Chapter 1 - Trial by Fire

Elle and Mark

Chapter One:  A Trial By Fire
Everything was prepared.  Roles were decided, limits negotiated.  It was difficult for the pair to contain the excitement for the thrills to come.  They'd played before, once or twice, but this was new.  Date night, with a game decided on by one, designed by both.  It had been Elle's idea, a sudden, curious thought that led to an obsession.  So many ideas, so many games to play. And what a way to play them!  But tonight had been Mark's fantasy, she was just playing a part.  He'd been a little apprehensive at first; it seemed like a lot of pressure.  But he'd come around to the idea of at least trying it, and now everything was set.  Time for the games to begin.  

Her
A knock at the door.  That's how it started.  L heard it, a little later than she had expected.  A sharp rap of knuckles on painted wood.  She looked over at the door from her place by the fire.  A tiny smile crept across her face as she rose and crossed the room, her heels clicking across cool tiles for the last few steps, no longer muffled by the thick carpet that covered most of the floor space. Her motions were tight, controlled, and perfect.  Her hips swayed just as she wanted them to in her tight red dress, her hair pulled up in an elegant bun.  

She reached the door, stopping to peer through the peephole.  There was no one there.  She paused for a moment, then took the small sleek handgun resting on the nearby end table.  He should be here by now, she thought.  Someone was playing games.  Slowly, she turned the handle, but before she could step back, the door was thrown open.  In a flash, he was on her, a man in a dark suit, one hand immediately on her wrist, forcing the gun away.  

He pushed past her, pulling her with him, and in a flash she found herself tossed into one of the large cushioned chairs scattered about the room.  The gun was pulled from her hand, she hadn't expect the enemy to be this fast, not on her first run.  She pushed up, using her one free hand to throw her weight against his, but it was no use.  He had her pinned.  He smiled down at her.  

“Well, Agent L, it seems the game is up, doesn't it?”

She snarled and rolled, slipping up from under him and onto the floor.  She kicked back as she moved, her heels stabbing out into the air, but he stayed clear. A dash for the mantelpiece.  The gun.  The file.  Again he was too fast.  He caught her just as she reached it, one hand pulling her arm back, pinning her, the other wrapping powerful fingers under her chin.  He was strong, a powerful frame pressed against her. She could feel him through his suit.  

Blood pounded in her ears as she struggled, but to no avail.  He forced her hands together, quickly slipping a ziptie closed.  L pushed against him.  “Who are you?”  

“Your counterpart, sweetie.”

She gritted her teeth at the saccharine tone.  She'd kick his teeth in for that, but squirming against him now wasn't getting her anywhere.  Keeping her held tight, he reached up to take the spare firearm waiting on the smooth wood surface.  He tossed it aside.  

“No need for that, is there?  Now how about this file.”  
She pulled against him again, but he held her tight.  The man flipped the folder open, revealing numerous sheets, but the text of each was marred with redactions.  He snarled in her ear, his breath hot against her exposed neck.  

“Where's the rest?”

Now it was her turn to smirk.  “Not here, lover.”  She pushed back at him, pressing and grinding her body against his.  Surprised, his grip loosened, just for a moment, and she threw herself against him.  He fell hard onto a sofa.  Her window.  She dove for the gun, hitting carpeted floor with a hard thud.  L could hear his footsteps as he stood and came up on her.  His hand was on her throat.  She heard the metallic click of a gun cocking behind her.  

“A nice distraction.”  He pulled her up roughly, her once tidy hair now swept across her face.  “Now we get to know each other a little better.”  

He blindfolded her, a scrap of strangely familiar black silk blocking out the light.  He placed her on a simple wooden chair, she could feel the ebbing heat of the fireplace on her back.  She was facing the door.  He must have moved the coffee table back.  His hand was on her wrist, a thin cord of polymer rope wound its way through her limbs, across her thighs, under her breasts.  Her breathing was still ragged from the quick skirmish, blood pumping in her ears.  In only a few moments of effort, she could tell he had secured her well. 

There was nowhere to run now, nowhere to hide.  Only the chair, the ropes, the soft warmth, and Him.  

She could feel Him as He moved, His presence, His cologne.  His steps were quick, confident but slightly rushed, the result of the same endorphins pumping through her veins.  But then He was done.  And she was His.  He drew nearer, His hands gripping the arms of the chair, His breath warm on her skin.  He whispered in her ear, “Comfortable, my dear?” 

She grimaced, trying to shift, tilting her head to push Him away.  Fingers coursed through her hair, slowly closing tighter and tighter as they moved, until He pulled her head to the side.  Again, His breath on her neck. 
 “I'll take that as a yes, L.  Now, you asked me a question.  And it would be awfully impolite for me not to answer, don't you think?”  

He moved away, and she could hear the creak of the coffee table as He sat.  The soft shuffle of movement as He picked something up, the hard smack of leather on skin.  She tensed, expecting it to fall on her own.  It didn't come.  “'Who am I'? I'm your mark, darling.”

She almost smiled, almost.  But she didn't let herself, she wouldn't give him that victory.  Elle could almost feel the smirk on his lips as the words reached her.  But of course He was watching her, even with the world blocked out by the blindfold.  Something touched her calf, the hard edge of a riding crop.  Where did He get that, she wondered, just for a moment, before the tip began moving up her leg. 

She pulled against the restraints, but it was no use.  The cords held her tightly in place, her legs bound to the legs of the chair.  She was open to him, defenseless.  The triangle of hide rounded the bend of her knee and slid, inch by inch, up her thigh.  Her pulse quickened, the world faded away.  There was only that touch, sneaking and sliding closer.  She shifted in her seat, but even in the minuscule give the ropes afforded, she didn't move away.  And then, just before it reached its end, the crop vanished.  Gone.  Lost to the vast world beyond her body, beyond the blindfold.  

L must have shown disappointment; a low chuckle sounded just a few feet away.  “Jerk,” she breathed out.

“Now, now, Agent L,” her counterpart taunted, “There's the small matter of the information secreted away by your office.  I can't return to my superiors without it.”  The crop returned, on the other thigh, inching once again further and further up, the distance to her panties shrinking by the second.  She bit her lip.  

“So we have a question, don't we?”  The crop crept higher, closer, the pressure light but all-consuming.  

“Will we both get what we want, or will we both end up...disappointed?”  The crop disappeared once again.  

Her body sagged, and she was suddenly aware how tense she had been, how every inch of her had been focused on that one tiny thing, and those words creeping into her head.  

He was close to her again, standing between her bound legs.  The crop traced up the outside of her calf as he bent to whisper in her ear.  “I think I'll enjoy making you talk, Agent.”  

She couldn't help but smile, just a little.  The faintest movement at the corner of her lip.  “Good luck,” she managed, surprised at herself for the wavering in her voice.  He was getting to her. 
How long would she hold out?  


Him
God, she was beautiful.  Her blonde hair disheveled, mouth open just slightly, her breathing ragged with that wonderful mix of fear and excitement.  He could see it in her face, in how she held herself, in how her toes curled and fingers opened and closed as He teased her.  The dying fire, throwing a dull orange light on the scene, on her pale skin, still covered by the soft fabric of that dress, on those perfect black ropes crisscrossing her body.  He could stare at this perfect image for hours.  He could, but there was a game afoot, and he was going to win.  

He placed the crop back down on the table behind him, letting it rest among the myriad of “instruments” selected for this mission.  He smirked, looking over the choices open to Him.  But it wasn't time, not just yet. First, He show Himself to her.  He stood, walking past her, stepping deliberately, letting the sound of His movements reach her.  He could see her tense with the fall of each foot.  She could feel him stop behind her, gently brushing the hair from her neck. Her breath caught in her throat, and a surge of excitement ran through Him.  

“How are we doing, L?”

She said nothing, instead swallowing and tipping her chin upwards slightly.  Good.  Fingertips fell onto her shoulders, tracing lightly down her arms.  She flexed under the ropes, and He turned His fingers to let the nails run gently across her skin.  The fingers of one hand rose again, tracing faint lines across her chest to find her neck, her chin instinctively rising, giving Him perfect access.  His hand closed around her neck as the other wound its way down, teasing her exposed skin, skirting the upper hem of her dress.  

Keeping one hand on her throat, He tilted her head further back and to the side, exposing her neck to him.  He pushed in tighter and gently raked his teeth along her skin.  He felt her shiver and squirm against the restraints, a faint smile dancing across her lips, despite her best efforts.  He smiled to Himself, giving the crook of her neck another pass.  Her feet stamped a little, fingers dancing against the arms of the chair.  She was far too much fun.

He pulled away, letting one finger run from her neck, across the sites of his bites, and round her shoulders. Unconsciously she tilted her head back, reaching out for Him in the black.  He watched her squirm, knowing how far the game had slipped from her mind.  The Spy returned to the table, letting her calm down just for a moment wouldn’t want to get ahead of ourselves, would we?. 

She could hear His movements, the sound of toys moving on the table, the faint clinking as He made his choice.  And He let her listen, let her think, wonder, imagine.  

“Maybe something a little more forceful is going to be necessary.”

“I...” she began, but the words fell short.  He picked up a flogger, dozens of strands of cool black leather falling beautifully across His table.  

He struck the flogger across a couch cushion, watching her reaction to the sound.  She was back a little in the chair now, not straining against the ropes.  She was ready, waiting for him.  He couldn't help but smile at the sight.  His gorgeous captive, bound, waiting for whatever fate He had in store for her.  The flogger would be better in a different position, though.  He replaced it on the table, taking instead a shining dagger He'd enjoyed a few times before.  

Moving quietly now, He returned to her back.  She strained to find him, turning her head this way and that.  He stepped closer.  Her body froze, feeling the disruption in the warmth flowing from the fire.  The Man started with fingers, letting them rake across her shoulders again, watching her head fall back slightly as she sighed.  He was there now, there was no reason to be anxious.  And then they were replaced by the cool flat of the blade, pressed lightly against her skin.  She stiffened again.  

He smiled, watching L's breathing quicken.  The knife made its way round to her front, turning as it moved, threatening its sharp edge against her delicate skin.  

He moved her in no time, her hands pulled up over her head, her front pressed against the wall.  A rope, black, taut, ran from a hook set above her in the wall down to her wrists. Nearby, a painting lay discarded on the floor.  Again, He stepped up behind her, letting their bodies press together.  She twisted a little in place.  

“You're going to tell me everything, Agent.”  She opened her mouth to speak, but as she did He slid a plump black ballgag into her mouth.  She moaned around it automatically, and He could feel her stiffen, feel the excitement ebbing from her.  “But that will come in due time, when I'm finished with you.  

Now it was time for the flogger.  He let it wind through the air a few times, steadying his motion before stepping in to let the tails trace across her back.  Punctuating every few motions with a sharper stroke, he wound the flogger back and forth, back and forth.  He gave her breaks, stopping for a few moments to run His hands over her back, feeling her skin, tracing the lines of red that began to appear.  He switched between the flogger and the blade, ceasing the flogging to run the soft leather straps across her back, her neck, her breast, only to be replaced by the hard chill of the blade.  And of course, as He worked her, marking her back, exposed so foolishly by the gorgeous dress, she moaned and whimpered.  She was getting flushed, her cheeks and chest reddening as her arousal grew.  Putty in His hands.  

Placing himself at her front, He ran a thumb across her bottom lip, wet now as the gag held her lips apart.  The edges of her mouth twitched upwards, a happy sound, somewhere between moan and sigh.  

“How are we doing, Agent?”

She moaned again, clearly content but not willing to give up just yet.  “We'll see about that.”  He bent down, running His fingers down the sides of her breasts, down her stomach, curving outward to trace the curves of her thighs.  Perfection, he couldn't help but think.  He teased her thighs and the tops of her breasts, watching as she trembled at his touch.  His fingers moved inwards, rounding her legs.  He raised a thumb again her lips and was surprised when she moved her head, not to avoid Him, but to rub against Him.  She's getting desperate.  

He moved upwards, working closer and closer.  He raked the inside of her thighs with his fingernails, and she shuddered, falling heavier on the rope, her head sagging and her legs spread wide for Him.  “And I didn't even have to ask,” He thought.  

Keeping one hand between her legs, aggravatingly close to that place, He straightened, placing Himself close against her once again.  

“Now, Agent.  It's time to make a decision.  You can answer my question, give me the files, and betray your cause,” He whispered, each clause accompanied by a gentle but insistent upward movement of his hand, “...or we both leave empty handed.”  His hand pulled away.  Her mouth opened on instinct, her words blurted out, disrupted by the gag but not lost.  

“No, please,” was all she could manage, her body swaying from the rope, desperate for His touch.  

“Good,” he said with a smile, and His hand returned.  He found His target, running His fingers along her entrance. She moaned, deep and throaty, as He slipped a finger into her.  Deeper and deeper He pressed, massaging her, one hand at her entrance her, the other dragging His nails across her breasts.  Again He felt her lips, heard that beautiful mew as she responded to His touch, as He slipped another finger into her pussy.  His hand fell to her throat, holding her tight as He moved.  Their breathing became ragged as they continued, as He drove her closer and closer to that edge. 

He knew her every motion, every sign her body could give.  She had been close already, driven there by the eroticism of their fantasy, of his interrogation, of her compromised position.  And now, it was there.  She was quivering, an animal moan coming from her as she shook.  He shifted forward, taking some of her weight as she came around his fingers. She slumped onto him, all control lost, all thought gone.  

After
He retreated from her, taking His fingers back and holding her firmly.  She was woozy, but he could see the warm smile on her face.  Making sure to keep her upright, he reached up and freed her hands.  He swung her back and into his arms, carrying her to the couch.  

They lay there for a while, the fire providing a calm ebb of light and heat.  He sat upright, with her curled up beside him, her head on his lap.  He stroked her hair gently and she snuggled into him, breathing in his scent and smiling contentedly.  After a time, she rolled over onto her back, looking up at Him.  They smiled in tandem. 

“So, what did you think?” she asked, “Do I make a good spy?”
“You do.  Though I have to say, it didn't take much to break you,” he replied, smirking a little.
“Oh, is that so?  I'll have to get you for that, Mister 'Ve have vays of meeking you talk.'”
“I didn't sound like that!”

She held up a hand, finger and thumb extended, held close together.  “Just a little.”

He smiled.  “Thank you.  That was a fun fantasy.”
“It was.  But next week is my turn, honey.  And you are gonna be in a heck of a ride.”
“I look forward to it.”  

She rolled back over, tilted her head to gaze over at the fire, lazily lapping against crumbling logs.  “But that's not until next week.  For now, let's just be.”


They stayed there until the fire died down into embers, Mark's hand resting gently on Elle's shoulder, the two drifting off peacefully.  Later they would clean up, return to their normal routines.  Well, until next weekend.  Then the game would continue anew. 

