Most agents would spend weeks planning this infiltration. But I am not most agents.

For example, unlike every officer of the Agency, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve died.

I’m a bit of a spoilsport like that. It’s not even a fair fight. How do you stop an opponent that’s unkillable in every way that matters? Felix Devereaux and his Panthers are about to find out the answer: you don’t, because you can’t. You just lose.

Here’s the thing. It’s really, really hard to defend against someone who doesn’t care if they die.

The Panthers are professional thieves with a sky-high bodycount, and an atavistic fondness for hand tools that make MEDEVAC teams retch on arrival. Their compound is a repurposed food distribution hub two miles from the river, and twenty yards from a neighbour whose only defence is his abysmal Yelp rating. The last recon drone they shot down was returned to us with a smoked-out memory board and a note stuffed in the chassis: “NICE TRY.”

I kind of respect that.

The briefing on them was, understandably, super-serious. “Devereaux is dangerous. The Panthers are ex-military. Proceed with extreme caution, Agent Helden.” Blah blah blah. I mean, I get it, they do this stuff to a standard template. Every operative in the Agency has some kind of power, but none other than me is on the record as resetting time, and they’re hardly going to develop a bespoke briefing format just for me. Of course they’re telling me to be cautious.

But let’s be honest. Who needs cautious when you functionally can’t die?

I’m on an abandoned tenement rooftop a fair distance away. I’m studying the compound through a pair of binoculars, and I’ll switch to the marksman rifle when it’s time to disable anyone outside who may be an obstacle. For close quarters once inside, I’ll be relying on my pistol.

Apparently, the Panthers’ next operation is a museum heist. The Agency wants that nipped in the bud with a surgical in-and-out. Minimum noise, capture or kill the baddies. And they’ll get that, eventually, because I always get the job done.

But not on the first loop.

What’s the point of having a superpower if you don’t use it?

The compound’s main entrance is guarded by cameras, and probably motion sensors too. For good measure, it’s currently watched by two men with SMGs who look like they bench-press engine blocks for fun. Standard procedure would be to find a blind spot, disable the security systems, and slip in undetected.

But I’m going to neutralise these two guys and then walk right up to the front door.

There’ll be alarms and more guards inside, for sure. If they kill me—when they kill me—I’ll simply wake up right here again, armed with a bit more knowledge of their defences, their response times, their tactics. Then, I’ll try again, die again, learn some more, until there’s nothing left to learn — and the bad guys have no distance left to run.

Like I said. Not even a fair fight.

I roll my shoulders and feel the satisfying pop of tension releasing. Time to start the loop. I put down the binos and switch to the rifle, lining up the first guard in my scope.

Inhale. Hold. Squeeze.

His partner has barely enough time to register that something’s going horribly wrong, before I once again inhale, hold, and squeeze.

Two for two.

I leave the rifle behind — it’ll be on the rooftop again, waiting for me, when I die and reset the loop — and make my way to the fire escape ladder. My heart should be racing—normal people feel fear before storming a fortress of killers—but I barely experience adrenaline anymore.

I walk with purpose towards the main entrance with the confidence of the unkillable. I could be subtler, but why bother? This is just a recon run. I’ll probably die in the next five minutes, and when I reset, I’ll know exactly what’s waiting for me inside.

Let’s go find out.

I kick the front door open and make my way in, gun raised.

“Knock knock,” I say jovially as I step inside. I’m being purposefully direct and over the top — trying to get it right the first time would simply be a waste of effort. The first death is always the most educational.

Inside, I find myself in a hangar-like space, lined with catwalks. I take note of the security cameras overlooking the entrance and what I assume to be the motion sensor. As my eyes adjust to the dimness of the space, I notice three Panthers stand on one such catwalk at the far end, weapons drawn but — oddly — not firing. They exchange glances, then retreat through a doorway.

Strange. Based on his profile, I didn’t take Felix for the cautious type.

And yet, what’s in front of my eyes can’t be denied. This isn’t the panicked response of thugs caught off-guard. I file that information away for the next loop as I follow them through a series of corridors. Left turn, right turn, past what looks like a communications center. I commit as much of the internal layout to memory as I can.

Eventually, I find myself into what appears to be a storage area. Small, concrete walls, single exit. Something feels off.

The whir above me comes a split second too late for reaction. One second I’m standing, the next I’m suspended off the ground, wrapped in a mesh net that’s fully enveloped me.

Alright, that’s the first trap for the night. Let’s see if I can get out and find any more traps before I have to inevitably reset the loop.

I reach for my combat knife. I think it will allow me to escape the mesh net, but even if it doesn’t, I’ve got options. My pistol, obviously, and the Agency-issued cyanide pill I keep tucked away on my person as well.

A metallic clatter draws my attention to the floor below. A small cylindrical canister rolls into view, spinning to a stop directly beneath me. Red vapor begins to hiss from its vents.

Poison gas? I mean, it’s slower and more painful than cyanide, but the end result is the same, so, fine by me. I return my attention to the knife in my hand — only to find it growing heavy. And heavier… how… how fast-acting is this gas, exactly? My limbs grow unresponsive. The… knife… no…

It slips my fingers. Thoughts slip my mind. I…

Darkness swallows me whole.

* * *

I’m drifting. Floating. Consciousness comes like water seeping through cracks—slow, hesitant, unwelcome. My head is pounding. My thoughts are scattered like puzzle pieces across a floor. Something’s wrong. Everything’s wrong.

Where am I? I should be back atop the roof, outside the compound. The realisation hits me with nauseating force. I’m still here.

I try to move, but my arms and legs refuse to obey. Gradually, sensation returns—the bite of restraints against my wrists and ankles, the hard surface of a chair beneath me, the chill air against my skin. Too much skin. My gear is gone. My weapons. Everything.

I force my eyes open. The room swims into focus—concrete walls, dim lighting, a drain in the center of the floor. Three figures stand before me, watching me.

This isn’t right. I should have reset. I always reset.

“Welcome back, Special Agent.” The voice is cultured, precise. The speaker steps forward—a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair and eyes like frozen glass. Felix Devereaux. “I must say, your entrance was rather dramatic. Not particularly effective, but dramatic nonetheless.”

I try to speak, but my voice comes out as a rasp. “How long?”

“About six hours,” says a bulkier man to Felix’s right. “The gas we used is our own special blend. No permanent damage, but it does leave quite the hangover.”

“Carlos is being modest,” Felix says. “He developed it himself. Just as Xinyu here designed the trap that caught you.” He gestures to the lanky Asian man on his left, who regards me with detached curiosity.

I pull against my restraints, testing them. They don’t give even a millimeter.

“Don’t bother,” says Xinyu, speaking for the first time. His voice is deeper than I expected. “The cuffs will hold. Besides. If we wanted you dead, you’d be dead already.”

That’s exactly what I’m afraid of, but they don’t need to know that.

“What do you want?” I ask, trying to inject strength into my voice.

Felix laughs. “What do I want? You’re the one who burst into my home, killed two of my men, and loudly announced your presence. I think the better question is: what do you want, Special Agent...?“

“I was just bored,” I say, forcing out a smirk. How bad can this really be? As soon as I die, it will all never have happened. “Just thought I’d drop by, see what all the fuss was about.”

“Right,” Felix says with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. He studies me for a moment. “But there’s no doubt you are a Special Agent. Although more reckless than any I’ve ever met before.“

“You have no idea,” I mutter, testing the restraints again. The leather holds my wrists, and there’s no give whatsoever. I consider my options. No weapons, no tools, nothing sharp within reach. Even my cyanide pill is gone—they must have searched me thoroughly while I was unconscious.

“Oh, but I think I do,” Felix says, circling my chair pensively. “You see, we’ve sparred with your Agency before. Most of your colleagues would have approached with caution. But you?” He stops directly in front of me, tilting his head. “You walked through my front door like you owned the place. That’s either supreme confidence or supreme stupidity.”

“Maybe both,” Carlos interjects with a smirk.

I meet Felix’s gaze steadily. “Just get it over with. Whatever you’re planning.”

“Get what over with?” Felix asks, feigning innocence. “You seem to be operating under some misconception about how this ends.“

My stomach tightens. Something in his tone...

Felix turns to his companions. “Gentlemen, what do you think? Our guest seems eager to conclude our business.”

Carlos steps closer, studying me with dark eyes. “She’s pretty. Athletic build. Good muscle tone.” His gaze crawls all over my exposed skin in a way that makes me shudder. “Could be useful.”

“Useful how?” Xinyu asks, though something in his expression suggests he already knows the answer.

“Well,” Carlos continues, “all work and no play…”

“She is rather striking,” Felix muses, reaching out to grip my chin, forcing me to look up at him. I try to jerk away, but the restraints hold me in place.

“I vote we keep her,” Carlos says, his hand moving to rest on his belt. “At least for a while.”

Xinyu nods slowly. “The lower level has been reinforced. Soundproof. She wouldn’t be going anywhere.”

Felix nods pensively at that, his eyes still staring deep into mind. “Yes… breaking a federal agent... that could be quite satisfying.”

They’re not talking to me anymore. They’re talking about me, like I’m not even here. My heart pounds against my ribs. This can’t be happening. I need to die. I need to reset. But looking around the bare room, at my secured limbs, at the three men discussing my fate like I’m livestock... there’s nothing. No way out. The only thing that can kill me is them.

I guess I know what I must do.

I spit in Felix’s face.

He doesn’t flinch. He simply produces a handkerchief from his pocket and wipes away the saliva with an affectation of calm. “Predictable,” he says. “But I suppose we should expect that from a good little soldier trained to follow orders.”

“Fuck you,” I say, pulling against the restraints. “You think you can intimidate me? I’ve dealt with worse than you.”

“Have you?” Felix’s voice is soft, almost gentle. “I wonder.”

“You think you’re so fucking smart.” I shift to a lower pitch, pouring as much poison into my voice as I can. I have to get the fuckers riled up. “But you’re just another two-bit criminal with delusions of grandeur. The Agency will burn this place to the ground when they find out what you’ve done.”

Felix’s expression doesn’t change, but Carlos takes a step forward, his hand twitching. Good. That’s what I need.

“Go ahead,” I taunt, focusing on Carlos now. “Shoot me. Put a bullet in my brain. That’s all you animals know how to do anyway, right?”

Carlos’s jaw tightens, but Felix raises a hand, stopping him. “Now, now. Our guest has quite a mouth on hers, and one we’ll put to good use, but first…”

He studies me with his deep, cold eyes. “Most people in your position would be begging for their lives. But you seem almost eager to die.”

“Maybe I just don’t want to spend another second looking at your face, tough guy.”

Felix shrugs. “Darling, we’re a crew of hardened male criminals, and we’re all men. Deflecting tough questions with humour is something we do all day, I see right through you. So, what is it? Do you have a death wish?” He glances at Carlos. “Reminds me of someone.”

Carlos rolls his eyes. “Whatever. At leastI never walked into an enemy compound announcing myself like I’m delivering pizza.”

“Fair point,” Felix concedes, returning his attention to me. “Whatever your reasons, I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint you.” He gestures to my body. “You see, I’m a man of culture. I enjoy the finer things in life. Why would I ever waste such a fine piece of female fuckmeat.”

What the hell did he just say?

The words hit something primal in me. A background understanding that I suspect is buried deep in the mind of every woman. We’ve all been socialised knowing there are men like this. We’ve all known men like this. And I’m at the mercy of one of them.

I’ve been called many things in my career, but never that.

Female fuckmeat. The casual way he says it, like he’s discussing cuts at a butcher shop. My stomach drops.

He nods to Carlos, who moves behind my chair. I feel hands in my hair, gathering it into a fist. My head is yanked back, exposing my throat.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Felix says, leaning closer. “You’re going to do what you do best: you’re going to follow orders.”

“Like hell I—”

The slap comes from nowhere, snapping my head to the side despite Carlos’s grip on my hair. My cheek burns, tears springing unbidden to my eyes.

“I didn’t ask for your inpit,” Felix says calmly. “You speak only when spoken to. Nod if you understand.”

I glare at him, jaw clenched. This is fine. This is all fine. They’ll get bored eventually, or careless, and then I can provoke them into killing me. Reset the loop. Try again.

Make them pay for every slight.

Another slap, harder this time. I think my lower lip is cracked.

“I said, nod if you understand.”

I remain silent, defiant. Let them hit me. If he gets angry enough, maybe…

Carlos chuckles darkly. “A feisty one. I call dibs. I want to go first with her.”

“Patience,” Felix says. “We need to prepare our guest properly first. Xinyu, the collar?”

The broad-shouldered man produces something from a nearby table—a thick shock collar. My heart hammers as he approaches.

“No,” I say, the word coming out smaller than intended.

“Yes,” Felix corrects, watching as Xinyu approaches, collar in hand. “You wanted our attention, Agent. Now you have it. All of it.”

The collar snaps shut around my neck, and for the first time in my career, I experience a brand new, intensely painful emotion.

Fear.

* * *

I don’t know how many days it’s been.

Time becomes an abstract concept, when you’re tucked away from daylight, bound in darkness, fed irregularly, and when sleep is a privilege for your captors to grant or deny on a whim.

I’m always kept restrained, though the positions vary frequently. There are constants, however. One is the collar. It wraps around my throat like a choking grip, it makes me feel reined in, limited, hemmed in, constrained. I feel it with every swallow. Every breath.

Felix always shows up when I’m asleep.

He wakes me with the harsh white glare of the room’s lighting, carrying a clipboard like some sort of perverted therapist. He asks me questions—about the Agency, about my training, about my “reckless behaviour.” When I refuse to answer, or give him attitude, the collar activates.

It hurts…

Carlos prefers a more hands-on approach. He delights in my humiliation, in reducing me to base responses. The first time he made me beg—actually beg—for water, something inside me cracked. Not broke, not yet, but cracked.

Xinyu treats me like an engineering problem to be solved. He’s the one who designed the restraint system that keeps me spread and accessible on the metal frame they’ve installed in my cell. The Use & Display System, he calls it. Use. That’s the word for it. They intend to use me like I’m not even human.

That’s where I am now. In the Use & Display System, spread-eagled and naked except for the training collar. My wrists are bound above my head to a hook in the ceiling. My shoulders burn from the position. Felix circles me slowly, appraising. Carlos sits in a chair nearby, cleaning his nails with a knife. Xinyu adjusts a camera on a tripod.

“Spread your legs,” Felix says.

I keep them together. The shock comes immediately—white-hot electricity coursing through my neck, dropping me to my knees. Or trying to. The restraints keep me from collapsing completely.

“I said spread them.”

This time I obey. What choice do I have? I’ve learned that defiance only brings more pain, never death. Never the reset I need.

Felix continues his inspection, running his hands over my body like I’m livestock at auction. He grabs my breasts, weighing it in his palm. “Good muscle tone, as Carlos noted. Athletic. Responsive. Fantastic tits.” He pinches my nipple hard enough to make me gasp. “See? Very responsive.“

“Let me test that,” Carlos says, setting down his knife. He approaches and slides his hand between my legs without ceremony. I try to pull away but the restraints hold me in place.

“Dry,” he says, displeased. “But that’s easily fixed.” And just like that, he begins working his fingers against me. What is this? It’s madness. It’s lunacy. It’s a fucking nightmare. I… I don’t… I… I stare at the concrete wall beyond his shoulder, trying to distance myself from what’s happening to my body.

“Look at me when I touch you,” he says.

I don’t comply fast enough. Felix activates shock collar again, sending pain radiating from my neck. I gasp, my eyes snapping to Carlos’.

“Better,” he says, increasing the pressure and speed of his fingers on my sex. “Now, let’s see how the Special Agent responds to proper stimulation.”

I recall my Agency training for captured operatives. Section 17, paragraph 3: “Physical responses during sexual assault are involuntary biological reactions and do not constitute consent or enjoyment. Agents must understand their body’s reaction is not within their control.”

The words had seemed so obvious and straightforward in training. They didn’t prepare me for this—for Carlos’s fingers working against my clit with disturbing deftness while Felix and Xinyu watch, for the way my body begins to respond despite my mental revulsion.

They’ve done this before. Many times, perhaps, to many women. They know exactly how to manhandle a female body, how to force reactions out of it, how to train it… wait, is that…? No…

“There we go,” Carlos says when he feels the unwanted wetness building up between my thighs. “Much better.”

I hate that he’s right. I hate that I can feel the unwanted moisture building, the involuntary tightening of muscles, the quickening of my breath. I try to focus on my training. This means nothing. It’s just biology. It doesn’t make me weak. It doesn’t make me theirs.

Felix steps closer. “The body knows what it needs, even when the mind resists. Watch her face, gentlemen. That’s the look of someone fighting a losing battle.”

“Fuck… you…” I manage to say, but my voice wavers as Carlos finds a rhythm that sends unwanted sparks of sensation through my sex.

“You will,” Felix says. “But first, we need to establish some fundamentals. You’re still resisting rule one, and there are so many more you’re yet to learn. Your body belongs to us now. It responds when we want it to.“

Why can’t I just fucking die and reset already?

I’ve tried everything to make them kill me. I’ve bitten Felix’s hand once, while he was touching my face. That earned me thirty seconds of electricity through my neck that left me convulsing on the floor. I’ve spit in Carlos’s eyes the first time he started masturbating me. I’ve even headbutted Xinyu once.

None of it worked. They just hurt me, humiliated me, and continued using me like an animal.

Carlos continues his assault on my senses, his fingers never ceasing their movement. “Look at her trying to hold back. Go ahead, Special Agent. Show us what happens when we play with our new toy.”

I clench my jaw, determined not to give them the satisfaction. But my body betrays me as the sensations build, muscles tensing involuntarily. This is… no… rape is not… sexy. There’s no appeal in being… overpowered and defeated, captured and trained, dehumanised and raped — oh…

“I think she’s close,” Xinyu observes from behind the camera. “Her thighs are trembling.”

I want to scream at them to stop, to kill me, to do anything but this. Instead, I bite my lip hard enough to taste blood, fighting against the unwanted pleasure building within me. It’s like trying to hold back the tide with my bare hands.

That’s when Carlos withdraws his fingers.

To my own shock, a wail of agony leaves my throat. I sound… like some animal in heat. It fills me with repulsion and horror, but Felix seems to find that endlessly amusing.

“Xinyu, make sure you got that on camera. I want to show her later what a natural she is at being our whore. She’s learning, at last.”

“Please,” I whisper, hating myself. “Please just kill me.”

Felix’s only response is to activate the collar again, a lower setting that makes my muscles seize without dropping me. While I’m rigid with electricity, Carlos pushes a finger inside me, and my cunt grips it. The violation is as monstrous for me as it’s matter-of-fact for him. He could be assembling furniture for all the passion he shows.

“Tight pussy,” he comments to Felix, approvingly. “Maybe we should shock her while she comes.”

No. No, they can’t make me—I won’t—

“You’re government property,” Felix says, while Carlos finger-fucks me. “Trained, conditioned, molded into a weapon. All we’re doing is… repurposing you. Wouldn’t you say this is a more pleasurable way of being useful? A more appropriately womanly one, too.”

I want to say something defiant, but Carlos’ finger curls inside me, and speech seems to desert me. The building sensation becomes harder to ignore. My hips betray me, trying to meet Carlos’ finger despite the restraints holding me in place. He chuckles at the sight.

“Look at her go,” he says. “Natural born slut, just needed the right motivation.”

“The camera’s getting excellent footage,” Xinyu says dispassionately. “The transition from resistance to reluctant arousal is quite pronounced.”

Then, the finger-fucking slows.

The frustration is maddening, and I hate myself for feeling it at all.

“Tell me what you are,” Felix says.

I shake my head, jaw clenched. I won’t give him that. I won’t.

The collar activates, sending electricity coursing through me. But Carlos doesn’t stop. My entire body shudders to a horrific mixture of pain, shock, and unwanted pleasure that seems to send my thoughts scrambling in every direction.

“What are you?” Felix asks again.

“F-fuck you…”

Another shock, longer this time. My vision blurs, muscles spasming. When it ends, I’m panting, sweat coating my skin.

“We can do this all day,” Felix says calmly. “What are you?”

I want to die. I need to die. Why won’t they just kill me and let this nightmare end?

Maybe I should just tell him what he wants to hear. When I die, time will reset. None of this will have ever happened. Only I will have knowledge that this happened at all, so if I never tell anyone and never think about it again, it will literally disappear from existence. It’s like reloading a videogame after experiencing a bad outcome.

There’s no harm.

No harm at all.

“I’m…”

“Say it,” Felix says. “Tell us what you are.”

The pleasure builds to an unbearable peak. Every nerve ending screams for release. And in that moment of weakness, the words tumble out:

“I’m… I’m yours.”

“Yours, what?” Felix presses.

“Yours to… to use.”

“Excellent footage,” Xinyu comments from behind the camera. “The psychological break is clearly visible.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Felix says, smugly. He exchanges a look with Carlos, who nods and withdraws his finger from my cunt with a wet plop.

“Carlos,” Felix says, “I do believe you called first dibs, and she seems docile enough. Xinyu, get closer, I want this to look good. And you, bitch… if you try and bite down on my buddy, I’ll make sure you get to experience first-hand how bad the collar is at max power. It won’t kill you, and that’s not a blessing.“

Carlos steps forward, unbuckling his belt. “On your knees.”

The hook above my head lowers mechanically—Xinyu must have a remote. My shoulders scream relief as my arms descend, but I barely have time to register it before Carlos grabs a fistful of my hair and forces me down. My knees hit the concrete hard.

His cock is already half-hard when he pulls it free.

No. Not this. Anything but this. But I’m helpless in the restraints, muscles still weak from my ordeal.

“Open.”

I don’t. The collar activates immediately. My mouth falls open in a gasp of pain, and once the shock has subsided, Carlos pushes himself past my lips. My whole body recoils, but his grip in my hair keeps me in place.

I’ve performed oral sex before, but always on my terms, with partners I chose. This is something else entirely. This is the total absence of choice—ownership, not sex.

I’m not a sexual partner. I’m his raw material.

His cock is already thickening in my mouth, pushing harder against my tongue. The mere sight of my kneeling form, and the warmth of my mouth, must be doing it for him.

I remain still, letting him push against my tongue, unsure what to do beyond simply enduring. The weight of him in my mouth feels alien. My mind keeps screaming that this can’t be real, that I’m meant to be hunting these men, not servicing them on my knees.

“Use your tongue,” Carlos instructs, his voice strained with lust. “And look at me while you do it.”

I reluctantly raise my eyes to meet his, hating myself for it. Hating them more. My tongue moves tentatively against the underside of his shaft. He grows harder in my mouth, expanding until my jaw aches from accommodating him.

“That’s it,” he encourages, his hand still firmly gripping my hair. “Suck it properly now.”

I begin to move my lips, trying to create suction as instructed. Each movement feels like another piece of my identity being stripped away. Special Agent Megan Helden reduced to this—a mouth for a criminal’s pleasure.

“Harder,” Felix says from somewhere behind me. “Show some enthusiasm.”

He wouldn’t use the collar while Carlos is fucking my mouth. I would risk biting down involuntarily. But if I don’t comply, Carlos can just withdraw and let Felix shock me. And if I do bite down…

I’m terrified of what the collar must be like at max setting. Terrified enough that even if I wanted to fight back, my limbs would not obey me.

“Use your hands,” Carlos demands suddenly. “Oh wait, you can’t.” He laughs at his own joke. “Guess that mouth will have to work overtime.”

I want to turn my mind off, to retreat to that dissociative place I always imagined would shelter me in moments of true horror, but even that option is denied to me. I have to stay present and endure every second of humiliation without escape. I need to perform my subjugation. So I increase the pressure, hollowing my cheeks as I work my mouth over Carlos.

His breathing quickens, and his grip on my hair tightens painfully.

“Not bad,” he says, his voice husky. “But I think you can take more.”

I increase the suction, forcing saliva from my throat to slick his cock as it moves in and out of my mouth. The tip presses against the back of my throat, triggering my gag reflex. I feel more than hear Felix’s laughter at my choked, retching sounds.

This feels like being defeated, physically vanquished…

“Relax your throat,” Felix instructs clinically. “Fighting it only makes it worse.”

My eyes sting with the effort not to cry, but I force myself to maintain eye contact with Carlos, like some obscene parody of romantic intimacy. He groans, the sound vibrating through his body, and I realize with nauseating clarity that he’s deeply, sincerely enjoying this. Enjoying me, broken and humiliated at his feet.

“Look at that,” Xinyu comments from behind the camera. “The mighty Special Agent, reduced to sucking cock like a common whore.”

The words cut deeper than they should. No, not like one. I am one. That’s what they’ve made me.

Carlos establishes a rhythm, moving my head back and forth on his cock while I struggle to accommodate him. My jaw aches, my knees burn against the concrete, and my wrists strain against their bonds.

“You’re thinking too much,” Felix says, circling to where I can see him. “I can see it in your eyes. You need to dumb yourself down. To be female is to be dumb for rapist dick.”

I want to glare at him, but I… don’t have it in me.

“She’s getting better,” Carlos says, his voice tight with pleasure. “Quick learner.”

“That’s her training at work,” Felix replies with a smirk. “Tax dollars well spent.”

Their casual banter while I’m being violated is almost as humiliating as the act itself. They’re not even taking this seriously. To them, I’m just another toy, a novelty because of my former status.

“I think she’s starting to understand her place,” Felix says, running a hand almost tenderly over my hair while Carlos continues using my mouth. “Aren’t you, Agent? Understanding that this is your purpose now?”

I can’t answer with my mouth full of cock, but my eyes must betray something because Felix smiles, satisfied.

“She is,” he says. “I can see it happening. The moment when she accepts what she is.”

Carlos increases his pace, his cock hitting the back of my throat with each thrust. I focus on breathing through my nose, on being a satisfactory throat cock-sleeve.

“I’m close,” Carlos announces, his grip on my hair becoming painful. “Where do you want it, boss?”

Felix considers for a moment. “In her mouth. Make her swallow it all like a good girl.”

The thought makes my stomach lurch, but I have no say in the matter. Carlos’s thrusts become erratic, his breathing harsh. I close my eyes, unable to look at him any longer.

“Eyes open,” Felix snaps, and I feel the collar remote in his hand press against my cheek. “Watch him while he finishes in your mouth.”

I force my eyes open, meeting Carlos’s gaze as he stares down at me with triumph and lust. The expression every man has ever had when he’s had a woman at his mercy. His face contorts, and I feel him swell against my tongue before the first pulse hits the back of my throat.

I try to turn away, by instinct more than anything else, but he holds me in place as he pumps all his cum into my mouth, emptying himself, using me as an oral receptacle for every single drop.

I swallow convulsively, fighting every instinct to spit or vomit. Carlos keeps himself lodged in my mouth until he’s certain I’ve taken it all, then finally releases me. I slump forward as much as the restraints allow, gasping and coughing.

A trickle of cum escapes the corner of my mouth despite my efforts, trailing down my chin.

Felix takes care to avoid touching that trickle when he tilts my chin up with his finger, examining my face.

“How does it feel?” Felix asks, his voice soft but penetrating. “To be on your knees for the men you were sent to capture?“

I don’t answer. Can’t answer. The words won’t come.

As Xinyu approaches with a cloth to wipe my face, I stare at Felix’s eyes of frozen glass, trying to find some part of myself that hasn’t been violated or broken.

I don’t find one.

* * *

Days blur into weeks. Or maybe it’s only been days that feel like weeks.

They have me on all fours today, Carlos behind me, his hands gripping my hips as he pounds into me like a rutting beast. Felix sits in front of me, watching my face like he’s searching for something, while Xinyu captures my conquest on camera, as usual.

I’ve stopped fighting. Stopped resisting. My body has learned to respond without my permission, wetness coming unbidden when they touch me, muscles clenching around whatever they put inside me. The collar has trained me well.

I’ve been such a good girl that my hands aren’t even bound, this time.

This will be their downfall, because while my body is being tamed, my mind is still searching. Still hunting for that one moment, that one opportunity.

And then I see it.

Felix has gotten comfortable. Too comfortable. He’s forgotten to remove the gun at his hip. It sits loose in its holster. He’s leaning back in his chair, one hand on his thigh, the other holding a glass of whiskey. Relaxed. Satisfied with my destruction.

Carlos grunts behind me, his rhythm faltering as he approaches climax. His grip loosens slightly, hands sliding up to my waist. It’s a small change, but it’s enough.

I’ve been docile for so long that they’ve forgotten what I am. What I was trained to be.

Carlos shudders, pressing deep as he finishes inside me, rope after rope of cum shooting into my pussy. Absurdly, I find myself thinking that I have access to the best, most unfailing morning-after pill to have ever existed. I just need to die in order to access it.

Men, especially rapist men like these, see their climax as the culmination of their conquest, but it’s also a moment of distraction and vulnerability. A moment is all I need. I lunge forward with explosive force, my body remembering its training even after such a prolonged abuse. I’m using up my body’s very last reserves of strength. I must make it count.

My hands reach for Felix’s gun.

“What the—” Felix starts, but I’m already moving.

My fingers close around the grip. I don’t aim at them—that would be a pointless waste of time. Instead, I lift the gun towards my face.

It takes only a split second, probably too fast for them to register that I’m not trying to shoot them. That’s for the best. A man with a gun who’s been trained to eliminate threats doesn’t think when he sees a captive seizing a weapon. He just acts.

I see Carlos draw his sidearm in my peripheral vision. Time slows as I turn toward him, making sure to keep Felix’s gun raised. Even if I fumble up my own shot, Carlos will get me. He’s the best shooter of the trio. I can count on him to get the job done.

I enjoy the look of surprise in Felix’s eyes when I press the gun against my own left temple.

“I’ll be back,” I say.

And then, Carlos and I both pull the trigger.

* * *

The in-between is a strange place.

It’s like… a steady, persistent tide. It is a sea that stretches from east to west and north to south. It’s a sea that’s never known the kiss of the sun, because the sky above is a black mantle dotted with distant, angry stars. Red dots that look like rubies, really.

It’s a sea with no bottom, no beginning, and no end.

Life may tire, but death does not. The tide is gentle, but it is relentless. It drags my consciousness with it, with the calm determination of an unstoppable force of nature. All I can do is flow with it, float upon the crest of its waves, until they deliver me, once again, unto the beach of consciousness.

It’s nice, the in-between. The beach is even nicer, though I don’t get to linger there long. It’s… a rule, I think. I can’t really explain it any better than that.

When I resurface, I find myself on the rooftop of a damp and desolate building, overlooking a repurposed food distribution hub two miles from the river. With me, I have a pair of binoculars, a marksman rifle… and now, a burning hatred, such as I have never known before.

It’s time for Felix, Xinyu, and Carlos to discover the truth. Most agents would be so scarred by this experience that even if they could reset time the way I do, they would not be fit for duty. But, as it happens…

I am not most agents.

TO BE CONTINUED…