Dominoe, Rook, and Bishop were created by Trent Wolf. The characters of Sydney Bristow and Marcus Dixon are the property of ABC in association with Touchstone Television. No copyright infringement is intended. This story is purely for personal entertainment purposes only. No financial gain is intended.

“On your knees, ladies,” Baldwin commanded.

Dominoe and Sydney obeyed. The two women knelt before each other in the middle of the slick plastic ring. They eyed each other with determined expressions. Though clearly under Baldwin’s control, their competitive nature was still present.

Baldwin knelt outside the ring. “Here are the rules: No biting, kicking or punching. First one to pin the other on the matt for three seconds is the winner.” A grin spread across Baldwin’s lips. “If you are thrown out of the ring or step out on your own you will be punished . . .  by me. All right, girls, let’s get it on!”

Baldwin blew the whistle hanging from his neck.

Dominoe and Sydney lunged at each other. They grappled for control as they slipped and slid across the surface of the oil-covered ring. Dominoe slipped behind Sydney, wrapping her arms around the CIA agent’s waist. Sydney squirmed and struggled, but Dominoe pushed her down on the ring. Sydney landed on her stomach with Dominoe on top of her.

Sydney twisted and writhed under Dominoe. She managed to roll on her back and bucked, lifting her lower body off the matt, throwing Dominoe off her. Before Dominoe could recover, Sydney rolled on top of the CATT agent. She pounced on Dominoe, attempting to pin her to the matt. Dominoe was too strong and easily threw Sydney off her.

The two women recovered with lightning quickness. Before they could even catch their breath, they were on each other. A fierce wrestling session followed as the two oil-covered thong wearing secret agents fought for any advantage. They rolled around the ring, locked in close combat as they shrieked and grunted. Just when one woman seemed to have an edge, the other one countered with a spirited effort.

Baldwin and the men surrounding the ring couldn’t get enough. They cheered and laughed as the two seminude young women rolled around the ring, engaged in all-out wrestling that bordered on actual fighting.

Dominoe fought her way on top of Sydney. She straddled the CIA agent at the waist. Sydney bucked and arched, but only succeeded in giving Dominoe a wild ride on her middle. In a final act of desperation, Sydney grabbed two handfuls of Dominoe’s hair and pulled. Dominoe let out a painful grunt. At that moment, Sydney bucked with all her might.

Dominoe tumbled along the oil-covered surface of the mat. The CATT agent recovered quickly and shot to her knees. Sydney anticipated her opponent’s action and plowed into Dominoe, using her as a tackling dummy. The impact sent Dominoe reeling. She tripped over the edge of the ring and spilled out onto the hardwood floor.

The men cheered with approval.

Baldwin blew his whistle. “Stop!” he shouted. “You’re out of the ring. That’s a penalty.” He stood over the panting and baby oil-covered form of Dominoe. “Stand up.”

Dominoe obeyed and stood before Baldwin.

“Grab your ankles,” Baldwin ordered.

Dominoe did as she was told. She couldn’t understand why she was doing it, but soon found herself bent over with her hands on her ankles. She was flexible enough and did not have to bend her knees. Her position exposed her thong-covered backside to the crowd of leering men.

Baldwin stepped behind Dominoe. He studied the perfect ass propped up in the air before him and smiled. He measured Dominoe’s rear with his hand, took a practice swing, and then . . .

SMACK!

Dominoe closed her eyes and gasped as she felt the hard slap on her buttocks.

CRACK!

A second blow stung her shapely ass. The burning pain engulfed her entire backside but she dared not move or protest.

SMACK!

The third blow was almost unbearable, but Dominoe bit her lip and took the pain. She braced herself for another slap but Baldwin did not deliver the blow.

Baldwin stepped next to Dominoe. “Next time you leave the ring it will be six. Understand?”

Dominoe nodded, rubbing her burning ass. She suddenly shot Sydney a piercing look. The CIA agent stood on her knees in the middle of the ring with a determined expression, her oil-covered body glistening erotically. Dominoe was determined to make Sydney pay for her spanking.

"Get back in the ring," Baldwin ordered.

Dominoe did not take her eyes off Sydney as she stepped back into the ring. She joined Sydney on her knees in the middle of the plastic mat.

“Resume!” Baldwin shouted, blowing his whistle.

Dominoe and Sydney were once again locked in close combat, wrestling for control. They tumbled along the baby oil-covered surface of the ring. Entangled arms and legs blurred as the wrestling intensified. They rolled around the ring, taking turns being on top. Their wild grunting and squealing were drowned out by the cheering men around them. Most of the spectators waved money and made hasty bets as they watched the match unfold.

Dominoe fought her way to her knees but Sydney used her quickness to dart behind the CATT agent. She wrapped her arms around Dominoe’s torso and cupped the CATT agent’s prominent breasts. Dominoe gasped when Sydney squeezed her firm mounds, mauling her flesh viciously. Dominoe squirmed and struggled for all she was worth, but Sydney had the advantage. The CIA agent suddenly pulled on her opponent’s prominent nipples, inflicting an excruciating discomfort on Dominoe.

Dominoe let out a painful grunt. She reached behind her, grabbed Sydney’s head and flipped the CIA agent over her shoulder. It was a remarkable feat considering Dominoe was on her knees. Sydney slammed into the matt, landing on her back before Dominoe.

Some men cheered while others groaned with disappointment.

Dominoe prepared to finish off Sydney with a punch, but remembered Baldwin’s admonition about not throwing punches. Her hesitation cost her. Sydney suddenly bent her legs over her body and clamped them around Dominoe’s head. The move caught the CATT agent off guard. Sydney pulled Dominoe over her, smashing her head into the mat. The plastic ring offered little protection and the impact of the blow stunned Dominoe, rendering her temporarily unconscious.

The men cheered even louder, impressed by Sydney’s resourcefulness.

Sydney rolled onto her stomach. She zeroed in on the fallen body of her opponent and dived on top of Dominoe. She landed sprawled out across Dominoe’s stomach, knocking the wind out of the CATT agent.

Baldwin jumped into the ring. He stood over the two women and proceeded to count like a boxing referee. “One . . .  two . . .  three! You're out!”

Half the men around the ring cheered while the other half groaned and handed over their cash.

Baldwin reached down and grabbled Sydney’s arm, lifting her to a standing position. He raised her hand in victory. “Here’s your winner! Sydney ‘Deep Throat’ Bristow!”

The sleazy men went wild. Juan Galvan watched silently, staring at Dominoe as she stirred in the middle of the ring. He stepped toward Baldwin and whispered something in his ear. Baldwin shot Galvan a knowing look and smiled.

Baldwin spoke again. “I hope you all enjoyed the show. Sydney here is the winner and will undertake that special mission in our behalf.”

“And what mission is that?” one of the men asked.

Galvan took over. He waited until he had the full attention of the men before speaking. “The assassination of the most powerful man in the world . . .  to begin with.”

His revelation drew stunned silence from the collection of criminals around him. All the men knew he was referring to the leader of the United States. Had it been anyone else who said that, it would have been received as a joke. Juan Galvan did not joke. Several of the men stared at each other blankly, not knowing what to say or do.

“I can think of no other way to demonstrate my power and influence on a world level.” Galvan explained. “This will be the ultimate statement.”

One of the men, an older criminal, was bold enough to speak first. “If you assassinate him, the heat will be tremendous. Have you thought about the implications?”

“The gringos will be angry, but it will pass,” Galvan said. “They will realize that nothing can touch us. Right now we have more money and influence than anyone. This will consolidate our power.”

The men murmured among themselves.

Baldwin stepped forward. “We will explain the plan in thorough detail tomorrow morning.”

“You will all spend the night here as my guests.” Galvan said “Please make yourselves comfortable. I have fifteen rooms at your disposal. Buenas noches,” Galvan walked past the circle of men and left the room.

***

Dominoe entered Juan Galvan’s bedroom. She carried a silver tray loaded with a champagne bottle and several food items. She was dressed in a fetish French maid’s outfit complete with a white lace apron. The skirt fell above her thighs, exposing the black lace stocking tops. Abnormally high-heeled shoes showcased her long shapely legs.

Galvan sat inside a round bathtub that had been built into the hard wood floor of the bedroom. He smiled when Dominoe entered the room. Galvan had no respect for Baldwin, but he definitely had a great imagination. It was too bad Baldwin had to be killed. Now that Galvan had the mind serum, he had no more use for Baldwin.

Galvan studied the stunning woman dressed in the kinky outfit. She was a work of perfection. “Well, who do we have here?”

“I am Marie,” Dominoe replied in a thick French accent. “What would you like to do first, monsieur? Eat . . .  or fuck?”

“Why don’t you join me,” Galvan said.

Dominoe placed the tray on the bed. She focused on Galvan and proceeded to strip off the maid outfit, dropping it around her feet. She stood before Galvan wearing only her heels, stockings, and thong panties.

Dominoe posed for Galvan, giving him a view from different angles. “Do you like what you see, monsieur?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Would you like to see me pleasure myself?”

“Why not?” Galvan gestured with his hand. “Proceed.”

Dominoe stepped toward the edge of the bathtub. She stood before Galvan and plunged her right hand inside the front of her panties. She inserted one finger, then two inside her slit. She proceeded to finger fuck herself, pumping frantically in and out of her opening. Before long she was fist fucking herself silly. Her panties were now down around her thighs, straining drastically as she bumped and grinded her hips in response to the incredible sensations that gripped her shuddering body.

Her thumb found her throbbing clit and she rubbed it gently, further enhancing her pleasure. Her wild panting intertwined with intense moaning and shrieking as she lifted herself toward a shattering release. Her left hand was suddenly kneading and squeezing her breasts as her right hand continued assaulting her now wet cunt without mercy.

Her controlled mind interpreted her self stimulation as the most intense and erotic music she had ever heard in her life. The harder she stroked herself, the more the music pulsated through her being. It struck every fiber and nerve with nothing short of ecstasy. She was utterly lost in the act and couldn’t get enough of this music. She intensified her efforts.

Dominoe was suddenly on the hardwood floor, her legs spread apart, her back arching as she pumped away between her legs. Her breathing was erratic and hard. Her eyes were closed and her face contorted, straining with her efforts. Beads of sweat covered her forehead, rolling down her sides. Her left hand suddenly went to her mouth and she was biting her fingers, licking and sucking them passionately. Her right hand never left her pussy and her thumb was now rubbing against her engorged clitoris. Each rub brought her closer the brink of release. She suddenly came.

Dominoe lifted her entire body off the floor, supporting herself on her toes and head. She announced her self inflicted orgasm with a tremendous grunt. “AAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!”

The high-pitched grunt lanced the silence of the room. Juan Galvan watched from the bathtub. His eyes were wild with lust and his jaw dropped with disbelief. He suddenly stood. His cock was hard and erect as he advanced toward Dominoe.

***

Sydney Bristow strutted down the corridor of the mansion. She was unusually dressed in a long trench coat and high heeled shoes. She walked into the spacious recreation room where the eleven drug traffickers had gathered after Galvan left.

The men were still debating Juan Galvan’s stunning announcement. Their arguing ended abruptly when Sydney entered the room. All eyes shifted toward the CIA agent.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” Sydney said. “I am here to provide you with some entertainment. Compliments of Mr. Baldwin.”

The gangsters looked on with puzzled looks on their rugged faces.

Sydney threw open her trench coat. She was naked underneath except for her choker and spiked heels. She also held a pair of Uzi sub-machine guns in each hand.

The men froze with shock. Sydney raised the twin Uzis and opened fire. A hail of bullets cut down four of the men where they stood. Others attempted to flee for cover, but Sydney mowed them down with well-aimed bursts from her weapons. She moved about the room stalking and finishing off the remaining gangsters. Her beautiful face betrayed no emotion whatsoever. She was nothing more than a killing machine.

She lowered the smoking Uzis and scanned the room. All eleven men lay dead on the floor. A tight smile finally appeared on Sydney’s prominent lips. She had completed her mission and looked forward to being rewarded by her Master. Perhaps he would allow her to suck his cock again. Sydney shivered excitedly at that thought, which was the only thing on her mind. The fact that she had gunned down eleven men in cold blood did not elicit any response at all.

***

Roger Baldwin sat behind the desk of his room, staring at one of the four monitors that had been set up in the wall behind the desk. His face reflected cunning, perhaps even perverse pleasure. He had just witnessed Sydney launch phase one of his plan and he had a raging hard on. Controlling people, especially beautiful women, was the ultimate rush. In a way, it was even better than sex. He was playing God. How could anything top that?
 
He swiveled in his chair and faced the computer on the desk. It was time to launch phase two. His fingers danced across the keyboard. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. It’s a good thing he had worn loose pants. Sydney Bristow would soon nurse his boner. He had instilled that thought in her mind and couldn’t wait to have her sucking him off. He hit the ENTER key and laid back in his chair with a satisfied smug.

“The best laid plans of men are laid to rest,” he muttered to himself.

***

Bishop, Rook, and their new ally, Marcus Dixon, reached the ivy-covered fence surrounding Juan Galvan’s compound. They darted to the fence, plastering themselves against the ten-foot wall.

“Now what?” Dixon asked.

“Over the wall,” said Bishop. “I'll go first.”

“Why don't I go first," Dixon shot back. "Give me a boost."

Bishop glared at Dixon. “Listen, pal, this is our show. You’re lucky to be here at all. I'm going first.”

Dixon returned Bishop’s glare. “Say’s who?”

Bishop and Dixon stood toe to toe, ready for anything.

“Knock it off!” Rook whispered sharply. He rolled his eyes and exhaled. “I’ll go first.”

Rook slung his automatic rifle over his shoulder. Using Bishop’s back as a step latter, he peered over the fence. After making sure it was clear, Rook scaled the wall. He landed inside the compound and scanned the area. The huge mansion stood about two-hundred meters away. He was surprised by the size of the landscape but there was no sign of anyone.

Dixon and Bishop scaled the fence, joining Rook in the backyard of the compound. It actually resembled a golf course with clusters of trees and shrubs scattered throughout the immaculate lawn. The three heavily armed men stalked their way toward the mansion. Thus, far, it was easy. Bishop suddenly stopped and hit the ground. Dixon and Rook joined him.

“What is it?” Rook asked softly.

Bishop removed a pair of night vision binoculars. He trained them on a patio next to the house. He spotted two men standing next to a kidney shaped swimming pool. “Two targets. About a hundred meters.”

Rook reached into a holster strapped to his belt. “I’ll take care of this.” He pulled out a gun with a silencer attached to the barrel. He crawled on his belly toward the patio where the two men stood.

One of the men on the patio pulled out a cigarette and lit up. He suddenly glanced toward the distance. The chirping crickets suddenly stopped. He thought he saw movement.

THUMP!

A single muffled gunshot shattered his forehead. He fell to his knees with a stunned expression. His companion reached for his weapon inside his jacket. A second muffled gunshot struck his heart. He was dead before he hit the ground.

The crickets resumed chirping.

***

TWENTY MINUTES BEFORE . . .

“AAAAAAAUUUUUGGGGGHHHHHH!”

Dominoe’s screams of pleasure filled Galvan’s bedroom, echoing beyond the confines of the walls. Galvan lay flat on his back on the hardwood floor of the room. Dominoe straddled his middle, clad only in her high heels and thigh high stockings. She rode him passionately, leaning forward, her back arched as she rocked on his cock.

The action stimulated her clitoris, sending waves of pleasure rippling through her glistening body. Even under the influence of Baldwin’s mind serum, Dominoe’s expertise in sex surfaced. It was something ingrained into her psyche and could not be suppressed. She slammed against Galvan’s pelvis with a steady rhythm. She was completely in charge and guided him toward her most intense pleasure area.

After a controlled session of bumping and grinding, Dominoe changed her technique. She suddenly leaned back, supported her weight on her hands, and bounced up and down on the stiff cock that was buried inside her. She disregarded any semblance of a rhythm and fucked Galvan wildly. He gripped her firm buttocks and mauled them viciously.

Galvan grunted and panted erratically as the CATT agent squeezed his cock inside her pussy. Their combined cries of mutual pleasure charged the air around them, fueling Dominoe’s efforts. Dominoe fucked Galvan harder and harder, her body lurching back and forth. He pushed his middle against her, pounding her deeper with each spirited thrust as he palmed her breasts.

Dominoe’s cries of passion intensified, signaling her approach to a shattering climax. She knew her body well and knew it was time. She also knew how to finish men off. She once again leaned forward, supported herself on Galvan’s solid chest, and humped him harder than ever. Her all-out assault triggered a devastating wave of sexual energy that overtook her like a tidal wave. She threw her head back, shuddered violently, and screamed.

“AAAAAAAAAUUUUUUGGGGHHHHHH!”

Dominoe continued screaming, reaping the blistering pleasure that detonated throughout her body. Her pumping subsided as she felt Galvan spasm inside her, filling her with cum. He grunted with satisfaction, panting sharply. Dominoe had literally worn him out and the devastating climax left him totally spent.

Dominoe collapsed over Galvan, gasping for breath. She regained enough of her strength and rolled off him, laying on the floor next to him until she recovered. When her breathing finally steadied, she rose to her knees. Without saying a word, she stood and made her way to the base of the bed where she had left the tray loaded with champagne.

Galvan supported himself on his forearms, still breathing hard. “What are you doing?”

Dominoe did not reply. She had her back to Galvan and pulled out something from under a dom covered plate. She gripped the .45 automatic with both hands and turned to Galvan.

Galvan’s face filled with shock when Dominoe trained the weapon at him. “What the . . . ”

“I have a message from Roger Baldwin,” Dominoe said, her voice free of the cheesy French accent. “‘Hope you enjoyed the ride and thank you for all your help. This is where we part ways. Have a nice trip.’”

Galvan’s eyes burned with rage. “Hijo de la chingada!” He lunged at Dominoe.

BAM!

Dominoe pulled the trigger. A single shot struck Galvan in the chest. He fell back into the bathtub, splashing some of the soapy water on the floor. Dominoe lowered the smoking gun slowly. She stared blankly at the body of Galvan, floating face down inside the bathtub. The water turned a shade of red.

The sound of nearby automatic gunfire pierced the silence. Dominoe didn’t hear it. Her programmed mind blocked out all and any distractions. At this moment she was thinking about eating out Sydney Bristow’s sweet pussy. She could almost taste it.

Her thoughts about licking Sydney’s pussy were suddenly replaced by a more violent impulse. There was no mistaking the overwhelming order in her head: kill your friends. Dominoe suddenly snapped out of her trance. She was now alert and aware of her surroundings. Now she had to find and kill her friends.

***

Rook, Bishop, and Dixon had entered Galvan’s mansion through the patio door. They paused briefly after hearing the booming shot from somewhere down the hall. They scanned the maze of corridors and doorways, ready for anything.

“That sounded close,” Bishop whispered. “Something’s going down.”

“I say we split up,” Rook added. “We can cover more ground.”

“Agreed,” Dixon chimed in. He pointed in the direction of the gunfire and addressed Bishop. “You take that way.”

Bishop gave the SD-6 operative a hard look. “Screw you. You go that way.”

Rook bit his lip. “I’ll take that way. Bishop, go upstairs.” He turned to Dixon. “Stay here and cover our ass. We may have to came back in a big hurry.”

“Don’t go anywhere,” Bishop warned Dixon. “I might get carried away and shoot you. You never know.”

Dixon frowned. “Same goes for you.”

Bishop shot Dixon a final annoyed look and darted toward the living room. Rook made his way along the corridor where they had heard the single shot.

***

Baldwin watched Rook and Bishop disappear from the surveillance monitor. He had observed them as they entered the mansion and he had a special surprise waiting for them.

But just to be on the safe side, he prepared to depart from Galvan’s mansion. He had collected his laptop computer, a briefcase, and armed himself with a 9-millimeter pistol. Now he had to reach his car parked in the garage next to the mansion. Dominoe would buy him enough time to make his escape.

***

Dominoe stalked her way down a long, narrow corridor. Her determined face indicated she was a woman on a mission and nothing would stand in her way. That’s when she encountered Rook as he turned the corner at the end of the hallway. Her fellow CATT agent froze upon seeing her.

“Dom, what . . . ”

Dominoe raised her weapon and fired three shots at Rook. He darted behind the corner of the corridor as the bullets whined past him. He gripped his automatic rifle, his trigger finger itching, but there was no way he was going to return fire.

“Dom, it’s me!” Rook shouted, holding his position behind the corner. “We’re here to rescue you and Sydney Bristow.”

There was no answer from Dominoe.

“Dom?”

Rook braved a look around the corner. There was no sign of Dominoe. He realized Dominoe was not herself. She was probably under the influence of Baldwin’s mind drug. That only increased his apprehension. Dominoe's expertise in human disposal meant she would probably make quick work of him.

What the hell, Rook thought. If I’m gonna be killed by anyone, it might as well be Dominoe. He took a deep breath and jumped from behind the corner. He charged down the corridor, zigzagging along the way. He reached the end of the corridor where Dominoe had been, but there was no sign of her.

He scanned the spacious mansion, noting the modern architecture of sharp angles and clean lines. The entranceways to other rooms and areas were oval shaped and offered plenty of hiding places. Tentatively, he began his search for Dominoe.

***

Bishop stared at the bodies of the twelve gangsters scattered throughout the recreation room. Someone had done a number on them all right. His initial reaction of surprise had given way to relief. He was glad Dominoe was not among the dead. Maybe she was responsible for this.

As Bishop prepared to move out, he heard the sound of distant gunfire. He guessed it originated from the bottom floor. He gripped his automatic rifle with both hands and dashed from the room.

He emerged in the long corridor outside the room and froze in his tracks. Standing before him was Sydney Bristow. She wore on opened trench coat, heels, and nothing underneath. Bishop’s eyes swept over the perfect body of the CIA agent.

His natural male instinct cost him. Sydney swept her shapely leg across Bishop’s face, striking him on the side of the head. The stunning blow sent him staggering. Sydney did not allow him to recover. She followed up with a vicious forearm to Bishop’s face, knocking him flat on his back. He dropped his weapon and stared up at Sydney with a dazed look on his face.

Sydney scooped up the automatic rifle from the floor. She prepared to finish off the CATT operative with a deadly burst from his own weapon. She was half a second from pulling the trigger when another thought entered her mind. She received the order to proceed to the garage next to the mansion. She forgot about killing Bishop and walked past him.

***

Rook entered a huge living room in time to see Dominoe disappear behind a circular couch. He took cover behind the wall leading in the room and  peered inside. A life size sculpture of an armless woman stood on a platform in the middle of the room. It was a tacky object but it provided some cover.

“Hey, Dom, let’s talk about this!” Rook shouted. “It’s me! Your favorite co-worker. Remember?”

Dominoe jumped up from behind the couch and fired two consecutive shots from the .45. The bullets struck the wall, missing Rook by mere inches. He retreated further down the corridor. He noticed that Dominoe's aim was improving.

Rook concluded that Dominoe was not heavily armed, or else she wouldn’t be using a single handgun. She probably did not carry a large supply of ammunition. He had the firepower advantage and decided to use it.

He took a deep breath and charged into the living room, laying down a steady flow of cover fire from his automatic rifle. He didn’t take any chances and his aim was deliberately high. The bullets sailed over the couch were Dominoe hid and struck the wall at the end of the room. He took cover behind the nude female sculpture. He noted that the torso had abnormally large breasts.

Two bullets struck the sculpture, breaking Rook’s concentration from the thrusting clay breasts. The figure absorbed the gunfire quite well but he wasn’t taking any chances. He dropped behind the three-foot  high circular platform and fired another round of inaccurate fire from his rifle. He was goading Dominoe into exhausting her ammo supply and hoped she wouldn’t pick up on that.

“Why don’t we settle this with a conversation?” Rook offered.

He raised his head over the platform, just in time to see Dominoe leap over the couch and dart in his direction. She was nothing more than a blur as she somersaulted through the air and landed before Rook. He noticed her serious expression, then he spotted the gun in her hand.

“Oh shit,” Rook muttered. He was a dead man.

Dominoe raised the gun and fired. Her aim was altered when a figure crashed into her from behind. The stray bullet hit Rook on the upper right arm and he winced with pain.

Dominoe and Dixon crashed to the floor, entangled in each other’s arms. Dixon wrapped his arms around Dominoe, pinning her arms to her sides. Dominoe threw her head back, striking Dixon in the forehead with her skull. That relaxed his hold.

She rolled away from Dixon’s grasp but ran into Rook, who stood on his knees over her. Dominoe’s quickness was too much. She rolled on her back and kicked out with her legs, striking her fellow wounded agent in the chest, sending him back onto the floor. Rook groaned, holding his arm.

Rook’s failed attack bought Dixon enough time to recover. He dug into his pocket and produced a small spray bottle. Dominoe grabbed Rook’s discarded weapon and turned toward Dixon. He sprayed a burst of mist from the bottle. The substance struck Dominoe in the face. She closed her eyes and collapsed to the floor in short order.

Rook sat up on the floor, grimacing. His immediate concern was Dominoe. His eyes shifted from her prone body to Dixon “What the hell did you do?”

Dixon caught his breath. “It’s all right. She’s just out.” He noticed Rook holding his wounded arm. “You hit?”

Rook gave his arm casual attention. “Just a stratch.”

The two men suddenly turned in the direction of approaching footsteps. Someone was approaching quickly. Dixon dashed behind the wall of the corridor leading into the living room. He listened to the heavy footsteps, timing the exact moment the person would enter the living room. He suddenly struck out in his outstretched arm from behind the wall.

His calculation was precise. Bishop ran directly into Dixon’s arm, clothes-lining himself on the powerful limb. The effect was spectacular. Bishop flew back, uttering a strangled grunt. He landed flat on his back with a loud thud, stunned. Dixon stepped from behind the wall and stood over Bishop. He realized his mistake and frowned. Bishop looked up at Dixon with rising anger.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Bishop demanded, rubbing his throat.

Dixon merely shrugged. “Sorry. Thought you were someone else.”

Bishop staggered to his feet. “Bullshit!” He got in Dixon’s face. “You’re really pushing it, pal.”

“Hey!” Rook shouted.

The two men turned toward Rook. He stood over Dominoe, holding his arm.

Bishop forgot about Dixon and approached Rook. “What the hell happened?”

“Friendly fire from Dom, but we subdued her.”

Bishop stared at the unconscious body of his fellow agent. “Is she all right?”

Rook nodded. “She’s under the influence of Baldwin’s mind drug. I don’t want to be anywhere near her when she wakes up.”

Bishop turned toward Dixon. “I ran into her partner.”

“Where?”

“Upstairs. There’s a bunch of dead men up there.”

“Where’s Sydney?” Dixon asked urgently.

Bishop shrugged. “I don’t know. She . . .  got past me. She tried to kill me."

"She's under the influence of the mind drug.” Bishop said.

“I have to find her,” Dixon muttered.

He exited the living room, leaving Dixon and Rook alone with the unconscious Dominoe.

"Yeah. You do that." Bishop sighed. "Let’s gather up Dominoe and call a CATT pick-up team. We’re out of here.”

“What about this Sydney Bristow?”

“Not our problem.”

“What about Galvan and Baldwin?”

“I found Galvan’s body,” Bishop said. “Someone did us the favor of putting a bullet in his chest. That leaves Baldwin.”

“Which means he has this Sydney Bristow with him.”

“And the mind drug.”

Bishop frowned. “Damn it!” He exhaled, gesturing down the corridor. “I’m gonna go give him a hand.”

Rook nodded. “Yeah. You do that. You might need this.”

Rook tossed Bishop his automatic rifle. Bishop caught the weapon and ran from the living room. Sometimes he cared too much.

***

Baldwin met Sydney halfway to the parking garage. He had to admit she looked hot, clad in the trench coat and holding the automatic rifle. They stood in the dining room of the mansion and Baldwin was uneasy. He stole a look toward the entrance of the dinning room.

Marcus Dixon peered inside the dinning room, spotting Baldwin and Sydney as they disappeared into the kitchen. He took cover around the entrance way, careful not to reveal his presence.

“Did you find them?”

Dixon snapped his head toward Bishop. “Shut up!” He dashed into the living room and went after Baldwin and Sydney.

Bishop tagged along.

Baldwin and Sydney exited the house through a kitchen door. Ground lights illuminated the darkness of the night. He led Sydney along a walkway, through a flower garden, and toward a garage.

Dixon emerged from the house a few seconds later. He had to make his move before it was too late. He ran through the garden. “Baldwin!” he shouted.

Baldwin and Sydney stopped. They turned toward Dixon.

“Kill him!” Baldwin ordered.

Sydney raised the automatic rifle and fired a burst at Dixon. He dived out of the way, landing behind a cluster of shrubs. Bishop, who trailed behind him, felt the heat of the bullets zip past him. He hit the ground next to Dixon. Another spray of bullets sailed past them, missing the two men by centimeters.

“Brilliant plan!” Bishop scoffed.

Dixon ignored the snide remark. All was quiet. A car engine came to life.

“Shit!” Dixon exclaimed, getting to his feet.

At that moment, the sound of screeching tires disrupted the tranquility of the night. A sports car burst through one of the garage openings, speeding away from the house. Dixon and Bishop could only watch helplessly as the car raced down the long paved driveway toward the fence surrounding the grounds. A metal gate parted, allowing the car to leave the grounds through the opening.

Bishop raised his weapon, taking aim at the fleeing car. Dixon shoved the barrel of the rifle upward, disrupting his aim. Bishop fired a stray volley of bullets into the air.

Bishop turned to Dixon. “What the hell are you doing?”

“You might hit Sydney.”

“I was aiming for the tires.”

“Yeah. I’ll bet.”

Bishop sighed, staring into the dark night. There was no sign of Baldwin’s car. “I’ll call it in. Maybe our backup team can intercept them.”

***

The CATT team failed to intercept Baldwin and Sydney. Baldwin was smart enough to switch cars several miles away, leaving his sports car on the side of the road. He disappeared into Belize City, taking Sydney Bristow with him.

Bishop, Rook, and Dominoe were picked up by the CATT team twenty minutes later. Dixon went along with them. He had a better chance of finding Sydney if he aligned himself with these strangers. Though he didn’t trust them.

Dominoe lay in the back of the van, bound hand and foot with manacles. The CATT agents were not taking any chances when Dominoe regained consciousness. A pleasant looking female agent treated Rook’s arm with a nanotech injection to repair the wound.

Dominoe’s eyes fluttered open. She scanned her surroundings but remained still. After regaining some of her bearings she tugged at her bindings, checking their effectiveness. With her hands secured behind her back, she realized she was utterly helpless. But she had not completed her mission, and her Master must not be disappointed.

She rolled on her back and scooted to a sitting position, leaning against the back of the moving van. She found herself staring at a black man, along with her two targets: Bishop and Rook. A third woman was dressing a wound on Rook’s arm. His wound reminded her of her failure.

Rook tried reasoning with Dominoe again. “Dom, it’s us. Remember?”

Dominoe responded by struggling in her bondage, squirming and twisting frantically. She soon realized the hopelessness of her situation and could only seethe with anger. Her piercing eyes reflected an unbridled hatred that could only have been ingrained in her.

***

SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA

Baldwin stood before a chalkboard that had been set up in the living room of his apartment. At this moment he was holding court over a class of one. Sydney Bristow sat on the coach, paying rapt attention as Baldwin scribbled on the portable chalkboard with a piece of white chalk.

She was dressed in a kinky school girl outfit consisting of a short plaid skirt, white tank-top, white bobby socks and black high heel shoes. Her hair was made up in a ponytail and her personality had been re-programmed to reflect that of a ditzy teen-age school girl.

“All right, Sydney,” Baldwin began. “Here’s the plan. We are going to fix the fucking Super Bowl.”

Sydney stared at Baldwin with mock reproach. She waived a taunting finger at him. “You used the F word.”

“I’m the teacher. I can do that. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

Sydney giggled, stomping her feet.

"All right, come on. Pay attention," said Baldwin, tapping the chalkboard with the chalk.

Sydney stopped giggling and  focused on the name Baldwin had written on the chalkboard. “Who’s Byron Taylor?”

“He’s your next assignment.” Baldwin replied. “I want you to seduce him. Suck his cock. Fuck him if you have to, but I want you to inject him with this.” Baldwin raised a syringe filled with his special mind control serum.

Sydney giggled. “Okay! That sounds like fun. Can I do both?”

“What?”

“Can I suck his cock and fuck him?” Sydney’s face became that of an endearing puppy. “Please.”

Baldwin shrugged. “Fine. Whatever. He can fuck you in the ass for all I care. Just make sure you inject him with this.” Baldwin raised the syringe again. “You got it?”

Sydney nodded eagerly. “What does he look like?”

“I just happen to have a picture right here.” Baldwin picked up a Sports Illustrated magazine from the coffee table. He opened it to a marked page and showed it to Sydney.

Sydney stared at the picture of a young muscular black man. He stood in a locker room setting, clad in his football pants, shoulder pads and no shirt. He held his helmet under his arm and had a determined expression on his chiseled face. Tattoos adorned both his bulging biceps.

Sydney’s face lit up. “He’s cute. Look at all those muscles.”

Baldwin nodded. “Yes.”

“When do I do it?”

“Tomorrow night. You’ll pay a visit to his hotel room.”

“Tomorrow night?” Sydney said with disappointment. “I have to wait until tomorrow?”

Baldwin shrugged. “I’m here. You can practice on me?” He spread his arms out, offering himself to Sydney.

Sydney’s mood improved immediately. “Okay!”

She stood from the couch and jumped on Baldwin. She embraced him tightly and wrapped her legs around him. Her hungry mouth found his lips. She kissed him hard, inserting her tongue between his teeth.

Baldwin supported Sydney by her firm buttocks. He pushed the plaid skirt up around her waist, fondling her tight ass. He carried her toward the bedroom, bumping into the walls of the corridor along the way. They burst through the door of the bedroom and fell on the bed, locked in a passionate kiss.

***

CATT HEADQUARTERS

Dominoe curled up in a corner of the cell that had served as her prison for the past two days. She trembled like a frightened child. CATT scientists had failed to find a way to counter the effects of Baldwin’s mind serum. They could not imagine the devastating state Dominoe’s mind was in.

Her connection to Baldwin’s computer terminal had been severed by the distance that now separated them. This left Dominoe in a state of limbo. She had no identity or recollection of anything. Her mind was a dark void with no past or future. Her jumbled thoughts were like an oil slick, shifting in every conceivable direction. A sluggish mess devoid of any meaning. Her mental prison pushed her to the brink of madness with every passing hour.

She didn’t even acknowledge the strangers who injected her with drugs and attempted to give her food. She would lose consciousness, then awaken to the same mental torture as before. Her only response was to cry out in pain and weep with utter frustration. At first, she had slammed her head against the hard wall, but she was moved to a padded room. She had also been strapped in a straight jacket, pinning her crossed arms in front of her.

Adding to her frustration, were the flashes of things and events that flickered in her chaotic mind. Just when she attempted to key on the recollections, they would be snuffed out of existence by her unstable mind. This only enhanced her discomfort, filling her with a sense of worthlessness.

Chief Davis, Rook, and Bishop watched their fellow agent suffer on a monitor outside the cell. Looks of concern were etched on their faces. They all winced when Dominoe kicked out violently, screaming in horror. It was the first time they had heard her scream in that way and it struck terror in their hearts.

Bishop finally broke the silence. “Maybe they should sedate her?”

Davis shook his head. “There’s only so many sedatives her body can take before going into a coma.” He sighed with exasperation “Be thankful she’s a strong woman. With all the drugs she’s been given . . .  ”

In her cell, Dominoe continued screaming. She didn’t stop for five straight minutes.

Rook finally had enough. “We have to do something. She’s going crazy.”

Davis was about to call for the doctor when Dominoe suddenly stopped screaming. He watched the panting heap that was his most valuable agent. He could only imagine the amount of danger and dire situations Dominoe had found herself in during her missions, but this time it was different. This time, he had to watch. He now understood what a father felt like when he had to watch his child suffer. It was almost more than he could take.

Back in her cell, Dominoe controlled her breathing. She still trembled but it was because she was cold. I’m cold! She actually cared that she was cold! Almost immediately, people and places flashed in her mind. This time, they didn’t disappear out of existence but remained in her head, long enough for her to recognize them. She actually remembered them!

She lifted her head slowly. Her tangled locks cascaded past forehead, concealing her beautiful face. This prevented the three men who watched her in the monitor from observing the emotion that now filled her face. Places and events filled her mind. Slowly but surely they took order.

Dominoe leaned back against the padded wall of the cell. She used the wall as leverage as she rose to her feet. She shook her head, throwing some of her hair away from her eyes. She looked about the bare room, focusing on the small camera perched in a corner of the cell. She walked toward the camera, noting that it followed her movement.

She stopped five meters from the camera. In a strong and deliberate tone she spoke to whoever was watching her. “Dominoe here. Let me out right now, or I’m going to be very upset.”

In the next room, Davis, Rook, and Bishop stared at each other with hope.

Rook pumped his fist. “Yes! Welcome back, Dom!” He suddenly wrapped his arm around Chief Davis, pulling him against his body, laughing with triumph. “I knew she could it!”

Davis stared at Rook, noticing his tight grip.

Rook cleared his throat and released his superior. “Sorry, Chief.”

Davis concentrated on the monitor displaying the image of Dominoe. “Let’s not get too excited. This could all be a trick by Baldwin.”

Dominoe spoke again. “One more thing: I’m going to kick Baldwin’s ass!”

Bishop laughed. “Ha! So much for that theory!”

Davis shot Bishop a look of contempt.

“Sorry, Chief,” Bishop said sheepishly.

Davis focused on Dominoe again. He almost smiled. “Welcome back, Dominoe.”

***

Just to be on the safe side, a team of doctors thoroughly examined Dominoe for the next few hours. As expected, she passed every examination, mental and physical. She recalled every action while under the influence of Baldwin’s serum. She explained it as her body having a mind of its own.

It was theorized that Dominoe’s body had suppressed the mind serum because she had somehow built up tolerance in response to mind drugs. She certainly had her fair share of experience with them. In short, her mind had developed a type of immunity to brainwashing. This didn’t mean that she could resist future mind control, but it did make it more difficult for the drug to be effective. Of course that all depended on the drug. All that was behind her. She was ready to go after Baldwin, but right now she was hungry.

Dominoe, Chief Davis, Rook, and Bishop sat in the CATT headquarters cafeteria. The men declined any food and watched as Dominoe feasted on cold cuts.

“Sorry about the arm,” Dominoe said to Rook.

Rook glanced at his bandaged upper arm. “Don’t worry about it. If someone’s gonna shoot me, it might as well be you, Dom.”

“That’s sweet,” said Dominoe, her mouth full. “I’ll remember that.”

Rook had no idea what that meant, and was afraid to ask.

Their chit-chat was interrupted by approaching footsteps. They turned and watched Marcus Dixon walking toward their table. He was accompanied by a heavyset young man carrying a portable CD player.

Dixon was a guest of CATT and had spent the day assisting CATT technicians in tracking down Sydney Bristow and Roger Baldwin. Sydney still had the choker with the secret radio transmitter and it was only a matter of tapping into the right frequency.

Davis acknowledged his guest. He then addressed the heavyset young man. “What do you have, Harry?”

Harry placed the CD player on the table next to Dominoe’s food. He couldn’t help but stare at the tempting cold cuts.

“How about a bite, Harry?” Dominoe asked.

Harry shook his head. “No thanks. I’m on a diet.”

She smiled at him. “Good for you. You’re looking better.”

Harry almost blushed. He wasn’t used to receiving compliments from beautiful women. “Anyway, uh. . . thanks to Mr. Dixon I was able to tap into his partner’s secret transmitter. It’s a very weak signal but I used this really cool audio enhancement software to clean it up.”  Harry noticed the impatience begin to spread across Chief Davis’ face. He pressed play on the CD player.

They listened as Baldwin and Sydney played their kinky game of teacher-student while Baldwin expressed his plan to rig the Super Bowl. Marcus Dixon shifted uncomfortably when Sydney and Baldwin began their tryst.

Davis noticed the look of discomfort on Dixon’s face. “All right, Harry, that’s enough,” the chief said.

“That bastard!” Rook exclaimed. “Where does that clown get off messing with the Super Bowl? What the hell is that?”

“And using Big T,” Bishop added.

Davis stared at Bishop. “Who's Big T?”

“Byron Taylor. But they call him Big T," Bishop explained. “He’s a stand up guy. Not to mention that he’s a hell of a running back. The guy is twenty-five years old and sighed a fifty million-dollar contract last year. With a ten million dollar signing bonus. That is some serious cash.”

Dominoe frowned at her fellow agents. “Our main concern is finding Sydney Bristow.”

“Exactly,” said Davis. “Where is this Super Bowl being held?”

Rook refrained from showing disbelief. “San Diego,” he said.

“How are we going to play this?” Dixon asked Davis.

Davis stroked his two-day stubble. He had a habit not shaving when he worried. “We are going to rescue Miss Bristow and prevent this Baldwin character from fixing this Super Bowl. In that order.”

“Right on Chief,” said Bishop. “But we don’t have much time. The Super Bowl is Sunday. That leaves us only two days. There's no way I'm missing the Super Bowl.”

Dominoe glared at Bishop.

Bishop shrugged innocently. "What?"

Dominoe turned to Davis. "Where do we start?"

Davis thought for a moment. "You'll retrieve Sydney. Bishop, Rook, and Mr. Dixon will handle Baldwin.”

***

Roger Baldwin stared out the living room window, enchanted by the sprawling city of San Diego. Beyond the graceful buildings lay the ocean, a seemingly endless deep blue body. This place was truly magnificent. He recalled a famous line uttered by one Tony Montana in the movie Scarface: “This town is like a big pussy, waiting to get fucked.”

Come Sunday, he would not only fuck the town but the world. And he would start by rigging the Super Bowl. When he was a kid, his father had taken him down to New Orleans for Super Bowl XX. He loved the atmosphere. Being there live was a thousand times better than watching it on television. The Super Dome was so grand and breathtaking. He was literally in heaven.

That day, his father was the greatest man in the world. The next day, the bastard went and killed himself. The son of a bitch had squandered the family savings, including their house, on gambling. He was also a depressed drug addict. His only way out was suicide. Good riddance.

Strangely enough, that January day in New Orleans had spawned his lifetime dream. He vowed to one day play in a Super Bowl. The fact that he was too small and slow never entered his mind. Minor details. His football career ended a few weeks into his sophomore year in high school, upon the request of his overbearing mother. Playing football meant too much time away from studying. His mother was preparing him for a lifetime of academe and sports had no place in her plan. Absolutely not.

He had locked himself in his room and cursed his mother, calling her every name in the book. Then he had secretly asked for forgiveness. He also vowed to make his dream come true. One way or another, he would have a say on who won or in this case, lost the Super Bowl.

Of course he had bigger plans for his mind serum. This was the first thing on his checklist. But he wasn’t a fucking madman like Juan Galvan. Killing the most powerful man in the United States in order to make some stupid show of power was downright insane. Galvan and his friends got what they deserved. In a way, the world owed him one.

He turned away from the window and headed toward the bedroom. He had some unfinished business to care off. He got into character and pushed the bedroom door open. He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him.

His eyes played over Sydney Bristow, sprawled out on the bed. Actually, Sydney was tied to the bed. She was dressed in a Wonder Woman outfit, down to the red heeled boots. The only modification on the classic superheroine costume was that the backside of the star studded bottom was cut in a thong style.

Wonder Woman lay on her back, her hands gathered together above her head, tied at the wrists and secured to the headset of the bed with "her golden lasso", a strong cord painted yellow. Her legs were spread apart, tied at the ankles to the bedposts. Her mouth was stuffed with a generous amount of cloth packing, held in place by several layers of duct tape.

Sydney squirmed frantically and pulled at her taut bindings to no avail. Baldwin watched her, mesmerized by her wild determination to free herself. She squealed and grunted through the packing in her mouth as she cursed at Baldwin.

Her struggling was in earnest. Baldwin had programmed Sydney to dress up as Wonder Woman. After tying her up, he left her alone and went into the living room. He opened his notebook computer and with a touch of the keyboard, Sydney Bristow had all her original memories back. She was herself again.

Sydney ceased her struggling and looked on as Baldwin approached the bed. He stood at the base of the bed between her spread legs. She had no idea where she was or how she had gotten into this predicament. Her last recollection was of her and Dominoe in Belize City, at the hands of the man who now leered at her from the foot of the bed. And now here she was, bound and gagged to a bed, dressed as Wonder Woman. Her initial feelings of humiliation had now turned to anger, but there was nothing she could do about it.

“Well, Wonder Slut,” Baldwin said with relish. “I see you haven’t gotten yourself out of this jam, have you? So much for your super strength.”

Sydney could only glare at the sick bastard that was Roger Baldwin. He was dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt with the word Villain written across the front. He was nothing special, but he had the upper hand.

Baldwin suddenly broke character. “Actually, I’m a huge fan of the old Wonder Woman TV show. You’re not Lynda Carter, but you make a great Wonder Woman. Now, let’s have some fun.”

Baldwin exited the room with a skip in his step. Sydney did not even want to guess what he was going to do next, but knew it wasn’t going to be pleasant. The tugged at her wrist bindings, cursing through the packing in her mouth. She quickly conceded that she was well tied and no amount of struggling would change that. She only succeeded in working up a sweat. Beads of perspiration collected on the generous amount of cleavage that the Wonder Woman outfit exposed.

Baldwin entered the room again. He carried a paper grocery bag and placed it down on the dresser. He approached Sydney and stood at the edge of the bed. She did not look at him as he examined her bound body.

“So, you thought you could stop The Grocer, did you?” he said in a cheesy evil voice.

He suddenly bent over the bed and inserted his fingers inside the waistband of her Wonder Woman panties. Sydney gasped and squirmed as Baldwin tugged the thong style panties down past her hips and around her upper thighs, exposing her well-trimmed pussy. The material strained against Sydney’s spread thighs but did not break.

She then watched in horror as Baldwin went back to the dresser and returned with the grocery bag. Her heart thumped excitedly and she swallowed hard. The packing in her mouth was completely drenched and crept dangerously toward her throat.

Baldwin emptied the contents of the grocery bag on the bed between her spread legs. Sydney strained her head, looking down at the various fresh fruits and vegetables that spilled on the mattress below her. Her heart sank with dread.

Baldwin picked up a carrot and bit into it. “Now you will know why they call me The Grocer.” He suddenly tossed the carrot away and reached for a zucchini. He held it out for Sydney. “Think you can handle this?”

Sydney tensed, staring wide-eyed at the green vegetable.

Baldwin studied the zucchini. “Naw. I think you like them bigger.” He tossed the zucchini away and picked up a large cucumber. It was about eighteen inches long and as wide as his forearm. “I think this is more to your liking.”

Sydney glared at Baldwin with disbelief. He wouldn’t dare shove that thing in her . . .

Baldwin traced the cucumber along the edge of Sydney’s pussy. She flinched involuntarily as the cold cucumber made contact with her warm skin. She shook her head furiously, begging him not to stick that thing inside her.

Baldwin ignored her pleas. “You’re lucky they didn’t have any watermelon." With that he shoved the cucumber inside Sydney’s pussy.

Sydney tensed, arched her body, and screamed a muffled cry of indignation. “HHHMMMPPHHHHHH!”

***

Byron Taylor, or Big T as he was better known, was twenty five years old and at the top of the world. Like most professional football players, Byron Taylor had grown up poor and with nothing. Now he had it all; including a following of money hungry friends. Along with the money also came the women.

It was Friday night, two days before the Super Bowl, and his $2,500 a night suite was the sight of a wild out of control party. A motley crew of men and women danced and strutted to hardcore hip pop music. Others seemed content to indulge on the endless supply of cocaine and booze.

Taylor sat in a posh chair across the living room, engrossed in his thoughts, bombed out of his skull, and toying with a .357 Magnum revolver. There was only one bullet in the gun. He would spin the chamber and wait for it to stop. He would then put the barrel to his temple and pull the trigger. No one tried to stop him. This was his unusual way of preparing for a big game. Thus, far, his luck had yet to run out.

Taylor pulled the trigger three times each time he engaged in his ritual. On the third time he stopped. He cocked his head, staring at a stunning vision across the room. An attractive young woman dressed in a cheerleader outfit danced, shaking her perfect ass in sync with the beat of the heart-stomping rap music. What caught his attention was the fact that the girl was white.

He forgot all about the revolver and watched the girl as she moved with style and grace. Her hair was made up in pigtails, which made her appear like a teenager. He secretly hoped she was at least eighteen. Then again, what the fuck? The younger the better. She sported a skin tight tank top that revealed every detail of her pert breasts. The pleaded cheerleader skirt fell around her upper thighs. As she moved and danced the skirt flew up around her waist, revealing a pair of skimpy spandex shorts that exposed most of her firm buttocks.

Taylor liked his women a little fuller in the ass, but this chick had it going all right. The girl noticed him watching and made eye contact with him. She was dancing with two other guys but her attention was clearly on him. Her full lips were magnificent. The girl gave him an inviting grin. Taylor suddenly had the urge of having those great lips wrapped around his cock.

Sydney Bristow had broken into the hotel by posing as a maid. Once inside she had discarded her disguise and emerged as a cheerleader. She knocked on the door of Taylor’s suite, armed with a dose of Baldwin’s mind serum tucked inside her bobby sock. She made quite an impression on the bodyguard guarding the entrance to the suite and he allowed her in.

Taylor stood from his chair and made his way toward Sydney, bullying himself through the dancing crowd. They didn’t mind his rudeness. They were actually honored to be cast aside by the Oakland Raider star running back. He received several good-natured shoulder pats along the way.

Taylor approached Sydney and swept her off her feet with a single powerful arm. He carried her under his arm, like a caveman who had just found his mate. The crowd cheered and laughed. He slung Sydney over his broad shoulder and carried her down a narrow corridor, away from the action of the party.

He stood outside the nearest door and kicked it open. He stepped into a large bathroom and kicked the door closed, all the while caressing and slapping Sydney’s shapely backside. He placed her down on the tiled floor of the lavish bathroom. Before Sydney could steady herself, he pushed toward the marble counter of the sink and bent her over in front of a large mirror.

Sydney spotted her reflection in the mirror and watched as Taylor pushed her pleaded skirt up around her waist, exposing her skimpy spandex shorts. He tugged the shorts down around her thighs and unbuckled his pants with urgency.

She panted excitedly. The mere thought of being taken from behind by this muscular black man made her flesh ache with desire. Of course, this had been planted in her mind by Baldwin’s mind program. She gripped the sides of the marble counter and braced herself. Taylor pulled out his swollen cock. He was very proud of his twelve-inch member and paused briefly to simply admire it.

“Hurry!” Sydney gasped. “Fuck me. Fuck me hard!”

Taylor gripped Sydney’s sides. “Shut up, bitch!”

He pressed his cock against Sydney’s slit and penetrated her with a single, violent thrust.

“OOOOOHHHHHHH!” Sydney moaned, feeling him inside her.

Taylor buried his massive cock inside Sydney, making sure she felt every inch of him. He then pounded her brutally, fucking her with a furious pace. Sydney closed her eyes and moaned. Each powerful thrust from Taylor slammed her hard against the edge of the marble counter. Her head bounced up and down and she gasped for breath as the huge cock drilled her, unleashing wave after wave of sexual energy through her body.

***

Dominoe slid down the side of the hotel building on the climbing rope. She stopped at a particular window when she spotted the activity inside. It was Byron Taylor’s suite and he was having a party. This complicated matters, but there was no turning back now. She rocked toward the building and landed on the window ledge. She was dressed in a single piece black outfit and thus far no one inside the suite had spotted her.

She could have found a more conventional way into the room, but she was pressed for time. She had let herself into the office building next to the hotel, climbed to the roof, shot a wire across the two buildings, and now here she was. All under twenty minutes.

Dominoe slid the tainted window open and jumped from the ledge onto the soft carpet of the suite. A young black man spotted the lithe form of the CATT gent standing in the room. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped.

“What the fuck?” the young man exclaimed.

Activity ceased and all eyes were trained on Dominoe. The rap music continued in the background but the talking had petered out completely.

Dominoe stepped into the room, ready to defend herself if necessary. “Where’s Byron Taylor?” she asked, almost shouting to be heard over the rap music.

The burly guard standing guard at the door of the suite noticed the commotion. He plowed through the crowd and stared at Dominoe. “Who the fuck are you? How did you get in here?”

“Where is Byron Taylor?” Dominoe asked again.

The burly guard stepped toward Dominoe. “You’re outta here, baby.”

The man attempted to grab Dominoe’s arm, but she was ready for him. She gripped his wrist, twisting it violently. He was unprepared for Dominoe’s hold and yelped as he leaned forward. With blinding speed, Dominoe slipped behind the man. She twisted his arm, pinning it against his back. She delivered a stunning chop to the man’s neck with her right hand. The burly man gasped and crumbled to the floor, out cold.

Her skillful display of power discouraged others from approaching her. “Where is Byron Taylor?” Dominoe demanded.

A young black woman pointed down a corridor. “In the bathroom. First door on your right.”

Without saying another word, Dominoe stomped toward the corridor as the crowd parted out of her way.
 

Inside the bathroom, Sydney was down on her knees before Taylor, working her lovely mouth back and forth on his glistening cock. Taylor panted and groaned, enjoying the incredible sensations pulsing through him as he gripped Sydney by her pigtails.

Sydney suddenly pulled out of his member and took his balls in her mouth. Her hands were above her, ravishing Taylor’s sides and prominent abdominal muscles. She discreetly slipped one hand toward her ankle where she had tucked away the dart laced with Baldwin’s mind serum. Once she injected him with the serum, Baldwin would “order” him to give his other teammates the mind drug in their food or supplements. Baldwin would then have control over most of the team.

The bathroom door suddenly flew open.

Taylor snapped his head toward the entrance of the bathroom. He spotted a shapely young woman dressed in a skin tight black outfit with a serious expression on her striking face.

“Hey, what the fuck is your problem?” Taylor stammered through heavy breathing. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

Dominoe held her position. “Step away from her!”

By this point, Sydney had ceased her oral activity and stared at Dominoe. She had no idea who Dominoe was, but she was interfering with her mission. This was unacceptable. Sydney rose to her feet, never taking her eyes off Dominoe.

Taylor tucked his penis inside his pants. “Hey, what is this shit?”

The two women glared at each other in silence.

Taylor’s annoyance disappeared and a smile crept across his lips. “Oh, I get it. You both want a piece of Big T, don’t you?” Taylor looked on proudly. “Don’t worry, ladies, there’s plenty of me to go around for both of you.” He turned to Dominoe. “I’ll be right with you, baby. Take a number and chill.”

Dominoe did not move.

Taylor sighed and stepped toward the CATT agent, prepared to throw her out of the bathroom. Dominoe drew a small spray bottle and sprayed a burst of clear mist into his face. Taylor froze. His eyes rolled toward the back of his head and he collapsed on the bathroom floor, out cold. It was a knockout gas used by SD-6 and Marcus Dixon had given it to her to subdue Sydney.

Sydney was not about to go down that easy. She charged at Dominoe, jumping over the unconscious body of Byron Taylor. She plowed into the CATT agent like a cannon ball. The two women reeled out of the bathroom and crashed into the wall of the corridor outside the bathroom. The violent impact knocked a painting from the wall.

The two agents recovered from the impact and the fight was on. Dominoe delivered a sweeping forearm to Sydney’s face, knocking the CIA agent back. Before Sydney could recover, Dominoe delivered a swift kick to her stomach. Dominoe then lunged toward Sydney, attempting to finish her off with a punch to her face. Sydney was too quick and dodged the blow.

Sydney responded by taking a swing at Dominoe. The CATT agent caught Sydney’s clenched fist inches from her face. She then elbowed Sydney in the stomach, doubling her over. Dominoe placed Sydney in a headlock and smashed her head against the wall off the corridor. She attempted to bash Sydney’s head into the wall for a second time, but Sydney was ready for her.

Sydney lifted her legs up against the wall, preventing Dominoe from going any further. The CIA agent then pushed off with her legs, propelling herself back into Dominoe. The momentum carried them against the opposite wall and Sydney slipped out of Dominoe’s headlock.

The two women grabbed each other, interlocking their arms in a stalemate hold. They “danced” their way down the corridor, toward the living room of the suite. Dominoe broke the stalemate by head-butting Sydney on the forehead. Sydney released her hold on the CATT agent and the two women staggered into the living room. The party crowd gathered around them, watching in awe as the two beautiful women engaged in hand to hand combat.

Dominoe switched into another gear. She unleashed a furious assault of lightning quick punches to Sydney’s face. The CIA agent blocked most of the blows, but Dominoe connected with several more. She finished her attack with a roundhouse kick to Sydney’s chest, sending her flying. Sydney landed on her back, dazed and gasping for breath.

Dominoe leaped toward her fallen opponent. Sydney rolled away from Dominoe and shot to her feet, ready to resume the fight. Dominoe chased Sydney around the living room with a continuous volley of spinning kicks. The CIA agent swerved and bobbed her head, dodging the CATT agent’s attack. Several partygoers scattered out of the way. Sydney used the living room furniture as a protective barrier. She gathered herself and went on the offensive.

Sydney attacked with a flurry of punches. Dominoe blocked every single punch without moving from her stance. The CATT agent countered with a swift kick to Sydney’s chin, snapping her head back. The blow left Sydney temporarily stunned and Dominoe seized the opportunity. She hooked her foot around Sydney’s ankle and leg whipped the CIA agent. Sydney fell back, hitting the floor on her back with a loud grunt.

Sydney attempted to sweep her leg across Dominoe’s ankles but the CATT agent jumped and Sydney whiffed. Dominoe had enough of the physical activity and decided to end it. Sydney rocked back and launched herself to a standing position. With the skills of a world class gymnast, Dominoe catapulted through the air, executing a perfect back-flip. She landed behind Sydney. The CIA agent spun toward Dominoe. At that precise moment, Dominoe unleashed a dose from the spray bottle into Sydney’s face. Sydney ceased her attack and collapsed to the floor, out like a light.

The crowd watched in utter amazement as Dominoe gathered the limp body of Sydney Bristow and draped her over her shoulder. They allowed Dominoe to walk toward the door of the suite without saying a word. They were still in shock.

Once Dominoe cleared the faces of the crowd, a tight smile spread across her lips. She walked out of the suite and made her way down the hallway, carrying an unconscious cheerleader on her shoulder. It was all part of the service.

***

Roger Baldwin sat back in the living room couch of his apartment, engrossed in his thoughts. His notebook computer was on the coffee table before him but his attention was on the huge joint he held in his hand. It was some good shit all right. He had gotten it from Juan Galvan’s stash. It was his last joint and there wouldn’t be anymore. It was a small price to pay for doing away with scum like Galvan.

Ridding the world of drug lords sounded like a solid plan. He had to put that on his check list. He dragged on his joint and inhaled deeply. He felt good and ballsy. If only that cunt Sydney was here to suck his cock. No one could suck cock like that bitch. He had also planned to get a taste of that Dominoe bitch but her fucking friends had shown up. It was her loss.

There was a knock at the door.

The knocking did not register in his dazed mind. He was too busy noticing that the curtains on the balcony window were racing away from the room at a hundred miles per hour. Curtains didn't move that fast, or did they?

The knocking continued. Louder.

Baldwin finally shifted his attention to the front door. His face lit up. Sydney had returned and would soon have her beautiful lips around his cock! He stood from the couch and strolled toward the door. He didn’t actually feel his feet touching the floor, but felt himself floating. Cool!

Bishop, Rook, and Marcus Dixon stood in the narrow corridor outside the door of Baldwin’s apartment. Dominoe had confirmed that she had recovered Sydney Bristow and now it was up to them to finish the job. The secret transmitter in Sydney’s choker was barely functioning and the signal had led them here. For someone so bright, Baldwin had failed to know that he was bugged.

Rook stood before the door, posing as a pizza delivery man. He held a large pizza pie box, but underneath the box he concealed a 9-millimeter pistol. Dixon and Bishop stood on each side of the door, flat against the wall. Rook knocked again.

“Who is it?” Baldwin called from behind the door.

“Pizza man,” Rook replied. “Got a large double cheese and pepperoni here.”

“Wrong address, dude.” Baldwin said. “Didn’t order any fucking pizza.”

“Compliments of Dominoe!”

Rook nodded at Dixon and Bishop as he backed away from the door. Dixon and Bishop stepped back, lowered their shoulders, and slammed against the door. Their combined effort shattered the bolts on the wooden door, throwing it open. The three men darted inside the room.

Baldwin staggered back into the apartment, completely surprised at the sudden invasion. He offered little resistance as Dixon and Bishop ceased him by the arms and quickly immobilized him. Rook dropped the pizza box and drew his pistol. He closed the damaged door and turned to Baldwin.

Baldwin was surprisingly calm. “All right, I'll take the fucking pizza.”

Bishop tightened his grip on Baldwin’s arm. “Shut up.”

Baldwin grimaced and turned to Bishop. “Fuck you!” He punctuated his insult by shooting a projectile of saliva in Bishop’s face.

Bishop delivered a punch to Baldwin’s stomach. Baldwin gasped for air and doubled over, groaning in pain.

Rook took control of the situation. “Everybody relax.” He approached Baldwin. “Your mind control days are over. I want you to release Sydney Bristow from whatever it is you did to her.”

Baldwin looked up at Rook, still recovering from the stomach blow. “Sydney Bristow? Don’t know the bitch.”

Rook spotted the burning marijuana joint on the floor and stomped it out with his foot. “You mean you don’t remember her? I know what you mean. You smoke too much shit and things get a little hazy. Right?”

Baldwin nodded. “Right on, dude.”

Rook and Baldwin shared a laugh. “Maybe I can jog your memory.” Rook lowered his gun and jammed it against Baldwin’s crotch, positioning the barrel under his balls.

Baldwin tensed but remained defiant.

“Does that help?” Rook asked.

A trace of fear appeared on Baldwin’s face. “You mean Sydney ‘Deep Throat’ Bristow?”

Rook nodded. “I think we’re in the ballpark.”

“Release her from your control.” Dixon said..

Baldwin chuckled. He gave Dixon a cold sardonic gaze. “You work with her, don’t you?”

Dixon’s expression confirmed Baldwin’s question.

“She ever suck your dick?” Baldwin asked Dixon. “If not, you don’t know what’re missing. Why don't you give her a taste of the dark meat.”

Rook shoved the gun against Baldwin’s scrotum, making him gasp with pain. “Knock it off, asshole. We’re not going to you ask again.”

“Hold him,” Dixon told Bishop.

Dixon waited for Bishop to secure his hold on Baldwin. The SD-6 agent sat on the couch before the opened notebook computer. “Maybe I can hack into he system and do it myself.”

“I wouldn’t hold my breath.” Baldwin scoffed.

The three men ignored Baldwin’s remark. Dixon activated the computer, but his efforts to obtain any relevant information were met with failure. Baldwin’s program files were password protected.

Dixon shook his head and looked up Rook. “Need the password.”

“Password!” Bishop said to Baldwin. “Let’s have it.”

Baldwin glared at Bishop. “Go stick your dick in your mother's cunt!”

Bishop remained calm. He looked Baldwin up and down with cool appraisal. “You’re a good-looking guy, Baldwin. It would be a real shame to deprive all those women of ever having the honor of pleasuring you. Can you imagine going through life like that? Having urges you can’t satisfy. All those women with long legs, tight asses, firm breasts, and smelling soooo good.” He shook his head. “Hell, you probably won’t even be able to jerk off. But it’s your call. I’m gonna count to three, and then it’s goodbye Mr Happy.”

Baldwin swallowed. His defiant expression softened as he pondered Bishop’s words.

“One . . . ” Bishop began.

Baldwin finally cracked. “Deep Throat! The password is Deep Throat.”

Bishop pulled the gun away from Baldwin’s crotch. “See. Was that so hard?”

Dixon immediately went to work on accessing Baldwin’s program files. The system was simple and he had little trouble figuring out the software. In a matter of minutes he found Sydney’s mind control code and disabled it. The screen suddenly went black. The following message appeared: SELF DESTRUCT ACTIVATED. KISS YOUR ASS GOODBYE.

Dixon looked up from the monitor with a grave expression.

“What?” Bishoped asked.

Baldwin noticed the screen. “Perhaps I should have mentioned that my keyboard is fingerprint sensitive. Anyone else who opens the files besides me automatically activates a bomb within the computer. Nice going. We have less than ten seconds to live.”

Bishop released his hold on Baldwin.

Dixon stood from the couch.

Rook backed away from the notebook computer.

The three men suddenly made a mad dash toward the apartment door.

Rook swung the door open, running outside into the corridor. Bishop and Dixon reached the entrance of apartment. Baldwin did not move from his position. He spread his arms out, tilted his head toward the ceiling, and closed his eyes.

A deafening explosion shook the building. The expanding fireball engulfed Baldwin, blowing him to pieces where he stood. The force of the explosion propelled Dixon and Bishop through the air. They struck the wall of the corridor across the apartment door. Windows shattered. The walls heaved. There was a crackling sound, and then entire area filled with thick black smoke. Then all was silent.

The explosion did not seriously injure any of the three men, though Bishop did receive some minor burns on his back. All three also suffered from smoke inhalation but that was the extent of their injuries. They raced out of the building, climbed aboard a car, and fled into the night.

***

Dixon had succeeded in freeing Sydney from her mind control and she was back to her old self. Unlike Dominoe, she did not remember most of her actions while under the influence of Baldwin’s drug. In some respect, she was actually grateful for this.

Dixon, Bishop, and Rook met Sydney and Dominoe at the airport where a private CATT jet awaited. This is where Sydney and Dominoe would part ways. The two female agents asked to be left alone to talk. Since Sydney did not have any of her regular clothes with her, Dominoe gave her one of her form-fitting black pantsuits. The two women were now dressed similarly, which added to the awkwardness of the moment.

Sydney brushed away a loose strand of her brown hair. “Thanks for . . .  rescuing me. And for everything else.”

Dominoe nodded. "Anytime. You can really kick some ass.”

Sydney flashed a weak smile, which accented the prominent dimples on her attractive face. “I think I’ve met my match.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.”

Sydney gave Dixon a side glance as he stood several meters away with Rook and Bishop. “Did anyone tell Dixon about SD-6?”

Dominoe shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

Sydney sighed with relief. “Thanks.”

Dominoe nodded. A short pause followed as neither woman knew what to say next. There was much to be said, but they mutually decided to leave it at that.

“I guess this is it then,” Sydney finally said.

“Yeah. It’s been a blast.” Dominoe said flatly. “No pun intended.”

“Do you think it’s wise if we . . .  kept in touch?”

Dominoe contemplated the question for a moment. “I don’t think so. Some day we might end up on opposite sides. I wouldn’t feel comfortable with that.”

Sydney nodded in agreement. “Good luck then.” She exhaled and brushed away another strand of stray hair from her face. “Just remember that there’s more to life than taking down criminals and bad men. Take time out for yourself.”

Dominoe nodded. “I’ll remember that. I hope you find the peace you’re looking for.”

Sydney gave Dominoe a puzzled look. "What do you mean?"

Dominoe stared into Sydney's eyes. "You're in pain. I can see it in your face."

The two women exchanged a look of admiration. They had a new found respect for each other. Dominoe turned and walked away from the CIA double agent. “We’ll always have Belize,” she whispered.

EPILOGUE

Rook and Bishop sat on the living room couch before a fifty-two-inch big screen TV in Rook’s living room. Empty beer bottles and bags of potato chips littered the coffee table in front of them. The big screen TV was tuned to the Super Bowl, which had turned into a blowout with the Oakland Raiders on the short end. The Raiders gave up another touchdown.

Rook groaned. “I can’t believe how bad the Raiders are playing. There goes fifty bucks.”

“What’s up with Big T?” Bishop asked. “He’s got ten rushing yards. What the hell did he do? Party all week?”

The doorbell rang.

Rook stood and answered the door. He wasn’t expecting anyone and was completely surprised to find Dominoe standing outside his door. She was dressed in a pair of sexy cut off shorts and a tank top T-shirt with the Tampa Bay Buccaneer logo in the front. She carried an aluminum tray covered with foil paper.

“Hi, Rook,” Dominoe said. “Am I too late for the game?”

It took a moment for Rook to actually believe that Dominoe was standing outside his door, dressed in shorts and a football tank top. “Uh . . .  no. Come in.”

Dominoe stepped into the living room.

Bishop sat up on the couch. “Dom, what are you doing here?”

Dominoe shrugged. “I just thought I join you guys for the Super Bowl.”

“That’s great,” Bishop said, still not buying it. “You’re wearing the winning colors there. Nice call.”

Rook motioned to the tray Dominoe held. “What do you have there?”

“Hope you boys are hungry. I brought some lasagna.”

Rook and Bishop tensed.

Dominoe noticed their expressions and smiled. “I picked it up on the way here at Taste of Italy.”

Rook and Bishop relaxed.

“Oh, okay.” Bishop said, exhaling. “Have a seat, Dom.”

Dominoe sat on the couch between the two men. She made a mental note to straighten up the coffee table as she placed the lasagna down among the beer bottles.  She focused on the game. “The Raiders are getting killed.”

Bishop suddenly had a brilliant idea. It was amazing the things that popped into his head after six beers. “Since it’s a boring game let’s make it interesting,” Bishop said. “Every time the Buccaneers score, Dominoe takes off an article of clothing. If the Raiders score, then Rook and I take off something. Shoes don’t count. Deal?”

Dominoe stared at Bishop, giving him a daring smile. “Deal.”

Bishop’s heart skipped a beat. “Huh?”

“Sounds like fun,” said Dominoe. “We’re all adults here, right?” She wasn’t kidding.

“Right.” Rook said, dizzy with shock.

The three friends proceeded to watch the Super Bowl, extremely interested in the game now. Dominoe had taken Sydney’s advice about taking time off for herself. Right now she wanted to share it with Rook and Bishop. They had done a great job in Belize and San Diego, and they deserved a reward.

It was all part of the service.

THE END

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Thanks to Trent Wolf for allowing me to use his great characters in my story. I’m just a player on his stage.