Jane Bound, British secret agent Eta, had come through worse scrapes than this. Yes, her cover had been blown. Yes, Irma Blofuq had captured Bound and shackled her in this so-called “conditioning chamber.” For three hours, perhaps more, the subliminal-laden music had played, the scent of trance-enhancing aphrodisiacs heavy in the air, while the screens inside the blindfold had danced with fascinating, will-sapping light shows.

No matter. Bound knew that she was too strong for Blofuq’s brainwashing tricks. She had been using that time to slowly, step-by-step, slip her left hand free of the shackles. Bound was almost free, almost able to slip her hand out and attend to what mattered.

As Bound pulled her left hand out of the shackle, she wondered for a moment why it plunged beneath her panties. Wasn’t she supposed to use her free hand to escape the other shackle?

There will be time for that later, Bound thought in a voice that was more like Blofuq’s than her own. You can do that after you’ve cum a few times.

Driven by the music and the lights and the drugs, Bound’s fingers drove her body into a frenzy of bliss. In the end, this was just one more scrape Jane Bound would need to cum through.

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