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From: gatomedio@hotmail.com (Gato Medio)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: Fri, 27 Feb 2004 23:58:42 +0000 (UTC)
Subject: {ASSM} Art Heist <*> {Gato Medio} (FF MF spank bd anal)
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Date: Sat, 28 Feb 2004 06:10:07 -0500
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This is my first story. I hope you like it.
Needless to say, I would like to hear what you think of it.

Please send an e-mail to GatoMedio <at> hotmail <dot> com
telling me what you liked best and what you liked least.
Any other comments would also be welcome.

Gato Medio
Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
 

-----

ART HEIST
by Gato Medio
(February 2004)

It is quite possible that Mirella's sense of reality has
become somewhat warped as a result of watching too many
James Bond movies - or watching them too many times. She
owned tapes of every movie ever made and watched them
constantly.

Needless to say, those were her favorite films. There
was, however, one aspect which got up her nose. The
female agents who were sent by James Bond's enemies to
destroy him, always succumbed to his charm. Those highly-
trained, cold-blooded killing machines fell in love with
James Bond and ended up abandoning their mission,
betraying their cause or their country, disobeying their
boss and thus damaging their own career prospects. For
Mirella, this was a smear on the professionalism of
female agents. She saw it as her role to set the record
straight. She would be the female secret agent who would
not be swayed by good looks and smooth talk. Mirella saw
herself as the one who would bring the undefeated record
of James Bond to an end.

She had already selected her undercover name and
imagined the impact it would have when she handed over
her business card reading

                    Vagina A. Plenty
                      Secret Agent

But then she realized that secret agents hardly handed
out business cards stating their profession. However,
they said things like 'The name is Bond, James Bond', so
she pictured herself saying 'The name is Vagina, Vagina
A. Plenty'. She didn't agree with people who said that
this name was too obvious, both as far as it's single
entendre was concerned, and for being too closely
inspired by the character Pussy Galore. Besides, most
people she knew had no idea what vagina meant. They used
other words. Yes, pussy was amongst them, but it wasn't
the word the majority of them would use. A complete
stranger whom she once asked what he thought of when he
heard the word 'vagina' replied "Would that be North
Vagina or South Vagina?"

Another guy, one who had read loads of books, suggested
she'd call herself Fay Latio. She had to look long and
hard in the dictionary before she found what he meant.
What use was a name if it took a cunning linguist to
figure out what it means? Besides, she didn't want
anybody to think she was just another cock sucker.

For the time being she was still working under her real
name, Mirella Giovanna Castiglione, a name which
betrayed her Italian roots. What she had inherited from
her Italian ancestors was the full, dark hair which
contrasted so distinctly with her alabaster skin. She
was proud of her black hair which she wore long and full
enough to cover her breasts completely when she looked
at herself in the mirror. She spent hours combing it so
that it would be absolutely straight, with no unruly
curls disturbing the picture, but she admitted that her
hair didn't have the silky shine of that of the Thai
girls she had once worked with during a short spell as a
night club hostess.

She envied those girls for their smooth, shiny hair. But
that was all she liked about them. Other than that she
found them too submissive, too slavish almost. They
would giggle when a customer put his paws on their tits
and ass and say 'You very naughty man'. Mirella, on the
other hand, didn't think it was part of her job to let
the customer feel her up. The job was about smiling a
lot, being friendly and making the punter believe that
he had a chance of bedding her. It was about getting him
to order drinks and then some more drinks and, when he
had spent more than he could afford, move on to the next
one. So, when one evening an insistent customer grabbed
her breasts, she removed his hand, first firmly but not
without gentleness, then more forcefully and finally,
when his hand returned for a third attempt, she said,
"Listen buster, if you don't keep your mitts off my tits
I'll bust your balls".

That was the end of her career as a hostess. The 'little
shit', as Mirella called him, had the nerve to complain
to the manager and Mirella had to go. Threatening a
customer was just not acceptable. The rule book stated
clearly that the hostess had to remain calm and friendly
under all circumstances. Only in extreme cases could she
call on the security staff who would remove the offender
from the premises. But the girls were advised not to
call the bouncers too often; that could give the joint a
bad rep.

Mirella wasn't worried about losing that job. It had
never been intended as a carrier. It was just another
step in her study of male weakness. The next day she
walked into the offices of Walker, Taylor and Sons, one
of the most reputable firms of private investigators in
town, and told them that she was available to join their
staff.

They liked the bare-faced boldness with which she
confessed that she didn't have any experience in this
field, her determination to achieve what she had set out
to achieve and her willingness to do whatever necessary
to get what she wanted, something Jim Taylor Jr.
experienced on his own flesh. They called her 'goal-
oriented'. She would have said it was her determination
to survive.

                        -----

The part of town where Mirella grew up was considered a
rough area. Concerned mothers would keep their daughters
indoors for fear that something might happen to them.
But Mirella used to hang out with the boys, joining them
in their rough games and becoming almost accepted as an
equal.

In those days, the scarcity of real estate and the
resulting gentrification of areas which had previously
been left to decay had not yet reached her part of town.
There were plenty of empty warehouses and abandoned
factory buildings which were used by shady elements to
hide from the police. The children, oblivious to the
subtleties of the law, found those derelict buildings an
ideal place to hide from the scrutinizing eyes of the
adults and to experience some adventures. They were a
far cry from today's youth who seem to know adventure
only from video games. It was in the shell of an
abandoned sawmill that Mirella had her first smoke - and
later her first kiss.

It was there that the kids re-enacted the key scenes of
the movies they used to watch on Sunday afternoon. More
often then not, these films featured a female beauty who
fell into the hands of the baddies - be they a bunch of
savage Indians or a gang of marauding bandits - only to
be rescued by the handsome hero in the end. Mirella was
inevitably called upon to play the beautiful heroine in
scenes which involved her being thrown to the ground
with a baddy lying on top of her, having her clothes
torn off and being kissed against her will. The boys
took turns in being the bad guy and the same scene was
repeated several times with slight variations. There
wasn't much interest in the role of the hero because all
the good guy got in the end was a hug and a gentle kiss
on the cheek. Mirella reasoned that if famous Hollywood
actresses let this be done to them, why shouldn't she.

Mirella's mother didn't particularly care who she spent
her free time with or what she got up to, but she got
furious every time Mirella came home with torn and dirty
clothes. So Mirella decided to take them off. She
established herself in a room of the old factory which
probably used to serve as an office and charged an
entrance fee - after all, a girl needs some money for
clothes and smokes - for letting the boys watch her
undress. Later, when her breasts had fully developed and
hair had grown on her pubic mound, she charged extra for
letting them touch her. Even later, when the boys had
come to understand that the hard rods between their legs
were made to be inserted into the slit between hers, and
demanded more than she was willing to sell, she closed
down her first ever business venture, saying "I'm no
whore".

A few of the boys tried to take by force what they
thought belonged rightfully to them, but she saw them
off without hesitation. A short, sharp blow of her knee,
aimed with precision between his legs had the attacker
rolling on the floor, screaming in agony and clutching
his testicles with his hands. She only had to do this
twice, then word got around that she wasn't really worth
the trouble and the boys left her in peace.

Other business ventures were to follow, the most
profitable one was selling counterfeit designer clothes
and accessories in the neighborhood. Mirella organized
small gatherings and put on fashion shows where she
paraded in the clothes she offered for sale. She looked
so beautiful in those clothes; the women bought because
they wanted to look like her and the men bought because
they wanted their wives or girlfriends to look like
Mirella. When they eventually put on the clothes and
looked at themselves in the mirror, they saw that
nothing much had changed. They had forgotten that it was
Mirella who made the clothes look attractive, not the
clothes who made Mirella look good. In fact, Mirella had
developed into such a beautiful young lady she could
make sack cloth look fantastic. A figure like hers
looked ravishing just wrapped in a sheet. To tell the
truth, the fewer clothes she wore, the more attractive
she looked. But the days when she'd take off her clothes
for everybody's gratification had long gone.

The one who eventually got to see her in all her naked
glory was a young man who called himself Rocky because
he thought that name combined well with the tough-guy
image he tried to create for himself. He had done a
short spell of boxing but had given it up before the
sport could leave its marks on his handsome face.
Mirella fell for his broad muscular shoulders and
matching chest. He was a man she could submit to without
feeling she had sold herself too cheaply. Any remaining
resistance melted away when he put his strong arms
around her, when he kissed her, lifted her up like a box
of matches and carried her to his bed. He drove her
crazy when he thrust his hard cock into her cunt again
and again and she bit her lips in order not to scream
when her orgasm took control of her body.

After a few weeks of what seemed like non-stop fucking,
only interrupted by the need to eat, to get some sleep
and to earn a little money, Rocky suggested she was
fucking so well, she could turn pro and he would be her
manager. Nothing sleazy, of course, he would take care
of that. Only first class VIP customers. She would be
picked up by chauffeur-driven limousines and taken to
five-star hotels, she would probably earn generous tips
on top of her sizable fee.

Mirella's entire body shook when she realized he wasn't
joking. She said "I'm no whore". But spitting out these
words didn't diminish the rage she was feeling and the
words didn't get through to Rocky who babbled on about
the easy life they would be leading, the fast cars they
would drive, the expensive clothes they would wear, the
exotic places they would travel to. "I'm nobody's
fucking whore," she said quite a bit louder and angrier
than the first time. But even this couldn't make her
anger recede and Rocky continued to try to convince her
that there was nothing wrong with being a prostitute.
She couldn't cut the flow of words from his mouth, so
she decided to cut him. She slashed him repeatedly with
his own flick-knife, the one he always carried on him.
His injuries weren't life-threatening, but serious
enough for him to never want to come near her again.
Enough for no pretty girl ever to want to kiss his scar-
marked face.

The idea of letting anyone who had enough money to pay
for it fuck her, horrified Mirella. She wasn't on a
mission to eradicate prostitution from the face of the
earth - if others wanted to do it, that was their
choice. She was also realistic enough to know that
people like her had to sell themselves sometimes to get
what they wanted, she just couldn't see herself doing it
professionally, on a regular basis.

Mirella felt that her experiences had hardened her
enough not to fall for the sweet talk of any man and as
a first step to joining the secret service she wanted to
become a private investigator. Walker, Taylor and Sons
considered her application carefully and offered her a
job as a trainee.

Something that Mirella didn't know and most members of
the public aren't immediately aware of is that firms of
private investigators often have two distinct lines of
business. There is the official activity which most
people are familiar with because it is frequently
portrayed in films and television programs. It involves
spying on unfaithful husbands or wives and providing
evidence of their trespasses, searching for missing
persons or finding the true responsible for a crime on
behalf of friends or relatives of a wrongfully accused.
Even in the conduct of these activities investigators
sometimes crossed that fine line between the legal
exercise of their profession and the infringement of
other citizens' rights by entering premises without
permission, obtaining information under false pretenses
or putting pressure on people who were - for whatever
reason - reluctant to talk. But as these excesses were
frequently shown in fiction as necessary in the pursuit
of a higher goal, breaking the law became part of the
normal profile of a private investigator, just as lying
to their people about the imminent threat posed by
foreign nations was part of the profile of a President
or Prime Minister.

The second, unofficial line of business, which Walker,
Taylor and Sons called 'Covert Operations', lay almost
exclusively on the other side of that line which divides
legal from illegal activities. There was no longer any
pretence of seeing that justice be done or working for
the common good. Covert Operations undertook missions on
behalf of individuals or corporations which served
exclusively their interests and to hell with justice.
This might involve finding out about the acquisition
plans of an industry giant, because the takeover of a
smaller competitor usually happened at a price
significantly above that at which the shares changed
hands before the takeover, and anyone purchasing such
shares, say a week before the official announcement, was
ensured of making a sizable profit in the process. Or it
might involve finding out the exact composition of a new
product to allow a competitor to launch his version of
that product simultaneously. Finally, there were the
cases where an eager newcomer to a market needed to be
persuaded to reduce his efforts to increase his market
share, efforts which could only serve to introduce
turbulence into an otherwise settled market.

Walker, Taylor and Sons felt that Mirella, being such an
attractive female and having demonstrated determination
and the ability to take some unconventional causes of
action, even if that meant breaking a few rules, was
particularly suited for Covert Operations. It was Jim
Taylor Jr. who broke the news to her. Mirella was
pleasantly surprised that the job title of 'trainee'
wasn't just a euphemism for assigning her to menial
tasks. They were actually going to put her through an
intensive training program where she would learn all the
required skills.

When Mirella arrived at the appointed room for her first
day of training, there were already several men and two
women sitting around a large table. The only person she
had met before was Jim Taylor Jr. and she assumed that
all the others were trainees, just like her. She was
quite surprised to hear that everybody in the room was a
tutor, coach or advisor on a specific aspect of her new
job and that all of them were here to train her and only
her.

Jim Taylor Jr. explained that she would normally be
trained by one or two Agents at a time, he had just
called everybody together for the first session to give
her a chance to meet them. Other Agents would be called
to cover specific areas as the need arose.
The purpose of the first session was to give her an
overview of how Covert Operations worked and to outline
the overall training program. He - simply called 'the
Boss' by most Agents, but Mirella could also address him
as Jim Jr. or simply JJ - was her main coach and
responsible for the finished product. He would accompany
her through all the steps of the training to monitor her
progress and would later brief her on each assignment.
Then he introduced the other people in the room.
There were Agent Bob, Agent Frank, Agents Sue and Trish,
Agent Steve and Agent Clive, and that was exactly how
she had to address them, never just by their name, but
always with the word Agent in front, while she, until
she became an Agent herself, would be called simply
Mirella by everybody. Each of these Agents had been
called because they would contribute with their special
area of knowledge to Mirella's training.

Next, Jim Jr. proceeded to clarify some of the most
frequently used terms. Mirella was being trained for
'front office duty', which meant that she was going to
be in direct contact with the informants. 'Informant'
was the person who supplied, usually without knowing it,
the information their sponsor wanted. 'Sponsor',
finally, was the person or organization who had
contracted Walker, Taylor and Sons for a particular
service, in other words, the one who paid everybody's
salary. Needless to say, the Agents were never told who
the sponsor for their assignment was.

Before each assignment, there would be a detailed
briefing to tell her what exactly the sponsor was after.
She would also get all the information they had
collected about the informant, his habits, his
lifestyle, etc. so they could decide on the best
strategy for achieving their goal. The assignment itself
consisted of three phases: Approach, Execution and
Disengagement. Her training would cover each of these
phases in great detail, but to clarify one thing up
front: Approach did not mean that Mirella would take the
initiative to make contact with the informant. She would
simply create the opportunity for the informant to
approach her. In this aspect, Mirella, being such an
attractive female and most informants being male, had a
distinct advantage. Agents Sue and Trish would coach her
on approach strategies and techniques. Execution simply
meant getting hold of the information and once that had
been achieved, Mirella would have to find a way of
terminating the contact without the informant becoming
suspicious. This was what Disengagement was about.

When Mirella asked whether all the people in the room
were part of Covert Operations, Jim Jr. told her that
the information she requested wasn't part of her
training program. She understood immediately: he told
her this was none of her business. But as she had
brought up the subject, this would be a good point to
tell her a few basic safety guidelines.

Although most informants were completely unaware that
they were being tricked into supplying important
confidential information, it could not be ruled out that
in some cases they might become suspicious or even try
to outsmart the Agent. Because of this risk, there were
a few basic guidelines on how Mirella could protect
herself and other Agents against possible enemies. Most
of these rules were almost common sense and applied to
anyone, not just to Agents.

Rule number one dealt with caution against being double-
crossed. It meant never to put oneself in a position
where one was at the mercy of the informant and would be
unable to escape from a possible attack. A special case
of this rule dealt with drinks. Never accept a drink if
you haven't seen it being poured, and even if you have
seen it, only accept it if your host pours his drink
from the same bottle.

Rule number two dealt with concealing one's real
identity. Agents had to keep their real identity secret,
even to casual friends and acquaintances. For each
assignment they were given a specific identity as part
of the briefing which would include name and profession
of parents, schools attended, job history, places where
they had lived, etc. Some assignments would require them
to move into another apartment which would be arranged
for this particular purpose.

Rule number three was about confidentiality. Its purpose
was to protect Agents from losing their cover through
careless contact. If Mirella ever met other Agents in
public, under no circumstances was she to approach them
like old friends or even casual acquaintances, as this
could jeopardize the assignment those Agents might be
working on. She was to request permission to approach by
imperceptibly raising the middle finger of her right
hand. If appropriate, the Agent would give permission by
exactly the same movement with his or her left hand.

                        -----

Mirella was a fast learner and once she had mastered
something, she wouldn't forget it again. Very soon she
was able to pick a lock, any lock, within seconds. She
also became an expert in opening safes. Not by force, by
memory. All that was required was that she be in the
same room when the owner opened the safe and she would
be able to recreate the exact position of each wheel of
the combination lock which opened the safe. To say that
she had a photographic memory would be missing half the
point. She was able to record the exact sequence of
noises, the number of clicks of each wheel, even if she
wasn't able to see the safe being opened.

The purpose of acquiring these skills was not to steal;
hardly ever did an Agent remove anything from an office,
apartment or safe. The only thing they took were
pictures of documents, using high definition digital
cameras which allowed them to produce exact copies of
these documents for their sponsors. Sometimes, they
would leave something behind: listening devices which
they hid inside flower pots, stuck underneath tables or
desk drawers or installed inside the telephone receiver.
The tapping of fixed-line phones, however, became less
and less important. Most informants were using their
mobile phones for confidential communication, not
knowing that this would leave them just as open to a
professional investigator's efforts. In fact, some of
Mirella's colleagues were of the opinion that mobile
phones, along with e-mail, were the best thing that ever
happened to the profession. Mirella soon learned how to
listen into a mobile phone conversation by training a
high-precision microphone in the direction of the
informant. The systematic monitoring of phone lines and
e-mail traffic was being looked after by a specialized
department.

One of the training sessions was about 'sleeping with
the enemy'. The sex theme had been present all along -
the main reason why the informants could be trapped so
easily was that they hoped they might get to fuck her.
Some female Agents considered having sex without
compromise, knowing they probably would never meet the
guy again, as one of the benefits of the job and
wouldn't think twice about going to bed with the
informant, even if it wasn't strictly necessary. Others
tried to avoid it and only saw it as a last recourse for
achieving their goal. Mirella made it clear that she
belonged into the latter category.

But, Jim Jr. explained, in all cases it was important to
keep the informant in a positive frame of mind. He
should never have any reason to doubt that he was living
up to expectations. It had to be clear that it had been
fantastic, that *he* had been fantastic. He should feel
that he still had it in him to satisfy a woman, even the
most demanding one, many years his junior. That meant
that the Agent had to put on a show about how much she
was enjoying the sex and the key part of that show was
to fake reaching an orgasm, even when the whole fuck
didn't take more than a few minutes.

Mirella had never faked anything, let alone an orgasm.
Jim Jr. told her to try it. "What, here in front of
everybody?" "I'm not asking you to masturbate, to
actually have an orgasm, just to play the role of a
woman who's having sex and comes. You don't even have to
take off your clothes if you don't want to." She sat
back on an easy chair and tried to remember what it had
felt like when Rocky fucked her. Her attempt to re-enact
the scene failed miserably. It just wasn't convincing.
Jim Jr. suggested they'd film her while she experimented
an orgasm and she would then use the tapes at home to
train, acting exactly the way she did on that tape. "So
you finally found a reason to fuck me", she said to Jim
Jr. "No, Mirella, the orgasm will be induced by Agent
Ann". Agent Ann? A woman? How could a woman make her
come? Or 'induce an orgasm' as they called it?

They set up a room with a bed, a number of cameras and
some lighting equipment and told her to take off all her
clothes and lie on the bed. One camera would film her
face, another one would capture her upper body and a
third camera, mounted above the bed, would take an
overall shot of the whole scene and record the sound.
Something about the situation reminded her of the time
when she charged for letting the boys in the
neighborhood watch her undress. There were quite a few
men around, busy setting up the cameras and checking the
lighting. Some came quite close to her when they
measured the intensity of the light on each part of her
body. But for them, filming her didn't seem to be any
different from filming the feeding habits of the humming
bird or sunset over Ayer's Rock. Nevertheless, Mirella
couldn't help feeling aroused by the whole set-up. For
her it was almost like acting in a porn movie.

When everything was ready, Agent Ann entered the room.
She was in her early thirties, of medium built and wore
a track suit. She soon took off the top of her track
suit when she realized how hot it was under the lights.
Underneath she wore a skin-tight leotard which showed
off her shapely figure. In this outfit she looked like a
teacher of physical education or something of the kind.
The way she examined Mirella's pussy reminded more of a
gynecologist but her stern face which remained
impassionate throughout was more like that of a prison
warden. Agent Ann approached Mirella and told her to lie
back and spread her legs. Mirella followed the order and
realized that she was both a little frightened and
excited.

When everything was set up Jim Jr. shouted jokingly
'Mirella's orgasm, first take' and they started filming.
Agent Ann started to move her fingers up and down
Mirella's pussy lips. Then she spread them a little and
played with the little knob which had already started to
harden. It felt so good, Mirella decided to relax and
enjoy herself. She felt one finger being inserted inside
her pussy. It stopped about half-way and performed
little circular movements, rubbing gently against the
walls of her vagina. Mirella could feel waves of intense
pleasure passing through her body. This felt so good, so
good. It seemed to Mirella that her pussy, or more
precisely the place where the finger was touching her,
had become the centre of the universe, and from there
wave after wave of cosmic energy was flowing to bring
enormous pleasure to her and the rest of the world.

What Mirella didn't know was that Agent Ann was quite
expertly stimulating Mirella's G-spot. Mirella was
completely oblivious to all the fuss which the
'discovery' of this magic place in the female anatomy
had caused. In fact, she probably didn't even know she
had such a thing as a G-spot. But that did in no way
diminish the pleasure she felt. Her breathing became
heavier and then turned into a moan. She was worried
that her excitement was rising too fast, that it would
all be over too soon. When Agent Ann used her thumb to
rub Mirella's clit, without removing her finger from its
position, Mirella climaxed. Agent Ann, who could feel
the spasms right where her hand was, continued
stimulating Mirella's pussy, unperturbed. The single
finger inside Mirella was soon replaced by two fingers
and a little later a third joined the party, sending her
to even higher realms of pleasure. Mirella went wild:
her head thrashed from one side to the other, her hips
bucked upwards to meet the caressing hand. One cameraman
shouted she should keep her head still as it was going
off picture. Another one suggested she should fondle her
breasts to add to the excitement. She followed their
suggestions as best she could. Her pussy was soaking wet
from the innumerous orgasms she had experienced, her
breathing had turned into gasping for air, her moans had
become a continuous wail. She pinched and rubbed her
nipples and wondered how long this could continue. Not
that she wanted it to stop. She was worried that she
might pass out, but she didn't want to miss a second of
this wonderful experience. It was the most intense
pleasure she had ever felt.

Then, suddenly, someone said, 'that's enough' and Agent
Ann stopped. Jim Jr. gave the two women a round of
applause and the other men joined in with exclamations
of 'Wow!' and 'Yee-ha!' Agent Ann cleaned her hand which
was coated with Mirella's juices with a tissue, put on
her track suit top and left without saying a word to
Mirella.

A little later, Mirella realized that the purpose of the
exercise had been to record a 30-minute tape, regardless
of the number of orgasms she would reach. She had been
subjected to a solid half hour of stimulation, at least
half of which had been one long continuous orgasm. She
felt weak, hardly able to stand on her own legs when she
got off the bed. The film crew edited a fourth tape,
where pictures of her face and upper body were placed as
a smaller frame in the corner of the overhead shot. That
way she could see herself writhing on the bed, listen to
her moans and at the same time see a close-up of her
face and her hands fondling her breasts. They handed her
the finished tape along with the three originals. Jim
Jr. told her to watch them and to practice acting
exactly as on those tapes, without any stimulation.

Mirella started watching the tapes the same evening and
for some time this was all she did in her spare hours:
watch herself writhing and moaning and having the time
of her life. She even forgot about watching James Bond
movies for a while. In the beginning she couldn't stop
fingering herself while she watched, but she knew that
wasn't the purpose of the exercise. She studied the
expression on her face and tried to reproduce it in
front of a mirror. It became easy when she thought about
what Agent Ann had done to her pussy. But, try as she
might, it never became a simple exercise in acting. She
always felt the excitement rise between her legs and
when she had completed her 'fake orgasm' her cunt was
always soaking wet.

When she felt confident that she could do a credible
impersonation of herself having an orgasm, she told Jim
Jr. He organized a panel of 12 jurors, including 3 women
- it seemed he had dragged them in from the street - and
asked Mirella to perform her piece sitting on a chair
facing them. Afterwards she had to leave the room so
that the jury could reach its verdict in secret. Jim Jr.
told her that she had scored 8 out of 10 which was good
but indicated that her acting could still be improved.
Some of the jurors had commented that she was overdoing
it a little, they had never seen any woman in real life
reacting that strongly to an orgasm. Little did they
know about what Mirella felt when she experience an
orgasm for real.

Jim Jr. said, in order to practice and further improve
her skill, he would call upon her whenever he felt like
to perform her fake orgasm. He would look at her and say
'Mirella! Orgasm!' and she would have to behave as if
she was climaxing, no matter where they were and who
else was present. There wasn't a training day when she
didn't have to perform at least once.

Although her acting became something she did almost
automatically, it was always accompanied with a wet
pussy and thoughts of Agent Ann's fingers inside her and
the wonderful sensation they had produced. One day, when
she was strolling through Macy's, Mirella noticed Agent
Ann. The simple fact of coming eye to eye with this
woman made her pussy twitch. Mirella made the secret
sign to ask for permission to approach her but Agent Ann
didn't react. Did that mean the request was denied or
had Agent Ann simply not noticed Mirella? She decided to
give it a second try and walked halfway around the
department store to approach her from a different angle,
watching all the time if there was anyone observing her
or Agent Ann. When she stood face to face with Agent Ann
she could see that she recognized her vaguely. Her
request for permission to approach was granted and she
told Agent Ann that she wanted to talk to her on a
private matter. Agent Ann suggested that they meet in
ten minutes in the restaurant on the top floor.

When Mirella asked, "Do you remember me?" Agent Ann said
yes, but without much conviction. "You finger-fucked
me," she reminded her. "You mean I induced on orgasm."
"Yeah, whatever. But not just one, a whole cartload of
'em. I just wanted to say it was wonderful. I dream of
it all the time. I'm through with men, too, and thought
maybe we could get together for some fun. What do you
say?" Agent Ann's face which had been expressing a
little sympathy became hostile. "Whatever gave you the
idea that I'm through with men? What I did to you was
part of my job. I'd do it again if there was a need for
it, but I don't think that's the case. And, besides,
don't you know that it's expressly forbidden for Agents
to have intimate relationships with other Agents, and
that includes trainees?"

                        -----

Agents Sue and Trish who were responsible for teaching
Mirella everything about 'Approach' were the complete
opposite of Agent Ann. Whereas Agent Ann was always
stern-faced and severe, these two were friendly and
constantly smiling. They seemed to enjoy Mirella's and
each other's company. Both of them were slim, slightly
athletic with small, firm breasts. As Mirella was going
to spend a lot of time with the two, Jim Jr. delegated
the 'fake orgasm' training to them. It was like handing
the remote control of the TV to a couple of kids! Before
starting her training they had her perform her orgasm
piece at least five times. They found it amazing how she
could change so suddenly from an ordinary woman into
this lewd creature consumed by lust. Agent Trish once
made her 'come' while they were standing in line in a
fast food restaurant. Agent Sue got her to 'climax'
while they were out buying clothes for Mirella.

As Jim Jr. had already pointed out, 'Approach' didn't
mean approaching the informant, but creating a situation
where he could approach her. In simple words it meant
getting the informant to chat her up and tell her
everything she wanted to know without her ever appearing
to take the initiative or asking specific questions.
Most of her victims would be in the age bracket where
they themselves had probably accepted that they were no
longer able to pull an attractive sensual young think
like her. So they might get suspicious of her motives if
she approached them and suggested an intimate get-
together. She had to learn how to attract them into her
net without letting on that she was even aware of their
presence.

This meant that *her* presence had to be such that no
man could possibly ignore her. And thus the informant
would try to use any opportunity she would create to get
to know her. Agent Sue would help Mirella work on her
feminine presence while Agent Trish was going to tell
her all she knew about the psychology of the middle-aged
male.

Although Mirella was a very attractive young woman, she
managed to hide her charms under fairly nondescript
clothes. Her standard uniform seemed to consist of black
skin-tight jeans which showed off her shapely bottom to
best effect, an informal top and a black leather jacket.
She only wore panties on certain days, saying that the
jeans fit much better when there was nothing between
them and her bare bottom, and she never wore a bra. The
few dresses she still had from her time as a night club
hostess were not up to the required standard.

Her whole wardrobe had to undergo a make-over. They took
her shopping to some of the best stores in town to buy
the sexiest clothes they could find. It was important to
watch that fine line which separates a ravishing sex
goddess from a vulgar slut, although someone with
Mirella's looks could get away with things which might
look tacky on a lesser mortal. When Agent Sue suggested
miniskirts or short dresses to show off her beautiful
long legs, Mirella didn't like the idea. "Don't want no
creep taking a peek at my cunt," she said, probably
assuming that she would continue to go without panties.
She preferred long dresses which covered her legs
although she didn't mind if they were extremely low cut
or left her back completely uncovered. Her tutors
thought, quite rightly, that no man would be able to
resist the large acreage of exposed alabaster skin. But
her clothes didn't necessarily have to be revealing to
make her look attractive. Depending on the location,
other attires were more suitable. A simple pullover,
chosen a couple of numbers smaller than required, could
be a real stunner.

Mirella would use this effect some time later for an
approach inside an airplane. She had flown to Dallas,
Texas, just to catch the flight back to New York. She
was the last passenger to join the first class section,
wearing skin-tight pants and the already mentioned
pullover. The young woman stretching to place her hand
luggage into the overhead compartment was a sight for
sore eyes. Only a snowman could remain cool faced with
such a spectacle. It so happened that the gentleman over
whose seat she had to bend several times to get a few
items from her hand luggage was going to stay in the
same hotel as Mirella. A long time before the plane
approached JFK the two had agreed to share a taxi to the
hotel and Mirella had accepted the stranger's invitation
for dinner.

Although her tutors agreed that her breasts didn't need
any support, they managed to convince Mirella that it
may sometimes be a good idea to wear a bra, particularly
when she wore one of the see-through blouses they bought
for her. They also suggested a number of exercises to
keep her breasts firm and in good shape. Agent Sue also
bought her a selection of miniscule panties, both thongs
and conventional models. These panties required that she
remove some more of her pubic hair, an activity which
both of her tutors observed keenly and used as an
opportunity for a few rounds of the 'Mirella! Orgasm!'
game. It was then that they noticed from her moist pussy
that her fake orgasm wasn't a complete fake. Agent
Trish, who knew a lot about psychology, said something
about Pavlov's dogs but Mirella didn't understand what
this guy Pavlov and his dogs had to do with her wet
cunt. But she understood that now her entire person,
including the most intimate parts of her body had become
part of her job. They made her walk up and down in her
new sexy underwear to make sure that she felt
comfortable and behaved natural in it. Mirella had the
feeling that they enjoyed watching her being naked or
scantily dressed. She was also convinced that the two
had something going between them. She even fantasized
about the two in bed talking about what they would like
to do to her. But after her experience with Agent Ann
she didn't feel inclined to ask if she could join in.

Mirella liked her new look. She enjoyed it when the men
tried to undress her with their eyes, when they stared
at her, open-mouthed, clearly showing that they would
give anything to fuck her. What pleased her most was the
knowledge that they weren't going to get any. But she
considered these fancy outfits her work clothes. In her
spare time she continued to wear her favorite jeans and
leather jacket although she gradually moved to more sexy
tops.

Her tutors insisted that her sexy clothes were no
guarantee that the informant would pluck up his courage
and take the decisive step of talking to her. One way of
overcoming any remaining resistance or shyness was the
'damsel in distress' strategy. No gentleman would refuse
to help an attractive female in trouble; the men could
even tell themselves that their willingness to help her
had nothing to do with sexual intentions. This could
simply mean asking a waiter, louder than necessary, for
some information he couldn't possibly know and letting
the gentleman on the next table offer his help. On the
whole, the world was full of pitfalls where a fragile
young lady could come to grief. Her high heels could be
trapped in the elevator door, they might break, even
result in a twisted ankle. The shoulder strap of her
dress might become detached, obliging her to secure her
dress with one hand to preserve her modesty. Of course,
any help received in such a desperate situation would be
received gratefully, rewarded with warm smiles, and open
the door for an approach.

There was also a whole range of accidents involving
drinks being spilt on a lady's attire. In some cases the
villain would try to rub the affected area, become
suddenly aware that this was quite an improper thing to
do to a complete stranger of the opposite sex, but find
that his attempts were not rebuked. In other cases the
damage would be such that it required a change of dress,
or in some desperate situation, removing the piece of
clothing and waiting until it had been washed and dried.
There were plenty of opportunities for letting an
interested man get a little closer.

Mirella would later use this technique to great effect.
She had been sent to the bar of a luxury hotel, where
senior executives of a media giant had rented meeting
facilities for discussions with their bankers. Mirella's
assignment was to collect information about the purpose
and, if possible, the outcome of these discussions. The
group had taken a break in the bar and were about to
resume their meeting; the man who had been identified as
the one to make contact with had gone to the bar to get
himself another drink before returning to the conference
room. Mirella's timing was perfect. She got up and
walked past the bar, reaching her victim exactly as he
swung around, a Bloody Mary in his hand. Her beautiful
white dress didn't stand a chance. Unbiased observers of
the scene - if there had been any - might have said that
she walked straight into the man, either because she had
her head in the clouds or maybe even intentionally. The
man, normally a soft-spoken, well-mannered executive,
was ready to scold that stupid woman and tell her to
look where she was going. But before opening his mouth
he looked at her. No, not at her face, he looked at her
upper body, where the soaking wet fabric was clinging to
her skin, molding perfectly the shape of her breasts,
including her nipples, which had hardened from the
effect of the ice cold liquid. Most people would
describe a white dress, stained by half a pint of tomato
juice as 'not a pretty sight'. But this *was* a pretty
sight, although 'pretty' could be considered an
understatement.

It's remarkable how images like this can affect the male
brain. The man, who seconds ago had been ready to give
that woman a bawl-out, heard himself say, "Oh my God,
what have I done! I'm terribly sorry!" Mirella, or more
precisely, the character played by Mirella, was in a
state of shock. "Look what you've done to my dress," she
shrieked. The man who later introduced himself as Ted
(but Mirella knew that already) apologized again, asked
Mirella to stay calm and offered to pay the laundry bill
- or a new dress if this one was ruined. Mirella,
clearly making an effort to remain calm, explained that
the situation wasn't that simple. She was on her way to
meet an old friend for dinner and couldn't possibly show
up like this. No, she wasn't staying at the hotel and
wasn't in the habit of carrying a spare dress with her
whenever she went out, neither was she prepared to
travel across town to her home like this to change into
a new dress. Whenever she said 'like this' she pointed
at her upper body and gave Ted another excuse to look at
her juice-soaked tits. Ted asked if he could send
someone to fetch another dress for her and Mirella
answered that she could ask her maid to bring one to
her, but that would take some time and where would she
stay? She surely didn't want to make an exhibition of
herself like this. He offered her the use of his suite
on the top floor of the hotel and she accepted.

Ted accompanied her to his suite, where she made two
phone calls. One to cancel her dinner date and another
one to her maid, instructing her which dress to bring,
and also to include a matching pair of shoes. Ted,
seeing that everything was under control, excused
himself, saying that he had to rejoin the meeting he had
been attending before the unfortunate accident happened.
He also told her to wait for him in his suite because he
insisted on taking her out for dinner tonight, as he had
been the reason for her having to cancel her date.
Mirella couldn't believe her luck when he gathered
together a number of documents which had been lying
around and locked them in his safe. After he had left,
Mirella took off her clothes and had a shower. Then she
waited for the arrival of her maid, just wearing her
lacy panties.

It turned out that it was Agent Ann who had been
assigned as her maid and Mirella regretted immediately
having put on her panties. Nevertheless, she hoped that
Agent Ann might be interested in giving her pussy
another treat. But Agent Ann was business-like as always
and today the business wasn't 'inducing orgasm', it was
filming every scrap of paper she could find in Ted's
room. It seemed that she didn't even notice Mirella's
near-nakedness. But she couldn't help being impressed
when Mirella opened the safe for her. After Agent Ann
had left, Mirella got dressed and wrote a short note for
Ted saying that she couldn't stay for dinner as she had
heard from the maid that her husband would return
earlier than planned.

                        -----

On her first few assignments Mirella managed to obtain
the required information without exchanging any
intimacies. The problem was terminating the conversation
without the informant suspecting that she had her own
hidden agenda. Unexpectedly her mobile phone would ring
and a close friend would inform her that her jealous
husband was returning earlier than expected from his
business trip, that he was already in the arrivals hall
at the airport and that she'd better get her ass home
before he'd get there. Or it was a desperate babysitter
who had reached the end of her tether because the baby
she was supposed to look after refused to stop crying.
Of course, Mirella didn't have any husband, jealous or
otherwise, nor did she have any baby to look after. What
she had was a little device fitted into her bracelet
which, upon actioning, placed a call to her own mobile
phone. All she had to do was to fake the surprise and
panic caused by the critical situation, apologize that
she couldn't stay any longer and depart, giving the
informant a little kiss on the cheek and expressing the
hope that there would be an opportunity 'to pick up
where we stopped'.

The assignments where the information couldn't be
transmitted verbally but was contained in lengthy and
detailed documents were more difficult to handle.
Sometimes she needed the assistance of another Agent who
searched the office or apartment of the informant while
she made sure he didn't unexpectedly turn up there. But
she took great pride in being able to finish even the
more difficult jobs on her own.

Mirella's basic formula for success was really quite
simple: she dared the informants to do what she wanted
them to do by implying that they probably didn't have
the guts to break the rules, ignore conventions, etc.
Not in these words, of course. When the victim, unable
to ignore her presence, exchanged a few words with her,
no matter how innocently, she would give to understand
that it was probably to his disadvantage if anyone saw
him talking to her, after all, a young woman talking to
a wealthy man like him could only be a gold-digger or a
prostitute, therefore she thought it best to terminate
the little chat before it caused any damage to his
reputation. This would usually cause her victim to do
exactly the opposite of what she had suggested. The man
would make a point of continuing the conversation,
invite her to join him at his table or do whatever he
could think of to prove that he was not concerned about
being seen in her company. Later, when he had told her
that he held a senior position in such and such an
organization or corporation, she would hint that he
probably wasn't one of the key decision makers,
otherwise he wouldn't be sitting in the hotel bar,
chatting to a woman he'd never met before. This prompted
the fool to state that he was indeed one of the decision
makers, in fact the reason for his presence in this
hotel was that he had just completed the negotiations
for the takeover of XYZ, one of their rival companies.
He guessed that she probably didn't read the financial
press, but if she did, she would probably read about it
in a few week's time. Mirella was quick to confirm that
she really didn't understand much about these things and
apologized for having underestimated his importance.

There was the case of the research manager a
pharmaceutical giant, let's call him Jerry. His company
was about to launch a new skin cream to fight wrinkles,
a product which combined the benefits of Botox with the
advantage of not having any side effects. Mirella
mentioned to Jerry that she had always been curious
about what a specification for products like a skin
cream looked like and that she was dying to see one,
even if it was an old, out-of-date one, but said she'd
understand if he didn't want to go to the trouble of
showing her one of these specifications. Jerry said
immediately that, of course, he could show her one, and
to prove how much he trusted her, he would take her to
his office right now to let her have a look at the
formula for the product about to be launched. Mirella
noticed how he slipped the night watchman a bill and
said there was no need to record his brief visit in the
log.

In his office, Jerry opened the safe to get the promised
document. Mirella pretended not to pay any attention to
his fiddling with the lock but registered every move,
every click. When Jerry showed her the document, Mirella
looked at it superficially and then said, a little
sheepishly, that there were so many words she didn't
even know how to pronounce and that all the formulae
made her head spin. She had never thought a simple skin
cream could be such a complicated affair. As reward for
disregarding company rules so bravely, Mirella invited
Jerry to her apartment for a drink and 'who knows what
else'.

After having his drink Jerry wanted to move on to the
'who knows what else' part of the evening. He embraced
and kissed Mirella and tried to undress her, but Mirella
told him to cool down. She lead him into her bedroom and
told him to make himself comfortable. Then she
disappeared into the bathroom 'to freshen up a little'.

When Mirella returned from the bathroom Jerry had quite
inexplicably fallen asleep. Mirella checked the
soundness of his sleep, got his keys from his jacket and
returned to Jerry's office - in his car. She told the
night watchman who, of course, remembered her, that she
forgot something in Jerry's office and added "When a
woman loses her heart, she also loses her head". She
slipped him another bill and told him there was no need
to accompany her, she could find the office on her own.
When she got to the office she opened the safe, filmed
every single page of the document Jerry had shown her
and then put everything back the way she had found it.
Then she left, apologizing to the night watchman for the
disturbance. When she got back to her apartment, Jerry
was still asleep. She undressed and slipped into the bed
beside him, waiting for him to wake up. When Jerry
started to stir, she pretended to be asleep and let him
wake her. He wanted to know hat happened. "Don't you
remember?" she answered with surprise in her voice. "You
were so wild, so insatiable, it was wonderful. No wonder
you fell asleep soon afterwards." Jerry, frustrated that
he didn't remember anything, wanted some more. Mirella
told him she was exhausted and needed her beauty sleep.
He wanted to grab her beautiful breasts but she told him
he'd already ravaged them during their love bout.
Allowing him to place two gentle kisses on her nipples
and promising another meeting in the near future, she
let him out of her apartment.

When Jerry returned a few days later to the same place,
a Baptist preacher answered the door. He had never heard
of anyone called Mirella and found it quite improbable
when Jerry told him about his experience in the
apartment. This was when Jerry started to become
suspicious about Mirella's real intentions. His
suspicions were confirmed a little later when a
competitor launched a skin cream identical to his own
company's product, but he considered it wise not to tell
anyone about his transgressions that faithful night.

                        -----

Harry S. Fenton was an art collector who was considered
a bit of an odd-ball by the art dealers. He didn't buy
works of art because of the name or the artist or the
style, he bought them because of the motif they
represented - he collected exclusively paintings and
sculptures of an erotic nature, from simple nudes to
detailed depictions of copulation and other forms of
sex. His collection was estimated to contain around 5000
works of art, reaching from old Japanese and Chinese
drawings to contemporary artists. It was not intended
for public viewing. He kept his collection in his
mansion in southern California, near the Big Sur, where
he owned a large piece of land on the coast. His mansion
was set on a promontory above the cliffs, where one
could watch the waves crash against the rocks. A small
army of security staff protected his property against
invaders from land, air and sea. It was a setting which
Mirella might have described as a classic James Bond
scenario.

What puzzled many people was how he could afford such a
mansion and such an extensive art collection. He wasn't
from a wealthy family, he had not inherited a fortune
from his ancestors like some other well know art
collectors, and he didn't have any identifiable source
of income. On the rare occasions he went on record about
his financial situation he declared that he had made a
small fortune with stock market and currency
speculations. There were rumors which linked his wealth
to connections with Colombian drug barons, but nothing
of the sort was ever proven.

This somewhat shady background combined with the subject
of the works he collected earned him the nickname 'Dirty
Harry'. But the art business, like most other
businesses, is prepared to turn a blind eye to the
character flaws of regular customers. And Harry was a
prolific buyer. He usually agreed to buy works of art
which were offered to him if they fitted into his
collection. He never paid the asking price, but a sale
is a sale and a reduced profit is still a profit. What
caused a certain unease between the community of art
dealers and Harry was the mystery surrounding 59 erotic
drawings by Polichinelo.

The work of Polichinelo, the well-known landscape
painter, like that of so many great artists, was only
fully appreciated after his death. While he was alive he
often suffered hardship. More than once was he evicted
from his rented accommodation because he was several
months behind with his payments. On these occasions he
relied on the support of a, fortunately large, number of
friends and admirers who gave him shelter and paid his
debts so that he could return to his studio and continue
his work. One of these benefactors had recently died and
when his relatives went through the piles of useless
junk he had accumulated over the years, they found a
sketch by Polichinelo, depicting a threesome in an
unmistakable pose, along with a letter by the artist in
which he thanked his friend for his support during so
many years and asked him to accept the enclosed drawing
as a token of his gratitude.

The find caused an enormous stir in the art world, for
two reasons: One, Polichinelo was not known to have
produced any works of an erotic nature. But the letter
and the signature on the sketch did not leave any doubt
concerning the authenticity of this work. Two: On the
back of the sketch was a marking '15/60' which most
experts interpreted as meaning work number 15 out of a
series of 60. The art world came to the conclusion that
Polichinelo had produced a series of 60 erotic drawings
and had given them, as a token of his gratitude, to
those who had helped him in bad times.

Hoards of well-spoken men in dark suits descended on the
unsuspecting friends and relatives of Polichinelo in
order to find the other 59 drawings. The art world went
through its own little gold rush. But the quest for the
missing Polichinelos stopped as suddenly as it had
started when a number of influential art critics
published articles in which they declared that the idea
of 60 drawings was probably the result of a
misinterpretation of the artist's annotation. It didn't
seem likely that someone like Polichinelo would have
produced 60 works of art and have kept them secret
beyond his death. Officially, the hunt was off, but
there were voices which linked Dirty Harry to the sudden
change of mood. The story was that he had bought not
only the drawings but also the art critics to get them
to write the already mentioned articles. The family who
had discovered the first drawing, which became known as
'The Threesome', decided not to sell it and locked it
away in a high-security bank vault.

All this was unknown to Mirella when Jim Jr. informed
her that her next target would be Dirty Harry. She
immediately thought of Clint Eastwood and didn't quite
know how he could be an informant.

Jim Jr. gave her all the background to the assignment
and, although that wasn't strictly necessary, showed her
a copy of 'The Threesome'. Mirella looked at it and
couldn't quite understand what was erotic about this
bunch of black lines and squiggles on a white
background. Jim Jr. had to show her that those
'squiggles' really represented three people. The first,
most likely a woman, was lying on her back with her legs
spread apart; the second, also a woman was eating the
first woman's pussy while being fucked in the ass by the
third figure, a man. Mirella was amazed that anybody
could see so much detail in such a mess of lines,
particularly, how could anyone tell that the second
woman wasn't having her cunt fucked. She also thought
about the fact that she had never in her life eaten a
cunt, nor been butt-fucked. Was she missing something?

The assignment wasn't as clear-cut as her previous jobs.
There wasn't a single fact to find out and report, nor a
document to locate and film. She had to find out whether
Dirty Harry had in fact acquired the 59 drawings, and
where they were kept. In addition, if only half of the
stories which circulated about Dirty Harry were true,
then he would be an extremely difficult customer to
snare.

The plan to attract Harry was that Mirella would open a
new art gallery in Manhattan. The first exhibition would
be dedicated to Polichinelo and would feature
reproductions of some of his works and the original of
'The Threesome'. The owners had, reluctantly, agreed to
let them use it. There was no doubt that Harry would be
attracted to that drawing like a bee to honey and it was
up to Mirella to turn that interest in the picture into
an interest in her, and then use the situation in the
best possible way. This probably wasn't a case of meet
once and dump. There would have to be several encounters
to gain his trust, maybe she could even achieve an
invitation to his mansion.

Of course, there was no guarantee that Harry himself
would come to see the exhibition. He might just send in
the heavy mob and have the picture stolen. But this
wasn't just about possession of a picture, it was about
showing who is smarter and Jim Jr. thought he could,
with the help of Mirella's charms, provoke Harry into
making a silly mistake.

Jim Jr. hired two people to help Mirella with the art
gallery: Rose, a woman in her 40s and Fred, a slightly
older man. Both of them had been working in this field
for many years and either of them would have been able
to run the gallery single-handedly. Obviously, it
wouldn't take them very long to find out that Mirella's
knowledge concerning the arts was extremely limited. So
Jim Jr. invented a story about Mirella having been the
mistress of a wealthy New York businessman. When his
wife found out about her, she threatened to create a
scandal which would have been very damaging for his
reputation, particularly with some of his major
customers. He was forced to agree to ditch Mirella, but,
afraid that she might create a scandal, paid her a
generous compensation which she had used to go into the
art business. This was also the story Mirella would have
to tell Harry, or in fact anyone who should ask, because
they couldn't be sure that he wouldn't send one of his
people to check out the situation before showing up
himself. Mirella didn't particularly like playing the
role of someone's ex-floozy, but she couldn't come up
with a better explanation and had to accept Jim Jr.'s
version.

The art gallery wasn't very big. It was an L-shaped room
in an up-market shopping mall. On entering the shop, the
visitor was in the long part of the L, where the
landscape pictures were hanging on both sides. Around
the corner, in the shorter part of the letter L was a
small alcove in which 'The Threesome' had been placed
behind a bullet-proof glass plate with its own alarm
system. Opening hours were from 11am to 8pm. The three
would take their lunch break in turns. Mirella spent
most of her working day sitting behind a small desk from
where she could observe everything that happened.

An art gallery wasn't exactly the place where she could
wear the kind of revealing evening dresses she had used
so successfully on other assignments, although she did
wear one which made her look ravishing and attracted a
lot of attention during the official opening. For the
normal working routine she wore a business-like skirt
and jacket combination, spiced up by a lacy bra worn
under a see-through blouse. She noticed that some of the
visitors to the gallery paid more attention to her
outfit than to the pictures on exhibition - and some
would return for more.

The special Polichinelo exhibition was scheduled to last
for three weeks. Two weeks had already passed and
Mirella started to wonder whether Dirty Harry would
swallow the bait and show up, when Jim Jr. phoned to let
her know that the informant had booked a flight and
would be arriving in New York the next day. Mirella told
her staff that she was expecting a special customer whom
she wanted to attend to on her own. They agreed on a
sign which Mirella would make when she wanted them to
leave.

Mirella spent the evening studying the various
photographs of Harry she had been given, wondering if he
would be using a disguise. The pictures showed a short,
stocky fellow with muscular shoulders and neatly trimmed
hair, in his early 40s. His face gave the impression
that he was used to getting precisely what he set out to
achieve. There wasn't anything particularly outstanding
about him and Mirella wasn't sure she would be able to
pick him out from a crowd of people. However, when he
stepped into the gallery the next day, just after
Mirella had returned from her lunch break, she had no
doubt it was him.

He walked right past the landscape paintings without
even glancing at them, or paying any attention to her,
turned around the corner and stopped right in front of
'The Threesome'. There he stood, his legs slightly
apart, his hands in his pockets, chewing gum. He didn't
bother to take off his dark glasses. As Mirella looked
at him from behind it made her think of a cowboy, or
better, a gunfighter. It was quite obvious that he had
known exactly where he would find what he was looking
for. He looked at the drawing from various angles and
moved so close to the bullet-proof glass plate that his
nose almost touched it. "Careful that you don't set off
the alarm," said Mirella, who had signaled her staff
that the time had come to leave her on her own with this
visitor and was now standing next to him.

"Do you work here?" he asked without looking at her.
"Kind of," she replied, "I'm the owner of this gallery".
"What a stupid place to put this drawing," he said, "and
what an asinine idea to put this glass plate in front of
it." "The glass plate is a requirement for the insurance
cover. And we decided to separate this drawing from his
other works. It's kind of unique, isn't it?" Mirella was
trying to provoke him into saying that there were others
of the kind, but someone with Dirty Harry's reputation
surely wouldn't fall for a simple trick like that. He
kept looking at the drawing without saying anything.
Mirella didn't want to let the conversation die so
quickly. She said, "Quite frankly, I think it's kind of
overrated. It isn't very clear what exactly it is
supposed to show. All those lines thrown haphazardly on
the white background leave a lot of room for
interpretation. For example, they say the guy butt-fucks
the woman in the middle. I don't know why his cock
couldn't be in her cunt." Harry probably hadn't expected
that kind of language from the female owner of an art
gallery. He shook his head and replied, "That's
anatomically impossible. The way she's bending down,
sticking her ass up in the air, and the guy standing,
there is only one place his cock can go. Now, if he was
also kneeling, that would be a completely different ball
game." And he added, looking at her for the first time,
"You don't seem to have a lot of experience in this
area." Mirella felt herself blush and thought how
strange is was that this man could make her feel
embarrassed about never having been fucked in the ass.
She cursed Rocky for this, and Jim Jr. for not having
explained the drawing better to her.

Harry now embarked on a monologue about anal sex in
history and in art. He talked about Japanese and Chinese
drawings - the oldest works in his collection - with
subtle hints of anal sex; of Indian vases and other
ceramic objects which portrayed in great detail every
love-making position imaginable, including various forms
of butt-fucking. He stated that the ancient Greeks and
Romans, and some time later the Arabs, all used the rear
entry on occasion but there was little evidence of this
in the art they created. The Arabs were forbidden by
their religion to produce any images and the Romans
seemed to have concentrated on creating statues of nudes
which reflected their - and in many ways also our -
ideal of human beauty. The Greeks, who laid the
foundations for many aspects of western society -
philosophy, science, democracy -, had the reputation of
enjoying the company of young boys. The rule of
Christian thinking had put an end to this enjoyment. Sex
was considered exclusively an exercise in procreation.
The portrayal of the naked human body and any form of
sex in art were banned. Anal sex, as it didn't produce
any offspring, was prohibited and anyone caught
practicing it was severely punished. Only when the
Catholic Church started to lose some of its power, did
the subject of sex, and with it anal sex, reappear in
paintings and sculptures.

Mirella was amazed. When she first heard about this man
and his collection of erotic art, she had formed the
opinion that this was probably some sleazy pervert. But
Harry could talk about the subject like a university
professor. And he obviously knew a lot about it. "But
let's come back to the drawing in front of us: Those
haphazard lines, as you call them," Harry picked up the
thread, "give the drawing an unbelievable dynamic. You
can almost see the bodies move, you can hear them breath
in unison as they approach the climax together. Why an
artist who was capable of producing such a masterpiece
would choose to spend his life painting boring
landscapes is beyond me."

Mirella didn't know what to say. Harry certainly had a
way of talking about the drawing which left her excited
and wanting to feel what these people were experiencing.
They were standing side by side looking at the drawing.
After a while Harry asked, "How much do you want for
it?" That one was easy to answer. "It's not mine to
sell. I only got it on loan for this exhibition, but as
far as I know the owners don't intend to sell it." "Do
you know the owners?" "Not personally, but I have some
connections." "I'd like to make them a proposal. Here is
my card." Harry handed Mirella his business card which
read 'Harry S. Fenton, Editor' along with his address
and several phone numbers. "So you're an editor?" asked
Mirella, glad to have found another topic for
conversation. "Yep, I've recently become one. You see, I
felt I ought to make my collection accessible to the
interested public, but I couldn't stand the idea of
having the masses trample all over my home. Nor did I
think it would be a good idea to risk having those works
stolen or damaged by some fanatic. So I decided to
publish a series of books called 'The Harry S. Fenton
Collection'. I'd love to include this work here, even if
I can't make it part of my collection. That's what I
want to talk about with the owners."

Then Harry looked at his watch and said, "In fact I'm
supposed to be at my publisher's in ten minutes. They
said they'll have a first review copy ready for me to
look at. We can talk about it over dinner. I'll pick you
up here at 7:30." With that he turned around and walked
towards the exit. Mirella was stunned. She couldn't
believe her ears. This guy had just 'invited' her for
dinner and didn't even bother to ask if it was okay with
her. As Harry approached the door she shouted, "The
gallery only closes at eight. I can't leave before that
time." Harry just signaled with his hand that he had
heard her but continued on his way.

Rose and Fred had been waiting in a cafe across the
hallway and returned as soon as they saw Harry leave.
Mirella told them to look after the shop while she took
care of some urgent matters. She needed to be on her own
to be able to think. She drove to her apartment and
treated herself to a cold shower. That would increase
her blood circulation and activate her brain cells.
Then, without putting on any clothes, she sat on the
floor with her legs crossed and tried to meditate. But
she found that her hands kept wandering to her pussy,
stroking her lips. Hard as she tried, she couldn't
concentrate. She thought it might be better to give in.
Without changing position she brought herself to a
climax, and another one, and a third. Then she decided
to have another shower and try again.

Her perception of the situation was confused. There was
the assignment and there were her emotions. Her feelings
had never before gotten in the way of her doing her job.
But this time they did. She realized that her sex life
so far had only covered a very small part of the huge
variety of options available. When she grew up, she
never made friends with any girls, so she didn't go
through the experience most girls went through when they
discovered the development of their sexuality and
compared their budding female body with that of their
best friend. Besides, everybody she knew considered sex
between women as 'kinky'. But that hadn't protected her
from almost having a crush on Agent Ann, because of the
treatment she had given her pussy. And men? Yes, there
had been several men in her life, but they were the kind
who didn't really know what to do with a woman, except
fuck her. And after the disappointments she had
suffered, she found it difficult to let another man into
her heart, let alone her cunt.

There were obviously many more forms of sex than she had
ever imagined and she wanted to try them all. And who
better to be her guide on this journey than Dirty Harry?
There was nothing in the rules which said she couldn't
fuck him, in fact she had always been told that this may
sometimes be unavoidable. As long as she delivered the
goods, there wouldn't be anything wrong with enjoying
herself and gaining some experience in the process.
Besides, he was getting up her nose when he talked to
her about sex like you would talk to an Eskimo about a
tropical rainforest. She wanted to show him that she
wasn't as inexperienced as he thought - and that she was
a quick learner. And she was pretty sure she wouldn't
need to fake any orgasm with him.

The conclusion on this part of her confusion was that,
yes, she wanted Dirty Harry to fuck her any which way he
pleased - an enjoy it. But what about the assignment?
Was she controlling the situation or was he? It seemed
that he was calling the shots. But wasn't that exactly
the idea of the approach strategy: to let the informant
think that things were happening because of his
initiative? And if she had dinner with him tonight and
slept with him afterwards, wouldn't that make him trust
her more, and maybe in an unguarded moment tell her what
she wanted to know? Didn't the fact that he only wanted
to get permission to include 'The Threesome' in his
book, vouch for him? But she didn't know whether he had
told her the truth. She hadn't seen the proposed
publication yet. Another reason to accept his invitation
for dinner.

So, dinner with Dirty Harry it would be. At first,
Mirella considered changing into one of her more
revealing dresses which she normally used to attract
informants, but then she thought Harry would probably
notice the change of outfit and might draw the wrong
conclusions from it. However, she decided to experiment
with leaving her bra off. When she looked at herself in
the mirror, she realized that the thin material of the
blouse left her tits virtually uncovered. She combed her
hair so most of it would fall down her front and cover
her breasts. 'That will do nicely,' she decided.

It was almost seven when she returned to the gallery.
She told Rose and Fred to take the rest of the day off.
She would look after the few visitors until closing
time. Harry arrived at 7:30 sharp, carrying a small
briefcase. He expected her to be ready to leave with him
straight away and wouldn't take no for an answer. As the
gallery was empty at the time, Mirella agreed to close
early (after all, the whole purpose of the exhibition
had been to attract Harry). Harry watched her
impatiently as she switched on the overnight alarm
system and locked the door.

Dinner was in a sophisticated restaurant with soft
lighting and lots of space between tables so they could
talk without having to worry about someone overhearing
their conversation. Before they got started, Harry asked
"Can I ask you for a favor?" "Sure," said Mirella, "go
ahead." "Would you mind moving your hair back over your
shoulders." 'Bingo,' thought Mirella, 'he's noticed that
I'm not wearing a bra.' She lifted her arms and with
both hands moved her hair back over her shoulders.
"There's nothing wrong with your hair, but your breasts
look so beautiful, you shouldn't try to hide them." This
set the tone for the evening. It wasn't going to be a
'thanks for the meal, I'll call you tomorrow' kind of
dinner. Something was going to happen, Mirella just
didn't know what exactly.

Harry asked if she had thought about his proposal
concerning 'The Threesome' and Mirella explained that
she wanted to see his books, or at least one of them,
first, so that she could present his case better. "I've
got one volume in my briefcase here; you can have a look
at it after dinner. I suggest we adjourn to my apartment
for that." "You don't seriously expect me to agree to
come with you to your apartment - we've only just met,"
said Mirella teasingly. "Oh, I see, you've heard some of
the rumors they are spreading about me. Like the one
that I keep half a dozen of sex slaves in my mansion."
"Well, is it true?" "Absolute nonsense!" he said. "I'm
down to five after one of them decided to become a nun.
There's one position open. Are you applying for the
job?" Of course this wasn't a serious suggestion, but
Mirella thought what an excellent opportunity it would
be to slip through his security net and get inside his
fortress. She was sure that Pussy Galore would have
jumped at such a chance to get inside the lion's den,
even if it meant becoming a sex slave. But she thought
it would make her intentions too obvious if she agreed.
So she just said, "I'll think about it."

Mirella suggested that they'd go to her apartment
instead and Harry said okay if she agreed to enact one
of the scenes in his book. Mirella asked if she would be
allowed to chose which one and Harry said yes. They
sealed their agreement with a toast and a handshake.
Harry mentioned that the collection would be published
in 10 to 12 volumes, the exact number hadn't been
decided yet, and that each volume would be dealing with
a specific topic. There would be male nudes, female
nudes, couples, threesomes, oral sex, anal sex, etc. The
volume they had given him for review was called
"Punishment" and contained a selection of works of art
depicting spanking and bondage. 'Holy shit!' thought
Mirella, but she had no intention of going back on her
word.

When they arrived at her apartment, Mirella fixed them
some drinks. Then they settled down on the sofa next to
each other and Harry got the book from his briefcase. It
had quite a professional look to it. There was an
introduction with a picture of Harry and an aerial shot
of his mansion. The section on spanking contained a
large number of drawings of people having their bottoms
spanked. There were young boys and girls but also grown
up men and women. They were in various states of
undress; some only baring their bottoms, others
completely naked. Apart from their bare hands, the
punishers were using a variety of implements, including
long rulers, canes, whips and riding crops. Most of the
drawings concentrated on the effect of the punishment on
the bottoms, clearly showing whip or cane marks and
reddened skin, but some also showed the victims' faces:
a mixture of fear, pain and pleasure. Mirella was
particularly impressed by a drawing in the style of a
comic strip which showed a woman so sexy she had to be
unreal. She was standing, her legs were spread wide and
tied to rings on the floor, her arms were raised and
tied to rings suspended from the ceiling. Her entire
body was covered with whip marks, including her breasts
and lower belly. Her face was an expression of pure lust
and desire. Mirella had never seen anything this
exciting and felt her pussy get wet just from looking at
her.

Harry went into professor mode again and explained that
having one's bottom spanked wasn't really a sexual
experience by itself. The arousal came mainly from the
humiliation, having to expose one's bottom and maybe
more to the whole class or maybe to other strangers. It
came from the feeling of being entirely at the mercy of
the punisher. And as the heat in the backside rose, the
sexual desire mounted as well. Some people actually
reached an orgasm just from having their bottom thrashed
but most said that the spanking just made the sex
afterwards much more satisfying.

Harry came out of professor mode and said, "This brings
us to tonight's key question: Have you been a good girl,
Mirella?" Mirella knew what was coming. She didn't feel
ready to be whipped all over like that fascinating
beauty, but she thought she could handle a bit of
spanking. "Actually, I haven't been very good today,"
she answered. "No? What did you do?" "I masturbated.
Three times. Thinking of you." "Now that is *very*
naughty. Don't you agree that you ought to be punished
for that?" Mirella lowered her head. "Yes, Sir". "I
think you deserve fifty swats on your bare bottom. What
do you say?" "Yes. Please, Sir."

Mirella selected a drawing where a young girl, barely
sixteen years old was getting her bottom spanked. She
was fully dressed, her skirt had been lifted up and her
panties had been pulled down. Harry looked at her. "This
skirt can't be lifted like the one on the picture.
You'll have to take it off." Mirella undid the zipper of
her skirt and let it slide to the floor. She stood in
front of Harry only wearing her see-through blouse and a
flimsy pair of panties which betrayed her excitement by
showing a wet patch. Harry liked what he saw. He moved
forward a little on the sofa and motioned her to lie
over his knees and put her hands on the floor. He didn't
push down her panties as she had expected. He grabbed
the waistband with both hands and just tore the panties
apart, uncovering her bottom but leaving the remainder
in place. Then he gently rubbed his hands over her
luscious bottom.

Mirella considered herself tough. During her childhood
she had suffered numerous knocks and blows while playing
with the boys in the neighborhood and she was proud of
never having cried like an ordinary girl would have. A
few slaps on her backside weren't going to be much of a
problem. But when the first blow hit her bottom, it
stung a lot more than she had imagined and she could
immediately feel the heat rising. This wasn't going to
be as painless as she had thought. But she grit her
teeth and didn't make a sound as the blows rained down
on her unprotected backside. Harry worked slowly and
systematically, alternating between her right and left
cheek, sometimes hitting both, and taking his time
between blows to recover his strength.

When the blows stopped coming down, Mirella's bottom was
a glowing ember, but her pussy was a red hot furnace.
"Take me," she said, "please, fuck me hard. I need it."
Harry didn't need a second invitation. He placed a
cushion on the floor and eased her gently off his lap
and onto it. She winced as her sore bottom made contact
with the cushion. The torn panties were clinging to her
soaking wet pussy. He ripped them off and she spread her
legs eagerly to receive him. As he thrust inside her, he
tore her blouse open, sending the buttons flying in all
directions. His mouth savaged her tender breasts while
his cock forced its way deep inside her cunt. He fucked
her as she had asked, hard and merciless. She was so
hot, it didn't take long before she came to a crashing
orgasm. He kept thrusting into her without respite and
soon his cock exploded deep inside her. The sensation of
the pulsating cock, shooting spurt after spurt of hot
semen inside her took Mirella to another climax.

After they cleaned themselves up a little they returned
to the sofa, this time without wearing any clothes, to
continue exploring the content of the book. The section
about bondage contained drawings of men and women who
had been tied up in every imaginable way. Some of them
were also gagged and blindfolded. Harry explained that
the arousal here didn't so much come from the pain a
Master might be inflicting on his slave but from the
submission to the Master's every desire. Only a person
who was free and independent was able to agree to
experience this sensation of helplessness, of
vulnerability. People who practiced this form of sex
were often accomplished professionals, people who were
used to giving orders, who wanted to experience a
situation where they had to do as they were told, where
they were humiliated and punished. In many cases the
victims were unable to see what was being done to them
and who was doing it. Their movements were severely
restrained, they were completely at the mercy of their
Master. To put oneself into this situation, to submit
completely to someone else's whims, required a lot of
trust. Submission didn't necessarily have to be
explicitly sexual. If, for example, he were to blindfold
her, Mirella, and tell her to go for a walk with him
without wearing any shoes, she was at his mercy because
he might let her walk into broken glass, burning
cigarette ends or even dog shit. By agreeing to such a
suggestion she would simply state that she trusted him
enough to submit to his wishes.

But, he added, he could understand if she wasn't ready
to put so much trust into him. He was calling her bluff
and Mirella promptly swallowed the bait. "Of course I
trust you," she said "so, if you want to blindfold me to
test my trust, just go ahead." Harry told her how happy
he was that she recognized he was trustworthy. He would
blindfold her and take her for a walk in a moment but
before he wanted to ask her another question. Didn't she
agree that he had been far too lenient with her by
giving her only fifty swats on her bottom. She was
almost able to sit again without much pain. He put his
hand under her bottom to demonstrate the truth of what
he was saying. Mirella still felt uncomfortable sitting
on her bare bottom but didn't want to sound like a
sissy. She didn't quite know what he had in mind but
nodded quietly. Harry said that a woman like her
deserved a more severe punishment to show that they were
both serious about this. He suggested that she should
receive five strokes with a riding crop and produced the
item in question from his briefcase. Mirella looked at
the black implement in horror. She knew this was going
to hurt a lot, but the number five calmed her. Five
strokes couldn't be that painful. She nodded her
agreement.

"I'll have to tie you down, so you don't try to wriggle
away and get hit in the wrong place," he said, looking
around to find a suitable place to administer the
punishment. Eventually he chose a straight-backed
armchair and told Mirella to stand behind it. He tied
her ankles loosely to the legs of the chair and made her
bend over the back. Then he attached one rope to each of
her wrists and fastened the ropes to the front legs of
the armchair. Her feet and hands were suspended in the
air but attached to the armchair's legs and all her
weight was supported by her abdomen which rested on the
top of the chair back. Her bottom, still blushing from
the earlier spanking, was beautifully exposed and
accessible. "This is going to hurt and we don't want
your neighbors to come checking what's going on. So I'm
going to gag you." Mirella nodded her agreement. Harry
put a ball gag into her mouth and secured it with a
scarf which he tied in the back of her head. When the
first stroke hit her bottom, Mirella screamed her pain
into the gag. Her entire body wanted to jump off the
armchair, but the ropes restrained her movements. Harry
looked at his work and was proud of it. A dark red line
crossed the crack between her cheeks precisely at a
right angle. He wanted another four exactly like that
one. Harry waited for the tremor in her body to subside
before applying the next stroke. When the second blow
hit her, Mirella was ready to beg for mercy, but the gag
didn't allow her to make herself understood. Tears
started to stream down her face. She got through the
remaining three strokes almost stoically, knowing there
was nothing she could do to avoid them. She felt an
enormous relief, almost gratitude, when the riding crop
made contact with her bottom for the fifth time. Harry
admired his work. The result was exactly as he had
hoped: Five dark red lines running exactly parallel
across her already reddened bottom. He wished he could
take a picture of this. He ran his hand over his
masterpiece and felt Mirella wince under his touch.

Wanting to show some tenderness, Harry went into her
bathroom and returned with a bottle of moisturizer which
he applied generously to her backside. The cool liquid
soothed her pain temporarily but the touch of his hand
on the welts which had formed on her bottom was sheer
agony. Harry untied her and helped her to her feet.
Still gagged, Mirella embraced him tenderly. She didn't
see him as the man who inflicted all this pain on her,
but the man who stopped it. She wanted to be his,
unconditionally. "Fuck me," she pleaded as soon as he
removed the gag from her mouth, "fuck me any way you
like." But Harry had other plans. He made her lie on the
floor, resting her burning bottom on a cushion and
allowing her to find the least painful position. Then he
spread her legs wide and started to lick her pussy.

After the violent treatment her bottom had received, the
tender movements of his tongue and lips on her cunt were
pure heaven. She moaned and begged for more right from
the first touch. Harry buried his head in her crotch and
sucked her clit into his mouth where it was treated to
numerous lashings from his tongue. Mirella forgot all
about her pain. She thrust her hips forward to meet his
exploring tongue and used both hands to squeeze her
nipples. She came, flooding his mouth with her juices.
Harry drank her dry and thrust his tongue inside her,
looking for more. It didn't take long for her to oblige.
The intensity of her pain earlier was matched by the
intensity of her orgasms. She thought momentarily of
Agent Ann, but this was much, much better. She wanted
this to never end, but eventually it did.

Mirella was quite weak after so much pleasure and pain,
her legs felt like rubber and she was hardly able to
stand on her own. Harry offered to fix them some
sandwiches and Mirella accepted the offer. After a short
while he returned from the kitchen with two king size
sandwiches and two glasses of orange juice. They made
short work of their sandwiches and gulped down the juice
in one go. Harry commented, "Hard work makes hungry and
thirsty".

Then he said it was time to take her for a walk. He
helped her to put on her skirt and they knotted her now
button-less blouse so that her breasts weren't
completely naked. As he had indicated before, she wasn't
going to wear any shoes. He blindfolded her and, in
order to prevent her from removing the blindfold, he
handcuffed her hands behind her back. When he took her
arm to guide her out of her apartment Mirella noticed
that he was now wearing leather gloves. Mirella felt
nervous about meeting someone in the hallway, the
elevator or the underground garage. She relaxed after
Harry had helped her into her car and drove off. He
parked the car after a short ride. Mirella hadn't even
tried to guess where he might be taking her. When he
helped her out of the car, she was able to distinguish
noises of other cars coming and going at low speed. She
concluded that they were in some kind of car park. The
texture of the ground underneath her feet seemed to
confirm that.

Mirella could feel Harry untie the knot which held her
blouse together. She felt the cool air on her nipples
and assumed that her breasts were now partly exposed to
any passer-by. The idea excited her, particularly, as
she couldn't tell if there was anybody looking at her.
Harry guided her up one step and they walked along what
seemed like a paved walkway. Mirella could hear a door
slide out of the way and noticed a change of surface
under her feet. They were now on some kind of polished
stone floor, maybe marble. After walking for a while on
this surface, Harry asked her to stand still for a
while. She could hear him unlock a door and flick some
switches. Then he took her arm again and guided her
inside. Inside what? She didn't know. All she could tell
was that there was now some kind of carpet under her
feet.

Harry undid the zipper of her skirt and let the skirt
drop to the floor. Then he opened the handcuffs and slid
the blouse off her shoulders. Afterwards he handcuffed
her again, but this time with her hands in front of her.
All the time Mirella thought that there might be other
people present, watching her being undressed, but she
didn't hear any voices or other noises to confirm her
suspicion. Harry told Mirella to get down on all fours
and helped her to get on her knees. Then he held her
upper body as she bent down until she was able to
support herself on her elbows and lower arms on the
carpeted floor. When she was on all fours, Harry moved
her knees a little further apart.

"I'm going to fuck your ass." Harry announced, "This may
hurt a little and we don't want the neighbors to get
alarmed. So I'll have to gag you again." Mirella nodded
her agreement and willingly accepted the ball gag into
her mouth which he fastened with a scarf as before.
Mirella could hear him remove his clothes and then there
was the sensation of is gloved fingers, covered with a
cool jelly-like substance, working their way into her
rear hole. He started with one finger, which he first
moved around in small circles and then shoved abruptly
all the way inside her. The sudden penetration made her
gasp. Harry withdrew his finger only to replace it with
two of them, again coated with lubricant. He moved his
fingers in and out a few times until he found she was
ready for bigger things.

The situation was not without effect on Mirella, she was
longing to feel his cock inside her rear passage. Her
excitement was heightened by the fact that she was
blindfolded, gagged and handcuffed - completely at his
mercy. Soon she could feel his cock head pressing
against her tight hole.

It was at this point that everything went black before
her eyes. No, it wasn't the blindfold. It' wasn't the
pain from his cock forcing its way inside her, either.
Mirella knew exactly what it was. 'Stupid bitch' she
exclaimed to herself. How could she have been so
careless? She had completely disregarded rule number
one: Never accept a drink which you haven't seen being
poured. She knew exactly what was going to happen. She
had been given the drug once during her training,
exactly so that she would learn to be careful. First her
vision would go black - that had already happened. Then
she would lose control of her limbs. She would remain
fully conscious for another twenty to thirty minutes.
The drug had the known side effect of heightening her
sensation of everything that was happening around her
and to her. She had a glimmer of hope that this was the
reason why Harry had drugged her - he wanted her to
experience her first ever butt-fuck even stronger, more
forcefully. After about half an hour she would pass out.
How long she would remain unconscious depended on the
dosage she had been given. That's what she knew. She
might have been able to call for help during the early
stage, but her gag made that impossible.

While Mirella was busy taking stock of her situation,
Harry had pushed his cock all the way inside her where
it remained still, without moving. Mirella couldn't help
being turned on by the sensation of his hard cock
filling and stretching her rear passage to the maximum.
Harry had decided to take his time. His hands grabbed
her breasts. He played with her nipples, sometimes
rubbing them gently, then pinching and twisting them
forcefully. Mirella moaned into her gag. One of his
hands moved down her belly to her cunt. He thrust two
fingers deep inside her. The double penetration brought
Mirella close to the edge. When Harry's other hand also
moved down to her pussy and started to rub her clit, she
climaxed. Harry could feel her spasms where his cock was
lodged inside her. That's how he wanted to play it. He
wanted to make her come with his fingers in her cunt and
feel it with his cock in her ass. And then he wanted to
fuck her ass and feel her climax with his fingers inside
her cunt.

But he wasn't ready to fuck her just yet. He continued
to rub her clit while he shoved two fingers in and out
of her cunt. Building on her first orgasm, it didn't
take her long to come again. Harry continued to finger-
fuck Mirella until he could feel her muscles twitch
around his cock for a third time. Then he started to
move slowly back and forth in her rear passage. He
wanted to make it last but it took all his self-control
to keep his movements slow and steady. She was so
wonderfully tight, so snug, his cock was ready to burst.
He kept up his slow movements in her ass, with his
fingers lodged deep in her cunt for as long as he could.
When he couldn't control his excitement any longer he
grabbed her hips and pushed her towards himself to
impale her even deeper on his cock. He moved in and out
of her with long, hard strokes, his pelvis slapping each
time against her striped cheeks. Mirella felt an
excruciating pain every time he made contact with the
welts on her punished backside, but this was nothing
compared with the sensation of his cock sliding in and
out of her. She reached another peak with every powerful
thrust of his cock. When he filled her with his hot
semen, she was ready to collapse, only held up by his
firm grip on her hips. Her arms and legs gave way when
he removed his softening cock and let go of her hips and
she slumped onto the floor. Harry was very pleased. This
had been his most satisfying fuck for a very long time.
And it wasn't only because of the exquisite tightness of
her luscious ass. He knelt down next to her and wiped
his cock clean with her beautiful long hair. Then he
said, "Give my regards to Jim Jr." That was the last
thing Mirella heard before she passed out.

                        -----

"Can you hear me, Miss?" Mirella felt a hand in a
leather glove slapping her face lightly. She opened her
eyes and noticed that the blindfold and gag had been
removed, but she was still handcuffed. The gloved hand
belonged to a police officer who was kneeling on the
floor next to her. There was another police officer
standing nearby. A look around confirmed her worst fear.
She was lying on the floor of her own art gallery. There
was no need to check on the Polichinelo. She knew
instinctively that it had gone. A small crowd had
gathered outside, looking through the glass door. People
were pushing and shoving each other to get a good look
at the naked woman who had been found, handcuffed,
gagged and blindfolded, half lying half kneeling on the
floor, sticking her ass up in the air. An ass which
showed clear signs of having been whipped and from which
something that looked distinctly like cum was trickling
onto the carpet.

"Do you know where we can find the keys to these
handcuffs," the police officer asked. She shook her
head. The police officer spoke into his radio, asking
for a locksmith. 'I don't need no fucking locksmith, I
can pick this lock in ten seconds flat' Mirella thought.
But to do this she would need to have her hands free,
and that was exactly the problem. So she resigned
herself to the wait. The two police officers helped her
up from the floor and made her sit on the chair behind
her desk. They didn't make any effort to cover her.
'They probably get a kick out of looking at me like
this,' Mirella thought, 'They probably regret that they
didn't get a chance to fuck me before the onlookers
arrived. Bastards! All men are bastards.' As she shouted
the word 'bastards' through her clenched teeth, the
police officer asked her, "Do you want to press charges,
Miss?"

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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