Seizing The Spy

Agnes Merriweather steps into the office like she owns the place, and Tina feels the trap click shut. She's no lost visitor. The polished heels. The briefcase. The calm that smells like a lie. Tina cuts her off before she reaches the records wing, one hand closing hard around that slender wrist. Agnes fights back fast—shoving, twisting, teeth bared—but Tina is quicker, meaner, and already dragging her into the locked supply room. The door slams. A length of cord appears. Agnes's wrists are yanked behind her, cinched tight, and she’s shoved onto her knees. Still, the spy won’t crack. Tina’s fingers knot the black hair into a fist and yank her head back. The ball gag presses between perfect teeth, buckles snap, and Agnes’s angry protests turn into wet, muffled sounds. Tina leans in close, voice low, promising pain if the truth doesn’t come. When silence is all she gets, Tina drops to her own knees and shows exactly how she intends to break her. Her mouth slides over Agnes’s skin, lips parting, taking her deeper, tongue working until the spy’s breathing hitches and her hips jerk against the ropes. Every slick pull is a question. Every choked moan is an answer Agnes is still trying not to give.