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Chloe- Dominated and Degraded
Chapter 19
At roughly the same time as Chloe, or what remained of her, was returned to the US, a Bureau agent by the name of Frances Connolly died in an automobile accident while enjoying an extended vacation in Europe. It turned out that the wheels were already turning to see what opportunities presented themselves if the new double agent that was being prepared could somehow penetrate the Bureau. The timing was right since agent Connolly was not due back for another month, and she had been reassigned to a different location. To make this situation even more attractive the agent in question had no living close relatives and a quick background check indicated that she was not involved with any member of the opposite sex. The upper echelon at the CIA decided to go for it.
Chloe was exactly one inch shorter than who she was replacing, but that was easily handled with special lifts in her business shoes. Her full figured body had to be shaved down considerably, approaching the form of the original agent Starkers. A new top-secret process was utilized that used nanotechnology to alter her retinal pattern and fingerprints so she matched those of agent Connolly. Minimal changes in her accent had to be made, but they proved trivial. Exactly three days before the original agent Connolly was due back in the States, Chloe Starkers made the transition. The one thing that amazed and also troubled her handlers was her ability to commit to memory incredible amounts of information on her subject, enabling her to withstand the most challenging interviewer.
The new assignment also meant a new section head, and the CIA spent many hundreds of hours doing detailed background checks on Cynthia Farnsworth. She was in her mid-thirties, married, came from a family well known in Beltway society, had spent the last eight years in various positions of increasing responsibility at the Bureau, and was highly regarded by her organization. What these checks failed to unearth was that Cynthia Farnsworth was bisexual with a very dominant personality, and her marriage was one of convenience since her husband of the past five years was also dominant, and used his wife's circle of friends and associates as a hunting ground for his particular needs.
On Monday morning agent Frances Connolly reported to her new assignment In Atlanta. She breezed through the check-in process and was issued a new badge to replace her old one. By one o'clock that afternoon she was at her desk, waiting to be welcomed by her new section chief, agent Cynthia Farnsworth, and given her first assignment. She was not expecting much and was not disappointed. However there was something about her new supervisor that said caution, trouble ahead. Chloe Starkers had strong lesbian tendencies, and this version of her still recognized one of her own kind almost immediately. On the other side of the coin, agent Farnsworth was singularly unimpressed by the new agent, which was fine with Connolly/Starkers.
The week crawled by as she attended to her assignments and did her best to keep a low profile. The only initial problem she had was adjusting to the new types of pollen that were native to this area. By midweek she was wheezing and her eyes were red and teary; sleeping had become fitful at best. Chloe/Frances initially attributed the sleep difficulties to her allergic reactions, which prior to now had been nonexistent. Then the dreams started and quickly turned into nightmares. She was back in West Virginia, a lonely girl of fifteen. She relived her rape at the hands of the gang of boys. The next evening she was almost afraid to try to sleep but surrendered to exhaustion and now it wasn' t a gang of boys raping her, it was a pack of slavering dogs, huge creatures with sharp teeth and claws who fought each other for the right to mount their bitch and when they did they revealed enormous cocks that felt as if they were splitting her poor virgin pussy asunder with each and every stroke. She awoke from the nightmare screaming and stayed up until dawn for fear that she would relive that terrifying dream.
Work was now turning into a chore as the combination of allergies and lack of sleep took their toll. It was her supervisor's secretary, a tall, well built, black woman with features marred only by a scar beneath her left eye, who displayed some sympathetic interest for the new agent's plight. Jamela Jefferson had been with her boss for over four years and they had much in common. She too was a dominant lesbian, but traveled in slightly different circles, generally preying on her own race, especially young women in their twenties, mostly those having difficulties identifying their own sexuality. On occasion she had even slept with her supervisor's husband, Greg, not a problem since he and Cynthia had a marriage of convenience and their common interest was in domination not sexual conquest as a stand-alone focus.
It was Jamela who supplied her new friend with powerful sedatives that helped her sleep and made the nighmares retreat further into her subconscious. At the end of the week a slightly improved agent Connolly accepted Jamela's invitation to go for a drink after work. She never made it home that weekend, which greatly upset her handlers who had been tracking her every move via the ceramic composite microtransducers embedded in her body. To say that her relationship with her supervisor's secretary was sudden and unplanned would not be accurate. The first moment Jamela set eyes on the slim, mousy-looking agent, she decided that she wanted her as a toy. To Jamela this young white woman would be a refreshing change from all those wealthy, insecure, black twenty-somethings who were attracted to her powerful presence like insects to a bright light.
If there was ever a female desperately wanting to be seduced by a powerful woman, this was her. It was almost too easy. First a drink , nothing with too much of a kick to it, some conversation, a few broad hints about having nothing to do this weekend, and then a second drink, this one with a bit of a kick to it. Jamela was well known at this watering hole and always got what she wanted, including a change of drinks without her companion realizing it. Some more conversation, a few more hints that agent Connolly should just let her new friend, Jamela, be her guide on a magical mystery tour of the underground of Atlanta, then closure. She bundled her tipsy prey into a cab and then the drive to her place. The doorman, a black man who she tipped heavily to keep his loyalty, ushering her into the side door and then up the freight elevator with her precious cargo in tow.
Once she got the door opened and her companion inside, Jamela changed from friend and confidant to mistress. Chloe was ordered to remove all her clothing and leave it in the small closet set into one of the walls of the alcove. She was most pleased to watch her new slave immediately begin to comply with her command. This one was made to order for her needs this weekend. One thing did trouble Jamela somewhat; the girl did not appear to be embarrassed in anyway by standing naked before someone she barely knew, in her apartment no less. To test her limits, the secretary ordered her to spread her cunt lips so she could see what kind of a tramp she had brought home to her nice, well-appointed apartment. In seconds she was staring at the pink her slave was displaying. This was going to be a very interesting weekend thought the black woman. She wasn't going to have to cancel any of her appointments after all.
Her guest followed the black dominatrix to the large tiled bathroom and watched dispassionately as her mistress removed her clothing to reveal a body that was firm and well-toned with large melon shaped breasts that showed no sign of sagging without the support of her bra. She had a flat stomach, hips that flared out into the type of womanly curves that attracted the eyes of men as well as jealous women, and long legs that were shapely and almost muscular thanks to the exercise program she studiously followed.
Imposing as she was, it was her pubic hair that attracted her new slave's eyes. It was thick and dark as midnight, spreading from thigh to thigh with tendrils that encroached onto her lower belly if that array of abdominal muscles could be described in such a weak term. Jamela looked like the cat that was about to swallow the canary as she watched the look on her little friend's face, and the way she nervously licked her lips. Oh yes, this one was going to be very entertaining. Jamela began to wonder just what her limits might be. Perhaps it might take more than just a weekend to discover the answer.
The dominatrix signaled for her slave to kneel before the toilet once she had settled down on it and prepared to release the contents of her bladder, which under normal circumstances she'd have done before leaving the bar. The pale-eyed blonde stared at her mistress as she relieved herself noisily. When Jamela was finished, she tilted her body back and spread her thighs wide. All she had to do was give Frances a stern look and the blonde leaned forward and pushed out her pink tongue so it could clean off the droplets that glistened within the abundant pubic hair she was displaying. Jamela closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensations that her new slave's tongue provided.
Afterward the black woman retrieved a chamberpot, the old fashioned type with ears for handles, and instructed Frances that she was to use this and only this when she had to empty her bladder and had received permission from her mistress or her delegate. It was the last portion of that order that made Chloe shiver with dread. Under no circumstances was her cover to be broken, that was her prime directive. The more exposure to people she had, the more risky her disguise became. There would always be a remote but finite chance that someone would recognize that this was not Frances Connolly. That could be fatal for Chloe Starkers or the entity that now contained her, Magda and Frances.
Her mistress decided that she and Frances would take a shower together. Soon Chloe found herself kneeling before the black secretary, her tongue buried inside her fat-lipped cunt, working to relax her tight pussy so she might go even deeper to tend to her needs. Jamela's strong hands held onto her slave's hair and guided her face from place to place, making sure that her fast tongue was continuously occupied with learning all her sweet spots both outside and inside that gash of a cunt she possessed. As the warm water cascaded from Jamela's body, Chloe was moved to the insides of her soapy thighs. First she kissed them from the juncture at her torso and then down to just above her knees, going over every inch of the way with tongue and lips while her mistress sighed and crooned that she was doing such a good job she would soon have a reward.
The reward was forthcoming once she finished worshipping the backs of her mistress' legs. Jamela bent over and parted her firm buttocks to reveal that unblinking eye guarding the entrance to her rectum. Chloe did not need any prodding to know what was expected of her. She leaned forward, extended her stiff tongue and probed Jamela's anus, bringing a grunt from her mistress who then backed her hindquarters up against the agent's face. Jamela moved to and fro in a rocking motion pressuring and releasing her slave's tongue which had developed its own life as it continued to try to gain entry into that dark region forbidden to most but not Chloe, her devoted slave.
The black dominatrix abruptly ended this little reward and in a low throaty voice ordered Frances to gently wash her breasts with the soapy cloth she handed to the agent. Chloe was very careful not to do anything to anger her mistress, rubbing and teasing those firm melons until she could not help but notice the stiffening of the woman's nipples. Jamela once more backed up into her slave's body and ground her buttocks against Chloe's groin. This movement excited the pale blonde to the point that she felt light-headed. Then she heard the word "lower", and she understood immediately that she must be ultra- careful in handling the vulva and vagina of her mistress, even though the soft, soapy cloth was acting as a buffer between her unworthy hands and Jamela's genitals. Somehow she survived this latest test of her skill at worshipping Jamela's holy of holies.
Once out of the shower, Chloe patted her mistress dry, being very careful not to use too much force. This made Jamela quite happy to have a slave who was such a quick study. She was beginning to think that Frances might be a gift from the gods for some kindness she had done to some nameless seeker of her talents. In truth, no matter what they wanted, it was always what they received that counted in her book. A slave was a slave no matter how rich and powerful they seemed to be before they entered her world and had to do her bidding. This one so far had passed all the tests with surprising ease. Was it possible that she was someone escaped from another master or mistress? This was something that she must learn, and learn quickly. If she only knew how close to the truth she had just come, Jamela would have been for once in her life, truly astonished.
(To be continued-lex ludite)
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