<div class="floatleft">(http://img.thesun.co.uk/multimedia/archive/01671/SNN1201AA-_1671482a.jpg)</div><table class="bbc_table"><tbody><tr><td><strong>Character name:</strong></td><td>Jodie Tough (NPC)</td></tr><tr><td><strong>Location:</strong> </td><td>In the shack</td></tr><tr><td><strong>With:</strong> </td><td>the IF team</td></tr><tr><td><strong>Doing:</strong> </td><td>Cruelly bound but still fiesty</td></tr></tbody></table><br/><hr/>Jodie did her best to keep a Poker face as the Major listed why she felt so secure. She knew that Laughton was right. Nobody knew she was here and if the van had been detected before she left the Château, she would have been informed. She cursed herself for leaving without giving any information about where she went. She had been too confident. Now, presumably, nobody would notice she was missing for nearly 8 hours, when she would fail to start her shift.<br/><br/><strong>"Still, if I do not come back in one hour, they'll go look for me and then... hey? What are you doing?"</strong><br/><br/>She tried to struggle as her wrists were pulled together but a new hit from the gun-wielding man convinced her she had better comply. Laughton worked swiftly, securing her wrists and thumbs together. The zip ties were so tight that they dug into her flesh, making it bulge around them. They were already painful and she could not imagine what it would be like to fight them.<br/><br/>Laughton began by unzipping the front of her black kevlar top, revealing Jodie's rippling abs and her black sport bra. Then Jodie saw the knife blade approaching her. It was a threatening sight even if she knew it was only to cut her clothes off. She felt shrills as the cold steel touched her warm skin, running along her sleeves. She froze. She did not want to be wounded. If there was a possibility for a quick death, maybe she would dart for it, but non-lethal wounds were pointless.<br/><br/>The sturdy material of her top proved hard to cut and Laughton had to proceed with jerks, yanks and sawing motion. Several times Jodie felt the point of the knife puncture her skin but she barely blinked her eyes. At last her top fell apart, soon followed by the bra. Jodie was now totally bare above the waist. Her muscles were bulging under her glistening, dark skin. Her breasts remained firm and hard even once deprived from the bra, they were heaving up and down calmly in spite of the stressful situation.<br/><br/>Jodie caught a glance the Major gave to her breasts. She was a Lesbian, no doubt about it. Would that turn in her favour? she doubted it. She was now working on her tight-fitting leather pants. She might have just pulled them down but she seemed to prefer to destroy them totally, cutting them apart along with her boots. Jodie's thong did not stay long and soon joined the heap of ruined clothes.<br/><br/>Jodie could feel the psychological impact of being stark naked among clothed ennemies. Even though her main weapons were her limbs, she felt more vulnerable now. She had gone through many dirty wars. She knew what awaited defeated female enemies. Hopefully here in Europe, and in the context of secrecy of this operation, she might escape too rough a treatment. Still, as all eyes focused on her athletic naked body. she clenched her fists, causing her biceps and forearm to bulge.<br/><br/>She was forced on her knees and her arms were grabbed and pressed together until her elbows touched. Jodie winced at the strain it put on her shoulders. Her breasts were pushed forward and apart by the cruel posture. Another zip tie attached them in that position. All of a sudden, her upper body has been rendered useless. She still had her legs and feet though, she thought, and they were her deadliest weapons.<br/><br/>A rope was attached around her wrists and soon she felt her arms tugged upwards. She quickly got on her feet to follow the pull but it continued until she was standing on her tip toes. And then it moved further, pulling her arms higher at a crazy angle behind her neck. She let out of hiss through her clenched teeth as her feet finally lost all contact with the floor. She immediately began to spin while swaying her legs around, trying to find something to stand on. The pain in her shoulders was barely bearable. It made her grimace even though she made a point not to produce any sound louder than hard panting. Actually, breathing was difficult in that position and she had to respire in shallow gasps.<br/><br/>Her legs were caught and bound in a way that put some more tension to her aching arms while arching her body and making her carefully, landing-strip trimmed pussy totally vulnerable.<br/><br/>Jodie focused all her energy into resisting the pain and trying to accustom herself to the agony of her nearly dislocated shoulders. Sweat was rolling down her struggling body in thick rivulets. She was clenching and unclenching her fists and toes.<br/><br/><strong>"You dyke! You may torture me, but that will not change the fact that your mission is a failure!" </strong>she said between clenched teeth, and then, lifting her head momentarily, she attempted to spit at Laughton. She had always admired those who had dared to spit at her when she was torturing them and she felt relieved that, now that the roles were reversed, she had the courage to do it too.<br/><br/>She would have kept glaring at Laughton's face but the strain in her shoulder was too much and she had to let her head fall down again. Beside, her dense black mane formed a screen around her face, hiding the grimaces the pain forced on it.