Gavin Long had been an agent for the CIA for 6 years. He was 30 and had a tight muscular body. He had made several very important connections that provided most of his intel. He forwarded it to headquarters. But a counter agent had discovered Gavin's sources and he was arrested. But rather than send him through the routine interrogation the chief officers arranged for a wrestling match with their most powerful agent and pro wrestler, Je Nun. Je Nun was 29. He was a bodybuilder who wrestled. He loved the idea and said yes. The site was prepared and the list of fans prepared. The time came for the match and the level of anticipation was over the top.
The whistle blew, a sharp, clean note that seemed to hang in the comfortable, air-conditioned air of the room the Chinese secret police had arranged. Gavin Long, all six foot two and two hundred pounds of well-formed muscle, moved forward with the easy confidence of a man who had never met a mat he couldn't own. Je Nun moved faster.
The Chinese giant closed the distance without a flicker of wasted motion. Before Gavin could set his stance, Je had slipped behind him, hooked an arm under Gavin's chin, and torqued his neck back. The first hold bit deep. A rear chin lock, applied with the casual precision of a craftsman, drove the point of his forearm into the hinge of Gavin's jaw. Gavin grunted, defiant, and drove backward, but Je simply shifted his weight and took them both to the mat. For twenty minutes, it was a clinic. A Japanese stranglehold that sent black spots crawling across Gavin's vision. A hammerlock that wrenched his shoulder up between his shoulder blades until he groaned through clenched teeth. A figure-four leglock that made the tendons in his knee scream. Je moved from one hold to the next, never rushing, never overextending, content to let each submission do its work, to let pain pile on pain. Gavin's gasps grew shallower, more ragged. His bucking weakened. By the end of the twenty minutes, he was slick with sweat, his chest heaving, his joints burning. Je released the last hold and stood over him, and the light in his eyes changed. Something colder, something hungrier moved behind them. He was done with injury. Destruction had begun.
Je dropped to his knees beside Gavin and went to work like a man dismantling a machine. His hands found the waistband of Gavin's trunks and tore them away, leaving the agent bare on the mat. The first touch was to his cock, a hard, cupping squeeze that made Gavin hiss. Je's thumb found the head and pushed down. Je folded the shaft at a 180 degree angle almost back on itself until Gavin screamed. The Chinese wrestler smiled. He rolled Gavin onto his stomach and spread him with one hand, then drove two fingers into his ass without preamble, dry and brutal. Gavin's back arched, a wounded snarl ripping from his throat. Je pumped his fingers in and out, curling them, stretching the ring of muscle until it burned. "You sound like a dying pig," Je said, his voice a low, mocking purr. "Good. I like my pork tender." He flipped Gavin over again and lowered his mouth to the agent's left nipple. His teeth found the bud, and he bit—not a nip, but a slow, grinding bite. Gavin screamed. Je savored tonguing the flesh, grinding his teeth until the skin tore and the nipple came free in his mouth. He spat the wet scrap onto Gavin's chest and took the other one, his jaw working with sick patience. When that one came away too, he let it fall beside its pair. He shoved them into Gavin’s mouth and pushed his penis in after them to make sure he swallowed. Then he pumped his tool until he came in a flood of manhood enjoying the tension of release. He pulled out and sought a new target.
His head went lower. He took Gavin's half-hard cock into his mouth, and for one absurd moment, the wet heat of it made Gavin's hips twitch. Je's tongue worked the shaft, tonguing the underside, drawing it up to full, traitorous hardness. He bobbed his head, slow and deliberate, saliva slicking the length of it. Gavin groaned, his hips rising of their own accord. He was being given a suck to produce an explosion. But Je had something else in mind. Suddenly he closed his teeth and began to bite and saw the now hardened instrument. Gavin was suddenly moved from pleasure to pain on a massive scale. Working the shaft near the bottom, he slowly and painfully began to draw blood. He turned again and fucked Gavin's throat in long, brutal strokes, forcing his cock down into Gavin until Gavin's nose pressed against the coarse thatch of hair at the base of Je tool. "Swallow," Je commanded. "Every drop goes to your stomach." He came, a hot, bitter flood, and Gavin gagged but swallowed, the muscles of his throat milking the last of it. Je pulled out and returned to Gavin's cock. It was thick, heavy, and he didn't wait for permission. This time, he chewed. Not gently, not playfully. His jaw worked, teeth sinking into the shaft with crushing deliberation. The skin split. Blood welled, hot and coppery. Gavin's screams became wet, desperate things. Je chewed through the shaft with the unhurried patience of a man making sure the job was done right, until Je pulled the penis off with a lewd, wet pop. He held it up, scarlet and glistening, then began to chew the penis as if eating lunch. Having reduced the tool to mush Je pushed it between Gavin's lips. "Eat," he said.
Gavin’s eyes rolled white, his jaw slack as the flesh settled on his tongue. He did not obey at first, could not, but Je’s fingers found his throat and squeezed, a gentle, patient pressure that became a promise. “Chew,” Je said, and Gavin chewed. He gagged, swallowed, the taste of himself thick and ruinous, and Je watched with the flat attention of a man reading a map. When the last of it was gone, Gavin’s body shuddered out a single, ragged breath, his hands clawing at the mat, a dismembered toy at the mercy of a master . Je wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stood, unhurried, surveying his work with the quiet satisfaction of a craftsman. He leaned down, pressed a kiss to Gavin’s sweat-slicked forehead, almost tender. “You did well,” he said. “Tonight, you learn the price of betrayal.”
Gavin was taken to another room where he was interrogated by other agents. Gavin was defenseless. He was promised a prisoner exchange. He told them everything they wanted. When they finished with him, they sent him back to Je. Je continued his sexual assault for several minutes. The penalty for espionage was death. Je was commissioned to carry out the order. He came close to Gavin and whispered, "Now I will honor my country as you will honor yours.” Je knew the formalities of what he was about to do. First, he had to immobilize the subject. Putting his hands in front and back of Gavin's head he snapped his neck. But that was not designed to kill. The actual killing was a special way Je performed his mission. Je rose to stand on top of the ring corner and jumped with his full body weight planting his knee on the sternum of his target. The pressure on Gavin's chest caused his heart to burst. He was dead in seconds. But Je wanted something to remember this day. Taking the table in the room, he placed the body of Gavin on the table faceup with the head hanging off the edge. Je took a sword that belonged to his family and with one clean swipe severed the head from the body. Je placed the head in a bag and went home. It had been an eventful day, a pleasurable day, and a day of sexual excitement he had never known before thanks to Gavin. He planted Gavin’s head in the family plot as an offering to his ancestors.
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