Tamara - The Case Of The (corrupted) Suits (9) (Patreon)

Tamara - The Case Of The Corrupted Suits - Chapter 2

(Damn! Where Is The Zipper? - Movimento 3)

Part 9

With her body and mind flooded with hormones, Tamara let herself go like she had never let herself go before, no longer caring about anything. Feeling Sam's cock thrusting in and out of her body was far better than she, in her kinky fantasy, could have ever imagined. With each thrust of his hips, the latex poured out like sticky, black, melted tar. Slowly, with each stroke of Sam's cock inside her, more and more of her womb got filled. Tamara knew, or at least she hoped, that after that was finished, her destiny would be forever tied to her new form.

The inner tissue that covered her nipples was closing tighter and tighter around the base of her nipples, and it would never let go of them again. She had felt a sharp prick at the tip of them, but the ecstasy of the moment had turned it into a climax that took her straight on to the next orgasm. Now she was covered from the neck line down, tiny living threads of the material lengthening and growing to enclose the only part of Tamara's body that remained to be covered by the fabric.

Meanwhile Sam, whom Tamara had bound hand and foot to the bed, as well as gagging him, was still struggling against his bonds. But his body and his feelings were already betraying him, his hips were now following the orders of his deepest desire, and his cock was not going to miss the opportunity to cum inside the woman he had most desired in his life. He had saved her on so many occasions, and now the impotence of freeing her from that latex made him hornier than his third wife's job as a stripper.

(Six hours earlier)

Tamara returned to the car, masterfully pretending that nothing was wrong. The NS Wehr Second, a Private, had been talking to the higher-ups. Despite the fact that this new agency did not recognize the authority of the Forbidden Magic Tracking unit (FMT), the two agents were going to let her and another fellow FMT agent in to talk to the senior person in charge of this investigation.

"Sam," Tamara said in a hurry as she reached the car, "quickly, take your things and follow me, they'll let two of us pass."

Sam didn't even think about it, he put on his bulletproof vest, hung his regulation weapon on his back and while following Tamara he covered his head with his helmet. This rushing did not leave time for the intelligence liaison agent to tell them the exact location where they had to go because of the complaint, in case they had to investigate on their own.

When they returned to the position of the NS Wehr Second, he looked as if he regretted the concession he had just made, but he was not going to back down. With a gesture of his right arm he pointed to where they should go, while the other agent informed his companions by radio that two members of the FMT had permission to go to where the Ninth, Arlen Falke, was located.

They advanced about a hundred meters, until another NS Wehr agent intercepted them and pointed out which door they should go through and up to which floor. As they went where the agent had told them to go, Sam felt the agent's gaze on the back of his head, and as he looked back, he saw those strange eyes, which looked more like those of an animal than those of a person. They both crossed eyes defiantly to each other, all two pairs of eyes, full of distrust. The eyebrows of both were slowly, but irremediably lowering because of mutual distrust.

"Now then, be nice to our competitors," Tamara called out to Sam, who still crossed eyes with the NS-Wehr member. "Don't upset the doggy," she whispered very quietly.

Sam reluctantly broke eye contact and after growling at the NS Wehr agent followed Tamara. They crossed a doorway of a block of apartments, and to their misfortune the elevator did not work. Something Sam would never admit, but he enjoyed watching Tamara's ass as they climbed the stairs.

"That ass looks firmer and rounder. . ." he thought for a moment, during his ascent of the five floors the building had, ". . .than it did before on the plane. . ."

Meanwhile Tamara could feel the dildos moving inside her, in a very naughty way. She struggled not to let her face show any evidence of the pleasure she was receiving. She felt a little thrust with each step up. First into her sex, and with the next step she received it in her ass. It was clear that she no longer felt sorry for the victims they had quarantined in their headquarters.

Tamara now understood each of the victims perfectly. She realized that they were not victims, they were privileged, chosen ones, to be able to 'suffer' unparalleled and endless pleasure. However, Tamara was not willing, like the girls they wanted to save, to give up her life. Even less, to deny herself the pleasure of tempting Sam and making him hers.

As the two toys penetrated her, sometimes hard and fast, sometimes slow and gentle, Tamara was still convinced that she was capable of controlling her situation. Or that maybe. . . it was all temporary. Maybe it wasn't even a matter of being trapped forever in a giant test tube, becoming a latex guinea pig. Although that was a claustrophobic idea. . . it now seemed tempting and it might be more intense than the experience she had the day before in the old port warehouse.

Now, when they finally reached the top floor that led to a penthouse that was apparently shared by several young women. They saw two NS Wehr agents dressed in NBC suits come down the stairs.

"This is it" said Tamara to herself, while Sam kept saying to himself, "get a hold on yourself, you damn asshole, get a grip on yourself".

As they walked through a door to their right they saw an NS Wehr agent with long hair, a four day beard, and the looks of someone who never stopped training a day in his life. He was talking to a tall woman, dressed in gray high heels and black expensive, office-issue, slacks Although she looked to be in her early thirties, her head was covered with natural gray hair. A large scar ran across the left side of her face and, as Sam had said, she too had strange amber coloured eyes.

"It must be her," Tamara said to herself, taking out the official document of the Ministry to introduce herself officially . "Good morning, we are from the FMT, I am Psychological Analysis Agent Tamara Gimenez and my partner is Special Operations Agent Sam Brown. We have come on behalf of the Ministry of the Purge. . . ".

"WHAT THE FUCK?" Robert Schwarzbär, Seventh, cursed under his breath in an angry tone, realizing the unexpected and unwanted visit.

"From the Ministry of the Purge?" said Arlen Falke, Ninth, when she saw the young woman who exuded the smell of magic. "And you say you are. . . an agent of the FMT?"

"Here, you haven't missed anything, no one needs your help," Robert added, showing his great contempt for the FMT. "Take that paper, put it somewhere where the sun doesn't shine and while you're at it. . . why don't you crawl back into one of the rotten holes you came out of. And torture yourselves instead of making the enemies of your sick, pedophile, submission-loving, slavery-loving masters disappear."

Sam, who was trying to contain himself, took a sharp intake of breath. If he wasn't already disturbed enough by everything that was going on, those words pushed him over the edge. Listening to that NS Wehr agent, he lost all control over himself.

To be continued. . .