La Femme Nikita

Being at Home with Exx and Wye

Part B

Part 11 

Wye was becoming more and more concerned. The woman he...the woman who meant a great deal to him was starting to look green around the gills. 

"Are you all right?" 

She shook her head and gulped audibly. A fine mist of perspiration was beading her upper lip. Misery looked back at him from eyes that had gone a faded blue. 

"Exx, what's wrong?" 

The head of interrogation clapped a hand to her mouth and raced for the bathroom, reaching it in time to explosively empty the contents of her stomach into the commode. With one hand propped against the porcelain sink next to it, and the other bracing her weight against the tank, Exx shuddered and stood with her head hanging. Tears spiked her lashes and she tore off a long strip of toilet paper to mop her eyes and wipe her nose. 

And then a damp washcloth was pressed soothingly over her flushed face. She leaned back, letting her counterpart support her  until she had herself under control once more. 

"What's wrong?" Wye demanded. 

"I'm not pregnant, if that's what you're thinking," she snapped. 

Wye straightened away from her abruptly, and she felt as if she had been abandoned. 

Which was nonsense. She was master of her fate, captain of her soul. She depended on no one, except herself. 

Didn't she? 

Wye tossed the washcloth into the sink. "There's no way you could be pregnant unless you're fucking someone else besides me!" 

Exx recoiled as if he had struck out at her. "You believe that of me?" 

"I...don't know what I believe. All I know is, if you're pregnant, *I'm* not the father!" //And oh, God, how I wish I could be!// 

"How can you be so sure?" she asked, more curious now than upset. “You’ve never taken any precautions.” 

"I’ll never father a child!" 

"My child? Or any child?" 

He laughed bitterly. "I'd give you a baby so fast... I should have kept my fucking mouth shut. I never wanted you to know, never wanted you to think of me as less than a complete man!" 

"Wye, what are you telling me?" 

"I was 'fixed'! Like a fucking dog! In that other place. I'm just lucky they didn't castrate me! I couldn't give you a baby, not if I sold whatever passes as my soul!" 

"Oh, cowboy!" she said achingly and put her arms around him. 

He shrugged out of her embrace. "Don't pity me! Do you think I don't know what a fool I am? What a fool I’ve been? I have to get out of here!" 

Before Exx could stop him, Wye was at the door, furiously keying in the code to release the locks. 

Only the door would not open. 

Taking a firm grip on his rioting emotions, the male torture operative forced himself to concentrate and repeated the sequence. When he again failed to gain egress, he beat on the door until the skin of his knuckles split and blood trickled down the panel. 

"I changed the code when I came back." 

"Why? I'd think you'd be glad to see the last of me!" 

"If that's what you really think, then you think too much! I have to talk to you, tell you why I got so upset when you said you wanted a baby." 

“It’s not necessary!” 

“Yes, it is!” 

“It doesn’t matter!” 

“It sure as shit does!” She bunched her fist and hit his shoulder, startling him. 

Wye seemed to cave in on himself. "I said I wanted to give *you* a baby," he murmured brokenly. 

"Quoi?” Rubbing at an incipient headache that was lurking on the edges of her brain, she replayed their conversations, eventually seeing the distinction. “Ah. Yes, well, it appears that we've been talking at cross-purposes. I'd make the world's worst mother, but if that was what you wanted, I would have done it for you." 

"Then... I don’t understand. Why were you so angry?" 

"I was enraged because I thought you wanted a baby. And I couldn't give you one." She repeated his own words back at him. "Not if I sold whatever passes for my soul." 

"What?" 

"The scar is so old, and so faint, that unless you knew it was there, you'd never see it, never feel it." She turned her face away from his gaze. "Section didn't know me as well as the masters I used to serve. They couldn’t afford to have their premier interrogation operative going out on maternity leave, and they didn't trust me to avoid getting pregnant, so they made sure it wasn't an option." 

"They...they *cut* you?" Wye was horrified. He could accept the operation being done on himself, but the thought of his...All right, damn it! his woman! being neutered by the powers that be of Section One left him furious. "Who ordered it? Madeline? Operations? Whoever it was, I'll make them pay!" 

Exx looked at him with something in her eyes that he had never seen before, not directed at him, not by anyone. It was tender, almost lo...almost fond. 

She cupped his jaw gently and caressed the stubble that tantalized the soft skin of her palm. 

"It was Henri, the interrogation head I came in under. And it’s been long taken care of: he paid, a hundredfold!" 

"I thought you had nothing to do with his cancellation!" 

"Really? Why is that?" 

He regarded her with awe. "You did?” 

“Did I?” 

He couldn’t prevent a grin from lightening his features. “You really are something special, aren’t you?" 

"And so are you. You'd actually risk your life for me?" She took him in her arms and held him tightly. 

"In a heartbeat! If I can't have you in my life, than my life's not worth living!" 

She sighed happily and kissed his cheek. "There's something I want to ask you." 

Wye couldn't believe she was holding him, not banishing him to the darkness of an existence without her as he had feared she would once she learned he had undergone a vasectomy. "The answer is yes." 

"You don't even know the question!" Exx was feeling very strange. It took her a moment to realize what it was, because she had never, in her entire life, felt that way before. 

Wye smiled as her hair feathered against his chin. He stood with her in the middle of the room, swaying as exhaustion suddenly swept over him. "I'm too tired to talk anymore, sweet lady. So, whatever it is, my answer is 'yes'." 

The head of interrogation went very still, then reached up to kiss her lover’s mouth with thorough satisfaction. 

"Good, cowboy; that’s very good!" she said as she nestled in his arms. "Because I love you too!" 

Part 12 

The male torture operative awoke with a start and then held himself very still until he could ascertain his location. Soft fingertips stroked his hairline from his brow to the curve of his ear. Warm breath followed the fingers, and a warmer tongue dipped in to trace the interior. His chest rose as he inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of the woman he loved. 

He smiled. He could finally admit it. 

"Exx?" he whispered.       

"You were expecting, maybe, someone else?" He could hear the affection in her voice. 

He rolled over and gathered her into his arms, tucking her under him as his knee nudged her thighs apart and he made a space for himself there. 

"Just you! Always you!" His lips grazed along her jaw and down over her throat to her breasts, seeking the pert nipples that were begging for his attention. He took one into his mouth and bit down gently. Exx moaned and parted her thighs further, inviting his tender invasion. 

Wye laughed softly and rocked his hips, rubbing his turgid length against her slick folds. "Tell me what you want, sweet lady!" he  demanded around the tender morsel in his mouth. 

"I want you, inside me. Now! Wye, stop teasing me!"                                                                   

His lips left her breast and began nuzzling their way down the swell of her ribcage, over her flat abdomen, pausing to blow gently at the soft blond curls that shielded her femininity. 

"What are you doing? Oh my God! Wye!" 

His shoulders braced her thighs and  pressed them back, leaving her open to his ministrations. For long seconds he stroked her tender flesh, watching as the color deepened to dusky rose, and then he inserted his thumb into her moist, hot channel. 

She stifled a whimper, biting down on her knuckles. 

"No! Let me hear you!" Wye ordered hoarsely. "Let me hear how much I please you!" His lips closed gently on the tiny nub of flesh and  he teased it with slow swipes of his tongue. 

The tension built and he could feel tremors running through the muscles of her legs. Gasps spilled from her lips and her fingers tangled in his hair, urging him closer. 

"Come for me, sweet! Now!" His breath washed over her overheated core and he eased another finger into her. And then he could feel the subtle spasms that signaled her climax. 

With  smooth, lightening-like speed, he withdrew his fingers, angled himself up and slid easily into her. His hips thrust steadily as he forced her back to the edge. Balancing his weight on his arms, he watched her face as she tumbled again and her eyelids slid shut. "Look at me!" 

Helplessly, she obeyed his words and her blue eyes fastened onto his dark ones. She had her lip between her teeth, biting down so hard a bead of blood pearled up. Wye licked at the tiny droplet and with a silent groan took her mouth, letting her taste herself on his tongue. 

And then he began to come, pouring himself into her, and he swallowed her cry of completion. 

Wye collapsed onto his lover,  covering her petite body completely. “It just keeps getting better!” 

Fingertips ran gently through his hair, massaging his scalp. "Formidable!" she agreed in a low voice. 

"Exx, that's French!" With a sputter of laughter, he extended her arm and began kissing his way from wrist to shoulder. 

"Enough!" she laughed, and her lover thought he had never heard her so relaxed, so lighthearted. 

He turned his head and looked into her eyes. "Je t’aime!" he whispered. 

**** 

A thud on the door to their quarters interrupted him as he made breakfast for the two of them. Hitching up the pants of the silk lounging pajamas that was all he wore, he padded barefoot to the door and tried to open it, forgetting she still hadn't given him the new code. 

Exx was just coming out of the bedroom, belting the silk kimono she selected to match the loungewear she had bought for her lover. She rattled off a combination of numbers. Wye punched them in, but complained, "How do you expect me to remember all that?" 

"I expect nothing less than perfection from you, cowboy!" She relented when he sent her a disgruntled glare. "The code is simple: it's the date you became my material!" She turned on her heel and sauntered away. 

Wye grinned, enjoying the sassy sway of her hips as she disappeared into the kitchen. "I'm cooking!" he called after her. He pulled the door open and found the Section Sentinel, the organization’s newspaper, neatly bound, on their doorstep. 

He followed his lover into the kitchen, to find her pouring them both cups of French roasted coffee. His was black, no cream or sugar. Hers was  black, with so much sugar he marveled that she could tolerate it. It made his teeth ache just to think about it. 

Exx took the paper from him and scanned the front page, which bore a banner headline. 

                                    Oversight to Overthrow Section One? 

Beneath it was a grainy photo, obviously taken from a surveillance video of a man  at a desk, his back to the camera. All that could be clearly distinguished was the fringe of hair that appeared to circle his head. The caption under the photo read: 

                                    The Illusive Mr. Jones? 

The head of Section One’s interrogation made a rude sound and seated herself comfortably at the table to read the item while her counterpart finished the French toast he was making. His dark eyes observed her contentedly from over the rim of his cup, as he kept a weather eye on the slices of bread in his frying pan. He wanted to impress her with his cooking, not give her food poisoning. 

He frowned as he recalled how sick she had been such a short time ago, so sick he feared he might lose her. The torture operative shuddered, not even wanting to consider it. 

Wye slid a plate into the microwave to warm it and took a sip of his coffee. It was the one thing Exx made that he was willing to ingest. 

She had pulled a pen out of the mug where they kept the spare pens and pencils and was busy working on the crossword puzzle. He put her plate in front of her and handed her the butter and warmed syrup. 

Exx smiled her thanks and cut a piece with her fork. “You are one excellent cook, Wye. I’m glad I decided to keep you!” 

He leaned over and captured her lips in a sweet, sticky kiss. “So I am!” Wye sat opposite her and took the other part of the newspaper. Warm toes ran up his leg under the material of his pants and he nearly choked on his coffee. “Have a heart, sweet! At least let me refuel before you get me started again!” 

The look she gave him from under her lashes was definitely what one would call flirty! 

No one in Section would have recognized her! 

He lowered his eyelids and gave her a rakish grin, then began to leisurely eat his breakfast. 

Exx followed suit. She paused with the fork halfway to her mouth. “What’s an eleven letter word for manipulated?” 

“Eleven letters?” 

She nodded. 

Wye snapped his paper and swallowed a chuckle. “Sectionized..” 

Her head jerked up and she stared at him in silence as she counted the letters in her head. “Damn, you’re good!” She finished the puzzle and tossed the paper aside, giving her full attention to the meal before her. “What are you reading?” 

“It’s the Personals. I love this stuff!” he admitted sheepishly. “Who wants to do what to whom, and where! It’s kind of fascinating. Only sometimes it makes me crazy when I can’t figure out the initials.” 

“Want some help?” 

He looked at her askance. 

“What, just because I don’t read it means I can’t figure it out?” 

Reluctantly, Wye acquiesced. “Well, just don’t laugh. Here’s one: 

“‘D-meet me in the sub-basement. I’ll make it worth your while!-PB’ 

“Now, I’m pretty sure D is Davenport, but I can’t for the life of me figure out who PB is. And if Davenport is seeing someone on the side, Birkoff is going to go ballistic!” 

She gave him a Mona Lisa smile. “Well, it certainly isn’t Perry Bauer!” 

“Who?” 

“Never mind, he was before your time. This goes no further than here?”

Wye looked insulted. “I know how to keep my mouth shut! Don’t you trust me by now?” 

“Cowboy, I trust you with my life. However, this isn’t my secret.” She knew that he would take the intel she was about to give him to the grave. “It’s Birkoff.” 

“Wait a minute. Birkoff’s name is Seymour, SB. How do you get PB?” 

“I don’t think anyone here in Section knows this. I happened to over hear them once. Davenport called him ‘pretty boy’. Pretty boy, PB. Comprends-tu?” 

“Oui, I understand! All right, how about this one: 

“’KQ- voulez-vouz coucher avec moi, ce soir? Object: voulez-vous-ing!-I Only Look Old.’ 

“Any clue?” 

Exx began gasping as a crumb went down the wrong way. Wye was on his feet and pounding her back, shouting in her ear, “Should I do the Heimlich?” 

Finally catching her breath, she shook her head and began to laugh weakly. “Oh that wicked, wicked man!” She finished her coffee and dried her cheeks. “Sit down cowboy, and I’ll tell you who wants to sleep with whom tonight!” 

**** 

The woman in the staid business suit climbed the stairs to the second floor of Center, to outward appearances cool and collected. Inside, Madeline's stomach felt as if it was trying to climb up her esophagus and make an unscheduled appearance. 

She paused outside the door of Mr. Jones' office and patted her hair, making sure each strand was neatly in place. She moistened her lips and then knocked briskly. 

The woman who opened the door was a drop dead gorgeous redhead who looked as if she would be more at home in a Playboy centerfold. Madeline’s lips tightened. “I’m here to see...” 

“Mr. Jones. Yes, I know. He was called away on unscheduled business.” She gave the word the English pronunciation. Un-shed-yuled “He wants you to wait for him in his private quarters.” 

The redhead turned away before Madeline could protest and opened a door at the far end of the room. “Please make yourself comfortable. May I pour you a drink? Champagne? cognac? diet coke?” 

Madeline shook her head and gazed around the room in confusion. She felt as if she had tumbled down the rabbit hole. “Will Mr. Jones be gone long?” 

“As long as it takes. Well, if you require nothing, I must leave you. I have some urgent work that needs catching up on.” The door closed quietly behind her. 

The head of Section One stood in the center of the room, and then began to carefully study its contents. There was a large fireplace along one wall. A day bed occupied another. 

Hmm, most unusual. It was covered with a cream satin duvet and a mound of pillows. A scrap of black satin edged with red lace lay blatantly on it. Madeline picked it up and examined it idly. A pretty mask, designed for someone new to the bondage scene. She stroked it lightly with an elegant finger. 

“Oh, what the hell!” She took it to a gilded mirror that was placed on the wall  above the fireplace and slipped it on over her head. As she surmised, it was not totally opaque; just  enough so that her vision was obscured. She saw the world as indistinguishable shapes, dark and darker. 

“’Allo, baybee!” a husky voice greeted her. She whirled to face it, reaching for the mask so she could see who had joined her. 

Strong fingers encircled her wrists. “’Ere, now, ya don’t want ta go spoilin’ the partee, do ya ducks?” 

There was something tantalizingly familiar about that voice. “Mr. Jones?” 

“As ever was, baybee!” 

Where *had* she heard that voice before? 

Part 13

Wye glanced casually at the bedside clock. He and the woman who was his mentor, his partner, his... love had spent Sunday afternoon exploring the finer nuances of their relationship. 

On the kitchen counter. In the overstuffed easy chair in the sitting room. In the shower. On their bed. 

He smiled. By the time they had finally made it to the bed, he was so exhausted he had tumbled into a dreamless sleep. He was insensate to the world, but he was aware that the woman he loved had her arms securely wrapped around him, guarding him as he slept. 

But even the indomitable torture operative was not proof against night terrors. 

Exx was holding him when the nightmares started. She soothed and comforted him as the specter of Uno, the interrogation op of Section Three, rose up to torment him. The shame and self-loathing he felt from his treatment there caused him to strike out, just missing planting a fist in his partner’s eye. 

Abruptly awake, he was ready to slice his own throat, hating himself for becoming violent with her. 

Magically, she calmed him, aroused him, drew him into her and they made love once more. 

He was still too distressed by the cauchemar that haunted his sleep to woo Morpheus. So Exx gathered him close to her and with his head on her breast, began to speak to him in a soft voice. 

**** 

Once upon a time (she began) there was a woman who was looked on as one of the most fearsome in all of Section, a woman not to be trifled with. She couldn’t be controlled by threat of pain, for she had learned to subjugate it to her will. Neither did she fear the wraith of death, as each day that passed, she fully expected to be her last. 

Section was not a forgiving master; its motto, failure is not an option was ingrained in every operative. 

While Exx was still in her twenties, she was made the head of interrogation. Her reputation grew, until not only was she known throughout all the Sections, but terrorist organizations were familiar with her ruthless, efficient, thorough work as well. 

Sometimes the most recent of the scum to challenge them would even allow a member of their group to be taken captive, in hopes they could tempt her to abandon the nebulous policies of Section and join them. 

Exx felt that the devil she knew was easier to deal with than the devil who might be willing to accommodate her while courting her, but who would then fall back on their own methods and insist she do the same. 

They offered her wealth and power and erotic playthings for the asking. She turned them down without regret. 

She had no need of money; where would she spend it? 

Power? She had the power of Section behind her, and the respect of  all who knew her reputation. 

And she no longer explored the varied avenues of sexual pleasure. When your partner was too afraid of your power, of offending you in any manner, it became simpler, and neater to take care of your needs yourself. 

It had been some years since Exx had taken a man to her bed. Her work involved her to such a degree she no longer even questioned her extended run of celibacy. 

“Exx.” The intercomm in the wardroom crackled out her name. 

“Yes?” she asked idly as she carefully drew up a syringe of potassium chloride and set it aside. 

“I want you to meet me at the lifts. I have new material for you to work with.” 

“Is this necessary, Operations? None of the others we’ve tried were successful, and to tell the truth, I’m getting rather tired of training these recruits, only to have to cancel them.” She examined another syringe and flicked the barrel with an index finger to make sure there were no air bubbles. 

“Just meet me, all right?” 

Sighing wearily, the head of interrogation meticulously put her tools away. She rose to her feet and made her way to the commons. 

Exx knew what the problem was: she no longer took any pleasure in her vocation. She was bored. With her job, with the people she worked with, with the organization she worked for. 

If she didn’t stay frosty, she knew she’d be in line for cancellation. 

And she just couldn’t bring herself to care. 

Operations was alone when she reached the commons, and she looked at him askance. 

“I’m testing him,” he informed her irascibly. “He’s supposed to be a miracle worker when it comes to discovering the most direct route back from anywhere. We’ll see!” 

“Finding his way home in the dark has suddenly become a prerequisite for this position?” 

Operations’ lips tightened to a thin line. He could not believe she had such a blind spot. It was a well-known, although never discussed, fact within Section walls, that Exx could not find her way out of a paper bag. One of the reasons he was pairing her up with this new recruit he had liberated from...well, his place of origin didn’t need to be dwelled upon. If  Wye was successful in remaining alive, in not winding up canceled by his mentor, then part of his job description would be to keep her from continually getting lost in the bowels of Section. 

“I... just want to be sure he’s everything his previous owners promised.” 

“’Owners’?” The sound of that disturbed the torture operative. 

“Yes. He belonged to them body and soul. I really don’t know much about his background,” he hedged, ignoring Exx’s sneer of disbelief. “He’ll tell you whatever he’s comfortable revealing.” 

If Operations was refusing to fill her in on her material’s history, he had some obscure reason for keeping it hidden. The man was starting to try her patience. 

When the opportunity arose, she would gladly demonstrate the peril of toying with her! 

“You know I don’t like to work that way!” she snapped.  She’d have to get Birkoff to hack into that other place’s computer  files. She wouldn't let a little thing like a superior's private agenda keep her from finding out everything she needed to know. 

“Deal with it, Exx!”  Section’s second in command had no idea how close to the dark side he was treading. “Ah, here he is now!” 

Exx turned and nearly staggered backwards. Coming toward her was a man whose appearance cried out innocuous: medium height, medium weight, medium build. So commonplace his own mother would have trouble describing his looks five minutes after he left her presence. 

There should have been nothing about him to warrant a second look. 

Only Exx found herself unable to take her eyes from him. She felt herself growing warm, becoming moist, starting to ache in places that for too long had been neglected. She swallowed hard and realized that Operations was making the introductions. 

Then he left them, abruptly claiming a prior meeting with Madeline. 

Exx became uncomfortable under her material’s unyielding stare. She pulled herself together. She was the head of interrogation, goddammit! *No one* intimidated her! 

“Come along!” she said shortly, turning on her heel and heading for the lift that would take them to the sub-level that contained Supplies. “Do you have a problem taking orders from a woman?” He had seemed ill-at-ease on learning he was to be hers. 

She had canceled more than one recruit who thought that because she was female, and petite and blond she would be an easy mark. If  left no other choice, she would take down this example of prime Y chromosome on the hoof, although it would truly be a waste of talent! 

“No, ma’am. I have a problem being owned by one!” 

She stopped dead. “I don’t own you,” she told him. But I could easily grow accustomed to such a notion! she thought wistfully. 

He turned dark eyes upon her, confusion on his adorable face. 

‘Adorable face’? Where did that come from? Exx struggled to keep her expression blank. 

“But Operations said I was yours!” 

“You’re my material. I will be your mentor. For the next three years I will train you. If you complete your time under me...” She actually could feel the color rise in her cheeks. “I mean if you conduct yourself to my satisfaction...” This time she was ready to kick herself in the ass. How much more obvious could she be that she found him extremely attractive? “At the end of three years, if you do well, you will be a qualified interrogation operative. Have I made myself clear?” 

“Absolutely, ma’am!” 

She sighed in relief. She hadn’t made an absolute horse’s ass of herself, then. She slanted him a look from her blue eyes. He was meticulously studying the numbered dial above the lift doors. 

But when the lift slid open and she stepped forward, urging him to keep pace with her, his eyes hungrily devoured her. Unaware of his response, she sternly lectured herself. She would see he got the supplies he needed, and *then*, she promised, she would keep him at a distance, at least until she could bring her unruly emotions under control. 

She could do that; yes she could. She was the head of interrogation, after all! 

Excitement was fizzing along her nerve endings. There was a bounce in her step and faint color in her normally pale cheeks. She was shedding pheromones as she never had before. 

The financial restraints that had dimmed the light at the end of the tunnel were suddenly lifted. 

For the first time in much too long, she looked forward eagerly to what was to come. Once again, life had become worth living! 

Part 14 

Wye snuggled his head deeper into Exx’s embrace. The neckline of her nightgown sagged under his movement, and for a brief moment her nipple was exposed. Wye flicked it gently with his tongue, before settling his lips around it and suckling strongly. 

Exx let out a shaky breath and her legs shifted restlessly. “Can you sleep now?” she asked, half-heartedly trying  to distract him. 

He shook his head, the motion sending exquisite sensations from her breast to the heated heart of her, and she moaned and spread her legs in silent invitation. 

“Would that I could, sweet lady!” he laughed softly, pleased at his success in rousing her again. 

“Tease!” She nuzzled his hair. “Very well, suppose you tell me a story?” 

“Mmm!” he hummed in agreement. This was  the most wondrous of times: he felt truly, deeply loved. 

**** 

Some time ago (he began) in a place known as Section, a recruit was brought forth and given to a woman as her material. She was to have the training of him for the next three years. 

In that place where he had been before, he had become very skilled in extracting information from any enemy so designated by his masters. 

It was a hard place, always cold, always without hope. The mortality rate was high because if anyone became ill, there was no will to survive. The suicide rate was higher, because no one *wanted* to survive. 

But the recruit lived, and even managed to thrive:  he had a burning desire for revenge against the men who had used him as a boy. 

One day, the man known as Operations came to that place, seeking replacement recruits for an organization called Section. He ignored all the downtrodden cannon fodder that were paraded before him, seeking, instead, one who would complement the head of Section’s interrogation. 

That was not information anyone else there needed to be privy to. As far as these third world martinets were concerned, he just needed men for no contest missions. 

Wye stood to the side, guarding the one who controlled that place, not in the group being offered. 

However, Operations’ silver-blue gaze settled on the compact, contained man whose eyes were flat, and deadly. He had heard tales of this man, and had come solely for him. “That one!” he said. “I want *him*!” 

Wye shivered at his tone of voice, but of course, knew better than to expose his reluctance in accepting the command. He would have no choice. He hoped he was not wanted in the way that had tormented his youth. 

But if he had to, he would tolerate anything in order to get out of that place! 

Of course, the recruit’s masters were not pleased about this. They had spent long years training him for their own purposes, and did not want to part with him. In spite of their unwillingness to accede to his wishes, Operations was not a man they could say ‘no’ to. And so the recruit found himself on his way to Section One. 

After he had neatly sliced the throats of each of the men who had abused him. 

In Section, he met Hercule, the assistant head of Human Resources, who warned him about the woman who ran interrogation, who was called ‘our lady of the thumbscrews’. “It is best to stay away from her!” he advised. 

Wye was intrigued. He had heard of this lady, even in that other place. He burned to meet her, work with her. Perhaps when his time as a trainee was complete, she might deign to let him assist in some interrogating. 

Operations had sent word to him in his quarters that he was to present himself to his trainer in the area known as the commons. He was a trifle late, and annoyed with himself for creating a poor impression. 

“I apologize, sir, for keeping you waiting,” he said, noticing the small, blond woman who was at Operations’ side. 

She ran a dismissing glance over him, from his neatly polished shoes to his carefully combed dark hair. And then her eyes met his, and he fought to keep from revealing his reaction to that electric blue gaze. 

He, who had never been interested in a woman, who had thought himself impotent, if he bothered to think of sex at all, was suddenly, *amazingly* hard. Wye uttered a silent prayer of thanks that the trousers he wore were too loose to display the extent of his erection. 

And then he heard Operations introduce her. “This is Exx. She is in charge of this department and will be your trainer. You are hers!” 

“I will teach you everything you need to learn. And you will learn everything  I need  to teach you. But I do not own you!” 

Of course. Why would a woman of her obvious standing want a man such as himself, who could offer her nothing, not even a talent in bed? Well, he mocked himself, it seemed his libido had chosen a poor time to resurrect itself. 

Her status, as well as his own, precluded any chance of his ever getting close enough to interest her in what was between his legs. He stifled a sigh. 

That didn’t stop him from wanting her. With her attention fixed on something else, he allowed himself to study the curves and lines of her petite body. 

He followed her into the lift and stood watching the numbers flash by as the car descended into the depths of Section. She enumerated his duties, refusing to look into his eyes, and he was bruised that she could dismiss him so easily. 

Wye had learned early on to compartmentalize, and so while one portion of his brain listened attentively to her words, the other portion listened to her voice, the quality of dark velvet, caressing his nerve endings. He was so hard, and all he wanted to do was rub his length against her, leaving his scent on her body. 

Having her scent on his, marking him as hers. 

**** 

In the months after that beginning, he would dream of her. Lying in his bed after each training session, his arousal growing more pronounced with each day, he would stroke and fondle himself to climax, but it was never enough to satisfy his hunger for her. He was always left wanting more. Wanting her. 

When other recruits were instructed in the martial arts by their mentors, he would dream of her leading him into those exercise rooms, of her putting her hands on him, angling her body toward his, taking them both down to the mat. 

He lived for the touch of her hand against his, the brush of her arm, the warm scent of her skin. Wye spent his days, hard and aching, and his nights much the same. But he had never, in his entire life, been filled with such desire, such passion. He felt alive! 

He silently suffered this torment for almost six months. He would have been willing to continue suffering it, if only to remain as her material. And then... 

They were in the wardroom one day, when she dropped an instrument from her normally agile fingers. It never dawned on him to question why she should suddenly become clumsy. 

Exx bent gracefully to retrieve the tool. The prissy black skirt she wore rode up her thighs, exposing a pale swath of firmly muscled flesh. 

The skirt edged up higher, and Wye froze as he realized the scrap of satin she wore was merely a wink and a promise, a barely there thong that nestled in the crevice between her buttocks, emphasizing their curves. He swallowed with difficulty, unable to tear his eyes away from the vision before him. 

And then he was on her, frantically shoving aside that skirt and sliding down the black panties that shielded what he needed most to see, to touch. His blunt fingers dipped into the moist folds of her femininity and she shuddered. 

Wye was lost. If she ordered him to stop, he hoped he would have the fortitude to obey her wishes, but he’d hate to wager anything important on it. Like his life. Or his soul. 

His erection was freed and pleading to be buried deep inside her. It was fortunate that she was so ready for him because as far as he was concerned, the past six months had been about all the foreplay he could handle. He drove himself into her and she gasped at the shock of his invasion. Her material! He began a deep, rhythmic thrusting, but he was too close to the edge to last long. In a matter of minutes he was pouring himself into her. 

The male operative could still feel her thrumming with passion, and his forefinger found the tiny bundle of nerves that was hidden in her folds. A few teasing strokes and she followed him into the abyss. 

Her moans were music to his ears, and he lowed them both to the floor, then enveloped her body with his, as if offering protection. 

“I’m a dead man, aren’t I?” he asked when he was finally able to speak coherently. 

“Why would you think that?” 

“I don’t know,” he couldn’t avoid the self-contempt in his tone. “You’re the head of interrogation; I’m your trainee; I just fucked you blind! Sounds like a good enough reason for cancellation to me!” 

She rolled over in his arms and  leaned back to search his eyes. “Do you think I could not have stopped you at any time, had that been my wish?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Wye, every time we come into this room, I have locked the door and engaged the anti-surveillance devises. Now, why do you think that is?” 

“You’ve...you’ve really done that?” 

She nodded. 

“For how long?” 

Her lashes hid her eyes, and he thought she would refuse to answer him. But then they lifted and the clear blue irises seemed to invite him to sink deeply into them. 

“Since the very first day you became mine!” 

Part 15  

The two figures were secured in side-by-side chairs in a white room somewhere not Section One. Their heads firmly restrained, it was apparent that they were unconscious. Electrodes were placed on strategic points around their closely shaven skulls. 

Male and female, they were at the mercy of the bitter man who watched from the console outside the most frightening and secret area of Oversight. 

This was the pair that had been responsible for the destruction of the one person the man had cared about above all others, and he was determined to see that they paid dearly for their actions. 

He knew that everyone in all the Sections thought that the hold the interrogation operative Uno had over him was of the flesh. 

And in a manner of speaking, they were correct. 

Only it wasn't quite the way they thought. Uno was connected to him by the bond, not of sex, but of blood: the young man had been his wood's colt, a son born of his middle-aged passion for a much younger, extremely talented, valentine operative who had been put into abeyance as a result of the inconvenient pregnancy. 

George had risked everything to save the pair, and while he had been unsuccessful with the mother, the infant had been luckier. However, since his position in Oversight made it untenable for him to keep the child with him, the boy had been fostered out to a couple, on another continent, who answered to him alone. 

Precocious and spoiled beyond belief, Uno grew to young manhood and found his way into Section Three, where he began his upward climb, unaware that the man who periodically reviewed his performance was his father. 

Like everyone else in Section, Uno thought George had an unnatural desire for him, and he would have used that obsession to further his career in the anti-terrorist organization if the older man had even hinted that he wanted him that way. 

George was happily unaware of the way the young man’s devious mind worked. He loved him as his son and refused to acknowledge the treacherous path Uno trod. 

Which had led to his death. And George had taken a vow to see to the destruction of the two who had stolen from him what he loved more than his hope of heaven or fear of hell. 

His eyes gleamed as he turned to observe his handiwork. 

**** 

Somewhere in his unconscious mind, the male torture operative knew this whole thing was a chimera, an illusion. But that knowledge was buried so deeply that it eluded his grasp. 

Exx was in trouble. That was the thought that kept pounding into his brain. Wye fought to open his eyes, and when he was finally able to view his surroundings, panic rippled through him. The head of interrogation was in desperate danger! 

He struggled against his restraints, frantic to get to the woman who was his mentor, his trainer, his lover. Blood began to bead from the lacerated flesh of his wrists as he battled to free himself, but he was powerless to come to her aid. 

In horror, he watched as she was roughly stripped of the black clothing she wore like a suit of armor. Three members of an unknown interrogation team took her down to the mat and held her as a fourth brutalized her with large fists and an even larger body. 

She turned wounded eyes toward him, silently pleading for release from this nightmare. An emotionally strong woman, she had never before been placed in a position of such helplessness, and she would rather be dead than be a plaything for these brutes. 

With a cry of rage, Wye found the ability to free his arms, breaking his bonds, and his left wrist in the process. He sublimated the pain and threw himself at the four who were hurting the one he loved best in the world. 

His looks were deceptive. While it might appear that he wouldn't have the strength to fight his way out of a paper bag, his outward facade belied smoothly conditioned muscles that effortlessly obeyed each command. 

His attack was unanticipated, and the surprise of it aided in the defeat and death of each of the unknown operatives. Fury impelled him to acts of savagery, far beyond his normal capability. Blood and gore spattered the pristine walls of the white room. 

It was too late, though. Wye knew it, somehow he had always known it. A woman such as Exx was not for the likes of him. He might possess her for a handful of moments, but she would not be his for any length of time. He was not worthy of her vivid, incandescent spirit, and because he had dared to defile her with his base passion, she now hovered on the point of death. 

Over and over, with each beat of his heart, the thought repeated that she lay, torn and bleeding on the floor of this room that housed pain and despair because she had shattered every rule in order to rescue him from his deserved fate in Three's white room. 

It was his fault, it was all his fault. He deserved whatever the fates dealt him, but she didn't merit this kind of punishment. 

He dropped to his knees beside the nude, broken body of the woman he loved and cradled her in his arms. Tears fell like rain onto her battered face. 

Eyes blind with pain cleared enough to witness his misery and desolation, and she raised a hand whose bones had been fractured beyond repair to caress his cheek. 

"I regret nothing!" she whispered haltingly through lips that were torn and bitten. "Whatever I had to do to keep you in my life, it was worth this pain!" Her voice became weaker, fainter. "Always remember, I love you. Now... Tomorrow... Throughout... all... eternity!" 

She was gone. 

Wye threw back his head and howled with grief. His devastation was a living thing, ricocheting around him like the cries of souls damned to everlasting torment. Sobs clogged his throat and he leaned over her lifeless form to press tender kisses to her mouth. 

Something he had read long ago echoed in the corridors of his mind. 'Better be dead than alive, he said...Better be dead than alive!' 

Gently scooping up the woman he loved, he held her to his chest and reached for a pistol that was suddenly, conveniently tucked in his waistband. Bracing his back against a wall, he kissed her one last time, tightened his hold on her and placed the gun in his mouth. 

**** 

George frowned and halted the program. It wasn't supposed to go down like that. The male operative should have tried to save himself as soon as he got free of his fetters, abandoning his counterpart without a backwards glance. 

He should *not* have been willing to die for her! 

George glowered at the figure slumped in the chair, the silver trail of tears streaking his cheeks. 

He turned vindictive eyes to the woman in the other chair. He knew her reputation. She would *never* sacrifice herself for a mere trainee. 

One way or another, he would make them both pay! 

He centered his attention on the knobs that controlled the impulses fed to the electrodes fastened to Exx, and prepared to expend his wrath on the female operative. 

George would have her cancel her material, and when he brought them out of the virtual            reality he currently had them mired in, they would both be forced to accept that what feelings they had for each other were a tissue of lies, as ephemeral and insubstantial as the stuff that dreams were made of. They would live out the rest of their lives knowing that Exx cared nothing for her counterpart, could cancel the male torture operative in the blink of an eye and not think twice about it. 

And he would have his revenge! 

Part 16           

Section’s head of interrogation felt her temper slowly simmering, but the simmer was fast approaching a rolling boil. Someone had dared to abduct her. 

That she could deal with, having often been the target of attempted kidnappings. 

What she was not about to tolerate was her counterpart also being taken captive. He had been through so much lately, and he had accepted everything done to him without a single word of complaint. 

But this was the final straw. Exx was not putting up with one single incident more! 

They had been on their way down to the commissary to rendezvous with Guillaume and Jean and resume command of the recruits. Unexpectedly, the lift jerked to a halt between levels and a noxious gas had been piped in, quickly rendering them unconscious. 

Once they had arrived at their destination, Exx revived long enough to leave some nasty wounds, but she had been overpowered and wrestled into an extremely uncomfortable chair. The place where they were restrained was very similar to the white room in which she worked. 

So she knew she was in one of the Sections. Her opposite number in this place gave her a sickly smile, but none-the-less proceeded to inject an unknown chemical into her veins. As she sank once more into unconsciousness, she heard a buzzing and felt a razor begin shaving her head. 

**** 

George gloated. 

He had the pair known as the Torture Twins helpless in his power. Granted, his plan to have the male interrogation operative abandon his female counterpart fell apart when Wye fought his way free and destroyed three of his constructs. 

Research and Development in Oversight had surpassed anything the Sections had yet to come up with, and this virtual reality program he was running on One's torture ops was supposedly guaranteed to convince the two that they would betray, abandon or cancel each other at the first chance offered. 

And although it hadn't quite worked out to his expectations, George was still positive that the head of interrogation would not disappoint him. 

Exx was cold and ruthless, and took great pleasure in her work. She had turned on Uno and destroyed him in such a bloodthirsty manner that the images of his son's contorted and battered body still managed to disturb his sleep at night. 

But this time George was certain that his plan would come to fruition, and they would pay dearly. He would force the male torture operative to experience the same treatment his son had compelled him to undergo, and Exx would have no recourse by to watch, helplessly. 

Once she saw how Wye reacted to the punishment, her  respect for him would evaporate and she would cancel him in the blink of an eye. 

George rubbed his hands together with insane glee and settled his blunt fingers on the console, carefully twisting the dials that controlled the impulses he was channeling to her brain. 

Payback was *such* a bitch! 

**** 

Exx was impelled by some unseen element to travel a corridor down which she was loath to go. She *knew* that whatever was at its end, she did *not* want to see it. 

But she had no choice, and reluctantly she followed the path. 

And then she recognized the garish colors of the walls, the puce and pomegranate actually hurting her eyes.

Somehow she had ended up in Section Three, where her lover had been seriously injured. Where she had destroyed the head of interrogation. 

No longer did she struggle against the force leading her on. Now she outpaced it, almost running as anxiety began thrumming along her nerve endings. 

This was not good, not good at all! 

And then she was outside the white room, trying to peer unsuccessfully through the frosted glass window in the door. With a muted curse, she seized the handle and twisted it viciously, flinging the door open. 

As the last time she had been in that place, Wye was face down and bleeding on the white matting of the room's floor. Only instead of being alone, a trimly muscled male figure was just rising up from where he had crouched over the torture operative's beaten body. 

“You liked that, didn’t you, dark eyes? You liked the feel of me dominating you, riding your sweet ass, penetrating you! Admit it! There’s no one here but the two of us!” 

~~~~ 

George was almost orgasmic. Here it came! Exx would cancel her counterpart for breaking Section’s cardinal rule by embracing an alternate lifestyle, and his son would be avenged! 

~~~~ 

“Is that what you want to hear?” Wye asked, his voice hoarse from the screams he had struggled to repress. He rolled to his side and flinched as he landed on an open wound. His face was haggard. Once again he was in that other place where men had abused him as a boy. “Then yes, of course, I wanted what you did to me.” 

Uno’s eyes were bright with wicked triumph, and he turned toward Exx, unconcerned by his own naked state. “You see? He is unworthy of you! He was willing to betray you at the first opportunity!” 

Wye spotted his lover and realized she had heard his damning admission. He  paled with horror, and his stomach roiled. She couldn’t really think he wanted this piece of excrement slobbering all over him, forcing him to accept the other man‘s body into his own? 

Could she? 

He buried his face in his arm and felt the warmth of tears begin to spill from his eyes. 

~~~~

George watched in rapture as Exx’s face turned cold and marble-like. He was practically dancing with delight. Any second now, Wye would be a dead man, and Exx would have proven to them both that she cared for no living human being! 

~~~~ 

“I really did kill you too easily!” Exx sneered at Uno. 

“Huh?” Uno’s smile died a rapid death. “But...What are you saying? I just made love to your trainee!” 

“Correction. You fucked him. Love had nothing to do with it!” 

“But he *let* me!” the former head of Three’s interrogation whined. “He *wanted it! He said so!” 

“You benighted fool. He would tell you whatever you wanted to hear, in order to live long enough to repay your treatment of him. Your days are numbered. They were then, they are now! If I weren’t here to kill you, again, I might add, then it would be just a matter of time before Wye was able to do it himself.” 

Uno suddenly found himself looking down the barrel of a big, a *very* big gun. 

~~~~ 

George bounded forward in his seat. This could not be happening! He would not see his son die again! He savagely twisted a knob and brought Exx to her knees with a jolt of electricity that arrowed through her brain, leaving her writhing in pain. 

He would show the bitch! 

~~~~

Uno scooped up the pistol that had fallen from Exx’s nerveless fingers and pointed the weapon at the head of interrogation. “Who’s the top dog now, bitch? I am *so* going to love sticking it to you!” 

“I *don’t* think so, *dude*!” a feral growl sounded from behind him, drawing his attention away from the woman on the floor. 

Wye was on his feet and closing in on the younger man. In the male operative’s eyes, Uno read his death warrant. “No! I won’t die! Not again! Not because of you!” he screamed, almost incoherent with fear. 

He swung the pistol around and managed to get off one shot, catching Wye in the center of his chest.  The torture operative staggered back for a brief moment, then surged forward and got his hands around the other man’s neck. 

~~~~

George watched in numb horror, his hands useless on the console. 

~~~~ 

Wye threw the limp body of Three’s former head of interrogation to the side and wavered before beginning to collapse beside his lover. She pushed herself up onto her knees and caught him in her arms before he could hit the floor. Cushioning his fall, she held him to her, feeling his blood soak through her clothes. “Cowboy...” she murmured achingly against his hair. 

“You...forgive me?” He spoke around a mouthful of blood. 

“For what, my only one?” 

“I couldn’t prevent what he did to me!” 

“There is nothing to forgive. It wasn’t your fault. You did what you had to do.”

“And... you still love me?” His voice was getting weaker now. 

“Forever! You are, and always will be, the one I love. The *only* one I love!” 

He smiled and closed his eyes. “And...I...you! Je t’aime, Exx!” 

She was holding a dead weight. He was gone. Exx bowed her head and let her tears fall, mingling with his blood. Her soft sobs were the only sound to be heard. 

She pressed her lips to her lover’s once more, gently caressing his still-warm mouth. Then she set him down. 

There was one last thing for her to do. 

She crawled to where Uno lay sprawled on the floor of the white room and wrenched the gun from his stiffening fingers, vengefully breaking one. Returning to Wye, Exx settled herself into the position she always took when sleeping in the arms of the man she loved. She brushed the hair back off his forehead and tenderly closed his eyes. 

“Je t’aime, Wye.” The barrel of the gun was held steadily under her chin, angled toward the back of her head. Her finger tightened on the trigger. 

~~~~ 

The sound of the weapon firing was deafening in the silence of the small room. George sat motionless for a second, a look of surprise on his face. Then he slumped forward over the console, the back of his head blown away. 

His assassin stabbed at the controls, stopping the program before the woman he watched with hungry eyes could suicide. He wished more than anything that that devotion was directed toward him. 

He knew it was impossible. They were from two different worlds, worked for two different organizations. 

He shook himself out of his reverie. There was no time for futile dreams. Already he could hear footsteps pounding down the corridor in his direction. 

With one final glance at the torture operatives secured in the chairs, the brown-haired man slid into the shadows. 

**** 

“Quickly!” Michael ordered, carefully keeping watch at the door. Davenport and Walter freed the two Section operatives, silently marveling at the tears that streaked their faces. 

“Wish I knew what the hell George thought he was going to accomplish with this bullshit!” Walter hissed as he boosted the frail weight of the head of interrogation over his shoulder. 

Michael helped Davenport position the male torture operative in a fireman’s lift and then checked the passageway to be sure it was empty. He nodded and the two operatives began making their way to Oversight’s van access. 

But before the senior cold op could leave, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Cautiously he glanced behind him. 

“Palm!” His surprise was evident. Michael was familiar with the work of the rogue agent, but he was shocked to actually see him here in Oversight. “What...?” 

“Did you really think she could be in jeopardy, and I would not know? Go now, and see that she never questions her deliverance.” 

Michael turned on his heel and started away from the man who, in another life, he would have liked to call friend. 

His only priority now was seeing his team completed this mission. 

And got back home to Section alive. 

Part 17 

Madeline stood at the entrance to van access, her toe tapping out an irritated rhythm. Section One was remarkably bare of its senior operatives. She had only been gone a couple of days, but already the place was falling down around her ears. 

She rolled her shoulders and straightened abruptly, hissing at the discomfort in her back and thighs. Mr. Jones had taken great pleasure in introducing her to bondage and discipline, and although the cat-o-nine-tails he had used was made of plush velvet, he had wielded it with such enthusiasm that she was scored from neck to knee. 

A reminiscent smile curled her lips. He had given her exactly what she had needed, without knowing this was what was missing from her life. Glancing briefly at the elegant Longines watch that graced her slender wrist, Madeline calculated the hours until she could escape from Section and join her paramour once more.

She froze for a second. How could she link escape and Section in the same thought? She loved Section, lived for the intrigue, the covert operations that filled her days and danced through her dreams at night like so many black sheep. 

**** 

Madeline had risen through the ranks, beginning her life in Section as little more than a glorified wardrobe mistress. As the years passed and her way with manipulating a target or an operative became acknowledged and valued, promotion had followed promotion. She had become the lover of Paul Wolfe, Operations, and then brought about his downfall, eventually rendering him little more than a sex toy for The Man, who was part of the triumvirate that ran Oversight. 

And Section One had become hers. 

But Mr. Jones was showing her there was another aspect of life that could be just as fulfilling. Her breath caught in her throat as she reflected on what the man who ran Center was introducing her to. 

That first time, he had fastened her wrists to silken bonds and cut her businesslike suit from her body. He had licked his way up the curve of her spine, and then gently let her feel the velvet thongs against the soft skin of her buttocks, around to flick across her flat abdomen, up to caress the folds of her womanhood. 

Madeline had moaned and arched her back, silently pleading for more of this discipline, and Mr. Jones was delighted to oblige the strongest woman he knew. How many times had she looked down her patrician nose at the character he had been forced to play, regarding him with arrogant condescension?  How often had he wanted to tear off the sedate suits she wore, and bury himself in her tempting body? 

And now she was at his mercy, and of her own accord. He would have let her leave, but Madeline told herself that if she did, her remaining days at Section could be counted on the fingers of one hand, and Mr. Jones, sometimes known as Mick Schtoppel, let her delude herself. He warmed her skin, and her libido, with his lovely velvet cat, to the point where the unshakeable Madeline was pleading with him to have done with it and fuck her. 

Who was he to deny a lady? He had freed his turgid length, more than ready to make love to her, but Madeline did not want love, she wanted hot, sweaty sex. No even bothering to remove his trousers, Mr. Jones had entered her with one smooth thrust, and Madeline had convulsed around him, climaxing immediately, the strong shudders of delicate inner muscles clenching and milking the hard cock within her. 

She had never experienced an orgasm so powerful. Exhausted, she hung helplessly from the silk cords that bound her wrists, but Mr. Jones was not finished with her. He mastered his own desire, fighting his need to come, and wound his fingers in her mink brown hair. Pulling her head around, he took her mouth in a deep kiss that left her breathless and moaning for more. 

His lips parted in a satisfied smile and he nuzzled down to the curve of her throat, letting her feel the edges of his teeth. And he began to drive her up to the top of the mountain again. 

**** 

Madeline came back to the present with a jolt. Toying with the collar of her prim suit, she worried that the livid love bite beneath it would be seen and all of Section would know what she had been doing. And she worried that they would not see it and not know what had she had been doing. Her nipples peaked and ached to be stroked and pinched. The material of her bra abraded them, and heat pooled between her thighs. 

Restlessly she rubbed her thighs together, her cheeks flushed, her breath coming in short gasps. 

And then the door to van access rolled open and Michael stalked in, followed by Walter, Davenport, and her prize torture operatives draped over their shoulders. Barely sparing the head of Section a glance, the two brawny operatives strode past her, determined to get to MedLab as quickly as possible. 

“What is the meaning of this Michael?” she demanded. In spite of the time she had spent in Center, this was still her Section. These were her people. 

For a moment, the senior cold operative looked weary beyond belief, and then his blank façade snapped back into place. “George had Exx and Wye kidnapped.” 

Madeline’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. “George? Oversight’s George? Why? Michael, why?” 

“What’s one of the oldest motives in the book?” 

The head of Section had undergone too many novel experiences within too short a space of time. She matched Michael in blank looks. 

“Revenge, Madeline!” he said impatiently. “George wanted revenge. Exx destroyed the only being on the face of the earth that he loved.” 

“George loved something other than the organization he and Adrian created?” 

Michael nodded, almost overwhelmed with exhaustion. This mission, and the unexpected encounter with an old acquaintance was stretching his emotional resources. 

“And who was that?” A leap of intuition brought Madeline to an abrupt conclusion. “Oh my God, Uno? That little pimple? He was George’s lover?” 

“No, he was George’s son!” 

Madeline was so shocked she staggered and would have lost her footing. Michael caught her around the waist and steadied her. For a moment she was distracted by the nearness of the cold operative, by the heat exuded by his contained body. Then she regained control of herself. “How could such a thing be possible?”

“In quite the usual way, I would imagine, Madeline. You do know about the birds and the bees, don’t you?” 

She glowered at him and he regretted the sniping remark. “It’s all in the panel I had Birkoff prepare for you. George had an affair with a young valentine op and got her pregnant. Uno was the result. When Exx canceled him with such extreme prejudice, George wanted to make her pay.” 

“By kidnapping her?” 

“Yes, and Wye, as well. It seems George was holding out on Section: Oversight’s R&D has come up with some intriguing new programs! He planned to experiment on our operatives in a particularly nasty manner. He was going to put them into a situation where they were guaranteed to betray each other.” 

The head of Section turned pale. If her premier torture operatives were programmed to savage one another, they would accomplish that directive devastating thoroughness. These were two of the most ruthless operatives ever turned out by Section One. 

Her eyes closed to shut out the depressing vision, Madeline forced the question through lips that had gone numb. “How badly are they damaged?” She was somewhat fond of Exx, who had been one of the first recruits brought to Section under her direction, but what distressed her most was the fact that she had no one good enough to replace the head of interrogation. 

“They haven’t regained consciousness yet, and there will probably be some emotional repercussions, but otherwise they seem to have come through this ordeal amazingly well. What is most astonishing is that neither rose to the bait George was dangling in front of them.” 

“Pardon?” Madeline had been trying to decide who she could put into Exx’s position, shuffling and re-shuffling likely candidates, extremely unhappy to discover that contrary to popular belief, here was someone who was, indeed, irreplaceable. 

Michael hesitated, uncertain if he should give the head of Section intel that could well be used as ammunition against the couple. He had grown to enjoy them…more than enjoy them in the occasional contact he had with the pair. “He would have died for her. She would have died for him. It’s that simple. George was canceled before anything irreversible could be accomplished.” 

“George is dead?” 

“Oh, didn’t I say?” Michael was enjoying this entirely too much. He still hadn’t forgiven Madeline for her part in Nikita’s ‘Gelmanizing’. Even now, the lovely blond operative still had days when she was decidedly cool toward him. 

Madeline scowled and dismissed him with a wave of her hand, striding toward her office. She needed an update on her interrogator’s condition. She needed to know which of the two remaining in charge of Oversight was going to be promoted to George’s position. She needed… 

She slammed the door and activated the anti-scan. Her fish tank stood in darkness, and she pressed the switch that illuminated the scene in its depths. It had been too long since her babies had been fed, and they were starting to dine on their tank mates. Already the decimated remains of what looked to be a barracuda were floating near the top. 

Madeline smiled grimly and sprinkled some crell, tiny frozen shrimp, into the tank, watching the ensuing feeding frenzy with dark pleasure. 

It soothed her, replenished her. In spite of everything that had gone on, she was still in charge. 

Part 18 

Wye slowly roused to consciousness. He had never felt so bruised and aching, not even in that other place, when as a young boy those men had tormented him by taking him to their beds. 

Cautiously he tested one limb and muscle group after another, pleased to find that basically he was all in one piece. 

He opened his eyes and stared at the white walls of MedLab. He was spending entirely too much time within its confines he thought grumpily. It was time to get dressed and get back to the real world, the world where other people did the aching. With a muffled groan, he got himself into a sitting position and spotted his clothes folded neatly on a chair next to a cupboard. 

The cubicle he was in was empty. It took long minutes for him to gather enough energy to slide off the cot and reach for his trousers. Painfully he got one leg into his pants, and then the other, biting his lips to take his mind off his discomfort. 

A nightingale came in, studying a chart, and stopped short, startled to see him on his feet. “Doctor!” she called stridently. 

“Flo, how many times have I told you not to yell down here? It disturbs our patients!” The same doctor who had treated Wye on his return from Three strolled in. “With us once more I see, Wye. How are you feeling?” She took the chart from the nightingale and glanced over its contents. 

“Like something even the cat would be reluctant to drag in!” 

Her glance traveled over his compact frame. She smiled into his dark eyes, which for once were not shielded by thick glasses. “Well, aside from a really bad haircut, you seem to have suffered no lasting effects from your little jaunt to Oversight.” 

At the mention of a haircut, he ran a hand over his scalp and moaned. “My hair! What happened to it?” Although his hair had been short, Exx loved to tangle her fingers in its thick, dark strand. 

Interesting. The doctor would not have thought the torture operative vain. “Apparently it needed to be shaved to accommodate the electrodes George had placed on you.” She looked studiously at her nails. “You don’t ask after your trainer.” 

“Exx? Why should I?” 

“Aren’t you concerned about her?” 

Wye shrugged. “Nothing could happen to her now that I would not be aware of.” 

The doctor’s mouth dropped open in shock. “What? What are you saying?” She knew there were bound to be side effects, well of course there would be. If you went fucking around with someone’s mind, and weird things resulted. 

Wye’s look was puzzled. “I…I’m not sure exactly what I mean, but …” A smile replaced the puzzlement on his strong features. “We have a very powerful working bond between us, that’s all.” 

The doctor was above all else a scientist; she would have questioned him further, excited by the thought they may have forged some link while undergoing torture at George’s hands. But before her eyes he became the premier torture operative’s very competent second in command. 

Involuntarily, she backed off. His regard was unsmiling, and she took another step away from him. “If there’s nothing else, Doctor?” 

She shook her head. 

Wye nodded and turned to leave MedLab. “We’ll need you for further testing, of course!” she called after him. 

“Of course. You know where to find me.” 

Sure she did. In either The Dungeon, or the wardroom. Or anywhere where Exx was. 

She turned in time to see the nightingale trying to swallow a smile. “I’m sure there are things that need doing, Flo? Bedpans that need cleaning and counting, perhaps?” 

“Yes, ma’am!” The nightingale slipped out of the room, relieved to get away with only a relatively mild reprimand. 

The doctor stared thoughtfully after the torture operative, and then made a decision. She returned to her office and secured the door and the anti-surveillance device. Her communicator was buried under a stack of reports. She fished it out and punched in a number she had been ordered to memorize and then eat the paper on which it had been written. 

A soft voice answered on the other end of the line. “How may I direct your call?” 

The doctor sighed impatiently. “I need to speak to Louie.” 

“He’s in Casablanca, I’m afraid.” 

“Yes, but we’ll always have Paris.” 

“One moment please.” 

The doctor scowled at the phone. This was just so childish! She hated playing cloak and dagger type games. She had been recruited into Section when her ethics and practices came under question, but she wasn’t an operative, and had no desire to become one. 

“Start talking!” 

She started as she realized her call had been put through. “This is…” 

“I know who it is. Tell me why you felt the need to call me?” 

The doctor shuddered at the voice that arrowed to the heated core of her being like smooth whiskey, that burned every inch of the way going down. She had heard that voice before, and was disconcerted by the flare of desire it raised every time. 

“This is to do with the Torture Twins.” 

“Ahhh.” Infinite satisfaction flowed over the line. “Proceed.” 

Part 19 

Exx was just the least, tiniest bit worried. Her trainee, her counterpart, her lover, was once again a resident of Section’s MedLab. She couldn’t understand it. He had been injured no worse than she, but he was not rousing to consciousness. 

WWBS, the doctor called it. Wimpy white boy syndrome. 

All it meant was that Exx was more likely to bounce back because she was a woman. 

All she knew was that if he didn’t bounce back, she had no more reason to live. 

Those games George had played with their minds in Oversight had proved with stunning finality that the one would not survive without the other. Not could not survive, because short of a mortal wound, of course they could. 

But they wouldn’t. 

**** 

She was on her way back to MedLab when a sudden, niggling thought intruded. If she just waited by the lift on the north side of the commons… 

The doors slid open to reveal her counterpart, lounging negligently against the rear wall. His dark eyes smiled deeply into her normally icy blue ones and he held out a hand. //It has been much too long, sweet lady.// 

Exx went toward her lover, her fingers reaching toward his. //Indeed it has, cowboy.// 

Neither realized that no words had been spoken aloud. 

**** 

“If you are not up and out of bed in five seconds, you will be canceled with extreme prejudice.” 

The alarm clock on Wye’s side of the bed went off, jolting him out of a sound sleep. Unlike alarm clocks found in the outside world, those used in Section were germane to the type of organization it was: no annoying buzz summoned operatives to greet the new dawn, instead they were wakened by the promise of hellfire and damnation. 

And every clock in Section had been programmed with the premier torture operative’s cool, threatening voice. 

“Five…” 

He groaned and pulled the pillow over his head. 

“Four…” 

Exx made a satisfied sound in her sleep, and spooned against his muscled back. 

“Three! Two! One!” The last three numbers were rattled off and then the staccato sound of machine gun fire split the quiet of the room. 

Wye’s hand reached out and seized the offending clock. With a vicious oath, he hurled it across the room. “How could you allow them to use your voice for that abomination?” he demanded. It bounced off the wall and landed on the floor, the sounds becoming disjointed as its inner works spilled out. 

With a final blat blat blat, the clock died, and a grin of supreme satisfaction parted the male torture operative’s lips. 

Exx stretched her arms over her head, feeling each vertebra pop, and then rolled over and flung aside the blankets. “That’s the fifth one you’ve canceled since we moved in together,” she remarked. 

He ignored that statement as unworthy of his attention and rubbed the stubble of his hair vigorously, in an effort to kick-start whatever gray cells were still in residence in his brain. “Want me to make some breakfast?” 

She paused at the bathroom door. “No. We’ve been out of the loop for too long. If we breakfast in the commissary, we should pick up on most of what’s happened since George had us kidnapped.” 

Wye waited until he heard the shower running, then followed her into the bathroom. He could just discern the outline of his lover’s petite figure through the frosted shower door. 

Strong, scared fingers dusted with a sprinkling of dark hairs pulled the door open and the male torture op stepped beneath the pounding water. He shuddered as the scalding spray beat down upon him, relishing, as always, the abundant supply of hot water with which Section kept its operatives supplied. 

Exx had her back to him, and was lathering the blond stubble that covered her scalp. She hadn’t accepted her shorn state any better than her lover had. She knew how he enjoyed tangling his fingers in her short hair. Here, in the shower, with the water streaming into her face, she allowed tears of regret to fall. Only for him would she permit herself such an indulgence, and even then no one else would be aware of her tears. 

She swallowed a sob, oblivious to the fact that her lover stood behind her in the shower. “Exx?” Hesitantly he turned her, feeling her distress. “Sweet lady, what’s wrong!” 

Exx couldn’t dissemble; she had never needed to learn how. She raised a tentative hand to her head. “My…my hair!” 

He heard what she didn’t say. //You loved to touch it, and now it’s gone!// 

His eyes were sad, and he ducked his head, unable to hold her gaze. //And mine, as well.// 

Her fingers forced his chin up, and her lips found and caressed his, leaving the salty taste of her tears on his mouth. //And we are fools to mourn something so transient!// 

“You think no less of me because of this?” 

She let him see into her mind. //I thought no less of you for what Uno did to you, or those men in your past. Why would I let something so inconsequential as this do so?// 

He wrapped his long arms around her and pulled her so close she could feel the tremors coursing through his body. So close she could feel his hardening flesh. He found the notch of her thighs and rubbed his length along it. 

The shampoo had long since been rinsed away. Wye poured another dollop into his palm and began massaging the foam over his lover’s scalp, wringing a breathy whimper of pleasure from her as his fingertips stroked through the stubble. 

“Mmmm!” Her head tipped back and she luxuriated in the feel of his long fingers on her. 

Covered with suds, they skimmed down her neck and shoulders to find her breasts, the nipples already hard and aching. His fingers scissored around them and then squeezed gently. An arrow of need spreared down her abdomen to the slick folds that wept for his attention. She rocked her hips forward and felt his cock gliding between her thighs. 

While one hand worshipped her breasts, the other skimmed down past her waist, to tangle in the curls that concealed her femininity. As he probed the tiny nub that was the center of such sensations that she thought she might faint from the pleasure, he also touched himself, shuddering from the need to be inside her. 

Turning his hand so that his knuckles constantly grazed the knot of nerves hidden in her folds, he began milking his arousal. She bucked helplessly against him, trying to force the pace, but this time he was determined to go at his own speed. 

Higher and higher he teased her, and himself as well, his lips fastening to the side of her throat, sucking and nipping the soft skin, marking her as his own. Her moans became a litany, and still he pushed her on toward the peak. 

Suddenly the colors in her mind spilled over into his, scarlet and crimson, alizarion and carmine, rose and burgundy and cherry. Realizing she was about to come, he shoved her back against the wall of the shower, parting her thighs with trembling hands and plunged his cock deep into her. The feel of the spasms of her inner muscles proved to be his undoing, and just a few hard, rapid strokes had him pouring himself into her, following her descent into the abyss 

Leaning the length of his body against her, he held her steady against the wall, the spray rinsing them off. He couldn’t resist nuzzling the side of her throat, finding the spot he had marked and drawing it between his lips. //Mine!// The thought went from his mind to hers. 

//Yours.// He could feel the warmth of her agreement flood through him. 

She cupped his chin and brought his mouth to hers, caressing it with her lips, tracing the outline with her tongue. //Mine.// The fierce avowal flowed to him in waves ruby and garnet. 

//Yours!// 

And somehow, in that steamy bath, although no words were spoken aloud, each became bound to the other, throughout the end of time. 

Part 20/End 

The head of Section One stared at the hapless doctor before her, her bittersweet chocolate brown eyes snapping with ire. 

“And you were instructed by who, exactly, to inform this person of Section’s business?” 

The doctor’s face had taken on a sickly green cast. No one crossed Madeline with impunity. Even the Torture Twins, Exx and Wye, were wont to tread warily around her when she was in a mood like this. 

“Ma’am, I assure you...” 

“Assurances will get you nowhere, Dr. Howard-Fine! You have breached the confidentiality of this organization!” 

To the doctor’s horror, the petite blond head of interrogation and her counterpart approached silently, the compact yellow cases they carried noticeably in view. 

“No! Please, God! No!” she screamed. 

Madeline nodded to the two members of Section’s internal security division who flanked the interrogation operatives. “Take her to the White Room,” she ordered. 

“You said you loved me! Madeline! How can you do this to me?” Her voice faded as the doctor was dragged, resisting, down the sterile corridor of MedLab and on to the notorious white tiled chamber. 

Madeline looked after the woman, a grim smile in her eyes. “You needn’t let her former relationship with me hinder you in any fashion,” she informed her premier torture operative. “Dr. Howard-Fine has been passing information to someone in Center. I want her name!” 

“It might get messy,” Exx stated dispassionately. 

“I’m counting on it!” Madeline remarked. She turned on her heel and stalked away to the commons, where a lift was waiting to take her to her quarters. A very special catalogue had arrived, in a plain, brown wrapper, and she was anxious to discover if the Valentine issue offered any new toys. 

While she had found it interesting to play the submissive to Mr. Jones for a while, in the long run it was not in her nature to be anything but dominant. 

A twelve-inch, anatomically correct devise worn strapped around her slender hips should be more than ample to convince Mr. Jones that she was a partner worthy of sharing the reins of Center. 

Now, if only she could find it within the pages of that catalogue. It would never do to have to go to Walter with such an…unusual… request. 

She licked her lips and entered her quarters. 

**** 

Operations stared glumly at the monitor in his office. Since Madeline had usurped him, he no longer had access to the observation deck. 

On the screen, instead of intel regarding the latest terrorist organization to be formed, were images of The Man. Ops let his fingers reach out to run a finger over the out-sized ears, the large nose. He cast a quick glance around to make sure his privacy was secured, then freed himself and began to stroke the quivering flesh between his thighs. 

He never would have believed he could fall in love with another human being, much less another man, but here he was, mooning over one of the most well known men in the free world. 

His cock began to bead with precome, and he caught a drop on his finger and brought it to his lips. The Man had taught him to enjoy that unique taste, indeed had taught him to enjoy the feel of a hard cock in his ass. 

He slid his other hand past his balls and pressed the tip of a finger to the tight ring of muscle that guarded his opening. The sensation triggered an intense orgasm, one that otherwise wouldn’t have been nearly so pleasurable. 

With a groan, he pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his hand, then cleaned up the spatters on his monitor. Tucking himself neatly away, he fingered the paper he had been working on. Coming to a firm conclusion, he drew it to him and scrawled his name across the bottom. 

Pushing himself away from his desk, he checked one last time to make sure everything was in order.  Then he left his office. 

For the final time. Either he would wind up cancelled, or Madeline would accept his resignation and allow him to spend the rest of his life with the man he loved. 

**** 

Mick Schtoppel, aka Mr. Jones, slowly came to his senses. “Where am I?” he whispered, trying to contain his panic at being blindfolded. 

“Really, Mick,” a warm contralto breathed into his ear. “That is just so trite!” 

“Madeline!” 

“Bien sur! We’re going to play a little game, Mick. Or would you prefer me to call you Mr. Jones?”

”What kind of game?” He started as she eased the strip of black silk from his eyes. His tongue came out to moisten dry lips. 

“Here, let me do that for you,” Madeline husked. She leaned against him and ran her tongue over his mouth, and his eyes slid shut as the satiny feel of her naked breasts caressed his chest. 

His bare chest! He jerked away and looked down, to find himself stripped of all his clothes. Something hard nudged his cock, and he trembled. Madeline was wearing some kind of dildo. It was big and it looked as if she meant business. 

“It’s my turn, Mr. Jones. Let me show you how we play in the big leagues!” She opened a tiny seal near the top of the plastic device and began to fill it with ice-cold water. “This should produce some interesting sensations, n’est-ce pas?” 

Mick backed away until he found himself against a desk and could back up no further. 

“Come, come, my dear Mr. Jones. We can do this hard, or we can do this…hard!” The head of Section One chuckled, and in spite of himself, Mick found his dick swelling until it slapped him in the belly. 

“Don’t hurt me, Madeline, please don’t hurt me!” 

“Of course not, Mr. Jones. That would take all the fun out of it. Now turn around and spread yourself.” 

Helpless, Mick did as he was ordered, going even further by holding his cheeks apart, presenting Madeline with an excellent view of his puckered hole. Her finger eased a generous dollop of lubricant into his passageway. Mick shivered and bent lower, spreading his legs more to expedite his violation. 

Madeline stroked the curves of his buttocks, then placed the tip of the cool rubber to his opening and began to press forward. For a moment the ring of muscle guarding his opening resisted, and then the artificial cock slid past. 

The intense cold of the dildo in his hot channel made him even harder. “Madeline, please touch me!” 

“Oh, no, Mr. Jones. I won’t do that. But you may touch yourself, if that is your desire! However, if you do, I shall be forced to withdraw this delightful toy from your ass!” 

More than anything, Mick wanted to come. But the thought of losing that tantalizing intrusion was not to be borne. He bit his lip to stifle a moan, and was only partially successful.

“What do you want from me?” 

“I want to control Center. With you. If you concede to my wishes, not only will we share all this power, but you will have me to fuck your ass any time you wish, to pleasure you in any manner you desire.” 

“And if I refuse your fascinating offer?” 

In response, Madeline withdrew the rubber cock. Mick moaned at its loss. 

The head of Section let the tip of the devise just enter the man before her. He thrust back so quickly he took her by surprise, taking the entire length of the dildo into him. 

“I’ll do it! It’s yours, whatever you want! Only please, fuck me until I come!” 

Madeline smiled, and proceeded to fuck him to oblivion, satisfied that her goal was safely within her reach. 

**** 

Wye’s dark eyes observed his lover calmly, while excitement fizzed in his blood. Nothing intoxicated him more than seeing his mentor at work. Except, perhaps, seeing her naked in their bed. 

The remains of the traitorous doctor sagged in the metal chair, blood and gore covering the tatters of her clothing. 

Exx examined the twisted, bloodstained scalpel with disgust. “Wye, make a note to never use this medical supply company again. This was just too flimsy!” 

“How very disappointing!” he drawled. 

The representatives from Housekeeping dropped the body bag and backed away hastily, anticipating fireworks. 

“Getting kind of cocky, aren’t you, cowboy?” 

He grinned at her. //Je t’aime.// 

She flushed and smiled. Casting a glance at Jean and the recruit he was training, she nodded significantly at what was in the chair and then the door. 

Accepting their dismissal gratefully, the two wrestled the body into the heavy vinyl casing and dragged it away to be discretely disposed of. 

Exx waited until they were gone, and then went to the door, making sure it was locked. Wye leaned casually back against a wall and waited, watching her movements with interest. 

Tossing aside the offending instrument, Exx bent slightly and ran her palms up her thighs, raising the slim, black skirt higher and higher. The deep red rosettes that secured her sheer black stockings were revealed, and then the pale flesh above them. Up further the skirt rose, and Wye was treated to the sight of lace trimmed tap pants. 

//Are you waiting for an engraved invitation?// 

The male torture operative shoved himself away from the wall and seized her in an embrace that was just short of painful. Demanding lips nudged at her mouth, seeking entrance, while one hand fondled the small breasts concealed by her prissy jacket. The other was busy stroking the humid thatch of curls that concealed her femininity. 

//??// 

She lay back in his arms, smiling lazily into her lover’s dark eyes. //That’s right, cowboy! Crotchless!// 

Before she could relish his disbelief, she felt his hand abandon her. And then the sound of his zipper being undone disturbed the silence of that deadly room. His turgid length sprang free, and then was buried deep inside her hot channel. 

//Wye!// 

“Aloud! Say my name aloud!” 

“Wye! Oh, mon Dieu!” 

“Tell me! What you want, how you want it, who you want to give it to you!” 

“Fuck me, Wye! Hard, fast!” Her blue eyes opened and looked deeply into his soul. “Tu, mon coeur, seulement! Forever!” 

And together they threw themselves into the abyss, heedless of what the future held. 

~End~

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