it along the middle of her back. He ripped both the sleeves at the shoulder and then then across the shoulder itself. He let the cloth fall down by her feet and sleeves slump down to her wrists.
He could have had simply pulled down her pant and panties. Instead he ripped along both sides of her slacks by the seam and let it fall down.
He crouched down and slid the back of his hand down her panties, grabbing it from the inside. He sensed her discomfort. With his other hand he grabbed the bottom of the underwear's crotch and pulled away from his other hand, all the while looking her in the eyes. He proceeded to rip the rest of her panties apart from the waistband, which he left intact for a bit. He did not have to make a show of tearing the lace, and Sani knew that.
The man stood back up, and leaned down, his face inches from Sani's. She could see her face, all deformed in the reflection in the dark glasses the man wore, her brown eyes looking for themselves. The man tore both her bra straps from the cups, placed his hands on her breasts, shifted them to the bridge of the bra and tore it. He let it fall down behind her.
He placed a palm on her belly and slid it down, under the waistband, over her vagina. He let it rest there, doing nothing. Sani should not have let him sense her discomfort earlier.
His hand stayed there for over five minutes. Sani did not know what he hoped to achieve. Did he want her to get turned on? Did he want to humiliate her if she got aroused so easily? She did not know, and so she just looked at him, trying her best to not show a single emotion.
He pulled his arm away from her, pulling at the waistband and pushing at her handcuffed arms. He stretched the band as far as it would allow. He seemed displeased, but Sani was glad that his hand was no longer on her vagina. He let go of the band.
From her sides, he grabbed the waistband with both his hand and pulled them out from under her arms and let it snap back onto her arms. He held her handcuffs and pulled her arms up, causing the waistband to slowly rise along her body till it was around her neck.
Sani heard a slight chuckle. The man placed a hand on her chest and began pulling at the waistband again. This time he did not stop till it snapped. And once it did, she fell down on her butt. She always though that it was an adequate size, but she wouldn't have minded having more mass down there.
The man ripped all the clothes with ease, but did it as roughly as he could, and all she could do was stand silently and watch her dignity be taken away. Finally, he tore through the sleeves bundled at her slim wrists by the handcuffs, collected her clothes and threw them out of the room.
He stood her up and shoved her, sending her reeling towards the wall. She tried to break the impact with her arms, but the momentum was too much and she hit the wall with her shoulder. Rubbing it, she tried to regain balance and was hit by a jet of ice-cold water, startling her. Another man with a covered face, smaller than the other, had entered the room with a hose, unnoticed.
She crouched down and balled up, hoping to avoid as much water as she could. The jet ceased for a moment and the larger man walked up to her. He grabbed both her wrists with one hand and pulled her up to her feet and hooked her handcuffs to a carabiner hanging from the ceiling.
With her arms high above her head, Sani stood there with her feet barely on the ground, as the stream of water hit her like a hundred icicles. The smaller man reduced the pressure and approached her, just out of range of her legs. He asked her to spin around and made sure that the water reached all her nooks and crannies.
