On a sunny day in Los Angeles, as chilled sounds play in a rather banal Lalaland studio, a small group of people huddle behind a camera.
They are watching as an extraordinarily handsome Adonis with a peaches and cream complexion strikes poses over and over. With the lack of fuss, it would be easy to mistake this for just another photo shoot. Instead it was all a front. Everyone--model and photographer included--were mercenaries employed by the A.C.E. (Agents of Covert Espionage), an organization bent on destroying the W.A.V.E.—the global force for truth, justice and the American Way. It was an assemblage founded by former W.A.V.E. member, Bad Karma who chafed under the yoke of their newly psychotic-dominated organization. His group was headed by empowered, and in some cases incredibly embittered young men. They'd branded the male members of the W.A.V.E. as sellouts. And they would stop at nothing to destroy them.
Agent Lamprey and Agent Avalanche had been deployed to destroy this formerly hidden branch of A.C.E.. A preemptive strike that not all of the agents agreed with, but to which none protested.
"We're going to have to do this the hard way," he muttered, glancing sideways at Agent Lamprey as they calmly made their way towards the decorated set where the photo shoot was taking place. "No powers. The top brass doesn't want A.C.E. to gather intelligence on what we can do. Lord knows Bad Karma has provided this cell with enough intel on us already."
James nodded, noting how cool and collected his former mentor was. Agent Avalanche had skin the color of creamy cappuccino and hair as dark and as glossy as raven wings. He was stunningly handsome, and yet was incredibly deadly with or without his powers.
From what he knew of Karl, he had grown up a missionary's kid and had lived in China. His mother supposedly died giving birth to him, and his father had wanted nothing to do with him. This, of course, led to his feeling that he was a great disappointment to his growing up. He identified with the aggressive lawless males around him: he played with his two thieving brothers, and most of his friends were thugs. Because of his dad's obvious disdain for him, he might have developed an inferiority complex ... especially when he began to manifest his seismic powers. The powers he would be forced to keep secret for years.
Luckily his Uncle Samuel stepped in. With his father's brother's grooming, Agent Avalanche's slicker side was brought out to the point where he couldn't wear outfits that didn't have preppy, almost nerdy cuts. And his natural handsomeness was enhanced to the point where he could only be described as stunning.
Agent Lamprey knew he was an extraordinarily handsome man himself--possessing penetrating blue eyes and a mysterious-yet-seductive air that always kept one guessing. Still, Agent Avalanche had a serene, ethereal quality that was extremely arresting. James's first thought upon meeting him was that he had the aura of a raven-haired angel. In the years since that meeting however, he discovered that "demon" was probably a more appropriate description of his menacing former mentor.
James worked very hard during their training sessions, and he hated being mentored by this man who clearly disliked him--this snapping savage who was constantly barking orders at him and was even physically abusive when the alluring young man didn't get things right as fast as he would have liked. Fighting techniques that came easily to him were often very hard for James to learn at first, for the nature of his powers prompted contrary responses to physical confrontations. Agent Lamprey was often frustrated with himself because he couldn't learn offensive and defensive moves as fast as some of the other agents. But whenever he was discouraged, Karl worked him even harder to learn the new techniques. And instead of being appreciative James hated him for it. Mainly because Agent Avalanche showed no sign of caring about him improving. His mentor just seemed to enjoy torturing him.
The fact that he had been forced to endure being a student of a more experienced agent had been unbearable to James. He was a natural leader after all. And even if that wasn't the case, why had the W.A.V.E. placed him under the thumb of a psychotic tyrant like Karl Sutton? The two had been at odds for nearly every second of every day they spent together. Working apart they were bitter rivals--always seeking to outdo the other on individual cases. Their rivalry was often counterproductive, for their refusal to share information sometimes resulted in failed or scrubbed missions stemming from a lack of credible intelligence.
Now they had been paired together....
Agent Lamprey had no choice but to trust Karl Sutton on this mission. And Karl, in turn, had no choice but to put his faith in his former apprentice. They had not gone far when he heard a soft whisper of warning, and an unspoken tug on his heart. Agent Avalanche slowed and raised a hand to signal for James to stop, but suddenly they were surrounded by armed A.C.E. Legionnaires and facing a sea of firearm barrels. Deathstrike, who had been masquerading as the high-class mode, stood before them, his expression cold and remote. Bart Valentine, also known as Deathstrike, was a statuesque man with a broad chest and ash blonde hair. Agent Lamprey felt the urge to just let loose with his abilities--psionically seduce this Adonis into kissing his toes or tenderly massage his hard calves. But he followed the directive given to him and remained powered-down.
Deathstrike and several A.C.E. Legionnaires dragged the two agents into separate bikram rooms hidden directly behind the photo set and separated by a long hallway. After stripping them naked they tied their wrists to iron shackles that dangled from each of the room's ceiling. Both women struggled and kicked but did not resort to using their powers. Even while the Legionnaires were tying their ankles together with rope before securing another piece of rope about their legs just below the knees. They even cinched rope around their ankles.
In the larger of the two rooms, Bart and A.C.E. Legionnaire Ryan "Frantic" Ralston's fingers immediately scraped up and down Karl's exceedingly sensitive bare soles. After a few moments of this they used toothbrushes to assail the undersides of the twenty-fout-year-old's toes. Agent Avalanche desperately wriggled his toes and made a frantic attempt to retract his feet, but his ankles were bound too securely together. Deathstrike and Frantic alternated between using toothbrushes and their own fingers. They inserted the brush's bristles between the raven-haired gladiator's perfect bare toes--used them to individually graze over each digit. Karl's laughing screams reverberated throughout the gymnasium, but they were music to the ears of both Deathstrike and Frantic.
"Amazing." Deathstrike said, staring down at the captive nineteen-year-old as he stroked and caressed his supple body. "And I thought Agent Lumino could 'endure' for the greatest length of time!"
The raven-haired gladiator's sleek, nubile and naked form was sheathed in a layer of perspiration. And, surprisingly, his manhood seemed to hum with desire. Deathstrike and Ryan attacked Karl's feet with their fingers again. They moved them in both zigzag patterns and circles around their captive's smooth soles before employing the use of the toothbrushes again. Agent Avalanche screamed, but did not mention how his private parts were throbbing and pulsating with excitement. There was fire in his already hot spot. This fire was being stoked higher and higher with each drag of the toothbrushes and with each and every scrape of Bart and Frantic's fingers against his ultra-sensitive soles.
"Nooooooooooooooooooooo!!!! Hee-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-hahahahahaha-hehehehehehe!!!!" howled Karl as Deathstrike and Frantic attacked his bound feet with far more verve than before. "Stooooooooooooooppppp!! Please!!!!-hee-hee-hee-hee-hee-hee-hee-hee-hee-hee-heese heee heese heese heese heese N-ho ho ho ho ho ho ho ho ho ho ho ha ha he he! N-No more!!! Stoooooop!!!
But both Bart and Ryan made it clear to the alluring dark-haired savage that they'd only just begun.
In the bikram room directly down the hall, James was tortured with as much intensity. First the Legionnaires, through trial and error, discovered that he was very sensitive around his waist and navel and exploited this for all that it was worth. They also mercilessly assailed his naked armpits and ribs, and in seconds they had him jerking about with violent laughter.
These A.C.E.-employed psychotic furies explored every inch of his dangling, ticklish naked body--poking and prodding in an attempt to seek out spots that would produce even better reactions. When he couldn't take it anymore James let loose with his powers. With it he managed to convince them that chaining him up wasn't in anyone's best interest-that, perhaps, tickle torturing him in a spread-eagle position on the floor might be best.
To be continued…
