Long Form Roleplayers

13:32 AgentJamesMason: I stood in my small, cramped sleeper carriage, as the Orient Express rocked back and forth gently, headed towards Paris. I checked myself out in the mirror, adjusting my cufflinks while I mentally reviewed my recent mission to acquire the plans for the Syndicate's revolutionary EMP bomb. A bomb that could fit in a suitcase, and if detonated, could destroy the electrical infrastructure of a small country, reverting it to the stone age in an instant.

It had been dicey, I’d had to silently and quickly kill a number of guards on my way in and out of the heavily guarded hidden Syndicate lab, but in the end, I had accomplished the infiltration undetected. At 220 lbs, and 6', I was an elite MI6 spy at the top of my game. My background as British SAS had given me the hand to hand combat, stealth, infiltration, and survival skills I needed to be the best during my long career as MI6’s top agent.

And this mission was, arguably, the most critical I had ever been assigned. If the Syndicate was allowed to build their new weapon, millions of lives could be at risk. No way in hell was I going to let that happen. I’d wiped the main computer after extracting the plans, and now, I had the only copy in the world. I kept it in a hardened shock-proof USB drive on my person at all times. Even now, it was in the pocket of my slacks.

The hardest part of the mission was over now. All that was left was to get back to the UK with the stolen plans. I was traveling under an assumed name, blending back into the faceless masses, the best way to hide your tracks. I'd boarded the train about an hour ago, every minute taking me closer to safety and further from the Syndicate.

Still, I never let my guard down. I was about to head out for a meal in the dining car, having just stowed my luggage. I finished buttoning up my white shirt, adjusted my slacks, tightened my belt. I always dressed my best when occasion permitted it. My thick, powerful muscle strained the seams of my shirt. I finished adjusting the cuffs on my shirt, and slipped into my suit jacket, containing my pistol and my combat knife in an inside pocket. I wasn’t one to take chances.

13:32 The_Syndicate: FOR SETH ANTON, MERCENARY FOR HIRE, FROM THE SYNDICATE -

YOUR MISSION - FIND AND CONFRONT MI6 OPERATIVE AGENT JAMES MASON

1 - RETRIEVE USB DRIVE ON JAMES MASON’S PERSON - FEE 2,000,000 EUROS
2 - PROVIDE PROOF OF JAMES MASON’S DEATH - FEE 2,000,000 EUROS
3- PROVIDE EXPLICIT PHOTOGRAPHIC PROOF DETAILING JAMES MASON IN A COMPROMISED SITUATION, SUITABLE FOR USE IN HUMILIATING HIM POST MORTEM. FEE - 2,000,000 EUROS

UPON ACCEPTANCE, A 500,000 EURO ADVANCE PAYMENT WILL BE DEPOSITED TO YOUR ACCOUNT.

LAST REPORTED SIGHTING, OUTSIDE BUCHAREST TRAIN STATION

13:54 Seth_Anton: It's easy to never take a side. I only require one thing to keep me in this game. Money.
The Syndicate is brutal. Hellbent on world domination or something ridiculous. I even chuckled a bit reading the message. They want me to humiliate this guy. Normally they do that on their own. So, I guess that means this dude is dangerous.
Good.
I happen to be in Bucharest, having finished another job for a shadowy client. I'm a bit out of my element here. As a thickly accented American, it can be a challenge to blend in. But where I lack in voice manipulation, I make up for it in brute force. My 6' 200lb frame is trained in multiple martial arts. I keep my body pristine. Always ready to dish out some punishment for a buck.
I grab my collared dress shirt and head towards the station. I weave my way through the crowd and sneak onto the trains kitchen car. There's a couple of men prepping for the ride as I glide through, generally unnoticed. I make my into the dining car and see the poor fella drying some glasses behind a small bar.
He looks up bewildered and starts to tell me that passengers can't board yet. I stop him mid-sentence by sinking two bullets in his chest. My silenced 9mm doing its job. He slinks lifelessly back behind the bar and I quickly shove him into a storage closet. Snatching his bow tie first. Just as I straighten it on my thick neck, then train surges to life.
All I have to do now is wait...

14:01 AgentJamesMason: I make my way through the crowded train, towards the dining car. Scanning my environment for potential threats every step of the way. It's habit. A habit that has saved my life on more than one occasion.

I enter the dining car, elegantly decorated. A staff member shows me to a small two person booth, and sits me down, leaving me with the wine list. I read through the list, selecting my favorite Merlot, stopping occasionally to take in the details of my surroundings.

My eyes casually glance at a handsome, bearded man in the kitchen, a man that filled out his waiter's uniform and then some. Certainly carrying far more muscle than most waiters I've met. And the way he moves, I have no doubt he knows how to use it. I wonder briefly what his story is.

14:14 Seth_Anton: Keeping my identity hidden has been relatively easy. Waiting is the hard part. I know my target is a big dude. Probably on a high note having successfully completed his mission.

That's when I see you. They seat you towards the back and take your drink order. I quickly drape a napkin over my forearm, concealing my 9mm. I walk over to you, making the barrel of the gun visible to only you.
I could easily blow you away right now, but that would start an international incident.
My eyes are intensely staring at you.
"Mr. Mason" I say knowingly. "It seems your Merlot is unfortunately out of stock." Speaking in a calm but direct voice. My American accent stifled. "If you'd like, you can follow me and choose a bottle on the house"
Trying not to alert the other passengers or staff. If I can move you into the storage car behind the kitchen, then I can finish you off properly.

14:26 AgentJamesMason: The waiter comes back and takes my wine order, heading back into the kitchen. Then, as if on cue, the bearded waiter walks towards me. I catch a glimpse of the barrel of a 9mm, fitted with a silencer concealed beneath the napkin draped over his arm.

Although my demeanor doesn't change so much as one iota, I instantly shift into combat mode. The slightest twitch or movement from him would send me diving for cover and pulling my own weapon. Even as I begin to analyze my surroundings, I realize this is going to be a fucking shit storm. How? How did the Syndicate track me down?

I can feel this bearded man's eyes locked on me, but I don't give anything away. When he addresses me by name, and delivers his pretty little speech in an American accent. Oh, he tries to stifle it, but I'm too well trained not to pick it up. I know the game is up. Killing a man in public is the last thing I need right now. But, it looks like I've got little choice. My mission is too important to take any chances.

I slowly get up, nodding as though I'm preparing to follow you without making a fuss, then suddenly, lighting fast, my right hand rockets forward in an attempt to grab your wrist, and prevent you from blowing my brains out.

I don't have time to go for my own gun or knife not yet anyways. My left arm surges with hard-muscled power as I drive my fist towards your solar plexus, looking for a stunning blow so I can finish you off. In a low voice, as I launch my attacks, I snarl, "So the Syndicate has Americans to do their dirty work for them? Doesn't surprise me. You Yanks are all the same. You'd sell out your mother for a buck."

14:36 Seth_Anton: I think I am getting what I want when you stand up and agree to follow me. That's when you seize my wrist, squeezing the gun from my hand but not before I fire a shot into the ceiling. Passengers and staff start to panic and scream. Making their way towards the exits.
You blast a solid punch to my midsection as I grunt. Flexed to minimize damage but I still wince. My gun skittering across the floor.
It's not the first time I've been punched by surprise and I recover quickly. I know the flash drive is in your pocket, along with a weapon or two. So I have to move quickly. You talk shit as I fire a kick into your core. Like I'm kicking in a door. At the same time, I grab the collar of your suit coat and yank it towards me. Trying to pull it off you.

14:46 AgentJamesMason: Crushing your wrist expertly and ruthlessly, I force you to drop the gun, but not before a shot smashes into the ceiling. My fist slams into your core, and for a moment I wonder if you are wearing body armor, before I realize that was muscle. I grunt, realizing that the Syndicate had sent a man to be reckoned with.

With reflexes on par with my own, your foot drives up, smashing into my flexed core like a wrecking ball. My flexed ab armour takes the blow, but the power behind it rattles me. I involuntarily double up just a bit as an ache spreads through my battered core muscles.

This gives you the chance to grab my collar, and yank me towards you. Grunting, feet slicing and shuffling to keep my balance, my left hand grabs a butter knife from a table, in front of a shocked passenger, and drives it towards your ribs, while my right foot snakes around behind your left ankle, looking to trip you up.

14:54 Seth_Anton: The suitcoat is fitted well as it doesn't come off you. I see you snatch the butter knife and push you away, narrowly missing a brutal stab.
As I push you away, I back up and get tripped, falling backwards. My large frame crushing a table behind me. I growl and wince in pain but quickly kip up to my feet. I realize that I can't wrestle your suitcoat free, so I have to take a different approach. I tighten my guard and assume a boxers stance. I fake a high right only to fire a left hook into your jaw.
My body tense and adrenaline flowing. My cock starts to stir with your grunts.

15:00 AgentJamesMason: You expertly avoid my attempt to stab you with the butter knife, but my trip catches you off guard and guests scream and scramble over the seats as their table collapses into splinters. My big chest starts to heave as I suck down the oxygen.

I try to surge towards you, but I get jostled by fleeing guests, giving you time to kip up.

Just as I shove past the guest,the butter knife held ready, you fire a high right. Grunting, instinctively, I drop levels, before realizing too late it was a feint. My right arm is out of position, holding that butter knife, letting your left hook sail and nail my jaw with brutal force.

My head snaps to the side, sending out a gob of blood and spit as I stagger back against the edge of a table, dropping the knife in my shock. Can't remember the last time I've been hit that hard or that expertly. Nearly fucking broke my jaw.

No time for pain. I force through the blow with an iron will, surging forward, giving you no quarter, despite the pounding in my jaw. I fire off a straight left for your face as a distraction, then drop down low at the last second, and surge forward, aiming my shoulder for your abs like a battering ram, looking to fuck you up by driving you back first into the splintered wreckage of the table.

15:07 Seth_Anton: My head snaps back and my eyes water with that quick left. I shake my head to dull the pain. Wasted time as you ram into my core with your shoulder and smash me back into the splinters of the table. They cut and scratch at my crisp white shirt. Shredding the back and drawing minor amounts of blood.
I grip your collar with my left and hold you close. I start to HAMMER away at where your kidneys should be. Punch after punch as I growl through gritted teeth.

15:13 AgentJamesMason: I pull both attacks off, nailing your bearded face and driving you down into the splintered table. Grunting, my dick starting to stiffen as it always does in the toughest fights, I begin to push forward into the mount to finish you off.

But suddenly, your hand grabs my collar, and yanks me down on top of you, a few buttons bursting, some of my chest hair poking through. Fuck, wasn't expecting that. Then, the small of my back erupts in outrageous pain as you target my kidneys with your right hand, a series of hammering blows that drive shockwaves of destruction into my body.

Not much muscle in the small of the back to protect my core, and my guts churn from the sickening pain, doing some serious damage to my kidneys.

Desperate to stop the attack, I plant my foot on the side of the train, and heave, pushing us over, onto my back, trapping your right arm beneath my back as you are on top of me. I reach up and grab your hair with my right hand, pulling back and up hard, my bicep bulging with the effort while I drive my left fist into the side of your wide open jaw with every fucking ounce of power I can summon while your right arm is still trapped beneath my throbbing, aching back.

15:20 Seth_Anton: You roll us over as I try to pull my arm free. You slam a bone shaking punch to my jaw. Forcing a grunt and bloodying my teeth. My eyes roll for a second as I try to process the punch.
I roar and yank my arm free from behind you. My legs straddling your waist. Our now obvious bulges touching. I pin your partially exposed chest with my left hand and start to raise a solid right fist. I hammer down at your head. Looking to smash your head to pulp.
Blood starting to drip from my mouth onto your solid pecs.

15:27 AgentJamesMason: Once again, I grimly realize the toughness of my opponent. Not an ordinary man, but like me, an elite combatant. Despite my brutal punch, he recovers before I can heave him off me, pulling his right arm free. Blood drips down into the exposed cleft of my hard, hairy pecs from his busted mouth as he hammers his right hand down towards my head.

I raise my left forearm, and deflect that brutal right, which probably would have broken my face if it hit. At the same moment, I spread my legs, and heave, instinctively choosing the moment when you are off balance from your deflected punch.

I'd meant to toss you off me with force, but the small of my back spasms as I tense my core to deliver the power to toss you off, the damaged back sending lighting bolts of agony up and down my spine. Still, I manage to get you off me enough that I can roll out from underneath you, grabbing the table top across the aisle, and heaving my body up, my chest spattered with your blood, my own mouth dripping blood.

My back is spasming, and I exert all of my will to keep it under control, trying not to give away any weakness. I back up towards the kitchen, to make space, reaching into my jacket for my pistol. I need to end this fight now.

17:15 Seth_Anton: You deflect my blow, not your first fight either. You sloppily buck me off you and roll up. I get to my feet and turn right as your pistol comes across your midsection.
Almost out of instinct, I lean on the booths and fire a kick at your wrist. Not bothering to see if I kicked the gun out of your hand, I swing a fist at your jaw. Hoping to stun you long enough to assess the guns location.

17:24 AgentJamesMason: You are up like a shot, your reflexes every bit as fast as mine. Even though I try to back up to make room, you are still on me. Before I can get a bead on you, your foot smashes into my right hand, sending my own 9mm soaring across the dining car.

Grunting, your fist hurtles towards my face. Still backing up, I use that momentum to lean back avoiding that incoming fist, my left hand raising up to seize your fist, as I throw myself backwards, pulling you down on top of me, tucking my knees against my chest, and thrusting up with my feet into your hard-muscled torso, looking to toss you over my head, towards the kitchen.

The maneuver cost me though, sending another jolt of pain through my spine when I hit the aisle, as I struggled to twist over to my front and pull myself back to my feet, chest heaving, reaching for my combat knife as I stood.

17:42 Seth_Anton: My fist hits nothing but air as you seize my arm. Your 20 lb advantage comes into play as you throw me over your head and onto my back. My lean muscular frame slamming hard into the metal floor. The shreds of shirt catch on a loose bolt and tear the shirt further. As I get to my feet, I rip the rest of it off and leave my pumped upper body exposed. Glistening with sweat over battle hardened muscle.
I turn and see you're slower to get up. We're in the kitchen now, cleared of people. Stainless steel everywhere as I rush towards you. You're reaching for your knife as I swing a kick to your head. Keeping my upper body away until I disarm you.

17:50 AgentJamesMason: My fucking back, my bruised kidneys, courtesy of your earlier attack, are slowing me down. I grit my teeth against the pain, pulling my knife out just in time to see you your now shirtless body, pumped and slathered in hard, hairy, sweaty muscle, charging towards me.

I growl, my cock rock hard as I give myself totally over to the fight. I might be a bit slowed, but I'm too good of a fighter for your swinging kick to land. My instincts are solid, and I dive towards the floor, landing on one knee, dropping below your kick, my shirt half ripped off, as I finish pulling out my combat knife, slashing it savagely towards your planted leg, looking to fuck your leg up.

20:02 Seth_Anton: Despite your current look, you still got plenty of fight left. My kick missing you completely. A sudden shriek of pain escapes my mouth as your knife slashes my inner thigh. Not incapacitating but blood is drawn. My pants sliced. You barely missed a deep cut into muscle as I recoil. Hopping on one leg, cursing and spitting. I dance back and take in the sight.
Your shirt shredded. Your bulge obvious. My granite-like cock responding to the raw feeling of pain and aggression. Drinking in your impressive frame. I'd be bedding you if circumstances were different.
But they aren't. And you have a knife.
My guard up as I keep my distance. I decide to disarm you in a different way.
"Put the blade down" I say in a calm growl "Let's finish this like men."

20:18 AgentJamesMason: I mark you with my blade, right on the inner thigh. Not a crippling blow, but I'll take what I can get. You back off, as I regain my feet, teeth gritted. I hold my blade low, darting right to left, moving in on you, pushing you back.

During the brief lull in the fight, I'm momentarily stricken by your steel-cut, hard, hairy build. You exude an aura of danger and brutality. Normally just the kind of man I'd love to fuck around with.

But not today. Too much rides on my mission for me to take chances. Your offer momentarily catches me off guard. Honor? From a piece of scum who lowered himself to work for the Syndicate? As much as I'd like to do just that, my duty comes first. And my duty is to survive and deliver the captured plans, on the USB drive in the pocket of my trousers.

My hairy, sweaty chest, barely covered by the torn front of my white button up, my suit jacket open in the front, heaves as I take in oxygen, cornering you. My eyes are steel hard and cold, even while they drink in your hard bodied, hot as fuck maleness. "Not a fucking chance I'd trust a Yank who'd lower himself to do the Syndicate's dirty work. I'll remember you though, after you're gone."

I lunge forward suddenly, my left hand grabbing a bowl of some kind of sauce off the counter and flinging it towards your face, hoping to blind you, while I surge forward in the wake of the sauce, driving my blade towards your bearded face.

20:28 Seth_Anton: You're movements are a bit slower. You don't take my offer; didn't think ya would. But I do see your hand telegraphing your intentions. You throw the sauce as I dodge most of it. Some splattering down my chest. I knew you blade wasn't far behind.
As you lunge in for what would be a killshot, i seize your wrist with one hand and pull you towards me. Sidestepping the blade as I thrust my other fist up into your arm. One, two, three rapid shots to get that knife outta your hand.
Maybe break that elbow while I'm at it.

20:38 AgentJamesMason: A man's power comes from his core. Cripple the core to cripple the fighter. It's a tactic I've used many times before myself. But now, I'm on the receiving end. I've lost my edge, that split second speed that makes the difference between life and death, thanks to the damage you did to my kidneys and back.

That gives you the opportunity to dodge the sauce, as you moved with blinding speed and skill, easily a match for my own even if I was at 100%.

I grunt as my right wrist is seized in your relentless grip as you sidestep my knife thrust. This is bad... three savage blows drive into my thick muscled right arm, sending shockwaves of destruction ripping through it. My hand spasms as your fist finds a cluster of nerves, and my blade clatters to the floor.

I feel you start to twist the arm, putting my elbow in serious danger. I let out a low grunt of agony, as my left fist drills in like an armor piercing missile targeting your short ribs. At the same time, I twist back, trying to yank my endangered right arm out of your grasp.

20:44 Seth_Anton: Successfully disarming you, I kick the knife under a counter. I go to snap that elbow and you fire a high-powered blow to my midsection. I grunt and let your arm go. Recoiling a bit.
I then surge forward and grip whats left of your suitcoat. I hold you there as I leap and throw knee after knee into your gut.
Trying to break a rib. Or your will to live.

20:50 AgentJamesMason: My fist drills into your rock hard core, forcing you to release me. My right arm is throbbing, not at full strength. I try to back off, need to regroup, but you seize the collar of my suit. It makes a perfect fucking grip.

Suddenly, jackhammers start smashing into my flexed abs, a heavy series of blows, a flurry of Muay Thai style knee strikes targeting my core.

They smash into my rock solid abs. My abs are tough. Tough as steel. But your knees are delivered with precision. I have to break free before my abs give out. I can't take many more knees like that. Already, they are starting to buckle.

I reach up to seize your arms to make you release, twisting right and left, but that just lines up my ribs for a killer knee. Your knee slams into me mid-twist, sending brutal force ripping through my lats, followed by the unmistakable, unique agony of a broken rib. A bit of blood sprays out of my mouth.

My cock twitches.... as I try to feed off the pain. Desperately, I raise my left arm up over your grip, and slice my elbow right into your jaw, trying to fucking break your face and get free.

21:05 Seth_Anton: I back off a bit when I hear the snap. Not out of pity, but out of joy. Breaking your core is high on my list and the Syndicate sure wouldn't mind. The delay costs me though. A stiffer than hell elbow to the jaw. Blood spatter from my mouth sprays onto the nearby wall. I recoil/stumble back, never losing my grip on your suit coat. Tearing it off you and exposing that thickly muscled frame.
My dick leaks in my trousers as I toss the shredded material to the side. I put up a tight boxers stance and move in. I fake a hit to your broken rib only to slam a high right down on your face.
The growling, grunting and thuds of fist into muscle has me flexed and insanely hard.
I'm fucking you the minute I get the chance.

21:14 AgentJamesMason: My elbow blasts your bearded jaw, spraying the wall with your blood. For a moment, I thought I might have knocked your ass out, but you soon disabuse me of that hope as you pull me with you, not letting go of my suit coat.

The harsh movement sends off fireworks in my side as the broken rib shifts. I'm nearly sick with the pain, and in shock as you manage to actually rip my suit jacket off me, the thick material yielding to your battle hardened strength. The shredded remains of my torn white button up get pulled off at the same time, leaving my sweat soaked, blood spattered, hard muscled, combat forged hairy torso bare.

Grimly, I put my fists up, feeding off the pain, embracing it. Defeat is not an option. Not gonna happen. I remind myself what's at stake, I psyche myself up, and meet you man to man, head on.

I drop my arm low to protect my rib, my movements even slower now. That high right of yours plows into my face while I'm trying to protect my ribs, snapping my head violently, sending out a spray of my own blood to mix with yours on the wall. I stagger, seeing double, but refusing to go down.

I drive into you, throwing a left towards your temple, following that up with a brutal uppercut trying to sneak right up the middle and blast the underside of your bearded jaw. I'm in pure animal mode, pure fight mode. There's no fucking quit in me. The agony of my broken body screams for attention, but I zone it out.

13:21 Seth_Anton: As you put your fists up, I smirk. You're getting tired. You're taking a thorough beating. It's starting to wear you down.
We meet in the middle and start a slugfest.
I crack you with my high right and you counter with a strong left and nasty uppercut. Flinging more blood splatter in the small kitchen battlefield.
I'm taking the hits in stride. Like a boxer at the beginning of round two. I keep on you and counter with a quick blow right above your beltline. I then sink a little lower and swing a hard punch to those ample nuts. Honor out the window.
This is a deathmatch and I get more money for fucking humiliating you.

13:44 AgentJamesMason: My left and my right uppercut drive home, rewarding me with more blood spatter as your head rocks back. Growling low, I keep the pain at bay, pulling deep on my reserves of resolve and will. I can fucking fight all day long.

But the truth is, no matter how much I psych myself up, my body has limits. My core has taken some savage abuse, bruised kidneys, a broken rib. It slows me down. I've marked you, but I've yet to deliver any kind of punishment that slows you down. Your jaw seems to be made of fucking iron. I've gotten in several good hits to that bearded jaw of yours, but you keep shaking them off.

Like right now. You counter almost before I reset my guard with a shot aimed right above my belt. It drills into my rock-hard abs, but those abs are weakened by your earlier knee barrage, and I let out a small grunt as the shockwave rips through my solid core, the impact aggravating my broken rib, slowing me down. I see the next shot coming, but despite my best efforts to block it, I'm too fucking slow.

Your fist drives into the prominent bulge in the crotch of my slacks with sickening force, flatting my balls against my pubic bone, doubling me up violently. My eyes cross, and I see double again. My gorge rises as my guts twist like someone stuck a knife into me. As I double up, my face slides down your hairy chest leaving a streak of blood from my busted jaw on your chest hair.

I let out a groan like a wounded bull, finding myself on my knees in front of you. Suddenly, everything snaps back into focus, and snarling, I smash my left fist up in an uppercut towards your own nuts, while I reach out with my right hand, digging my fingers violently into the bleeding cut on the side of your inner thigh, drawing on every ounce of fortitude and will to win I can muster.

But the truth is... my confidence is shaken. This Yankee piece of shit has been systematically dismantling my combat-forged muscle and body with a skill and precision that is beyond anything I've seen before. For a brief moment, I feel regret... that instead of fighting side by side with this magnificent male specimen, I'll be forced to kill him. The idea that I might lose this fight does not enter my mind. I won't let it. I can't let it.

14:05 Seth_Anton: I slam home the nutshot and you fall into me. I mistakenly think that was the winning blow. Your hot breath firms my nips as you slide down my chest. I let it happen. My dick looking forward to getting its well earned reward.
Instead, I get blinding pain. My hard cock and tight nuts take a nasty hit. I groan but don't bend. Instead, gripping the hair on your head. Pulling as you deepen the cut on my leg. I let go and pull back out of your reach.
There you are, on your knees. Taking the beating you probably don't deserve. But I have my mission.
I fight the urge to puke from the nut hit and feel more blood trickling down my leg. I roar into the sky, flexing and drawing strength. I grip a cast iron frying pan and swing it at your head.
Looking to take it clean off.

14:14 AgentJamesMason: I'm running on fumes... no, the fumes gave out a while back. I'm running on pure, sheer, stubborn refusal to quit. I know what's at stake. What's riding on this mission.

My fist plows into your own nuts, and I'm rewarded with your own groan of pain, as I rip at the knife wound on your leg. Suddenly, your hand grips my short hair, ripping me backwards, pulling back. I fight to get my legs under me, to master my battle damage. But I'm still too fucking slow, and suddenly I hear a roar echo through the train, and the next moment a fucking frying pan is on a collision course with my skull.

My battle-instincts don't fail me, and I raise my thick muscled right arm to ward off the blow. There is a sickening CRACKKKKKKKKK as the frying pan is deflected, but at a high cost. My right arm hangs limp and useless at my side, at a wierd unnatural angle, broken, my brain on fire with new pain.

The impact smashes me into a counter. Somehow I find the strength to rise up to my feet, my left hand seizing the rim of the counter with shaking grip. Not a fucking ounce of quit in me. Even now.

I turn towards you, covered in blood, battle-damaged, my thick muscled right arm hanging useless. I lash out suddenly, driving my foot towards the kneecap of your wounded leg, while I let loose a straight left with all my remaining power, aimed directly at your solar plexus. I know from training... if you hit a man hard enough, just right, in the solar plexus you can knock him out cold. Even kill him.

14:25 Seth_Anton: CLANG the cast iron pan slams into your arm, disabling it. I let it drop and stand back, letting you get to your feet.
You're refusing the inevitable. Good man.
But I am the inevitable.
I see your punch coming and dodge. Letting you fall into me. I catch you on your side. My hand cradling your chest and neck. I support your weight as you realize you missed. Gravity almost unfairly pulling you down.
I grunt and surge towards the refrigerators. Slamming your head and upper back into the cold stainless steel. I shift my hand to choke your neck. Pushing hard, my arm fully extended.
"Submit, Agent." I growl through blood stained teeth. "Submit and your death will be painless."
I grope myself a bit as I finish my threat. Ready.

14:35 AgentJamesMason: Once again, you are one step ahead of me, and dodge to the side, avoiding my kick and my last, desperate punch. My half broken body stumbles as my balance is thrown off. I fight with all my skill and will, trying to recover, but my body has limits. You catch me on my side, the same side with my broken rib, sending paralyzing pain knifing into my guts, and a fresh stream of blood dribbling out of my mouth as I spasm.

I'm helpless to stop you as your iron-hard grip seizes the steel-cut muscle of my chest and neck, and smashes me backwards with bone crunching force into the steel refrigerator. My entire body spasms as my broken arm bounces off the door, and my fractured ribs stab my vitals. Have to fight back... have to....

Then, your hand shifts and seizes my throat with power to match my own strength, despite my 20 pound weight advantage. Thunderbolts of agony rip through my throat as my airways are cut off. Weakly, I raise my left arm and try to bash that arm crushing my throat, but it bounces off, too weak to fight you.

My mind keeps trying to think of a way out of this... but my vision is starting to go now. Have to fight... have to... I hear your words, a demand for my submission. With the last of my strength, my eyes snap onto yours, hard and cold. And I taste, for the first time, fear. The fear of coming up against a foe that has my number. The fear of failure.

With a final gesture of defiance, a defiance aimed as much against my own fear as you, I spit in your face, a bloody gob splatting onto your nose and beard. I gasp in a fading whisper, "Fuck you..." Then, suddenly, my hard-muscled body goes limp... and blackness takes me.

14:53 Seth_Anton: You spit in my face and I push harder on your neck. Your firm but bruised body goes limp as let you drop.
I step back and remove a small camera from my rear pocket. I turn it on and film myself removing the thumb drive from your pants. I then place the camera on a nearby shelf and hoist you up onto the counter. You start to stir as I yank your pants down, exposing your mounds of muscled ass. I pin your neck against the counter and undo my pants with the other hand.
"Wake up." I demand.
I then spit on your asshole and rub the tip of my engorged nine incher into your defeated ass. Pinning your neck and back as I start to fuck you like a ten dollar whore.

15:00 AgentJamesMason: I never expected to wake up... and when I did, I thought at first it was some kind of nightmare. I mean, this can't be real. I'm draped across the stainless steel counter, my slacks yanked down around my ankles. Your bearded face is hovering over me, and your hand is on my throat.

My ass cheeks are split, and something is down there around my hole. Suddenly, I realize what you are doing. You are ... you are going to fucking rape me.... White hot fury suddenly surges inside me at the humiliation.

I struggle in your grip, but every motion aggravates the broken bones, making my face turn almost white with pain. I gasp out, "You ... worthless... piece ... of shit... you'll ... pay for .. this.."

Then, I don't have the breath for anymore words as a fucking baseball bat rips my ass part. I shudder in shame and agony, my own cock involuntarily turning hard as a steel spike as you smash into my prostate. I try to will it soft, but it's a question of biology... not will power. Surges of pleasure mix with the pain, enhancing my deep shame. I can face failure... but this... fuck. I wish he'd just killed me.

15:08 Seth_Anton: You struggle and try to fight. But I beat all that outta you. Now, I'm gonna blow a thick load into your already pulverized guts.
I pump faster and harder. What I'm doing isn't just fucking you, its completely dominating you. Ripping that tight hole open as I grunt and keep pumping. My squeeze gets tighter on your neck. But not enough to put you out again. I want you awake. Feeling every bit of this.
I'm slamming hard as your dick betrays you. I start to jack it as you still try to fight. My cum vein starts to fill as I grunt and let go of your dick. I grab your hips and moan in a deep growl. My dick pumping out load after white hot load. Spilling out of your ass, I keep fucking. Making sure you know I fucking own you now.

15:36 AgentJamesMason: I've never, in my entire life, in my entire long and storied career, felt as utterly helpless as I do now. My body is broken... systematically dismantled by the power of the man who's literally ripping my ass apart with his massive, conquering dick.

I groan as something inside my tight ass rips, leaking some blood to help lube your cock. I'm forced to confront the fact that he owned me in this fight. This was a fight I couldn't afford to lose. And I did. The taste of defeat is bitter. And now, as if that wasn't enough, this bastard was demonstrating to me that he owned my fucking manhood. He started pumping my hard shaft as he ripped my ass apart, controlling me with his tight grip on my throat.

The sick taste of shame, the new sensation of being dominated in a way I'd never felt ripped apart what was left of my dignity. Then, I felt him tense, he suddenly released my cock, as I felt my ass fill up with his own thick jizz.

But even then, you don't stop.... you keep fucking me, tearing my ass apart farther. This wasn't just a defeat... you were trying to fucking break me as a man.

And to my utter horror and lasting shame, your plan to break me was working, as my dick, no hands needed, suddenly sprayed out several thick ropes of seed to coat my bloodied and broken body, my seed, my very manhood raped from my balls by your relentless fucking. I felt my inner strength start to wither and shrink, raped and destroyed by your ruthless domination.

Fear and shame rose up into my eyes, unmistakable.

20:41 Seth_Anton: I see the utter defeat in your face. The camera still recording.
I pull out, dick still hard. Adrenaline and testosterone flowing through me. My body hard, flexed and tight. I'm sucking in air as I step back.
The deal was having you humiliated and then killed. Though you might feel like you've been through enough, I don't.
I grab your hair and pull you off the counter. I throw you to the floor on your stomach. I step out of my pants and yank yours the rest of the way off.
I see the damage my thick plug did to your asshole. I smirk and grab your ankles. I spread them and slam a boot into your tender sack. Throwing your legs back to the floor.
"You should've listened, Mason." I walk towards your head. "Your death would've been painless" I stop at your mouth.
"Since you're a 'good' agent and law-abiding warrior, you must be good at this then...."
I place my boot in front of your mouth.
"Kiss it" i bark. "Bootlickers like you love being told what to do...." i nudge my boot on your mouth. "So, kiss. It. Punk."
My dick still hard. Responding to the whole scene.
The boys at the Syndicate will love this.

05:13 AgentJamesMason: As pain batters at the door of my sanity, I fight to keep hold of the shreds of my dignity against the torrent of defeat and shame your expert domination is trying to drill into my well-disciplined mind.

I'm still alive, and while there is life there is hope. Although it's getting harder and harder to focus, as you shred my ass, I look around, seeking anything I can use as a weapon. My left hand reaches out for a butcher's knife further along the counter, trying not to draw your attention to my movements, but before I reach it, you suddenly rip out of my ass. I gasp at the shocking sensation, my dick, which has already betrayed me, twitches.

Then, I'm violently thrown to the floor, landing with a crash on my stomach. The harsh landing intensifies the damage to my combat-forged muscle, the broken rib shifting and stabbing me, causing more internal injuries while my shattered right arm smashes violently to the floor. I spasm, violently spraying blood out of my mouth, along with a scream of agony. The overwhelming surge of pain erases any thoughts of defiance from my mind.

I'm helpless as you rip my pants off me, my torn, ripped ass leaking a mixture of blood and your conquering man seed from my used hole. Before I've recovered from the agony of being smashed to the floor, my legs are lifted, split, and then my big, furry balls are targeted by your brutal kick. I spasm again, unable to control my reactions, bile and more blood leaking out of my mouth as my stomach heaves. My head flops around, and my eyes cross.

There is a brief instant of clarity... a brief instant of utter disbelief that despite all my training, my strength, my skill, here I am... on the floor, raped, my body broken, systematically dismantled and destroyed, outfought by a man not only smaller than me, but an American to boot. If there was any fight that it was more critical for me to win, it was this one. But I didn't. I failed. My world has turned upside down.

There has to be a way... has to be a way to turn this around.... as I lay there, spasming, you walk around and grab my head. I hear your voice, and I'm utterly, deeply humiliated both by your mocking words and what you are asking as you shove your boot under my mouth.

For a moment, a brief moment, a strange, alien feeling flares inside me, the desire to admit defeat.... to get this over with, to give him what he wants. How can I stop him? He already proved that he owns me. And maybe even more terrifying... something in me admires him. Desires him. His strength, his power, his confidence... all qualities that I had in abundance, before he broke me. Something in me actually longs to submit to him.

But I pull back from the precipice, remembering my mission. My duty. Too much is at stake... if I can just hold out... for just a bit longer... if I can find some weapon, kill him quickly, I can salvage this. He doesn't know about the USB drive. How could he? I'm sure it's still in my trousers. I can still do this. I'm fighting a losing battle. I can't hold out against him much longer. And that terrifies me.

I raise my head, looking up at you, your boot beneath me. I fight against my fear, my primal desire to submit to the stronger man. I spit on your boot, more blood than spit at this point, and snarl with my last dregs of defiance, "Go to hell."

05:28 Seth_Anton: You tell me to go to hell through the gargled pains of a defeated man. I frown subconsciously. Almost pitying your desire to fight. Your will to live.
I guess I have to break that then. I quickly snatch your head and lift it up. My face close to your ear.
"You're fucking dead. I won, fucker." Anger brewing in my throat. I slam your face into the floor. BOOM.
"GIVE. ME. WHAT I WANT." I almost say pleading. One warrior to another. Tangled in systems greater than themselves. Almost begging you to comply. "KISS MY FUCKING BOOT"
I slam your head into the floor again as I stand and wait. My expression full of anger. You know I'll twist your neck regardless.
The train slowing down. The authorities will be here soon.

05:41 AgentJamesMason: You pull my head up, dragging my broken body up close next to you, you snarl your words of anger and hate in my ear, the words driving into my brain like a sword. You speak only the truth... I know I'm dead. I know you've won.

You smash my face to the floor, blood erupting as my nose shatters. I lose a tooth or two, pain becomes my only reality. Something in me breaks.... I never even notice the slowing of the train. I'm too far gone. I hear your words, full of rage, demanding obedience, sinking into my brain like hot fire, demanding my obedience. My will is nearly broken now.... I can't resist any longer. I've got nothing left.

You won. You are the better warrior. The superior fighter. The plans for the EMP bomb... I can't deliver them to London. I've put millions of people at risk because of my weakness. I've failed. Totally and completely. I can't fight any longer. I don't want to.

And besides... beyond duty, beyond any of that, this is also between one warrior to another. You deserve my submission. You earned it. You proved to me beyond any shadow of a doubt.

Still, I resist.... I can't.... can't surrender. Then, even as I fight to gather the shreds of my resistance, you smash my head to the floor, brutally, a second time, and my entire body spasms as something else breaks in my face, spilling out my blood, ruining forever my handsome good looks. My gathering resistance scatters, dispersed. Something deep inside me, the final bits of my resistance, shatter. Shaking, in a daze, mind, body and spirit broken, I give you what you want. I grab your boot with my left hand, pull my broken face on top of your boot, and kiss it.

05:52 Seth_Anton: Your shaky but compliant kiss on my boot is enough. I feel a sense of completion. The bell rang and the metaphorical referee has raised my hand in victory.
I grab your hand and pull you towards the the side door. The one they use to load the supplies on the kitchen car. I sling it open. A gust of violent wind flowing into the space. A field full of nothing is exposed. Dark night blurring the lines between earth and sky.
You lay on your chest, defeated and humiliated. Fucked and broken. Your mission failed. The flash drive in my possession, my getaway still possible.
I pull your head up. "Any last words?" I growl. Angrily giving you some decency before I cast your broken body into a field. Rotted and disfigured for some podunk farmer to find.
My breathing heavy. My mission almost complete.

06:01 AgentJamesMason: My world just ended. The realization of what I've just done shuts down my brain. I'm finished. I ... just surrendered. You pull me up, my eyes slack and uncomprehending. Agony ripping apart my mind as you drag my broken body towards the loading door.

Frigid night air buffeting my broken muscle as I lay there on my chest facing the void, full of darkness. Stupidly, I feel you pull my head up, as you growl into my ear. I feel... beyond the reality of my defeat, my failure, and my brokenness, a sudden and total overwhelming sense of admiration and attraction for you. Stockholm syndrome maybe.... kicking into full gear.

I look up into your eyes..... the fire that once fueled my will to fight, extinguished, my determination and sense of duty shattered. Looking into the eyes of the man who broke me. Not just defeated, but broke MI6's top agent. A man I now desire in a way I never have felt before. Even now, my cock stirs, stiffening, aroused by your proximity and the sheer overwhelming presence of your power. Brokenly, in a voice half dead, I mutter, "You are the better man.... you won."

06:15 Seth_Anton: "Fuck yeah, I am."
With that I thrust you into the darkness. Grunting as I heave your muscled frame into the unknown.
I stand and take in the darkness. Half accepting what I just did to another man. I stare completely. Knowing that I am meant for this. A destroyer of men.
I turn and grab the camera. Your last moments recorded for the enjoyment of your enemies.
The train slows even more. There's stirring and banging on the door to the kitchen.
I snap back to reality. I leap into the darkness, unsure of my next move. But having the satisfaction of another completed mission. Another defeated man.
On to the next one.

06:24 AgentJamesMason: [EPILOGUE]
My body is flung into the night like discarded trash, I smash into the rough fields, my spine breaking, before coming to rest face down in a pile of manure.

Unfortunately, the landing didn't outright kill me. I wish it had. My final hours gave me plenty of time to dwell on my total defeat. My death was long, protracted, and anything but honorable. My long career, finished. All of the dedication and determination I'd spent over the long years to build my body and my mind into a weapon to serve Queen and Country... shattered by your power.

The man I'd built myself to be, the best fighter and warrior and agent MI6 had seen in decades ... broken by your superior skill and manhood.

Towards the end, my sanity utterly shattered... and when I finally died near dawn, I died consumed by my utter sense of failure.... mixed in with the overwhelming desire for the man who broke me.

Later, a farmer found my twisted, broken body, lying in a pile of manure, and wondered what had happened.

06:24 The_Syndicate: FOR SETH ANTON, MERCENARY FOR HIRE, FROM THE SYNDICATE

AS AGREED, 6,000,000 EUROS HAVE BEEN TRANSFERRED TO YOUR ACCOUNT.

YOUR PERFORMANCE WAS EXEMPLARY. WE HAVE USED THE FOOTAGE Of YOU HUMILIATING JAMES MASON TO GREAT AFFECT, SENDING IT TO KEY PERSONNEL WITHIN MI6, EXTRACTING RANSOM PAYMENTS IN EXCHANGE FOR NOT MAKING IT PUBLIC. WHICH WE DID ANYWAYS, DAMAGING THE CREDIBILITY AND MORALE OF THEIR ENTIRE ORGANIZATION.

WE WILL KEEP YOU AT THE TOP OF OUR LIST OF PREFERRED CLIENTS. NEXT TIME WE NEED YOUR SERVICES, WE WILL BE PREPARED TO OFFER A HIGHER FEE.

Published: 2022-02-22, viewed 109 times.