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"That is not your knee." Ziva commented softly, her lips just above his, as she delivered a punishing blow with her own knee.

It was not his arousal, specifically, that had offended her; she was far more of a professional than that and had, moreover, been on numerous undercover missions as a Mossad officer requiring similar such intimate contact with a male partner.

No, what offended Ziva was that even after several minutes of very suggestive, almost salacious contact, Tony should have been at "full attention" instead of "parade rest".

Instead of falling away completely, at her strike, though, as Ziva had expected… Tony's erection noticeably surged to life, beneath her; his breathing sped into a soft, rapid pant, and his head fell back into the pillows as he bit his lip trying to catch a breathy moan.

Among Ziva's many skills garnered from her Mossad training was the ability to suss out and manipulate certain proclivities, a skill that was speaking to her at that moment, in rapid amused tones enthusiastically constructing an entirely new profile of her team mate, with several uniquely exploitable qualities. It wasn't guaranteed, of course, that she was right about what she was seeing, but it was simple enough to test.

Turning her formerly playful grip on his wrist into a clenched grip- commanding his stillness- she returned her knee to his groin and pressed with increasing force- watching as his eyes glazed and fluttered closed, his panting continued to race, and his body went limp beneath her, submitting to whatever she would give.

It was hardly the response of the hyper-active, conquest-driven jock that Tony worked so hard to project... and she could see, when he opened his eyes, the wary knowledge that she had recognized the difference.

Smirking into his uncertain gaze, she pressed his wrists into the bedspread again then released them and slid a palm across his mouth- holding her hand in place, an eyebrow raised until he dipped his chin in agreement. Laying a hand on his chest to tell him to stay, she rolled to the side and started to climb out of the bed, but paused studying his curious and clearly hesitant expression.

Ziva smiled softly, enjoying his unexpected obedience. It was something she did not go out looking for when it did not serve a mission or compromise a target, but she could not deny that she enjoyed the prospect of inflicting her will on another - for no other purpose than her own pleasure.

She ran her hand lightly down his chest, fingertips tracing the delicate junctures between his ribs (that she could so easily break- even fatally - intentionally puncturing a lung if she chose). Slowly working her way down to his genitals, she traced her fingers back and forth over his abdomen watching his very responsive muscles twitch in the wake of her fingers.

When her fingers finally circled him, tightening until it had to be painful, his breath caught in his chest, but he continued to stay utterly and perfectly still - even when the strength of her grip forced a slight whimper sound from low in his throat. Several minutes passed as she studied his reaction to the increasing tension and pain, but for the first time since their introduction, Tony behaved perfectly: staying utterly and temptingly immobilized beneath her - submitting completely to her whim, and if she were not so very aware of the listening devices surrounding them (both their agency's and their targets') she would have exulted in her pleasure, both praising and demeaning him, for his wantonness and submission.

Despite the risk of revealing her discovery to their unseen observers, Ziva could not ignore the temptation to take advantage of the opportunity presenting itself, especially where acting immediately could cement more control over Tony in their future.

Leaning down until her lips were almost pressed against his ear, she whispered, "I am not going to wait until we get home to enjoy you," … chuckling softly when he shuddered in response, before she continued, "but as the room has ears, we will not be able to go as far as we might like tonight. That will be for later, yes?"

She almost doubted that he would answer, knowing as well as she did, that agreeing now would mean the continuance of a potentially threatening hold over him later, but as she tightened her grip again, he nodded with wide surprised eyes, as if his body had agreed for him, without his conscious thought or will.

Glancing around the room for items that she could put to use, Ziva worked let various pleasurable scenes run through her imagination as she scanned for resources to work them to her pleasure. Finally, with several ideas running together, she leaned down murmuring directly into his ear again.

"You carry condoms, yes? In your wallet?"

His lips parted to answer, but a quick clench of her fingers turned the answer into a nod.

Normally, he was quite annoyingly vocal, and Ziva intended to how long his silence could be maintained. If his customary behavior was an act, as she was beginning to think it was, that might be an enjoyably long time, in which case, their relations would definitely continue after their current operation ended.

Setting her hand on his chest, as a reminder to stay as he was, she slid off of the bed and walked over to his pants, sliding her fingers into his back pocket to retrieve his wallet. His permission was implied of course, but even if it had not been, she would not have hesitated. Tony would learn to accept her complete control before morning, and they would negotiate how far that control would extend at some future date. But until morning, at very least, she was taking carte blanche.

It was so very typical of him, or at least so typical of the persona he presented to the world at large, that he should be carrying several condoms in his wallet, but she intended to make use of several anyway so took them all out, letting them dangle in her fingertips as she smirked back at him. Suspecting how he anticipated her using them, Ziva swung the string packets slowly in her fingertips as she walked around the room picking up the list of items that she'd been quickly deriving from the scenes she'd chosen. Finally, her hands full, she walked back to the bed with two champagne glasses, the bottle of vodka that he'd poured from earlier, cocktail stir-sticks, her earrings, the small opaque travelcase from her purse, hairbands, and several hairpins. When she finally returned to the bed, he almost seemed to be vibrating, he was trembling so fiercely, with anticipation.

Whether from excitement or anxiety, she couldn't say, but taking pity on him was the furthest thought from her mind. Quite the opposite, in fact. Ziva fully intended to stir up his anticipation, until it fully overrode his ability to think - leaving him solely able to feel and react. Dropping the cache of items beside his head, she lowered herself to whisper, "Close your eyes and keep them closed."

When he complied, she climbed over him, blocking his view as she turned, straddling his chest with each of her shins pressing one of his arms into the mattress, and settled her weight into her hips, to hold him in place while pulling two condoms packets off of the strip. When she had the first one open, she turned it inside out, dropped a stir-stick into the tube, pulled the condom, until it stretched tight along the length of the stick but did not appear ready to pierce the latex, and tied it off. Uncorking the bottle, she dipped the latex encased stir stick into the vodka to get it wet and slick, then took him in a tight fist and pumped several times to return him to a full erection. Pressing down with her knees, in anticipation of his impending reaction, Ziva lined the encased stir-stick up with his slit and carefully pushed the tip in. Not stopping when he jerked in surprise, Ziva carefully fed the entire stir-stick into his shaft until only the knot of rubber poked out of the slit.

It was quick work to pull the other condom over his shaft, dragging it tightly over the full length of his cock and then, with careful work not to tear it, she worked his testicles into the rubber tube, slipped hair bands down the length of his shaft, and secured the condom in place with the hairbands, pulling the loose hairbands down and twisting them until he could wrap the tight elastic loop around the already tightly bounds sack. Bound and plugged, there was still a chance that he could ejaculate, but it would be very difficult and painful to reach that point.

Climbing off his chest, she turned to stare into his shock-widened eyes. After a second, holding his gaze, she gently fisted him, pumping slightly to let him feel the effects of the embedded stick and tight casing.

A soft querulous moan broke from his throat, even as his hips shifted, lifting slightly to follow her grip.

Despite the startled confusion in his gaze, Tony’s pupils were appealingly wide-blown.
"Oh," she whispered into his ear, her voice rich with mocking surprise, "did you imagine that you would be penetrating me?"

Glazed eyes blinked almost dumbly as he nodded, and she smiled gently, sweeping a tuft of hair out of his eyes.

"Well," she answered in a husky whisper, "as Gibbs says, ‘It's not gonna happen. You're the only one that will be opened and used tonight... repeatedly."

She drug out the word "repeatedly" into a long purr making it sound as dirty and threatening as she could and smirked when he pulsed in her hand and shuddered. His reaction was so strong, though, it made her pause to think.

Testing a theory that had been building in the back of her thoughts since his first reaction, she leaned very, very close to his ear and whispered very, very softly, "Gibbs." The answering pulse and shudder brought a smile to her lips and a panicked expression to his eyes.

"Gibbs," she whispered again, to confirm her suspicions and prove to him that it hadn't been accidental, pausing several seconds before continuing, "I wonder what he would think, if he knew the effect he has on you?"

Tony shook his head desperately, and started to pull away to the side, but her grip quickly convinced him that any attempt to escape would be a very bad idea.

"Don't worry, Tony. He won't hear about this from me." She promised, honestly, certain that she wouldn't be able to take advantage of Tony in the future if the Senior Agent knew of her actions.

Tony relaxed briefly, until she questioned, "have you thought about him seeing you like this?"

Stiff beneath her, Tony stared at her, silently begging, as she trailed her fingertips up his chest to stroke her fingers over his nipples until they were stiff. He gasped, as she twisted one then the other, working his heels weakly against the sheets.

When he didn't answer, she let go of his shaft and pinched then twisted both nipples at once, asking again, "Have you?"

Letting her nails bite into the tender buttons of flesh, she twisted and worked them until he jerked his chin in a shaky affirmative that she'd already known was his answer. Hardly being emotionally invested in being the target of his fantasies, it didn't bother her that Tony fantasized about their boss, and she soothed the tender nubs for a second before picking up her earrings.

Turning one over for him to see, she questioned in the same low whisper, "Do you know why I like these, Tony?

He shook his head as she ran her finger tip over the earring pin and down the attached clamp.

"I'm so active that I often lose the backings to regular pierced earrings, but these have been designed to fix that. This little clip has a tight spring, just like most clip earrings, but a nice gap for the pin to go through from a pierced earring. The spring is very, very tight though, and I don't like to wear them for more than an hour at a time because they pinch my earlobes so badly."

As comprehension flooded his eyes, she murmured, "I wonder if you can stand them even that long" at the same time as she pinched a nipple between her fingertips and pulled it out far enough that she could clamp the earring into it, setting it with a strong pinch that worked his first soft cry from him. His hips jerked as she thumbed the other nipple twisting it and pulling it until he finally settled, and she fastened it in place. Pinching them experimentally, she watched his encased shaft bob and twitch as he tried to settle himself.

Turning around she slid a leg over his hips, intentionally grazing his shaft with her thighs before sinking her hips across him, pinning his cock against his stomach. Slowly rocking her hips, she waited until he was clenching his teeth over his lips to stop another moan before dropping down to press her chest against him, her full weight on his trapped and pinched parts. Dragging herself up his body until her mouth was once again over his ear, she whispered, "Have you thought about him hurting you?"

Tony's moan broke from his lips with a soft sob as she wriggled against him.

This time when she asked again, his nod was immediate. She worked her body against his until she felt one of the earrings starting to pull off, and leaned up to whisper again, "Have you thought about him needing a condom?"

Tony's breath broke into whimpers as she felt his erection grow even thicker, despite its confines.

"Have you imagined him taking you?" she questioned smiling as his eyes fluttered and his head fell back into the pillow.

Sliding off of him completely, she laid her hand on his chest to keep him in place, as if he could move at the moment, and returned to his clothes to retrieve his tie. With it in hand, she came back to the bed and gestured for him to give her his wrists, which he shakily did. Tying his trembling hands together close to a third of the way down, she lifted them above his head, then helped him slide them down behind his head and secured them at the back of his, wrapping the two ends of the tie around to the front of his throat, and tying them with the thinnest end dangling like a leash.

“Atta boy, DiNozzo,” she murmured, mimicking Gibb’s customary if rare acknowledgement. When he squirmed in response, she huffed a soft warm breath over his ear watching him to catalog the effect it would have, before leaning in to whisper into his ear. “That’s good Stay just like that.”

Leaving him there, she casually strolled around the room, feeling his curious eyes on her with every step, clearly not yet recognizing her intention.

When she could hear that his breathing had slowed almost back to a rapid normal rate, she returned in a slow circuit coming past the couch, pulling one of the stiff cushions from the back as she did. Crossing to the other side of the bed, she crooked a finger beckoning him to move closer, and smiled with amusement when he obediently struggled to pull himself with his legs until he was almost in front of her.

When he was finally within a foot of her, she reached out to grab him at the base of his cock, and pulled him up, not stopping until his was lifting his hips on his own as she pushed the cushion under the small of his back. Letting him go, she gestured for him to lift higher yet, and returned to the couch for the other two. Pulling him further up, she stacked them under his hips, lifting him and exposing him obscenely, with his feet canted to each side by the cushions length. Pressing his knees further apart, she smiled wickedly at him as he squirmed.

Teasingly she blew a warm breath over his hole and watched it pucker responsively, then glanced back to his flushed face. As she scratched over it lightly the ring of muscle, he was fast to whimper, his still stiff erection bobbing violently. She scratched over it again and again until the puckered rim was reddened and speckled like an abrasion, watching his eyes and expression for signs that he was nearing a climax. It was longer in coming this time, but when she felt the ring of muscle spasming under her touch, she pulled away immediately, dropping a hand to his chest- a silent order for him to be still- when his hips tried to follow her fingertips.

He whined weakly, dropping his head on the pillow, as he mouthed, "oh god," every other breath.

Fiddling with the condom strip to give him time to settle, Ziva slowly opened another, unrolling it far enough that she could slip it over three fingers while he watched her with growing desperation. She paused studying his sweaty face, then caught up the tie from its end, rolling it into a tight bit that she pressed to his lips and forced into his mouth when he was slow to open them. "So our observers will not here your cries," she explained, knowing he would take it as a promise that he would soon be allowed to come… when he should have been well aware that cries of frustration could be blocked as well.

Though it took longer, each time, to bring him back to the edge, with her occasionally interrupting her attempts to 'rev him up' by pinching the earrings, scratching his sides and thighs, and pumping him, only to pull away when he was close to the point of coming, when Tony finally settled in resignation, no longer whining with frustration when her hands left him, Ziva struck, pushing her rubber coated fingers in without preparation. It took a few strokes that he endured with a pained grimace before she found his prostate, but from that point on, she had him writhing helplessly. Sawing her fingers across the sensitive nub between brutal jabs at it, she worked him - watching as sweat broke out on his forehead and cheeks.

Building him up to the edge as swiftly as she could, Ziva waited until his entire body tense, so very close to the edge and ready to fall, then jabbed his perineum with bruising force as she slid her fingers out of his spasming hole- almost failing to abort his orgasm... Almost... but not quite.

For a second, she was not even certain if she had broken off the stimulus in time, as he struggled to lift himself away from the insistent pressure on his perineum, but a quick swipe of his feet, dropping him back onto the cushions, cut off his release - plunging him into helpless frustration. Without the cloth bit and her palm over his mouth, Tony's choked cry of denial would have doubtlessly drawn comments and questions, but she had been prepared for it... and the angry thrashing that followed.

Being repeatedly deprived of his release, when it had been so obviously within his reach, had veritably enraged Tony, but being propped as he was with his hands bound and his mouth blocked was an effective suppressant for his brief tantrum, and he shortly stilled under her hand as she gently stroked his nearest arm and shoulder- careful to keep her touch light and almost clinical.

He clenched his eyes shut and rolled his head back and forth for several seconds before glancing at her piteously. The plea was clear in his eyes, even as he reluctantly cooperated with her attempt to calm him - dragging slow breaths in through his nose and releasing them in slow exhales. As he finally settled, she pressed her hand to his chest again, and stroked him lightly when he finally acknowledged the silent command.

Whispering into his ear, she promised him that she would be right back, that she just needed to get 'a little something more' for their play, and he responded with a full body shudder and pleading eyes that begged her for release.

It was entirely too delicious to have him so deeply subjected to her whims, and Ziva had to stretch it out for as long as possible, even knowing that by doing so she was risking the chance that he might not return to her control because of her decision - once the operation was over. Picking up the ice bucket as she passed, Ziva paused at the bar and double checked underneath the bar to find a second bucket and lid as she'd hoped. She filled them both to the brim and capped them to keep them ready until the end of their next round, then returned to the room.

Closing the door behind her, she pulled a chair to the edge of the bed, all the while watching Tony who appeared too caught up in his own needful misery to be aware of her presence. His cheeks were damp from more than exertion, she suspected, as the tracks pooled at the corner of his eyes and rolled down toward his temple... but he had suppressed them quickly so she couldn't be absolutely sure. Pulling a another chair by the end of the bed, she set the ice buckets below his field of vision and pulled her other supplies across the bed to her, finally grabbing his attention.

He froze watching her anxiously, as she came around the end of the bed and crouched by his head to toy idly with his hair.

He stilled waiting silently for her command, and when it appeared that he had reached almost the extent of his ability to stay still, she dropped her mouth closer and taunted, "I could keep you like this the entire night, you know? Or worse, constantly on edge, without respite... or release until morning... so very, very easily."

His head flung back and forth frantically, seeming to deny her claim, and she answered letting utter indifference seep into her tone. "Do not doubt me, Tony. I could so very, very easily. It would be nothing to do... as you have already seen ... Maintaining such a high level of arousal without permitting relief of any form... has been a useful tool in the past, and I am quite practiced at it."

He whimpered meaningfully, around the saliva wet silk gag, then leaned his face into her fingers trying to pet her fingers back as he whimpered more loudly.

"Hmmm, perhaps you were not doubting me?" She asked teasingly, and a look of relief flashed over his face as he increased his desperate attempt persuade her.

"Then what?" She asked and suppressed a chuckle at his shocked expression. After a moment, he began to rub his face against her fingers again, in a silent plea, then paused and curled his hips as much as his awkward position would allow, then rubbed then curled, and repeated it several times over, watching her eyes and trying to discern her understanding.

"Oh... you're interested?" she asked with false innocence, "You want me to keep you on the edge until morning?"

He flung his head away in frantic denial, pleading with his eyes....

"No?"

No, he confirmed with a jerky shake of his head, then another, and another, and another. /no/no/no/no/no.... he repeated the gesture until she caught both sides of his face between her palm.

"I see, then...."

She paused, pretending to think it over ... dragging out the question as he froze in anticipation....

"Did you mean to say...."

Anticipating the direction of her sentence he returned to rubbing his cheek against her pleadingly.

"That you wish to stop? Are you too tired to continue?"

Seeming torn by the decision and clearly tempted by the possibly of having the freedom to take care of it himself, finally after a long struggle with himself that was visible in his darting gaze and the tension in his posture... Tony shook his head, rubbing his face insistently against her hand before interspersed with stronger suggestive curls of his hips toward her.

Ziva made a play of studying him, before letting a coy smile reach her lips.

"Oh, I do see. You want to .... no ... you want me to ''bring you on" as they say." She commented, intentionally mangling the phrase before chuckling at his joyful and exaggerated agreement. He nodded so fervently, that she couldn't even get her lips down to his ear until she caught his face and held him in place.

"Yes... Yessss... I would like to do that, Tony," She whispered in his ear. "With your... endowments, I bet you could fill even a champagne glass with your release when I make you come. Would you like that Tony? Would you like me to do that?"

Her words breathed warmly into his ear woke his flagging erection, and he whimpered as it bobbed eagerly. He was so easily affected by her voice and her words. Ziva blew softly over his ear enjoying his responding squirm.

"Would you like me to remove the condoms so that you can ejaculate, Tony? she asked breathily, causing his erection to rise from his stomach where it had fallen. He moaned and nodded jerkily in response.

"I could remove the bands as well, but that would not be enough I think. What would you want me to do to make you come? Should I play with my fingers inside you again?" She asked running her fingers across his chest, intentionally dragging on the earrings that still pinched his nipples. He bucked his hips at the pain and groaned softly.

Twisting them as she spoke, Ziva delighted at his quickly returning hardness.

Reaching over his chest, Ziva trailed her fingers over the filled and swollen condom, searching with delicate touches for the small knot hidden under the tight outer condom finding it, she pulled lightly on it, making the outer condom stretch and pull taut as the sheathed stir-stick emerged.

Watching her warily, clearly aware it could not be removed as it was, Tony stiffened- holding it utterly still as she pulled the stick out as far as the tension in the outer condom allowed then released. asking, "would you like to be fucked, Tony?"

Twisting the stir-stick as she pulled it out again, Ziva released it, watching it twist back on its return. Despite himself, Tony couldn't hold himself quite as still, twitching and squirming, but not quite trying to move away as she repeated the penetration. If she had asked him, she suspected that he would have claimed that he didn't like what she was doing, but the thick, flushed, fully erect state of his cock proved that a lie. Alternating between quick pulls and the slow twisting returns, Ziva continued the suggestion of fucking him, while murmuring, "would it help to imagine Gibbs filling you?"

Tony's head rolled back at the suggestion; his eyes clenching shut, and Ziva had not a single doubt that Tony was imagining their senior agent. Wrapping her palms over his eyelids, she continued to murmur to him.

"Can you imagine him standing between your legs - pushing your apart farther than you'd thought possible... slipping his hands down and opening you with his thumbs, and pushing in... That's what you need isn't it?"

Tony moaned low in his throat, unconsciously arching his back and neck, lifting himself to the imagined man.

"That's what you want isn't it, to come with a hard, thick shaft driving into you?"

The groan he gave was almost guttural as he nodded, agreeing to his need.

"I'll do what I can Tony." She promised, pulling a pillow slip off the nearest bed pillow, slipping it over the upper-half of his face before tying it at the back, and pulling the top half of the pillowslip down, tucking it under the edge of the pillowslip to block any cracks she might have been able to see into."You just keep imagining that it's Gibbs you're feeling, Gibbs taking you, and making you want it that much more."

Walking back around the edge of the bed, Ziva paused to consider how he was laying then carefully lifted worked each of his ankles between the two seat cushions until preventing him from scooting away, as he was held in place by his own weight, back bowed, hips arched appealingly waiting for her touch

The feeling of having him so willingly helpless was an inexplicable high, and she paused to savor the feeling that she could do any and everything she wanted to and he was defenseless to stop her.

Deciding to ease him into the realization that what she'd promised and what he'd anticipated were two very different things, Ziva gently began to remove the outer condom, wanting to give him the impression that he would be getting what he hoped for much sooner than reality. When his cock had sprung free, she ran her fingers over it, stroking him lightly and teasingly moving closer and closer to the knot sticking out from his tip, but left it in place to run her fingers back down to the hairband she had left in place.

When he was squirming from her touch, she finally took him in a firm grip and pumped him until he was quivering with need, not close yet, but definitely on the approach. She played freely with his scrotum, rolling his balls in her fingers, impressed by how heavy and swollen they seemed, and almost certain that he would be able to fill the champagne glass now if they tried, but she was hardly done with him yet, and to prove it, she grabbed him again, with a demanding grip that had him panting as she pulled him right up to the edge, then grabbed his scrotum aborting it.

Unlike before though, she rapidly returned him to the edge, stroking him before he could flag, then pulling off the earrings one by one. She hadn't been lying when she'd said that she was practiced at keeping men on the edge, and quite talented at it as well... but what she hadn't said was that she enjoyed it more than almost any other sexual act she'd ever known. The ability to turn the man's own desires and body against him to make him a panting, quivering wreck satisfied her in ways that the momentary passions never could, and playing with his desires to make him submit to them so willingly made them even better... especially when it was someone else he wanted to be with.

To know that the man was helpless to her, not because of some shallow or misplaced affection, but directly due to her power to manipulate his needs and bring him under her power... there was no describing…the charge it gave her, and that this time it was Tony, who she didn't even have to turn to any other cause or loyalty than her own made it all the more enjoyable. She intended to make the most of it, and not for just this one night.

Balancing her touches between smooth, rhythmic strokes that he could connect with and sharp twists, jabs, and unexpected releases or pulls, she kept him buzzing and writhing until tears soaked the pillowslip covering his eyes and streamed down his face.

Deciding to take it a step further, she pulled the bands off. Let him think they mattered. She smirked though he couldn't see it. They had been more to heighten his awareness of her control than to actually control... she didn't need them now, and as she'd expected his immediate tension suggested he thought she was going to finally let him come.

Grabbing his cock again, she played with the knot, twisting it back and forth, pulling it partway out and sliding it home over and over until his moans became constant. She played him with all of her experience until his body was soaked with sweat, constantly trembling, and his moans were getting louder and louder under the bit. Certain that he believed he couldn't take any more, she straddled his chest, and dragged the ice buckets and the champagne glass close at hand.

Pulling the stir-stick out by the knot, she tossed it to the side, smiling wickedly when she felt him rubbing his cheek against the in sole of her foot. Pressing a hand on his chest, she grinned when he stilled automatically, and as if seeming to reward him, pulled the champagne glass up to cover the head of his cock. He was so thick that she had to twist the narrow glass up his cock, slick with pre-cum, to work him into the flute, but that was all the better for her purposes as it held without her needing to lean into it.

He recognized it almost immediately and seemed to try to collapse into the pillows, submitting completely to her, in way she hadn't expected, but welcomed it all the same, though it wouldn't speed his release one bit, as he would soon realize. Picking up one of the discarded condoms, she slipped them over her fingers and plunged them into his small ring of muscles, tightened again by his constant arousal, this time, she worked him slowly, stretching him carefully, and backing off when he was close to the edge, but only enough to keep him steadily there without mercy.

Finally, when she was certain that she could easily slide all four fingers into his quivering hole, she began to work his prostate, letting him edge closer than she had previously, she waited until the very last instance, when his vibrating body fairly coiled with his need to come... when he could possibly have no doubt that it was about to happen... then slipped her free hand down into ice bucket, grabbing several pieces, pulled her other fingers out spreading them far enough open as she did, to drop the ice cubes in their place as she sat back muffling his cry of shock with her seat pressed over his mouth. She continued pushing one ice cube in after another, despite the fact that his erection had flagged completely. She would be able to bring it back readily enough, but wanted to do one more thing, before she let him come.

The cubes melted quickly inside him, seeping down as she pushed the next in until she had completely emptied the first ice bucket and moved on to the next. Tony's mouth moved beneath her, crying out his anguish and desperation into her groin as he began to shiver beneath her. The bucket was completely emptied, by the time he had finally fallen silent, gasping warm weepy breaths into her crotch. She waited while he struggled to regain his composure, certain that if he could have, he would have told her to go to hell...

And though she was certain he'd no longer believe that she was going to do anything other than torture him, she started again.

This time, she surprised him, though, leaning forward to lick the underside of his cock and mouth his balls. No doubt the chill was still affecting him strongly, but he still moaned and rose beneath her attention. Playing her fingers against his chilled ring, Ziva pushed her fingers back in to the full width of her palm. Then using her other thumb to pull him open, she blew a warm breath down into his freezing hole, working another full body shudder out of him right as she pressed her full hand to its widest point deep into his channel, until her thumb rested in the crevice between his perineum and anus.

She had promised to fill him after all, but fisting him would be the pleasure of another day. Pulling back, she sawed her hand, from fingers to palm, in and out of his over worked hole, dragging him back to the edge with every intentional brush and jab of his prostate, rubbing her fingers over it constantly as her hand slid back and forth. When he was finally at the edge again, she threw him over with a constant pressure on his prostate, rubbing him all the way through it, even though he was well past over sensitivity. She was still pressing it when he finally stopped shaking and writhing, and for a moment, she wondered if it had been strong enough to make him black out, but his cheek rubbed against her inner thigh, and she chuckled as she slid off him.

Of course, it wouldn't. This was Tony... a constant bundle of non-stop energy.

Glancing down at the filled champagne glass, she outright laughed at the sight. She'd been right, he had filled the glass. Pulling it off him gently, she set it over the table and began the process of undoing all of the little touches that had made him helpless beneath her. She was almost reluctant to, but knew they really couldn't carry the scene on all night. At least, not that night.

When he was finally freed from his position, Tony blushed frantically unable to meet her eyes, even as he let her guide him back against the pillow beside her.

He didn't seem to know quite what to say, but that was absolutely fine with her, shutting Tony up wasn't an accomplishment many could claim, besides she knew just exactly what to say...

Lifting the champagne glass where he could see it, she leaned in close to his ear and whispered, "I win my bet."

He huffed lightly, with shaky humor, as he looked at the glass and quickly looked away, but she wasn't having it. Catching his chin in her palm, she pulled it back and pressed the glass to his lips.

"Drink!" His eyes flitted up in shock, but whatever Tony saw in hers, drove his gaze back down, and he slowly parted his lips for her to pour his release between them. When the glass was empty, she pushed him down into the bed with a hand on his chest and ordered, "Sleep. We'll set the boundaries later."

She was fairly certain that he didn't sleep a single second that night, but then she hadn't truly wanted him to.

Chapter Text

Well-aware that she would need to act quickly to secure her advantage with Tony, or he would -undoubtedly- try to reassert their prior relationship, Ziva still might have regretted completely exhausting Tony, the next day, when their targets proved very slightly more skilled- getting the advantage of she and Tony while they were both distracted: Tony with recovering from the previous night, she with planning many others.

Still, she might have regretted wringing everything from him the night before, had she and Gibbs not returned to find him, still tied in his chair, outraged, kicking his captor into near unconsciousness.

Gibbs laughingly patted the back off Tony’s head, missing the way Tony froze under his touch as he pulled the rolling chair away from the downed criminal. The laughter died both on Gibbs' lips and in his eyes, though, a moment later, when Tony surged forward at the last second, snarling, "No one else gets to hurt me...no one … no one."

Trusting Ziva to cover the suspect, Gibbs draped himself over Tony in the chair, wrapping his arm over the back of Tony’s shoulders as he ordered, “Enough DiNozzo, enough…” repeating it until Tony slumped, panting as he glared at the suspect. Pulling Tony off, Gibbs wheeled the chair back, giving him over to Ziva with a stern glance at her, warning her, silently, to be careful with her teammate.
From the simmering rage beneath Gibbs concerned expression, it was clear that he hadn’t missed the implication of Tony suffering past unknown traumas, which Ziva had no doubt was true... but recognized as well that it was not the sole reason for the exclamation.

In the close proximity to the events of the night before, it was all too apparent, to Ziva, that even though Tony, himself, may not have been aware of it, he had essentially announced their ownership of him. Clearly still reeling from having been so easily controlled and manipulated the night before, it was apparent that he was struggling to reassert some sense of personal boundaries. He may have let her hurt him and use him almost against his will and had admitted desiring the same from Gibbs…but that didn’t mean that anyone else could. Whether he had consciously acknowledged it to himself, or not, to Ziva’s thinking, Tony’s violent growl had declared that only they. “No one else” possessed the right to tie him, hurt him, make him helpless... and so very much more... If they were willing, which she was… very willing to take advantage of that claim. She’d recognized last night that she’d caught him off-guard and had been only too happy to use it to her advantage, but for the first time since she’d started this, Ziva realized that Tony seemed more than a little overwhelmed by the situation. A fact she reveled in, thoroughly… already planning how to cement her control on the drive back, before sleep and time gave him the reflection he needed to recover his former position.

Out of misguided concern, Gibbs ordered them back to headquarters with instructions to be checked out by Ducky, to write up an initial statement (their reports could wait for morning), and go home.

"No," Ziva replied before Tony could agree, surprising both men by her objection.

"Tony was injured protecting me," Ziva continued, noticing the flare of anger sparking in Gibbs eyes at the comment. She did not think, given his own nature, that Gibbs was angry at Tony for risking himself, but at Ziva for needing the protection.

Stepping up almost chest to chest with Gibbs, she continued, "After our statements, I will take him home with me... and ensure that "no one else hurts" him."

The anger in Gibbs eye softened, with false understanding, and he asked over her shoulder, not bothering to glance at Tony, "You okay with that, Tony?"

Tony hesitated a second, as Ziva had expected he would, then answered uneasily, "uh.. That's not.. I mean... I'm okay... I..."

Taking his stammering as a sign that Tony was more rattled than he realized, Gibbs shook his head, "No, she's right; go get checked out, get your statements on my desk, and go with her."

Tony blushed hotly, objecting, "look really, I'm okay." Not realizing that his awkward discomfort only undermined his objection.

"Tony, Do it!" Gibbs ordered, and Tony immediately backed down, leaning back in the chair as Ziva undid the final tie securing him. When he stood and turned his back to her lifting out his wrists for her to untie them, Ziva decided to play with him a bit, certain - even from the short time she'd been on the team - how Gibbs would respond, but curious how Tony would react… she left them tied and used his arm to pull him around as she teased, "I think I'll leave you tied like this just to be sure you behave."

Tony's response was an immediate flash of panic through his gaze, as if he feared she'd reveal their previous night's activities, and a quickly caught gasp as he realized that his body was reacting favorably to the suggestion, tenting his slacks with a very noticeable erection that only stiffened more at Gibbs amused response.

"Sorry, Ziver," Gibbs drawled, slurring her name slightly with his amused tone, "That rope's evidence, but there's your cuffs if you need them..."

The needful look on Tony's face, at that moment, was so amusingly wanton that she was almost tempted to turn him back to Gibbs, just to watch him struggle to hide his very obvious desires. She wasn't ready to expose her advantage over Tony, though, especially not to Gibbs of all people, certain that Gibbs would put the games she planned to play to a stop as soon as he discovered them. Instead, she elected to reach around him, untie his hands quickly, and hand the rope over to Gibbs, who was watching Tony with distinct concern, no doubt having expected a joke or quip that Tony failed to deliver. Pressing the rope into Gibbs' hand more firmly than needed, to get his attention, and promised in a very soft tone, "I will monitor him closely."

It was an honest answer, and he took it as such, not seeming to recognize the underlying ambiguity in the remark... having no reason to suspect any other agenda motivating her suggestion. Tony, whose face flushed eight shades of red in response to her promise, read only the ambiguity and –judging by the way he couldn’t meet her eyes- when she glanced toward him, Tony had correctly interpreted her intent to reassert her advantage over him before he could try to regain his footing and prior authority, if minimal, a circumstance which she was not willing to return to, yet, or perhaps ever … depending on how long it took her to tire of him.

“Come, Tony.” She ordered him softly, pulling at his elbow to get him moving. He shifted uncomfortably, she thought at first, in response to her unintended play on words. She soon realized its true cause, however, when she noticed Gibbs eyes narrowing as he watched Tony walk, unevenly and clearly sore from their games the previous evening. Watching Gibbs hold on the suspect tighten to an almost abusive grip, she quickly settled on the most likely approach to divert Gibbs suspicion from her as the only other person who could have used Tony so thoroughly.

Stepping close to Gibbs so that only he would hear her, she glanced meaningfully toward Tony, then back toward the criminal, raising her gun as she murmured to Gibbs, “Such cases are rarely prosecuted, is it not true... when it would negatively affect the victim’s social status or career?”

“What are ya getting at, Ziver?” Gibbs’ grim expression was a little too knowing, but she answered as if she hadn’t noticed, “Justice can occur outside courtrooms, and few would fault me for shooting a violent suspect in self-defense, should he try to escape.”

“Not gonna happen, Ziver.” He pushed her gun down before pushing her towards Tony’s retreating back.

“Not how we do things here.” He commented, in a half lie that they both knew for what it was, before continuing, “Anyway, it’s not your place, even if it needs doin. Get DiNozzo back to Ducky, then get him home. Your statements can wait till morning.”

Ziva drug her heels for a moment until he continued, “my team, my place. Now git.”

She walked away without a single qualm; having long ago acquired the ability to put aside guilt for the deaths of anyone who would have as easily seen her dead. If the man’s death served the additional purpose of helping to secure an advantage over Tony, as she suspected it might, all the better.

Chapter Text

Barely aware of where he was going until he reached the parking lot, Tony stumbled to a halt when he found himself on the passenger side of his own car.

He was in so much trouble!

He’d known it from the first moment that he’d opened his eyes after reacting to that brief jolt pain and stared into Ziva’s predatory gaze. It had been obvious from that first glimpse that she had worked out the one thing he had never wanted her – or anyone else- to discover about him. That he was - what his one brief-fling-with-a-gender-unspecified-professor Professor at Ohio State had called him - a pain slut.

He’d never worked the nerve up, or the money to hire a professional, to speculate on why, and was beginning to wish he had. Knowing might have given him a clue how to refuse Ziva the night before, instead of giving in again and again… and again.

What scared Tony though, even more than the very real possibility that she could spill to Gibbs, no doubt ending both his career and his unexpected and definitely unrequited infatuation, at the end of Gibbs fist. Infatuated he might be, but he’d never known a crush, yet, that could survive having the object of your affections punch you out simply for being interested. What scared Tony even more than the thought of losing his job and his connection to Gibbs was the fact that …

despite the very real possibility that Ziva could easily exploit what she knew about him …

despite the very real fact that he had no reason to expect any loyalty or concession from her…

and despite the obvious fact that, with her, there would be no such thing as safe, sane, and consensual…

… was that the night before he hadn’t even once thought about refusing her, with any sincerity, not once, not even when he was shaking his head; he hadn’t meant it, and he knew at the time that she knew he hadn’t.

Even knowing that she had hinted… no not hinted… saying, “We’ll set the boundaries later,” wasn’t just hinting that she wanted to continue to … good lord, he could almost still feel the whisper of her breath in his ear when she whispered, "I am not going to wait until we get home to enjoy you.”

Her throaty chuckle, when he shuddered in response, had been almost frightening for the depth of pleasure he could hear in her unintended threat that they would not be able to go as far as they might like with the others listening, but that “[would be] for later, yes?"… and God help him, he had answered yes. The sheer thought that everything she had done to him that night had been restrained by the possibility of being overheard was … was … staggering. She’d literally brought him to tears at more than one point, and he had lost count of how many times she had brought him to the edge.

As much as Tony had liked to brag about wild sexual escapades, the truth was he’d always been afraid to indulge in them, afraid that he wouldn’t be able to cover his reactions well enough, and someone would guess, so his tales had always been just that: tales with a little spicing up provided through judicious internet research. Maybe that was why no one had ever been able to bring him right up to the edge like that, so many times, before finally letting him make it. One time was unusual enough and there had been a couple of girlfriends, well really, one-night-stands was a more accurate description, who had managed to get him there twice, but never more than that, and Ziva had managed twice in under twenty minutes, probably under fifteen. God the things she had done to him.

That, that had been restrained? She said that had been restrained, and it had taken him further than any of his prior experiences much less any of his stories ever had, and she was planning to take it further, yet. She had almost promised to.

The thought stirred up a very physical report of interest from below, and Tony flushed as he muttered back, “you’re what got me into trouble in the first place.”

Full throaty laughter made him jump in surprise and jerk his gaze up to see Ziva watching him with amusement from across the car, her hand held out for the keys. Her gaze, though amused, was just as predatory as it had been the night before, and he couldn’t even fully look in her eyes.

How could he act normal around her, when she had done all those things… when she had done ‘THAT’ to him, which was the safest word his mind could come up with for the state she had left him in, wrecked, pathetic, and, god help him, ready to beg for more.

She was supposed to be his subordinate, for chrissakes, what the hell was he supposed to do about that? He couldn’t even look her in the eyes. How could he tell her what to do in the field if he couldn’t hold her gaze… much less figure out what to say to her, and he always knew what to say… Even under gunpoint he’d always been able to figure out what to say.

He was in so much, so very, very much trouble.

Her intense stare reminded him of her continued presence, and a suggestive wiggle of her fingers demanded his keys, which he readily gave over. He hadn’t gotten a second’s worth of sleep in more than twenty-four hours, and aside from that, he wasn’t stupid enough to think that as distracted as he was, he wouldn’t be dangerous to put on the road in his current state.

“Take off your jacket, Tony.” She ordered softly, and he lifted his gaze just enough to see the curve of lips.

She was smiling, maybe a bit smugly, but he really couldn’t blame her for that. There had been a good-natured game of one-upsmanship from the first day she officially joined the team, and he didn’t doubt that, in her mind she was practically ‘King of the Hill’, and he wasn’t certain that she wasn’t right, especially when he looked down to find himself holding his jacket that he really couldn’t remember even taking off.

He was in deep shit.

“Get in.” She ordered, and really that should have been pretty obviously the next thing to do… but as he was still standing outside the vehicle, and she was sitting in the driver’s seat, he couldn’t deny that it had needed saying.

Trying to hide his sheepish blush by ducking his head, Tony quickly complied getting in and immediately turning to look out the window.

“Good,” she commented, but that was all, as she backed his car out of the parking slot and pulled out of the hotel’s lot.

Barely three minutes had passed, in what had been, for Tony, uncomfortable but impossible to break silence, before she was pulling off to the side of the road.

“Forgot something?” he croaked, glad that he could finally find a segue to even speak to her.

“No,” she answered with a smile that was positively wicked when he managed to look at it, “but it seems you have.”

Her handcuffs were dangling from her fingertips, swinging gently back and forth, as she answered, “Gibbs said that I could use these, to make certain you behave, and from your reaction then… and now,” he could practically hear the smirk in her voice and didn’t need to ask where her gaze was focused… “it seems like you agree.”

Tony’s mouth was suddenly parched, and he choked on his first attempt to answer her.

“We- -re… We’re on duty, Ziva.”

It was a flimsy response, and Tony knew it, but it was true.

“No, Tony, we are in transit. We have more than an hour before we are expected to be at the office, and I intend to enjoy the hour.”

“Oh God,” he breathed out, feeling himself trapped again between the insane desire to give in to her enjoyment regardless of the form it took and the weakening desire to preserve at least a minimal amount of dignity.

“If you behave, I will take the cuffs off before we pull into the Navy Yard.” She promised in warning.

“If - - If I don’t?” Tony choked out.

“Then I’ll wait until we’re actually in the morgue before removing them, and tell everyone along the way that Gibbs okayed it – just to make sure you behave.”

Tony gulped, swallowing choking-ily, as he tried to breath. He could so easily see her doing it, and everyone in the yard would probably take it in good humor, just like some of their other pranks, but to walk through NCIS headquarters in handcuffs with everyone watching her controlling him, not even knowing how she completely she had controlled him the night before, but it would feel like they did; he was already certain of it, it would feel like walking through the yard stripped naked and on her lead, and God, didn’t that send a twitch to his cock.

Dropping his head back against the headrest with a soft groan, Tony tried not to imagine what that would feel like.

…And Gibbs had okayed it.

It wasn’t anything more than the truth, but at the same time it was so much more than the truth, and would feel all the more exposing for it.

“Put your hands behind the seat.” Ziva coaxed, almost gently, as if she were afraid he’d bolt… and if his legs would have held him, he might have considered it.

It took a little navigation to get his right hand through the seatbelt mechanisms and seat adjustment levers, but the only thing that stalled his left hand from going around the back was his own nervousness. Thankfully, or not, Ziva was utterly patient and didn’t rush him or chastise him as he delayed. Instead, she cupped her hands around each side of the cuff when she put it on a wrist and closed it gently until the cold metal touched his skin, tight but not biting. When he was secured, she moved back into the front seat… When had she moved into the back? … took his jacket from the back of his seat, and held it out over the other side of his lap so that the bottom edge fell between the seat and the door, then folded it down that leg… Telegraphing what was to come next.

Without comment, she unceremoniously unzipped his slacks, reached in to pull his shaft through the gap, and slipped her fingers back in to similarly free his sack, before tucking the placket around his base to protect him from the zipper… though it seemed more like she was framing his masculinity instead. Gently she pulled his jacket up to cover him, somewhat discreetly, but showed him with a quick swipe of her fingers just how easily she could reach him without dislodging the jacket.

Tony choked at her touch, dropping his head back to the seat again, still panting.

He was in seriously deep shit.

Almost instantly, they were back out on the road, and to Tony’s surprise, she wasn’t touching him or teasing him.

Instead, she was talking to him, about the night before, which was, somehow, worse.

“Last night,” she began, far too casually, “I stated that we would negotiate boundaries later. This was a miss-statement. I will tell you the boundaries, and you will learn to negotiate your path through them. As with last night, no discussion is needed. By the way, last night you were pleasantly reserved in your speech, a trait you will continue whenever we are alone together, and you do not need to perpetuate your foolish college boy act… if there is discussion needed for a case, then, of course, you may speak… if you are capable of it, otherwise…”

“What do you mean, if I am capable?” Tony questioned nervously.

“If I have not gagged you with your tie or other material.” She answered far too easily for Tony’s comfort.

“You wouldn’t gag me when we’re working on a case…” Tony protested half-heartedly, already suspecting the answer. “Would you?”

“If I am tired of your babbling, or have some other reason to, yes.”

How on earth could she say that so casually?

“God, Ziva, you’ve got a lot of balls,” he sputtered on a startled laugh, as he asked, “how can you just say that?”

“Yes,” she answered with a smirk, leaning forward to catch his gaze as she brought home a few blunt truths… her hand slipping under the front edge of his jacket to fondle his sack.

“I do. I have yours. Have you already forgotten that you gave yourself to me, last night? Several times? Or that just minutes ago, you gave yourself to me again? Do you truly think that you won’t give yourself to me, again, any time I require it?”

Damn it, she had a point.

“Do you?” she asked again, forcing Tony to catch his breath as her thumb scraped firmly over his still tender opening.

“No” he whispered, shaking his head fervently, half in denial of what she was suggesting, and more than half in agreement.

He was screwed both figuratively and literally.

“As I said, if you are able to, of course, you may bring up details of the case, otherwise you will be able to signal your need to speak with a series of grunts. “

Grunts? Tony’s mind spun at the thought; she was actually expecting him to grunt for permission to speak. This was insane. He couldn’t do this…. Why wasn’t he telling her couldn’t do this?

“Because right now, she has you by the balls… and you’re loving it,” his annoying subconscious supplied somewhat snidely, only underscoring the fact that her roving fingers hadn’t returned to her side of the car, and that true to form, his id was reacting very, very favorably.

“Speaking of which,” she continued, “regardless of how you are dressed, you will wear or bring with you, one of your ties to work, every day. If you do not, you will be punished, and before you ask, your punishments will be with whatever that opportunity provides… perhaps it is also worth saying that last night, I did not punish you even once. In fact, I found you very pleasing, tractable, and obedient, which is why I elected to reward you by permitting your release. I am well-accomplished at… working on the fly, as you might say, and both my rewards and my punishments can be very … imaginative.”

“While we are at work, if we are alone or in transit, I may choose to use your tie as a leash, a gag, in place of cuffs or for some other purpose, so you may wish to bring a second, in case the first is crumpled or stained. You will also come to work wearing one of my hair bands, here.” She continued, circling the base of his cock, “Wrapped twice before you bring it down your shaft, and then once, around here,” her fingers curled around the base of his sack.

With that said, she scraped her thumbnail across him again, before returning her hand to the wheel. Barely stifling the whine that came to his throat, Tony tried to slow his frantic panting and listen to whatever else she might say, deciding firmly to spend the rest of the ride silent, in hopes of avoiding ticking her off.

“We will discuss the other boundaries later, for now, choose: earrings, stir stick, or ice.” She demanded, immediately sending Tony’s mind back to what she’d done the previous evening.

Was she really going to do it to him again, while they were driving back to the Navy yard?

The shudder that worked its way through him drew another throaty chuckle from her, and Tony shut his eyes in fathomless embarrassment. How in the hell had he gotten himself in this situation?

Little flashbacks from the night before reminded him of the wicked pain of the earrings, which he had no doubt of where she would clip them, given how she had framed his cock against the placket of his fly… Followed by well-remembered flashes of being virtually fucked by the stir stick, and Tony gasped out the only option that seemed safe, “Ice.”

The word was barely out of his mouth before Ziva was pulling into the driveway of a convenience store, and Tony realized that she had known all along what his answer would be.

He was soooo screwed ... figuratively, and he suspected it was about to happen again, quite literally.

Chapter Text

Ziva grinned at the shock in Tony’s eyes, as she flipped the stick shift into place and opened the door to get out. Every step of the way, he had reacted better than she had hoped - more torn, more confused, even better more desperately, than she had expected, and it had been simple to lead his questions and responses.

Shutting the door behind her, she glanced back at his apprehensive face, winked, and went into the store. There were two young women at the counter, who greeted her by habit as she entered but barely paid attention to her after that, until she had filled three 32 ounce drink cups with crushed ice, and was studying the racks of energy drinks for a bottle with the right size opening. The caff-pow looked the closest to what she needed, if somewhat tight, but that wasn’t too much of a problem.

“Ma’am,” One of the girls commented when she finally reached the counter, “you may want to get another cup of ice, when you pour that drink in, it’s going to melt some of the ice.”

“That’s not what I’m going to use it for, actually,” Ziva answered with a smirk as another idea struck her. When the girls expressions turned curious, she explained with an intentionally devilish look, “I am a police officer, and my partner, in the car is a, how do you say, a man who stares down women’s shirts and makes unwelcome comments? You know this type of man, yes? He is handsome and dates much, but thinks more of himself than he should and talks of the women he has dated indiscreetly?”

“Yeah, we know the type.” The first girl groused, with agreement from the second.

“I have tired of his behavior and have decided to teach him a lesson… to ice his pants down, yes?”

The two girls laughed appreciatively, one uttering, “you go girl!”

Cocking her head, as if the idea just came to her, Ziva asked, “Would you like to watch?”

“Hell yeah,” the first cashier answered. The second didn’t answer, but followed nevertheless.

When they reached the door, the second uttered, “Damn, he is a hottie. What’s wrong with his arms though?”

“When he was sleeping, I used my handcuffs to secure him into his seat so that he will not be able to move away from the ice. You will see though, that he is not calling out for assistance or seeming distressed. “

“Oh… Okay, I guess that’s alright then. Wish I could get a better look though, up close and personal, if you know what I mean… I bet he’s really hot under the suit.”

“He’d have to be, for women to put up with his shit.” The other agreed.

“Would you truly wish to see?” Ziva asked again, all innocence.

“Yeah,” they both murmured appreciatively.

“It seems like it would be fair when he does not try to hide how he looks at women. Give me a moment at the car, and come over.”

The anxiety was already evident on Tonys’ face when she reached the car with the bag, but he still gasped when she moved his jacket and pulled the end of his belt through its buckle then opened it a gap, before beginning to unbutton his shirt exposing him all the way to the collar bone.

“Wh-at are - - you do-ing, Ziva?” Tony stammered once again thrown off balance, or even more off balance.

“I am punishing you for interrupting me after I explained that you are to remain silent, unless discussing a case; if you allow the girls to look at you without complaint, I will drive away and find another location to administer the full punishment...”

“Oh God, come on! Please Ziva, please don’t do this.” Flushed and panicky, he objected desperately, as she had expected him to, so her answer was already ready and waiting.

“The first part of your comment was definitely a complaint, Tony, and though you are permitted to beg, you will need to learn to curb your reactions, or there will be many punishments. Ladies,” Ziva chastised before lifting her hand and waving the girls over.

“I’m sorry, Ziva, I’m sorry. Please… I’m sorry.” Tony gasped before freezing under the girls’ appreciative gazes.

The girls, for their parts, seemed too caught up in ogling Tony to have even noticed his plea.

“So what were you going to do with the ice?” the second girl questioned after several minutes, never taking her eyes off of Tony’s groin, which he seemed to be well aware of.

“I was going to fill this with ice,” Ziva answered, lifting the bottle, “and put it in his lap, but now that he is… exposed… I think there is another way to make my point.” She continued, unscrewing the bottle and showing them both the mouth of the bottle.

“Oh yeah, that’ll teach him.” The first bolder girl answered again, before ordering, “Penny, go grab one of the box cutters and a pack of those party balloons.”

Ziva glanced at the girl, suspiciously for a second, as she heard Tony’s breathing pick up to a pained panting, but the girl’s grin was too bright to really hold mischief, and her eyes were fixed on the end of the bottle, so Ziva suspected the girl’s idea was much the same as her own had been, to cut an opening into the other end of the bottle through which to feed the ice.

When the second girl returned, the first reached out for the bottle, asking, “Can I? I know a trick you can do with drink bottles that my boyfriend uses to make his bongs.”

“Perhaps you should not mention that to a law enforcement officer,” Ziva commented mildly, ignoring Tony’s humorless snort, as she handed the girl the bottle.

“If you cut the bottom completely off,” the girl explained, running the box cutter around the drink’s base with the ease of long practice, “you can reach in and put… well, anything…” she hedged, clearly taking Ziva’s advice, before she continued, “down at the neck of the bottle, then you can close it up again with a balloon over the top,” she demonstrated again with the ease of long practice finishing, “some super glue will make it air tight, but I don’t guess you’ll need that.”

“No, I will not.” Ziva agreed, taking the bottle back.

When she reached down to take Tony’s shaft in hand, he was trembling, probably with shame, but he was –noticeably- not flaccid, so it was relatively easy to guide him through the mouth of the bottle, though harder to force the mouth down to his base. Ziva was persistent, though, and it finally held him completely. As the mouth of the bottle was quite a bit thinner than the body of the bottle and well centered, it was easy to pour the ice into the bottle, despite Tony’s jerks and spasms.

Other than gasping ‘Oh God’ several times, Tony stayed mostly silent, which the girls seemed to take as an acknowledgement of his guilt and egged her on eagerly, until she had finished filling the two liter with all three cups of ice bottle and snapped the balloon over the top. When she did, the girls stared at her for a couple of seconds with a look of awe before ogling Tony again. This time with conspiratorial grins as they watched him shivering.

After a moment, the second, quieter girl, Penny whispered in the other girl’s ear, bringing a grin to her face. The girl checked out Tony’s eyes which were clamped shut, and gestured to the bag of balloons, then the ice, then her bent knuckles, which Ziva easily guessed the symbolism for. When she nodded, in agreement, both girls giggled loudly, causing Tony to snap his eyes open again but close them and turn away, when he saw them staring with open excitement.

Too caught up in his own humiliation, and reactions to the ice, Tony didn’t seem to realize what was going on until the outer ring ice filled balloon snapped sharply against the chilled base of his sack making a distinction between the freezing that he had already been feeling and the chill of what had just been added. While she had been doing it, Penny had run back into the store and filled three more cups with the crushed ice, and handed them to Ziva, saying, “Our treat” with a giggle as soon as Ziva had finished.

Grinning at them, Ziva set the cups into the drink tray, pulled his jacket back over him, and thanked them for the ideas, then turned on the engine to pull out as they both walked back into the building, laughing.

Tony stayed obediently silent as she drove, until she spotted a dirt road leading to a what the sign claimed was the entrance to a state park that would still be closed for several hours yet. When she pulled in far enough that they couldn’t be seen from the road, he defensively protested, “I haven’t said anything!”

“Which is why I am going to reward you.” She answered slyly, well aware that much of his reward would probably feel like a punishment.

Before she began, however, there was something to get out of the way.

Pulling out her cellphone, Ziva dialed Gibbs number, and put it on speaker so that Tony could hear.

“What is it, Ziva?” Gibbs demanded, apparently having glanced at the caller id, and deciding to tone his bark down.

“It occurred to me that Tony had not had the chance to get anything for breakfast, before our altercation.”

“Okay, you’ve got an hour. How’s Tony?”

“I’m hunkey dorey, Boss,” Tony tried to answer brightly, but his tone would have been more convincing if he weren’t shivering constantly, flushed brilliant red, and staring at her almost aghast… probably at her lying to their boss.

“Well, you’re sounding better, but not much. Ziva you’ve got two hours, but then I want him in here for a full check up with Ducky. You understand me.”

“Perfectly. Gibbs.”

Ziva snapped the phone shut, gleefully.

“Two hours, that was more than I thought possible. Very good, Tony. Perhaps that will give us time for a second reward. Spread your legs.”

Reaching into the glove compartment, she pulled out one of the latex gloves that they all carried with them for evidence collection, and pulled it on. Then dropping her hand beneath the jacket, she left the jacket in place as it was conveniently holding the caff-pow bottle and Tony’s ice encased shaft out of the way.

“Aren’t you going to take that off?’ he whimpered.

“No,” she answered cocking her head curiously as if she couldn’t even understand why he would have asked that. “You earned your punishment, and there is still a great deal of ice left both in the bottle and in the spare cups.”

“Oh, god, you’re going to pour the rest in?”

“Of course.”

“But… but, I can’t … not like this.”

“Perhaps,” Ziva agreed as she circled her latex covered finger around his tightly puckered hole. “Perhaps not, but, we have two hours find out.” She finished, pushing two fingers into the ring until the reluctantly spreading muscles stopped at the base of her bent knuckles.

Having mapped his body the night before, she found his prostate easily and began massaging it with a direct firm and constant touch.

“Oh, God! I am so fucking! Screwed!” He cried out as his back arched forcing her fingers slightly deeper and drawing another cry from him.

“Yes, you are.’ She agreed, understanding him completely.

Chapter Text

Tony's mind was reeling as Ziva pushed him through the door into her apartment.

He couldn't decide what worried him more: that Ziva had an unprecedented knowledge of how and which of his buttons to push; that he couldn't seem to break the spell he'd been under since the night before; that he'd somehow insanely agreed to continue their insane arrangement; that the words 'safe'; 'sane', and 'consensual'... and Ziva had nothing in common; that Ziva knew about his feelings for Gibbs and clearly had no compunction against using them to manipulate him; or that - at the moment - Ziva was staring at him with a look which was equal parts enthusiastic predator and calculating mercenary.

Tony started to open his mouth (in protest or plea - he wasn't certain which), but the way her eyes narrowed and her gaze sharpened, seeming to grow even darker - succinctly warned him to keep his mouth shut. The dark and dangerous expression abated only slightly when he closed his mouth and - uncomfortable with the smug satisfaction in her gaze - he pulled his own away towards a framed print over her left shoulder, only for it to dart back to hers when she snapped her fingers for his attention, ordering, "No, Tony, you will not be permitted curiosity until you've earned it. If you do not wish to show me your eyes, you may watch my hands or look at the floor between your feet, knees, or hands - depending on how you are placed. No where else, without my explicit permission."

Her eyes flashed with sadistic amusement as he felt his breath speed slightly and his body react in a way that must have been pretty noticeable, judging by her expression.

Uncomfortable with the amused, knowing gaze, Tony dropped his eyes to watch her hands, easily realizing they posed a greater threat to watch for than the floor.

"Good," her answer was far too mild for his comfort but he refused to lift his eyes, choosing silence as his answer, which seemed to satisfy her.

Tony wasn't really surprised when she snapped the fingers of her left hand, a moment later, curling them back toward her leg as if calling a dog. She seemed to have an affinity for causing him humiliation without a second thought, so being treated as an animal didn't truly surprise him as much as the fact that he knew he was responding to it, which only made his humiliation deeper as he 'heeled', following her a few steps back and to her left side... the side he'd been called with... as she led him into the kitchen.

"Center, kneel facing the oven, wrists crossed behind your back, forehead pressed to the floor."

Tony hesitated a moment momentarily, but remembering the 'punishment' she'd dolled out earlier, and the fact that he had - in fact- agreed to the arrangement, he forced himself to walk forward into the center of the kitchen and knelt as she'd ordered. It was a humiliating as everything else she'd gotten him to do, but he still hadn't found the nerve to break their arrangement and decided it was probably better to follow orders - at least until he could get his head on straight and get a grip on his thoughts and reactions at least enough to figure out how to reassert their former working relationship.

Shuddering as she leant over his back, to whisper, "This is the position you will take whenever I use the order 'center', regardless of whether we are here or elsewhere. If you do not take this position, you can expect to receive one or more punishments."

Tony groaned at the implications that she might even use the command to dominate him at work, as she had already proven willing to do. Moreover, he had no doubt that she was probably already planning to do it at a time when he couldn't conceivably comply, for the sole purpose of chalking up a punishment she could deliver later.

Ziva chuckled at his groan, commenting, "I see you understand," even as her arms wrapped around his waist to undo his belt buckle.

After pulling it from his pant loops, she slowly wrapped the thin belt around his wrists, so slowly that he knew she was giving him ample opportunity to resist, but like every other time in the past day that she had exerted this strange dominance over him, Tony couldn't bring himself to fight her - though he shifted uncomfortably until she pushed a hand against the center of his back between his shoulder blades, silently ordering him to still.

Even with his hand's secured firmly behind him and the awkward balance made by pressing his forehead to the floor with bent hips pressed up in an odd triangle with his rear as it's peak - Tony knew he wasn't truly helpless to prevent Ziva from unbuttoning his slacks and pulling them down to re-button them with slight twist that tightened them at his knees. His boxers followed a moment later, exposing both his genitals the full body blush that had risen the moment she'd started to undress him, or rather partially undress him and effectively restrained him more by the way she had been securing his clothing that he would have been if he'd been completely exposed.

The facts that he wasn't helpless and knew he wasn't helpless, that he knew that she was also well aware of the fact that he wasn't and knew he wasn't, and in fact, that she was clearly enjoying both of their awareness that he was - essentially - not-quite-willingly letting her make him more and more helpless before her -- was somehow more overwhelming than he'd expected or realized it could be.

The realization shook him as if it had been an emotional earthquake, and Tony was hard-pressed to keep the resulting wave of dizziness and chills from showing physically as he fought to suppress the tremors and shivers that tried to shake him from the position she'd ordered. The last thing he wanted to deal with was another punishment.

"Shhh… Tony, settle down. You know I'm not doing anything to you that you haven't agreed to, that you don't want. You want this. You've probably always wanted this and ignored it believing that you couldn't have it… that no one could or would do this for you." Ziva coaxed in a soft tone that quietly dared him to deny her words... clearly having guessed that he wouldn't have the grounds to dispute them.

For the most part she was right, but he didn't think that it would be to his benefit to point out that while she was right (he'd somehow always craved this sort of domination) it had never been from her that he'd wanted it. He was pretty sure she already knew that, and didn't care. He cared, but knew that the other part of what she'd said was the factor outweighing everything else: Tony knew without question that no one else would sink to this level with him... much less the one person he most wanted to dominate him this way. If he couldn't get it from her, he wouldn't be getting it from anyone... and that was was why he stayed silent as she as she finished, "... But I can, I will, and I want to, and that's why you've given yourself up to me so freely... and that's why I'm not going to let you take that decision back. You want this... and so do I."

The wave of dizziness didn't go away completely, but Tony did feel a bit less faint after she finished and leaned back, patting him on the side of his hip before stepping away.

He listened intently to her, futilely trying to discern from the sounds of opening one of the kitchen cabinets, moving what sounded like a smallish, glass bottle with something liquid, and a cloth-like sound... what she was doing. But the sounds were almost meaningless- she could have been making tea for all he knew, though he doubted it.

The only sound that truly meant anything to him was when she opened a refrigerator door, and afterward dropped what could only have been at least a dozen ice cubes into a ceramic sounding bowl. Clearly ice wasn't just a convenient torture tool, but a preferred one.

The soft click of four chair legs was familiar enough to tell Tony that she'd moved a stool beside him, and the sound of a softer than metal 'thunk' communicated that she'd probably brought the bowl of ice over as well, but that was all he could discern until a hand pressed against the crevice of his seat just below his hole, spreading his cheeks as a hard, slick tube pressed at his opening pushing in without warning at least three inches before stopping at the edge of a quickly widening circle.

Feeling oddly detached as he found himself analyzing the object currently sticking out of him, Tony decided from the only somewhat hard but not metal hard or cold feel of it that it had to be made out of plastic. Based on how it was shaped in what felt like a widening cone outward, that he truly hoped she had no intention of pushing any further into him, he suspected the object was a funnel... 'meaning more than likely' he thought with a shudder 'she intended to pour something into him... before the ice?... or facilitated by the ice?'

He couldn't decide which, but couldn't force himself to ask, either.

"Press your chest closer to the floor, your buttocks up, and your stomach into your legs." She ordered, startling him. "You will hold this up, perfectly straight and will be punished if you spill anything I choose to fill it with."

"Ziva," he finally protested, shocking himself with his poor timing as she responded by pressing down on the top of the funnel, pushing it firmly several inches deeper into him and holding it for a good count of at least three, breath-stealing seconds, before slowly letting it slide out again to the thinner tube before then repeating her threat, pressing it down again.

"If you would prefer, I can ensure that you do not spill. The mouth only opens to three and a half inches, so I am certain that I can get it fully inside of you. Getting it out, however, would be more difficult, and I imagine very painful."

"No." Tony protested immediately, matching his reply with actions as he pushed himself into the position she'd described.

"We shall see." She retorted pushing the funnel suggestively, and holding it for several seconds before releasing it and stepping away.

From her stillness, as she stopped a few feet away, Tony suspected she was studying whether he would keep position as she ordered or whether she would give him reason to punish him as she clearly wanted. After a moment though, she picked up the bowl and took it back to a counter where heard her pouring the ice something just before a grinding sound took over. Ziva was crushing the ice.

After the grinder or blender was run several times more (and several more trips to the refrigerator were made), Ziva finally returned and promptly started dropping handfuls of the crushed ice into the funnel's cone, occasionally pausing to push the ice chips (and funnel) down - probably compacting the crushed ice to maximize how much she could get in... and into him. Even as Tony had the thought, he felt the first clump push through the tube and drop chillingly into his tract.

"Consider this a test, Tony, to tell me how obedient and observant you are. You will tell me the moment that all of the ice has melted and flowed into you, so that I may refill the funnel again. If you are wrong and take longer to tell me than you should, when I replace it, it will be with something less pleasant than ice. If you tell me too soon, I will refill it with ice as many times as is needed for you to accurately tell me when it's finished... and if you say anything other than "empty" when you believe the funnel to be, you will have earned another punishment."

"Another?" Tony asked before he could catch himself.

"Yes, Tony," She answered him slowly, as if he was dim-witted, "One time each for when you spoke without permission earlier, and once just now. Three punishments….which I suspect you will find very trying, so it would be to your advantage not to earn a fourth."

Shutting up quickly, Tony nodded as noticeably as he could without jarring the protruding funnel of ice.

"Very smart." Ziva taunted with a light slap to his hip before she turned on her heel and left him to the mercy of the slowly dripping funnel.

Already uncomfortably sensitive from the day's events, Tony jerked with every freezing drip and tried to distract himself enough that he wouldn't get caught up in anticipating every drip, but could only think of the events from the night before and earlier in the day. Every thing drew him back to thinking about Ziva and her quickly increasing control over him. Now that she was finally giving him time to think about the situation, though, every chill drop rattled his thoughts bringing his mind back again and again to his position He could almost picture himself, and the thought of how he imagined himself looking brought a chill that wasn't entirely from the ice as he thought of that and what he'd let her do to him over and over without any resistance.

In fact, outside of the bad guy, who -ironically- hadn't shaken him up half as much as Ziva, despite assaulting his mouth with a freaking big knife in a sick mimicry of oral sex and threatening to fuck him with the blade, the only other resistance he'd shown that day had been to Ducky during the check up Gibbs had ordered... refusing the rape kit outright and trying to cut the physical off, almost jumping off the table halfway through, when Ducky tried to examine his nether regions... his thoroughly used and abused nether regions. He'd only stayed still long enough for Ducky to check that there hadn't been any internal tearing because Ducky had threatened to put him on medical leave until he cooperated with a full physical, otherwise. As it was, Tony (and Ziva) were still going to have to see the company shrink to get cleared for the field, but that was standard where agents were captured and used as hostages.

He knew, of course, what Ducky... and probably Gibbs … suspected. Of course, he knew. But without the rape kit, the Swede wouldn't be falsely charged for the treatment Ziva had put Tony through, and if the interrogation with Gibbs was more than a bit uncomfortable for the Swede, well the man had done more than enough to earn it.

Tony was jerked back to awareness as the slow ice drip started to take effect, causing him a light cramp. Strong enough to grab his attention but not so strong that he couldn't bear it. Just like the slow drip itself, the cramp, his uneven position, and the loose tie of his belt around his wrists - nothing in an of itself, was particularly unbearable, but the combination were pretty effective in making him feel more and more vulnerable and helpless, even though he knew he really wasn't. He'd agreed to this, and hadn't fought Ziva even once... not really.

What the hell was wrong with him?!? He couldn't help but ask himself over and over as he waited between infernally slow drips and muscle twinges, trying to estimate how much was left and how long it would take to empty. Turned upside down as he was, with his forehead pressed to the floor, and no previous experience attempting to judge relative weights with that particular part of his anatomy... it was more of a guessing game than anything else, and he was certain that Ziva was well aware of the fact.

Other questions alternated with Tony's mental refrain, including "Why the hell was he giving into this, now? Especially NOW? He'd known for close to twenty years that this was a part of his makeup, but had never let it push him into doing something so fundamentally stupid, even though for most of those years he really hadn't that much to lose. Now though... Now when he had a job he loved, people as close as family to him, and a boss that he... admired, and more than admired regardless of how depressingly futile those feelings were...NOW was when his freaking libido-lizard mind would choose to take over and risk everything with someone he really didn't have those feelings for, and truth be told, didn't truly trust all that much?"

The questions cycled and cycled through his thoughts working him up to the point that he couldn't tell whether the trembling was from the uncomfortable position stressing his leg muscles or from the stress of the questions themselves. Just one more factor to make him aware of what an idiot he was being and start the cycle of thoughts over again until he was caught up into a seemingly timeless cycle until Ziva stood over him, 'tsk' ing in mock surprise.

"I would have thought your experience in the field would have allowed you to be more observant, Tony." She taunted, running a hand over his cheek and wiggling the funnel lightly as if she needed to prove that it was now empty.

Despite himself, Tony lifted and struck his head lightly against the floor, mentally cursing himself for getting so distracted. He'd known it was nearly a guessing game but had gotten too caught up in freaking out to pay full attention to her threat and knew that now he was going to pay for it.

The temptation rose to ask what she was going to do next, but Tony knew it would be falling into a trap, so bit his tongue, until he felt her slide the funnel out.

"What, you said that…"

"I will be replacing the funnel with something less pleasant than Ice, and I am."

"But…"

"You did not listen clearly to my words, and thought perhaps that it would be liquid or small enough to enter you through the funnel, yes? But that is not what I said. You were not able to mind the ice sufficiently to follow my order. I will replace it with something you will have no difficulty paying attention to, and we will try again to see if you can be more observant. But do not worry, I will allow you to help me make certain they will fit in without difficulty, at least with no more difficulty than taking my fingers last night and this afternoon."

Tony choked a moment trying to stifle his self-mocking laughter at her comment. Oh, he'd taken her fingers, alright, for close to two hours earlier in the day- without the release he'd known wouldn't be possible while he was encased in ice - but he'd taken them, or maybe surrendered to them was a better phrase, entirely against his common sense, discretion, and good judgement, but unfortunately not against his will, Ironically, that was the heart of the difficulty he was going to have with what she was about to do. He had no doubt that he'd be able to physically 'take' whatever it was she was going to do: Ziva wasn't crazy enough to risk Gibbs wrath by causing any sort of true physical injury. But, mentally... that was another question, and he was pretty sure he already knew the answer to it.

On the mental front, he was utterly and completely screwed, and suspected it was about be proven without room for doubt - as if he'd even had any questions of the fact.

As that thought died, she caught him by a shoulder and pulled him up high enough to slip a bolster probably from her couch under his chest to hold him up a few inches. The absurdity of her putting a bowl full of banana halves dusted green just below his face drug a startled laugh from him. Her amused chuckle was hardly comforting, but nowhere near as concerning as the words that followed.

"You will lick these when I hold them to your mouth, lick only, to wet them so that they will slide in more easily. Do you understand?"

Tony understood, but one very big question loomed in his mind. None of the banana halves were particularly small and the bowl was full of them.

"How many…"

"There are ten halves." Ziva answered her voice sounding rich with her enjoyment of his discomfort. "But I will only insist on eight unless…"

"Eight!" he interrupted her unthinking "Ziva, please… I … I don't think I can take that many."

"We shall see." She answered already lifting the first to his mouth.

"Ziva, please…" Tony clenched his eyes shut, realizing all too clearly that he was almost begging for her not to do it, instead of acting to stop it or demanding that she stop.

God, what was wrong with him?

"If you do not wish to moisten them…" she threatened softly as she started to pull the first banana half away until he pressed forward stretching his tongue to comply.

It was only as his tongue began to tingle when she was pulling the wetted banana tip away from his mouth that Tony realized he'd overlooked something.

"Wasabi…" he gasped in shock and for the first time since she'd ordered him into position started to pull away, but at the angle he'd taken to reach for the banana, he was easy to hold still with a firm hand in his back as she pushed the half in - no doubt aided by the earlier stretching from the funnel and the two-hour fingering in the car. Still he felt it mash inside him as she pushed it in, and the burn began almost immediately in the delicate tissue exposed to the dusting of wasabi powder.

"Yes, but if you had behaved, you would have had the chance to lick some of the wasabi off before I inserted them. By pulling away, you have given up that chance." Matching her actions to her words, Ziva pulled the bowl of bananas closer to her and quickly followed the first with a second.

As a third followed, the second squishing up inside him only a little less than the first as the third pushed into it... causing an equal burn in the new inches of tissue being reached by the powder as the mass grew and moved forward, Tony bit his lips to keep her from hearing his groans. By the fourth, he was already feeling uncomfortably full, but knew she only half way through and wasn't going to stop until she'd put all eight inside him. Any protest from him would only make it worse.

By the sixth as the mass began to press constantly on his prostate, he couldn't hold his groans in and shifted almost constantly, even after she smacked his hip to still him. Counting out the seventh and the eighth on pained groans, Tony took a relieved breath as her hand dropped and she paused to stroke around the edge of his clenching hole, soothing it backed to almost-closed.

That breath was almost immediately knocked out of him as he felt the ninth press against his now tightened opening pushing slowly in as he gasped, "but you said eight."

"No, Tony, I said eight, unless… if you had let me complete my sentence, I would have warned that if you misbehaved you would take more. You must learn to listen to my words, Tony. There will always be punishments, if you do not."

Seeming to have decided to reiterate her point, Ziva pulled the only partially inserted half back out and retrieved a piece of ice from bowl that was apparently still sitting on the stool. Icing down the puckered opening until it was back to almost normal tightness, Ziva once again pushed the tip of the ninth half slowly forcing it in as she continuously circled his hole with the melting ice cube.

Clenching his hands uselessly behind him as she pushed the softening mass into him centimeter by centimeter, Tony was gasping weakly as his twitching hole closed around her fingers behind it. He knew the tenth was soon to follow but couldn't help whimpering when he felt its tip pushing into him. She stopped every few moments to run her fingers over his quivering pucker, almost soothingly, and his whimpers finally broke to open pleas: "God Ziva, please... please... please Ziva... please. Too much... please, it burns..."

When the tenth was followed by feel of a distinctly different wad being pushed inside him, the haze of sensation fell away for a moment.

"What w-as that?" Tony questioned, his voice shaking badly.

"An aid to prevent seepage. I expect we will be visited by Gibbs very shortly, and I am certain you would not wish him to see any leakage on your clothing."

"What?!?" Tony cried out in shocked outrage struggling to sit up and stand despite the immediate cramping that struck him making him double over again.

Pulling him back up again, Ziva helped him to stand, pulled his boxers and slacks back up, and secured them then released his hands.

"Are you crazy, Ziva? What… how could you even think of …. You have to help me get this out!"

"No, in fact, I do not. It will stay in until after Gibbs has visited you and gone."

"Fuck that! There's no way I can talk to him with this stuff up my.... God!" Turning to scan the room quickly, Tony took a quick guess which was the bathroom and rushed that way. As he slammed the door behind him, he heard her lightly taunt that he was earning another punishment, but ignored it.

Five frustrating minutes later, Tony was standing in front of her again, his arm clenched around his stomach, his eyes glossy with frustrated if unshed tears, and a sheen of sweat across his reddened face.

"You've got to get this out. Please, Ziva. Please, you've got to get it out. I'm begging you here…" Tony was ready to drop to his knees if he thought it would help matters, but didn't get the chance to say more as he was interrupted by three sharp distinctive knocks.

Ziva's smile was positively evil as she pushed his shoulder, turning him toward the door.

"Answer the door, Tony. I will get beverages." Without another word, she turned and strutted into the kitchen, leaving Tony staring hopelessly and helplessly staring at the door, wondering if it was too late to try to go out a window, even as Gibbs voice carried through the wooden barrier."

"Ziva, Tony! Answer the damn door."

Chapter Text

Watching from the kitchen entry as Gibbs ordered, "Sit," giving Tony a gentle push through the door and grimacing at Tony's back when the other man jumped slightly at his touch, Ziva nodded to herself in satisfaction. It was clear to her that Gibbs had received Abby and Ducky's reports and was interpreting Tony's behavior in light of the suspicions she had seeded, first with her responses at the scene, then using evidence gloves to penetrate and 'finger' Tony in the car on the way to headquarters - gathering false trace evidence that she later smeared on the knife handle when she visited an already distraught and distracted Abby in the lab, during Tony's 'check up'.

It was also evident that her attempts to feed the scientist's emotional state had been successful, giving Ziva the additional time she needed before coming to work on Tony before Gibbs came to check on them.

Gibbs tendency to cater to Abby emotional outbursts had been easy to play on already: when she'd informed Gibbs that the scientist was almost in tears, the man had aborted his entrance to the morgue and rushed toward the lab; no doubt, wanting to diffuse whatever had upset Abby before the 'rumor-mill' upset the woman more than she already was.

Anticipating that it would take at least twenty to twenty-five minutes to settle the woman enough for Abby even gave her report, and an additional twenty minutes, at least that Gibbs would spend discussing Tony's exam and behavior with Ducky, Ziva had estimated that she might have as much as an hour to put Tony into a state that he would feel utterly compromised, but that would leave almost no outward trace for Gibbs to pick up other than Tony's anxiety and jumpiness.

Once again thankful to a mentor who'd years ago advised her to study the methods, games, and proclivities frequently found on fetish and dominance sites, Ziva had several that were easily at her fingertips, and had chosen the one which had seemed most likely to cause Tony the deepest and longest sense of humiliation and lack of control, while at the same time forcing him to control his reactions unless he was ready to reveal his state to Gibbs, which she was utterly certain he would not be willing to do.

That was the primary reason she'd felt safe in leaving Tony alone with Gibbs.

From the start, Tony had been almost frantic for her not to reveal his either his gender preference or his infatuation for Gibbs, which now measured as the mildest of the secrets they'd shared. Her luck at having discovered these when he was already sleep deprived from the frantic pace before the mission and the mission prep, only compounded to work for her as she continued to pursue her three pronged campaign to overwhelm him and subdue him.

The first prong had been to physically undermine his resistance, by virtue of having caught him off guard and leaving him too vulnerable and edgy to sleep the night before, only increasing his strategic vulnerability to her campaign as sleep and food deprivation further undermined his ability to think clearly. Ziva was fairly certain that he wasn't even fully aware of the fact that it had been more than thirty-six hours since he'd eaten anything, and even then only the restaurant's exceedingly small portion of the steak he'd been mangling -attempting to cut it as their dead assassin would have- after skipping the team lunch to brief with the director and Gibbs.

It was a very simple and very effective way to ensure a target's muddled thinking, a state which she wanted to foster. With that thought in mind, she took down a box of senna tea to brew a cup for Tony, while she and Gibbs would drink coffee.

The diuretic tea would not only quickly increase Tony's urgency to relieve himself despite the fact it was too soon for the bananas to have worked down far enough to permit this, but also further sap what little nutrients he was running on as it drew off excess fluids to his kidneys and bladder, as well as likely leaving Tony slightly dehydrated. He would need to eat and drink very soon, and she intended to ensure that this too was under her control... and that he was aware of and conceded to the fact, even if unwillingly.

Tony's continued conflicted cooperation with her machinations was also an essential prong of her campaign against his resistance, and she reminded him that he had chosen this – willingly – despite the fact that she'd been aware from the first it had been solely a reaction to base coercion, even if he was too overwhelmed to recognize the fact that his early compliance at every turn had been 'encouraged' with veiled threats of his secrets being revealed to Gibbs.

Inherent in this prong had been his anxiety at the possibility that she might have turned him to face Gibbs, noticeable even after he'd been released from the chair, and blatant in his eyes and subdued reactions as well as his passive acceptance of her activities the entire ride back, and his cooperation with the Ducky's exam. All laced with her taunts and suggestions, asking him what he thought Gibbs would think seeing him, what he would have wanted from Gibbs – if Gibbs knew... what it would feel like if Gibbs were doing it instead of her – all the while reminding him that she was the only one who would give him what he'd needed, wanted, and willingly chose – even if he was reticent to comply.

The last prong was evolving his passive compliance to active habituation, which she intended to start almost immediately after Gibbs departure.

She had promised Tony four punishments already, what he did not -and could not- realize. was that the worst of these - would be the indisputable evidence and implications of his compliance.

Combined with his continued knowing silence on who was responsible for the state the others were misinterpreting as evidence that the European assassin had sexually assaulted him... Ziva would soon have ample damning examples of his compliance that she intended to twist in his mind until they could only be seen as evidence of his desire for what she was offering. There was often nothing more convincing to a target, she'd found, than their own actions.

Given enough time to recoup, sleep, and think, Ziva had no doubt that he would have come to the recognition that he had been and was being coerced, but her trade and training specialized in ensuring that he or any chosen target would not have the necessary time or resources to recover their ground before succumbing to the stresses placed on him and submitting to the handler's will. In this case, Ziva's will... and pleasure.

As the tea finished steeping, Ziva decided that she'd given them enough time alone allay any suspicions Gibbs might have and gathered their drinks to join them.

The scene that met her as she returned to the room was all that she could have hoped for: Gibbs, who was seated as far away as reasonable given the room's seating arrangement, was moving slowly and carefully – telegraphing any movements as he made them – as she had seen him do with assault victims, and was speaking in calm non-critical tones and frowning as he watched Tony, who was at least a full shade paler than he'd been when she'd left the room and noticeably unable to meet Gibbs gaze.

Despite his years of undercover experience, Tony seemed to be entirely unaware of his current posture which veritably screamed vulnerability, with his shoulders hunched and his arm wrapped around his very-likely-cramping stomach.

Handing Gibbs his coffee, Ziva turned and handed Tony the tea, explaining when Gibb's eye brow rose in question, “to ease nerves...”

Gibbs eyes softened in approval, even as he ordered softly, “Drink up, Tony” when Tony eyed the tea dubiously, correctly suspecting it.

After waiting for Tony to finish it all, Gibbs drank his mug halfway down in single drink, and finished it a moment later, explaining as he stood. “I can't stay, but wanted to check that both of you are okay,” nodding as they simultaneously agreed then continued, “I just told Tony, both of you take the rest of the week. We're off rotation, and the department shrink's on conference, so we can't even have you doing desk duty. I'll want your statements, but tomorrow's soon enough.”

Tony's pallor now made perfect sense and inspired an immediate change in her plans.

As Gibbs stood to leave, Ziva stood gesturing for Tony to join them, commenting, “Come Tony, if we are to take several days off, we should go to the grocer for foods that you will find amenable.”

Tony's eyes flared so wide with shock that she could see the beginning of his eyes turning blood shot, his arms practically wrapped around his waist as he took a step back in seeming denial shaking his head almost frantically when Gibbs had turned his back to them, almost stammering as he demurred, “Tha- that's okay, I'll eat whatever you're having.”

ブレンキン

As Gibbs' truck pulled out of the parking lot, Tony's breath broke from his lungs in an outraged gasp,”Jesus, Ziva”, but before he could say anything else, she tapped her index finger against his lips, promising, “you will find it much wiser to remain silent, until I say otherwise.”

Tony's eyes narrowed angrily, flashing with his desire to resist her, but intermittently frantic and filled with humiliation at his current state...

Taking the turbulent inner battle out of his hands, before he had the chance to 'come to his senses', Ziva proposed, “I will give you two choices, Tony, and you may choose from either, but realize that this discomfort is the first of the four punishments that you earned after being warned not to complain, so I am not inclined to be lenient, even if you choose to beg for leniency. Do you understand?”

Holding her fingertip firmly against his lips, Ziva made it clear that she only expected and would only accept a nod of agreement, which he reluctantly gave with a frustrated sniff, earning a warning, “Careful, Tony. I assure you that you do not wish to add another punishment.”

When he remained silent after her warning, Ziva laid out her 'offer': “Good, Tony, it is good to know that you are learning. Very well, here are your choices, at some point within the next hour, you will need to 'relieve yourself'. You may choose to do so either in the public restroom at a nearby restaurant, as soon as it becomes necessary,” she paused, letting the idea sink in and giving him time to imagine what it might be like to rid himself of mass inside him in a public men's room that others might walk into at any moment, before continuing with the seemingly more appealing option that at least superficially offered a sense of privacy, “or you may do so back at my apartment – after shopping. I have a list of several items, but if you are well behaved, and assist in the shopping, it should not take very long.”

“One word, Tony, 'shopping' or 'restaurant', which do you prefer?” she asked, lifting her finger of his lips with a repeated warning, “Just one word.”

Taking her warning to heart, he whispered, “Shopping” - the knowledge that it would not be as simple as she'd suggested clear in his eyes.

“Very good. Now, you remember, up in the apartment, I taught you your first command? What was it?”

“Cen-ter,” Tony answered, choking slightly on the word.

“Good boy.” Ziva gave him a falsely encouraging smile; it didn't ease the tension that was radiating through his frame, but it had not been meant to.

“What are you to do when you hear that command, hmmm?”

Seeming to struggle with the words for several seconds until Ziva threatened, “If you need a reminder, I will happy to give you one, the grocery is as good a place as any to test your obedience to it.”

“I remember, Ziva, I don't need a demonstration. I remember. I am to go to the center of the room, kneel facing the … the object you point me to, wrists crossed behind my back, with my forehead pressed to the floor ” Tony protested in a rush, though clearly trying to prevent his words from sounding like a complaint.

“See, you are learning. Very good, Tony. You haven't erased your punishments, but continued good behavior will prevent you from earning others. Now there is another command ..."

Chapter Text

Tense, trembling, and exhausted, by the time they had returned to Ziva's apartment, Tony could barely concentrate on suppressing the groan that accompanied every wave of cramps, which had become near constant during their shopping trip.

The shopping trip, in and of itself, had been thankfully short, but long enough that the bananas and plug she had inserted earlier had begun to work their way down and had threatened with every step, to come out in what felt like it would be a massive squishy mess, in his slacks, because there was no way he was going to get caught crapping bananas in the public jon of any grocery store, but especially not the one just around the corner from his apartment - the store that he shopped at almost two to three times a week... Which was no doubt top in Ziva's mind when she drove past a handful of other groceries to get there.

If he had needed any other evidence that Ziva was evil- despite the peep show she'd given the girls, the multiple ice treatments, the banana punishment, AND making him sit through a 'visit' from Gibbs with a pound of bananas in his gut, followed by a shopping trip with said pound still in said guts, with a side of her ordering that he masturbate on command during the drive or they could keep driving until he did (and really would anyone need more evidence of her evilness?)... If he had, though, needed additional evidence, it would have been abundantly evident in the fact that when he had caught up with her in the store, after 'fetching' the third list of groceries she'd scribbled for him - from produce that time, his arms laden with eggplant, leeks, spring onions, carrots, horseradish root, and several others he'd only recognized by virtue of the grocer's signs.....she had passed him a rolled up evidence glove and suggested in a normal tone- that anyone could hear - that on his way back to produce he check the bananas and that she wouldn't be pleased if he dropped any.

When he'd returned, she'd made him assure her -out loud- that he'd 'pushed them high enough they wouldn't fall and leaves a mess for anyone.' God, he'd wanted to scream afterwards and could see she knew it.

ブレンキン

"You might wish to remember," Ziva's voice cut unexpectedly across Tony's self recriminations, sharp, impatient, and predatory, "Tony, that you have been warned more than once today that you will need to listen. I see no reason to show you patience or leniency when you choose to ignore a command. You certainly would not show Gibbs the disrespect of ignoring an order- so you cannot even claim ignorance of what should be expected."

"Ziva, please," he protested weakly, "I... I'm sorry. I didn't... Wasn't trying to ignore you. I was just ... distracted. I really wasn't trying to ignore you. Honestly, I was just caught up thinking about how fast everything's happening...it hasn't even been a full day even and we've gone from being partners at work to something a hell of a lot more personal. Everything's just moved so fast." Tony knew his voice had slipped into a pleading range, it had been hours since he had been able to look her in the eye, and he was probably only getting himself in more trouble with her when he didn't have a clue how to extract himself from the insane twist their undercover op had taken, but felt like he had to make a last ditch effort before everything got completely out of control... Or at least more than it already was.

"I fail to understand why you resist accepting what has already happened, what you have already chosen, and agreed to...and acted upon. You are only confusing yourself when you do so. It is not so complicated as you wish to make it."

The simplicity of her answer staggered Tony. How on earth could she not think it was a complicated? Hadn't she even considered how it would effect their working relationship? He was her senior officer for chrissakes!

How could she expect things to go back to normal when he couldn't even look her in the eye? The Mossad certainly didn't let things like this go on, did they? He didn't see how it could possibly work if they did. Or, did Ziva as the boss's daughter have special privileges not afforded other agents. Could she possibly think that doing what she was to him... Was just a perk of the job?

"You are driving yourself, foolishly, to distraction again, but surely do not wish to suffer - again - for your lapse?" She interrupted, cutting his line of thought off with a sharp imitation of Gibbs's head slap that had Tony jerking a step forward in surprise as much as silent protest of her using reminders of Gibbs, much less his methods.

"While I am clearly not adverse to causing you pain, it will not serve either of us if I allow you to cling to a mirage that you have not desired this and fully cooperative in the pursuit of this arrangement from the first moment of my discovery of its possibility. I will reiterate your decisions which have led to your current state -without interruption- and if, afterward you can counter any of these decisions, I will hear your remarks - assigning further penalty, but otherwise we will not speak of this again. Agreed?"

"Yes," Tony answered quickly, biting down on a pained groan as another wave of pain convulsed through his gut again of his earlier punishment and how quickly he needed to get to her restroom.

"Your punishment has become uncomfortable, yes?"

He agreed with a tight nod, finally glancing up at her hopefully.

"Good," she remarked -absolutely uncaring and unphased by a prospect that had Tony practically cringing with almost constant cramps, "your discomfort should aid you in keeping your thoughts in the present and avoiding any extensions of your discomfort or further punishments, yes?"

Dejected by her absolute indifference, Tony nodded a quick capitulation, easily catching her threat that any 'resistance' on his part would result in a similar delay if not worse from her.

"Very well... Center." Following on the heels of her warning, the command was almost expected, though Tony couldn't help but grimace as he dropped to his knees and folded over them putting additional pressure on the mass and his over sensitized prostate, which, in turn, responded with an uncomfortable flood of swelling and painful arousal to bruised feeling cock.

"You will state 'yes' for each item I say that is the truth, no otherwise. We will not discuss again anything, which you agree to. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Ziva." Tony answered as quickly and mildly as he could, hoping to give her no excuse to extend the ordeal.

"Though we have worked side by side, there is very little that you know of me, true?"

"Yes," Tony agreed hopeful that she might make his point for him.

"While we have stood together against suspects, you do not fully trust me, true?"

Tony hesitated, embarrassed and uncomfortable with her awareness of his distrust, but it was a moot point when she already knew: "yes."

"You know almost nothing of me, do not trust me, and yet, you have given me open access to your body."

"Yes." Tony answered, his throat going dry.

"You crave dominance."

"Yes."

"Pain is an inherent aspect of this dominance."

"Yes." He agreed to what she already knew, waiting for her to get to the meat of the discussion where he knew he could argue his point. He just needed a few minutes to make his point then get rid of the wad pressing evermore insistently on his prostate and get some rest and get his head on straight.

"You also respond to humiliation."

...

...

"Y-ea" he stammered, shifting uneasily. He should have realized that she had picked up on it, instead of thinking it was just a haphazard by-product of opportunities for punishment.

"Answer fully, Tony." Ziva chastised, her tone knowing.

...

"Y-es." Tony choked out, the second half of the word barely louder than an exhale, glad for the first time for the position she'd ordered him into as it kept her from seeing the hot flush on his cheeks.

"Louder, Tony, say it clearly. Humiliation arouses you. True?"

Her goading only made it worse, but as much as he wanted to deny it, he couldn't; she knew. She knew, but admitting it... Admitting it was something he'd never done, before he could get the agreement, she pushed the issue further, painfully further: "say it, Tony, fully. You know it's the truth."

He wanted to deny it, so much.

So much....

"Tony."

She didn't say anything else; she didn't need to. The warning was clear in her voice.

"Hum-ilia-tion ... a - ar - ou - ses me," the words fell brokenly from his lips feeling as if they had been drug from his throat with fish hooks.

"Yes, it does, doesn't it?"

"Yes." Tony's answer was almost croaked out.

Moving to a chair behind him, for a time she was silent, simply stroking his nearest arm... seeming as if she was encouraging him consider the scope of his admission. Finally, when he was about to try to prompt her along, she asked - almost out of the blue:

"These are not new cravings, true?"

"Yes."

"You have craved this for many, many years."

"Yes."

"No one else has given this to you."

How could she know that? It was true, but they hadn't talked about his history ... At all.

"Ye--es," the word broke in the middle as her she slipped the tip of her shoe between his legs and rubbed it across his practically throbbing cock.

"You crave it most from Gibbs."

A full body shudder wracked through him at the announcement of the one truth he had hoped that no one would ever know. It had been clear that she'd figured it out immediately, but to say it so bluntly...

"You crave it most from Gibbs."

"Yes." Where the breath came from to agree, he couldn't imagine; his lungs felt as if his ribs were wrapped in iron bands. If he were standing, he might have swayed dizzily for the lack of air.

"But he will not, cannot give this to you."

"No," it wasn't a denial and they both knew it.

"You cannot ask him for it."

"No," the word was almost a sob.

"You would lose everything."

"Yes."

"You would lose him."

"Yes."

"Yet, you need this so much that you give yourself to someone you admit you do not know or trust."

Tony hated the fact that said like that, on the heels of the previous proclamations, it sounded so obvious and, so damn obvious. Like he shouldn't even question it, like there wasn't a life in there somewhere, when he knew there was. He couldn't point it out, immediately, but he could feel it was there.

If only she would stop rubbing the tip of her shoe up and down his length and let him hit the head and give him a chance to catch his breath and think straight he'd be able to argue his point.

"You do not trust me." She reiterated.

"No," Tony agreed.

"Yet, you gave yourself to me."

"Yes."

"I have used your body in ways that you were not comfortable with, did not ask for, and would not have chosen if given the chance."

His breath came more shallowly at her admission, and Tony had to suck in several breaths before he was able to hiss his agreement. Had she been treating him the way she had, all along just to make that point?

"You would not have done that - turned to someone you do not know or trust -- in Gibbs place-- except out of need."

Confronted with the possibility of not only his personal betrayal of the loyalty he owed Gibbs but also the place and role in his heart and mind that he had always secretly set aside for Gibbs but had now let Ziva usurp, Tony struggled to deny her claim but try though he might couldn't dredge up any answer but 'Yes.'

As damning as it was and as much as he hated himself for it, some part of Tony, some part that he'd kept hidden from himself as much as everyone else must need the treatment she'd been giving him - who knows for what reason, maybe to balance out the power of running around with a gun and a license to use it, to dole out justice, protect victims, or maybe it was just needed as penance for the ones he couldn't help... he couldn't say why, but if he could admit he needed it none the less, maybe that possibility, maybe that made some sort of sense out of his behavior over the last day and a half.

"You need this," Ziva restated, seeming to read his thoughts as easily as Gibbs. "You need this, and no one else, not even Gibbs, is willing to give you this..."

As she spoke, her free hand slid between his gaze and the ottoman, laying out a long strip of tightly woven nylon about three inches wide by almost twenty inches long with seven shiny silver grommets spaced an inch apart at one end and on the other an equally shiny buckle.

"You need...what I am willing to give you, Tony: domination, humiliation, ... and acceptance."

His eyes riveted on the collar, Tony could barely whisper his answer, but it was her final note that had cinched it for him; outside of Gibbs, no one else had ever offered him any sort of acceptance, and Gibbs couldn't be the one to offer it this time.

"Yes."

Chapter Text

Triumph. The feeling of it, sweet, powerful, and incomparable, filled Ziva at the sight of Tony reaching out for the candy pink collar she had found at the grocery. Adding to the moment was the recognition that his fingers were jittering with a very noticeable tremor... his hands shaking as they never did in the field. A man -whom she had seen first-hand facing death without concern, even when it seemed inescapable- knelt before her trembling, undone, and overwhelmed- by her and the prospect she proposed.

When his fingers were a hairs breadth from the collar, she snapped her fingers, and he froze obediently.

Tony was hers. She knew it, and even if he had not completely accepted it, he knew it as well.

"I do not remember giving you permission to touch it."

He started to open his mouth, to question or protest - she didn't care which - and snapped her fingers sharply, silencing him.

"You do not touch this, not to put it on, nor take it off. You gave yourself to me. This morning, you agreed that you will, again, whenever I request. What you do not seem to comprehend is that you have given that decision to me. It is no longer yours to choose. I will put it on you. I will take it off, when and how I please. Center, Tony, and extend your neck."

Tony stared at her for several minutes, his doubts, fears, and sense of self all clearly at war in his eyes, trying to overthrow her assertions, but finally, finally he bent, his shoulders curling in as his elbows slipped back and his wrists crossed at his lower back. It took longer for him to stretch his neck far enough that she would have enough room to slip the collar around his neck, but her victory wouldn't be complete until he submitted to her fully, so she waited neither encouraging him nor releasing him from her command until centimeter by centimeter, Tony’s forehead pressed into the carpet bowing his neck and exposing his nape.

In tauntingly slow movements, Ziva wrapped the wide pink collar around his throat, fed the collar's end through the buckle, letting the buckle's tongue click across each grommet until it lay flat to his throat. He was breathing shallowly, but not from the collar's tightness, so Ziva felt no hesitation in tightening it to the next hole. It would not seriously constrict his breathing, merely act as a constant reminder of his submission.

"Stand, and strip."

Tony's response was immediate, though lacking his normal certainty and odd grace. Rising to his feet, he pulled his jacket off, folded it carefully with jittering fingers, and dropped it on the ottoman. His progress with his shirt was slower as his fingers fumbled with the shirt's polished buttons and he paused intermittently - stiffening and holding his breath for several moments before shuddering and returning to his task.

As the shirt separated, she closed on him, suppressing a smirk when he immediately stilled. Flipping the shirt plackets open with a flick of her fingers, Ziva traced a nail just above the waist of his slacks, skimming the skin with just enough pressure to leave a thin reddened line running from his abdomen, spiraling his navel, and continuing up until she stopped dead center between his nipples twisting her nail back and forth as he tensed in anticipation. When he stiffened again with a cramp, Ziva struck, darting her fingers out to pinch each of his nipples and digging in sharply, she twisted them in opposite directions, wringing a thready gasp from him.

As the tension in his muscles started to lessen from the cramp's passing, she tightened the twist and prompted, "you were not given permission to stop, Tony."

His eyes momentarily clenched shut as he gulped and nodded. It was still several moments before he pulled against her hold, gasping as he slid the shirt down his shoulders. When he started to drop it, she tsk'd shaking her head in a silent order to fold it. Tony grimaced, but obeyed biting his lip when she held tight, pulling his nipples punishingly as he leaned to lay it on the ottoman. The grimace tightened as he seemed to realize that she wouldn't loosen her hold for him to remove his shoes, socks, slacks or pants.

Tony was breathing shallowly and fast by the time that he'd gotten his loafers and socks off. He was groaning almost continuously by the time his slacks were folded on the ottoman, and his hands were shaking as he reached for his boxers.

Timing it for the peak of his next cramp, she pinched then released his nipples and chuckled as his gaze darted to her in confused surprise, having clearly expected her to continue the painful grip on his nipples until he was completely naked. Her intent became clear a breath later when he bit off a curse on a choked breath as the circulation returning to his nipples woke the pinched nerve endings with jolts of pain.

Catching his breath, he bent and pushed the boxers shuddering in the wake of the cramp. His stomach muscles, though not as defined as she would like, were still visible enough that she could see (and savor) the tensing of his stomach muscles with each passing cramp.Almost vibrating with his desperation to rid himself of her earlier punishment, Tony, nevertheless, seemed to recognize her willingness to extend his suffering and stood as still as he could seem to as she stepped to study him, letting her eyes linger over every centimeter of his rapidly flushing skin.

"Adequate, I suppose." Ziva jibed lightly, enjoy the slump of his shoulders in response.

She circled him, scanning up and down his body, silently planning the changes she would make, the piercings, cuts, and burns she intended to mark him with, nothing that would be noticeable to any but herself and him, but marks that -in his own mind would define him as her property when he saw and felt them.

Circling him until he began to twitch with discomfort at her observation, Ziva added her touch to her gaze, randomly reaching out and running her hands over him in an intentionally clinical, as his body was merely an object to examine. She ran her fingers behind his ears, under his arms, between his toes, across his teeth, between his cheeks, all with the utter unconcern of farmer buying a goat, not even seeming to notice the return of the very stiff, red, and full erection, awoken by her touch, his rapid panting or the repeated groans of "Please Ziva," every time her fingers grazed a sensitive spot or his stomach tensed with a cramp.

Finally, when she felt she'd made clear the point that she would touch him when, how, and where she wanted, Ziva moved back to the grocery bag and pulled out the other matching collars she had purchased.

His eyes were fixed on her fingers as she separated the larger wider collars, an uncomprehending expression on his face as she returned to his side and crouched beside him to wrap the first collar around his upper thigh and tighten it down. After the second was secured around his other thigh she slid the first of the smaller thinner collars through the d-ring on positioned on the outside of his thigh and gestured for his hand. His compliance was slower than it should have been, but after a slight delay he let her pull his wrist to his thigh and secure it there.
Running her fingernail around the edge of the attached collars, and enjoying his responsive shudder, she barely had to glance up expectantly before he compliantly lowered his other wrist to be secured with another thinner collar to that thigh.

With his hands secured, Ziva retrieved the last two, smallest collars: one of woven candy pink nylon and the second a thin enameled choke chain with a candy pink leatherette strip woven in and out of each link. Letting her smile twist mischievously, as she positioned the first with the d-ring at the top of the base of his cock with it's thin strap running in and out of two links of the second barely an inch and a half from the terminal ring of the choke chain, Ziva pushed the the loop of the chain through the ring, and set it around his sack before sliding the other end of the nylon up the other side and buckling it tightly around his cock - so it not only acted as an effective cock ring, but also held the tiny choke chain in place at the back of his sack, with it's loop length of chain hanging just underneath his shaft.

Tracing her nails in and around the edges of the tiny collars, Ziva reveled in Tony's increasingly shell-shocked passivity, watching as he jolted and flinched under her touch, but no longer seemed to try to evade or question her right to touch him in any manner she chose; though he gulped convulsively with each touch and moaned under his breath with every ripple of his stomach.

Even with his eyes clinched tightly shut, it was obvious that he knew what was happening as she pulled out the matching, pink-handled chain leash she'd bought and clipped it to the swinging end of the choke chain. When she finally tugged the chain in an unspoken command, he dropped to his knees... and followed crawling awkwardly and slowly as she lead him to the kitchen.

Despite his subdued - if unquestioning- obedience, Ziva was under no illusion that she had broken him, yet, but it was equally evident to her that she was not very far from doing so, and in fact, might achieve her goal before the night ended.

Chapter Text

Tony's keys dropped from his nerveless fingers twice, before he finally managed to unlock the door to his apartment - making him clutch the wall unsteadily as he bent to retrieve them. Fighting a wave of vertigo as finally pushed through the door and closed it behind him, Tony stumbled through the apartment numbly, not entirely certain where he was really headed when he finally stopped circling the room and dropped to the couch.

He'd wavered back and forth between heading into the kitchen or into his bedroom, but neither option held any appeal; even though, he knew that he needed both food and sleep - and had, in fact, been ordered to get both.

Both would be futile attempts - with anxiety and nausea- feeding off of each other so much that trying to eat was out of the question and the prospect of sleep seemed laughable. Tony felt that either option seemed hardly worth the effort of even trying when their failure was a foregone conclusion. By contrast, his couch was as much convenient stopping point as a the softest place he could fall when both his adrenaline and bravado finally deserted him.

"Go home, Tony, and stay there." Gibbs' disgusted growl echoed in his mind, punctuated by the sound of Gibbs desk drawer slamming so hard that Tony heard the thumps of his gun and badge sliding and hitting the front or back of the drawer. He'd been too far away to see where in the drawer Gibbs had dropped them, having been slower than usual coming out of the elevator after Gibbs.

His "Yes, Boss" was met with stony silence and a stare that felt as if it went through him more than acknowledging his existence, and when nothing else was said, Tony hurried to the lesser used stairway at the back of the bullpen- not wanting to chance meeting anyone else on his way out, but especially not Ziva.

The entire ride home her orders had echoed as an intermittent pulse between Gibbs' angry responses to his confession, and he'd barely been able to focus on the ridiculously arduous task of driving home to hold the memory at bay, but his collapse to the couch was as much a failure of his mental endurance as his physical stamina and he was quickly overwhelmed in the deluge of memories from his complete degradation the night before.

~~~

Crawling on his knees to the kitchen, stripped naked, bound in ridiculously-bright pink animal collars, with his cock humiliatingly erect and cinched by another collar had been horrifying, but he'd done it almost without thought, hurrying as much as he could because every time he slowed, she'd pull the leash attached to the collar around his cock.

"Center," the order felt almost commonplace as he'd followed it, and he was frankly glad that it had allowed him to divert his gaze from her blatantly triumphant smirk.

His gratitude for the small allowance quickly fled, however, when she'd pushed a plastic box under his upturned seat, and ordered, "release".

His moan of "please no" had been completely heartfelt, and completely useless; as she'd reminded him, it would not be long before he'd have no choice.

Nevertheless, he futilely fought to retain the smallest reserve of dignity, until it was beyond his control and the load that she'd forced on him earlier was evacuated in a series of explosive purges.

Certain that she'd not want to continue due to the lateness of the night and the utterly gross display, Tony was caught off-guard when she'd immediately jerked the leash to pull him back up and commanded him to masturbate.

"How?" he'd demanded, extending his hands -as much as the collars binding his wrists to his thighs permitted - in a pitiful protest.

"Perhaps, I can be persuaded to make your obedience easier to achieve, if you ask properly."

"Please Ziva, please." Tony had tried, not having a clue what she'd actually expected from him.

"Not good enough, Tony. Try again. This time with more details."

~God~ Even the memory of it made him shudder, but he'd given in, certain that she'd had no intention of letting him sleep until she'd gotten whatever she wanted from him.

"Please Ziva, tell me whatever it is you want me to do to ... finish it." He'd answered impatiently and had been rewarded with a tug on the leash sharp enough to force a yelp out of him as the choke-chain collar at the leash's end pulled so tight he felt like his breath had been stolen.

"Your attitude is foolish, Tony. Apologize."

"I'm sorry, Ziva." Tony had complied quickly - not wanting to tempt her to another punishment.

"No. That is not sufficient. You have been given many warnings, tonight alone. I want a more... fervent show of obedience..."

After she'd been silent for several seconds, he glanced up - to see her sitting on the edge of her kitchen stool, her skirt pulled suggestively high and her feet spread wider than normal- and her meaning had been abundantly clear. Nodding, he edged forward in his knee, half resigned and half hoping that he could make her forget the rest of her plans for him for the evening.

Trying to work every trick he'd learned over years of half-hearted conquests, Tony lathed, kissed, nibbled, and sucked every inch she'd allowed him to reach for what felt like hours until he found the pattern that had her grabbing his hair in both hands and holding him firmly in place as she came wetly with series of half broken gasps and continued to hold him in place until she'd finished shuddering and her breathing calmed.

"Yes, that was better..." She'd uttered in a slightly chokey voice, still holding his face so tightly against her that he could barely breath through his nose.

"Much more pleasing than the attitude you were demonstrating. Now..." She paused as she pushed her boot between his spread legs. "If I am not mistaken, men who claim knowledge of as many women as you have claimed to are referred to as hounds, Yes?"

When she didn't continue, he nodded his agreement, unable to answer verbally, positioned as he was.

"And hounds when they wish to, need to... mount something, a female, a leg, whatever is available to give them the release required? I believe it is called runting?"

She pushed her leg forward enough that it pressed his cock against his stomach, but didn't move it any further.

Instead, she pulled his hair to re-position his mouth back over her clit as she explained, "You will repeat your apology, and while doing so, will runt until I have been pleasured and will be punished if you fail."

~Of course, I will. ~ Tony had thought at the time, somewhat surprised that he'd had even a trace amount of sarcasm left.

It had felt as if he'd lost almost everything else: his common sense, dignity, privacy... sanity. Even his will power seemed on incredibly shaky ground when he just followed one unwanted order after another - pressing himself against her as he began to diligently mouth her and run his tongue through her damp slit.

His first performance had seemed to take the edge off for her, though, and he was reduced to mouthing whimpered moans into her crotch as the straps, buckles, and decorations on her boots tortured him. Ziva was quick to respond whenever he seemed to slow, grabbing the back of his head to grind his face into her if his mouth slowed and dragging her foot up to scrape the straps and buckles up the underside of his cock if his hips slowed.

She had seemed to have an uncanny sense of when he seemed to be nearing the edge, as well. Every time the friction and stimulation came close to overcoming the pain and his exhaustion, she seemed to know and would pull the choke-chain running under her foot - ruining even the slightest tingle of pleasure as his overloaded, overtaxed, and oversensitive testicles protested the abuse.

Every trick that had worked before, seemed useless on his second attempt, and it felt like more than an hour passed before she finally drug his head away, tsk'ing.

"You have wasted enough time in half-hearted obedience; it is late, and we are to go into the office tomorrow to give Gibbs our statements, but there are other matters we must deal with before we may sleep."

Tony sank back on his heels - exhaustion and relief at being released from the seemingly hopeless performance- almost overwhelming him.

"You have earned four punishments, but given the lateness of the day, perhaps you thought you would be escaping them? Yes?"

She waited for an answer- so which he could only shrug. He'd hoped he could, but not really believed it, which she seemed to recognize.

"You were right not to Tony; any punishments you earn will always be delivered within the same day."

Pushing him away with her leg, she ordered him to 'sit' with a smirk, rose from the kitchen stool, and moved to the kitchen counter, where they'd earlier left the bags of produce. Rifling through one of the bags, she pulled out the thick ginger roots that she'd sent him to pick out, weighed them in her hands with a smile, and bent to pull out a plastic bowl from under the counter, then a knife and spool of string from a drawer before returning to the stool.

After pushing the edge of the bowl into his lips and ordering him to 'bite', she smirked commenting, "perhaps that will help not to earn further punishments, yes? If you can not speak?" and proceeded to shave the roots of their skin, careful to only take the thinnest outside covering off without whittling off much if any of the girth. When she'd finished this, she'd cut two of the roots into thumb long pieces at least an inch and a half at the smallest to almost three inches wide at the largest cutting a thin notch around each of their centers.

"Are you familiar with the use of ginger, Tony?" she asked conversationally as she unwound a length fo the butcher's string from the spool.

He'd heard something about it once, from a one-night-stand, but hadn't followed up on the second date, so shook his head.

"As I understand it," she answered his negation, "it has an 'intensifying' effect. All the better to help you retain the lesson, yes?"

Not waiting for his response, she'd continued working with the chunks of root and string until she held up a length almost as long as her arm, with random widths of ginger tied from the bottom to top, leaving a length of string at the top which she'd tied off to a groove near the top of the remaining intact root. Staring at the string of ginger, Tony had shuddered as he realized exactly how she intended to use the strand, drawing a chuckle from Ziva as she noticed his reaction.

“Precisely.” She confirmed his suspicion without needing to ask. “But, like before, I’ll give you a choice to lessen the discomfort you might feel,” she trailed off expectantly.

He started to ask, “Like before…”, when she pulled the bowl away, letting him speak, but before he could get the question out, he’d remembered that she had offered him a choice earlier in the evening between ridding himself at a restaurant or after returning from shopping. It was a choice between humiliating extremes, but it had been a choice, of sorts.

“Wh-at are my-y options?” he finally requested plaintively.

She’d slid her index finger over a flat edge of one of the wider chunks and stared into his eyes significantly, as she responded, “I can use these as they are, even though the flat edges are bound to be uncomfortable— coming and going— or you can entertain me with a fantasy that you’ve had of Gibbs… the more details you include, the longer I will spend shaping these into less… abrupt edges.”

No doubt the lengths and trials of the evening were still affecting him strongly, but Tony still couldn’t contain the moan that broke from his throat at her offer. The last thing he wanted was to expose himself to her even more than he already had, but the thought of her forcing the flat cuts into him without the slightest slope to ease the way (and he was certain, no help from her fingers—if he refused her—to stretch him properly) was, frankly, frightening—especially if ginger did have a ‘intensifying effect’.

“Choose, Tony.” Ziva ordered abruptly, dropping the string into the bowl and grabbing the leash back up, to pull her behind him.

Startled by her quick change, Tony yelped in pain at the increased tension and struggled to hurry behind her and catch up the slack, which wasn’t as easily said as done, when she was no longer walking slow enough to accommodate the staggered pace forced by his bonds. He’d been almost out of breath by the time they’d reached her sitting room again, but his decision had been made for him. The thought of any more pain wasn’t something he was certain he could bear, especially when she already knew about his feelings for Gibbs.

“Fan-t-asy,” he gasped once he caught his breath. “Please, I’ll tell you one. I’ll tell you,” he plead, “Please, Ziva.”

“Very well, Tony.” She agreed, sitting on an ottoman and pulling the leash to draw him closer.

When he reached her side, she set the bowl down, slipped her had behind his head, and pulled then pushed him until he was laid flat on her lap. As if sensing that he’d believed she’d decided to renege on her offer, Ziva dropped the bowl into the center of his back and murmured, “you have something you’d like to share…”

~~~ No, he absolutely didn’t~~~ Tony had denied mentally even as he answered in a dry, quiet whisper. “Sometimes… I imagine Gibbs … ordering me to follow him into the elevator, and … he’s … staring at me as we wait for the doors to close. I – it’s … it’s the kind of stare that he gives you when he knows what you’re think-ing… just before he tells you what you’ve found out, and – Oh… God… Ziva,” he broke off with a groan as something hard and slightly rough pushed at the edge of his sphincter… “Please, you said you’d shave them…”

“Oh, I am,” she chuckled softly, pushing the chunk firmly, letting him feel the change in the slope as the ginger chunk pressed his hole open wider. Ziva pushed the chunk in her fingers back and forth at the edge of his sphincter pushing it open then pulling it back, as she reminded him, “But there are eight more to be smoothed, and I suspect the fantasy you have may not be as long as you would like. Do you wish me to smooth a single one perfectly, or shape them all?”

Groaning under her attentions, as he slowly recognized the growing heat of his skin was coming from contact with the ginger chunk, he ground out, “All.”

“A wise choice.” She countered, pushing the chunk firmly in until the widest point of ginger pushed past his sphincter and was it’s tapered with pushed it deeper as the tight ring of muscles tried to close around it.

“Your fantasy,” she reminded him, but for several seconds, his breath was frozen in his chest as the woody roots oil came into contact with even more sensitive skin and starting a deep burn just inside his channel where it closed around the ginger.

“H-he’s star-ing,” he began again when he could catch his breath, “and he… he do-es doesn’t look aw-ay as he – he pushes the – the – the but-ton to stop – stop the ele-- --“ Tony broke off gasping again when her manipulation of the second chunk on the string caused the one inside him to move and spread it’s burn.

“God----“ he groaned, shaking with another full body shudder as she pressed the only slightly tapered chunk to its widest point and wiggled it back and forth.

“The elevator- “ he blurted out, in a rush, certain that if he didn’t keep going, she was eagerly waiting to lose patience and force both the fantasy and flat chunks on him. “When… when it stops, he whis-pers for me to… to … kneel. But it’s an order. And he knows, I don’t have to – to tell him, he knows that it’s what I want… what I … what I …” Tony had stammered, unable to focus as she began to push the chunk deeper into him, moving the first forward starting a whole new burn.

Her fingers traced his quivering ring – not at all soothing – as she slipped the tip of her finger into his ring and pushed both pieces deeper, pulled it back to slide around the outside of his ring again, as if trying to return it’s tightness, before she pushed it in again, pressing the pieces even deeper the second time.

Despite himself, when the first piece of ginger lodged against his prostate, Tony broke down whining with a flush of pained arousal that made his constricted sac feel as if it was ready to bust.

“He knows what? Tony,” Ziva prompted, working her finger against the ginger inside him. “What does he see when he looks at you?”

“Tha—aaigh, oh… God, My God. Pleaaase, Ziva. Please…”

“Tell me, Tony.” Ziva ordered, pushing the ginger hard into him.

“I-WANT-HIM-I-WANT-TO-SUCK-HIM-OFF-ON-MY-KNEES----HIS-COCK-IN-MY-MOUTH-MY-MY-MY’, he cried out as his arousal became pure racking pain – over-sensitized prostate pulsing with the ginger’s insistent burn.

“Say it, Tony.” Ziva bit out mercilessly, pushing the next piece, one of the widest, and barely tapered, deep inside him, in one firm push that ripped his breath away in a guttural cry.

“Say it,” her insistent command broke in his ears as heartbeat and sobbing breath, momentarily, stole his breath, but he knew what she wanted and it fell from his lips, “In… my… ass.”

“And what does he do?” Ziva pressed him for more as she pulled her finger out and started working on the fourth chunk.

Hazy with exhaustion, pain, and arousal, Tony slumped over her legs whimpering in relief at the withdrawal of pressure on his prostate, nevertheless, answered wearily, “he drops his zipper and moves his hands out of the way for me to do the rest.”

“Very good, Tony.” Ziva pauses to stroke his back before pushing the fourth, a much thinner piece than the other three, in and out of his over-worked hole, dragging him back to the edge with every intentional brush and jab it caused to his prostate.

Even though he was well past over sensitivity, he felt himself reaching the edge again, as the fifth and sixth quickly followed – only barely tapered, but it no longer mattered as he had reached a point beyond his ability to speak, where he was nearly choking with his need for release and relief.

The constant pressure on his prostate, as each new chunk was pushed in, shook his body as he writhed against her, mindlessly trying to escape as she finally pushed the full hand of ginger into him and lodged it in place as his trembling sphincter tightened into the wider groove she’d cut into it just for that purpose.

How and how long she’d kept him like that, he couldn’t have said, but he was so overcome by the overstimulation that he barely felt it as she reached down and took off both the choke chain and collar wrapped around the base of his cock and testicles. It ripped an unexpected cry from him, though, when she jerked him upright, by his shoulder, moving everything inside him, as she did. Moving out from under him, she threw his undershirt across the ottoman and began to jerk him in a relentless grip as the fingers of her free hand pushed and wiggled the ginger plug inside him. By her fourth pull, Tony’s eyes had rolled back behind his lids and he collapsed across the footstool – blacking out.

He could still feel her pressing when he had finally returned to himself, still shaking and writhing beneath her attentions, and for a moment, he’d wondered if she was planning to make him black out, again. Shifting to try to raise up and let her know he was ‘back’, Tony was startled to discover that she’d re-secured the leash to his genitals, underneath the ottoman’s thick base, and up to his neck so that every shift he made tugged against the choke chain around his scrotum.

“Ziva?” he croaked, painfully.

“That was your first punishment, Tony. Your second, as you can see, is that instead of sharing my bed, tonight, you’ll be bedded here, just as you are. The third…”

Before he could even ask the question, Ziva’s hand was descending painfully shocking him forward with slaps across his rear, forcing him to cry out as he’d been jolted forward - each strike making him clench on the ginger still inside him and the power of the jolt jerking the choke chain. There had been no hope of even keeping count as he’d struggled to catch his breath in between breath-stealing strikes that seemed to go on endlessly well after he’d broken down to helpless sobbing, so overwhelmed that he’d not even noticed that she had stopped spanking him until she’d returned from the kitchen with a wet paper towel and wiped the snot, saliva, and tears from his face. It still had taken several minutes after, for him to catch his breath and swallow the pleas, questions, and protests that were trying to pour out – afraid of increasing her wrath any further.

“Good Tony, that’s good. Silence is much preferred to meaningless פּלאַפּלען.” Ziva had confirmed his suspicion barely a minute later as she sat on an ottoman beside him and ran her hand over his back soothingly.

Exhausted, Tony had let his mind drift as he tried to slow his breathing and ignore the pain both inside and out as her palm occasionally drifted down to grip and claw his heated skin… his eyes open but unfocused.

“You might find your last punishment worst of all,” Ziva murmured almost solemnly, her words jerking him from the safe numbness that had been encroaching. “Truth’s sword can cut deepest.”

Whatever he’d expected, it had not been for her to get up, press a kiss to his crown, and whisper, “good night,” before taking his chin and turning it so that he’d be staring at the television.

The last thing he was aware of as the sound of her footsteps retreated was the click of a remote turning on the tv and the video and audio feeds of several security cameras spread around her apartment looped through the past day’s events displaying each humiliation from multiple angles and replaying every sound, gasp, and whisper he’d uttered so amplified that there could be no doubt about what each act and utterance had meant. Throughout the night, he had never turned away, nor closed his eyes, but somewhere between her parting greeting and her return to release him from his punishments, Tony’s mind succumbed to the inescapable realization that he’d had no choice left.

~~~

Despite following every order, request, and suggestion that Ziva made after releasing him, right up to their arrival at the Bull pen, it was that realization that pushed him into asking Gibbs, as soon as Ziva stepped away, for a private conversation that turned into a full confession as soon as the elevator’s doors closed behind them.

The first words of his confession, “I’ve screwed up, Boss,” and Gibbs last words before they stepped out of the elevator, "Go home, Tony, and stay there" still rang in Tony’s ears as he lay on the couch trying not to hyperventilate or break down in despair at everything he’d thrown away. While he never succumbed to the temptation of sleep, by the time the sun went down, his mind was gratefully and blissfully detached, shying away from any contemplation of the previous days as the sunset fell.

He was so oblivious to the outside world that he was completely unaware of the sound of sharp tapping on the door, followed by the sound of metal picks scraping at the inside of the deadbolt and door locks. The sound of footsteps didn’t rouse him any more effectively. It was only when a shadow loomed over him cutting across the light from the hall that Tony finally turned his head.

“Come with me, Tony.” The command was sighed in a note of exasperation, but Tony rushed to follow it, rising and swaying dizzily as he staggered out the door.

Chapter Text

Ziva watched Tony out of the corner of her eye, convinced as she did that her supposition was right: Tony had broken down and confessed to Gibbs before their senior agent had sent him home, without her - holding her back to make several corrections in her report before sending her home.

Gibbs had been suspiciously grim with her after returning from his discussion with Tony, but had otherwise said nothing to her, so she hadn't known for certain until arriving at Tony's apartment and finding Tony in a state of defeat and dispair.

What that would mean for her, Ziva was uncertain, but as soon as Tony was secured, she would begin to lay the traces of evidence that would tell a story of his abandoning their team in disgrace - either as a result of the presumed rape the rumors of which she had seeded with several well known gossips before leaving... or from the report of their transgressions if Gibbs elected to report Tony's confesson. In either event, the NCIS would not be seeing Tony again.

When she passed the turn-off leading to her apartment, Ziva was pleased that Tony did not turn back to her or question her choice, but instead, sat impassively beside her, staring out the window. She wondered if he would be so passive, if he knew her plans for him, but decided it truly did not matter: if he was not broken by her earlier preparation and Gibbs rejection, he soon would be. If anything, his confession and dismissal played well to her desire to have unhindered control of him for as long as she wished. Turning off the beltway toward Harper's fairy, Ziva watched for the first turn off into a woody area that would provide a momentary screen and soon pulled off.

"Out." She ordered, smiling thinly as he complied without question.

"Strip down to your collar."

For the first time since he'd gotten in the car, Tony seemed ready to argue, but Ziva interrupted whatever he had been about to say, asking, "are you not tired of discovering what will occur when you do not listen to me? Were you punishments and the loss of your job not enough for you to learn to obey?"

He flinched from her words as if they'd been blows and grimaced, but they had their desired effect, and his hands soon shook as he unbuttoned his shirt and slid it off, dropping it into the passenger seat. He stalled for several long minutes but read her insistence when he looked up, and reluctantly unhooked his belt and slid it out of the belt loops. His clear anxiety and reluctance fed her enjoyment of his unwilling obedience almost as much as the thought of the 'punishments' she had in store for him, and she enjoyed every minute of the wait until he stood barefoot in the grass, dressed only in the pink collar she had purchased for him the evening before.

Scanning him from head to foot, then from foot to head, again, Ziva nodded and gestured for him to join her at the back of her trunk. Handing him the key, she gestured for him to open it and pressed him against the rear bumper panel as the trunk lid lifted as she pulled on a pair of evidence gloves. Reaching around him for the grocery bag she had dropped in the back, when they'd left for the office that morning. There were other bags there as well, from a short shopping trip at a specialty shop that she'd stopped at on the way home, but she wanted to get him restrained first.

"Do you remember," she murmured into his ear in a breathy voice, "how to place these?"

Tony grunted a tense 'yes', stiffening as she rubbed her upper thigh between his legs before backing away.

"Good, put them on."

Where they were parked and standing, almost no one would be able to see them as they passed, but every time they heard the sound of cars approaching and passing, Tony stiffened and pressed against the bumper in a pathetic attempt to shield himself.

Taking the pink collars out, his hands still shaking enough to jingle the clasps as they struck each other, Tony wrapped the wider pink collars around each thigh and secured it down, but not as tightly as Ziva liked, earning a snapped out "Tighter" that made him jerk in surprise before he tightened them. He managed to get the collar on his left wrist secured properly to the collar on his thigh, but fumbled awkwardly with the collar on his right wrist. Ziva waited, letting him fumble, as she tapped her foot with seeming impatience until he finally gave up.

"I can't seem to get this." Tony apologized in a monotone.

"You would like my help?" she teased,

"Please..." Tony's tone suggested it was a half-hearted request, at best, but Ziva ignored it, confident that she could condition him to respond willingly and fully.

Strapping his wrist down quickly, Ziva ran her hands over him possessively before reaching back into the trunk for one of her newer purchases. Pulling him back against her, Ziva wrapped an arm around his waist to hold him in place before she drug her fingernails from just above his groin, up his chest, digging them deeper as her fingertips closed around a nipple.

Pinching the nipple tightly between her nails, Ziva held her grip pinching tighter and tighter until his mouth dropped open in a groan, giving her the opening to slide the candy pink silicon 'beginner's ballgag' between his lips. Tony stiffened in surprise, pulling at the hold around his waist and arms, and trying to pull back from her hand forcing the gag in place between his teeth.

"Why do you fight, Tony, when you wish me to win?"

Pushing his hips harder against the bumper panel, Ziva used her weight and his inability to use his hand to push her away or himself away - to release her hold around his waist and grab the straps at the back of his head. A short tussle later, gag was secured in place, he was panting around it and holding his hips (and the start of an erection) as far as he could away from the bumper's edge.

"This is not my only gift for you: I have three others, but we need not use all three today. If you choose to behave, I will allow you to choose between the ones that would go here..." She stroked her finger suggestively over his opening, continuing, "the one you take for the remainder of our ride. Will you behave?"

Freezing at her question, Tony dropped his chin to his chest and sucked air in around the ball gag visibly struggling against the answer that she could read in the defeated curl of his shoulders. Ziva waited him out, though; in the coming week, he would be agreeing to every thing she would do to him, and most especially those he had no desire for her to do.

Finally, his trembling chin lifted barely two inches before dropping in acknowledgement.

"Good boy."

Smirking as she pushed him down over the edge of the trunk, so that he was face down over her purchases, Ziva reached across him to the remaining nylon collars for one of the thinner pink collars. Taking advantage of it's full length, she held the buckle in place at the front of his sack, then wrapped it in a tight spiral loop after loop up and down the sack until a thick cocoon of nylon held his balls several inches away from his body cinched in a tight pink tube, his skin growing pale pink then darker with the constriction. By the time she had finished and slipped the end of the collar back through the buckle, tightening it down until she could hook the first ring over the buckle's tongue, Tony's breath was whistling rapidly around the edges of the silicon ball gag and his ribs practically vibrating with the force of his panting.

"So sensitive, and I haven't put the vibrator in, yet."

Tony shuddered at her statement, but didn't fight or try to pull away as she reclaimed the last nylon collar and wrapped it behind his sack, over the other buckle, and around to the front twisting it before looping it around his shaft then pulling it as tight as it could be pulled and still buckle, a makeshift but effective cockring, as they'd proven the night before.

Skimming her fingers over his opening as she stepped close up to him, she pressed his erection firmly into the top of the bumper as she leaned over his back to whisper in his ear, "Such a good boy. You've earned your choice, but I wonder which you'll choose."

Pressing her weight against him, lifting back, then repeating it, Ziva effectively forced him to rub off with the underside of his cock pressed against the trunk's rubber seal as she pressed him forward, and murmured in his ear laying out his choices, "in one bag is a 'toy' called 'double dueces' - in the other, one called the 'drill and fill'."

A quick stream of unintelligible sounds pressed out around the gag, probably a demand or plea for more information, and Ziva smirked, enjoying the panic in his tone.

"Would you rather I choose for you?" She taunted lightly, pushing her fingers against his opening.

Tony shook his head fervently but offered another spate of sounds.

"Then choose." She ordered, breaching his opening and pressing her hip heavily against his as he jerked in response.

His spate of sounds continued, but Ziva actively ignored them, probing his hole with a sure touch as she instructed, "whenever you're ready to choose, just press your forehead to your choice."

Jerking under her touch as the sounds escaping his gag sounded increasingly like whimpers, Tony seemed to be having difficulty focusing on anything outside of her probing, so when Ziva suspected that without the makeshift cock ring and ball stretcher, he would have othewise been a hair trigger away from ejaculating, she pulled her fingers out, smirking as he seemed to chase them, and ordered, "hurry and make your choice now; I'd like to get back on the road."

She chuckled, as he dropped his forehead, pounding it in frustration on the closest bag. It wasn't a choice, at least not a willing or thought out choice, but she would use his actions regardless - having already seen how easily she could twist his seeming compliance and his perception of the submission.

"Hmmm. Interesting choice." Ziva commented, pulling the bag out from under his forehead when he'd dropped it again. Opening the bag, she pulled out the 'drill and fill' anal plug and laid it's sizable fourteen inches on his back, cautioning when he jerked in surprise, "I would advise you to keep your position, unless you would prefer it covered in grit and soil when it's inserted."

Tony was clearly torn between protesting the size of the plug with short rapid head shakes and keeping his torso and back straight so he wouldn't risk her going through with her threat to insert it even soiled, but his position and constrictions gave him few other alternatives than to submit as she finally lifted the plug and pressed it's tip to his hole. Twisting it in a slow circle as she pressed the narrowed tip into his anus, Ziva infused her voice with false sincerity, commented, "Oh, I had almost forgotten that I promised to tell you about your choice once chosen. This..." she pressed it deeper to the edge of the narrowest point and the first curve of the spiral, "is the one the shop owner called the 'drill and fill' formed like a drill bit with a channel from the tip circling it as it grows progressively wider. At its narrowest, what you're feeling now, it is only a quarter of an inch in diameter, less than the fingers you had inside you."

Twisting the plug, so that it was pulled deeper by his anus sliding into the channel, Ziva continued, "The channel is more a valley of the plastic, though, as it is formed by the softer material and pulled in like an accordion."

Tony whined as she reached a quarter of the way and stopped, "yes, I should think this is less comfortable. At this depth, it is probably an inch and a half in diameter, where my fingers were only an inch in one direction; I believe he said the circumference would be around three inches at this point."

Pausing to push his feet wider apart with a nudge of her foot against his insteps, Ziva pushed his hand firmly against his back, holding him down as she twisted the plug, letting it's narrow channel ease the plug deeper and deeper as he groaned through the gag and started to tremble as it surely pressed into his over stimulated prostate.

"At this point," Ziva stopped to tease him with a push-pull of the plug dragging it partway back out before spiraling it back in as she said, "I believe that it is close to four inches deep, and about the same diameter. You have eleven inches remaining to insert, but as I said, I wish to get back on the road."

Without giving him any other warning, Ziva hooked her finger into the collar at his neck and pulled him upright, ignoring his responding yelp.

"Be careful not to drop it." She cautioned as she turned him around and studied his gaze, which was turbulent with a mix of despair, arousal, and want. Tony almost immediately tried to look away, but she hooked a finger into a loop on the side of the gag and held his gaze in place until he closed his eyes - too ashamed to hold hers.

Smirking, she used the loop to lead him back to his open door, caught the latch to fold down the passenger seat with her free hand, and gestured for him to climb in, with an order to face backwards. As soon as he was in place, his legs spread by the head rest but folded tightly under the passenger seat to fit his full length in, Ziva patted his seat with a cursory 'good boy', and started to close the door before noticing the shoulder strap hanging loosely.

It came to her as a spur of the moment idea, but Ziva couldn't resist underscoring his helplessness by pulling the shoulder the buckle on the shoulder belt out far enough to lock down over his back and secure him in place, commenting facetiously, "we can not forget road rules" as it snapped in place and he struggled lightly against it, whimpering through the gag when the length of the plug hit the dash and pushed in deeper... which triggered another change in her plans.

It wasn't what she had originally planned, but her plans were always flexible, and Ziva delighted in the thought of making him responsible for his own impalement. Unhooking the belt, she grabbed his hips and pulled him backwards until his cock dropped off the edge of the headrest and the plugs end was pressed flush to the console, before pulling the belt - across the top of his shoulders this time - and locking it down again.

Once the door was closed behind him, Ziva picked up his phone, stripped the battery, sim card, and gps tracker that Abby had installed in all of their phones as a back up in case there was a need to track one of the team when his or her phone was off, snapped the tracker to disable it, and tossed them to the ground, followed by his clothes and wallet. He wouldn't be needing either, any more.

With the 'clean up' finished, she climbed into the driver's seat, turned on the motor, and pulled back onto the road with a last instruction to Tony, "if you cooperate and continue inserting your toy, I will be less tempted to discover how many abrupt stops are required to seat the remaining inches."

Tony jerked, shaking his head frantically, but immediately lifted himself toward the dash, pushing the plug deeper as he did.

Chapter Text

"Gebereth /Ma'am/." Tony murmured in half-hearted deference, following on Ziva's heels as she passed through the room that had become his kennel, into his exercise room.

He was undoubtedly hungry, having been left three days to subsist on the meager rations (three cups of farro and a cup of broth) that she'd last laid out for him, before the latest case. The team - minus Tony (whom most of the other agents believed had resigned after his traumatic kidnapping and assault at the hands of the mercenary ten months earlier) - had been called to New Orleans assist one of Gibbs former partners, a man named Pride... although Arrogance would have been a better name for him, in her opinion.

Reaching the only seat she had placed in the room, Ziva reclined into the soft cushions and snapped her fingers impatiently to call him from the doorway where he had quickly learned to stop until she gave him permission to come forward.

"You would be wise not to irritate me this evening, tale /lamb/. The day has been long, and I will be quick to punish if you are not the well-behaved and obedient lamb you are meant to be." Ziva warned, only marginally satisfied by the fact that he still paled at her threat.

It had been months, though, since his anxiety and submission had given her the pleasure it once had.

As much as she had succeeded in forcing and manipulating him into complete surrender, Ziva had failed in the ultimate goal of binding his will to the point that he submitted eagerly and gratefully to her despite knowing of her manipulations. While his performance had become tediously flawless, the willingness and devotion that she had sought from him had never developed, and Ziva had no doubt that if she released him, gave him clothing, and revealed to him that he had been held in an adjoining apartment to her own, Tony would leave without hesitation, much less thought of return.

Despite Gibbs many unannounced visits to her apartment in the months since Tony's 'disappearance', the senior agent had never seemed to suspect the possibility her possessing an adjoining apartment. But then there was no way he could have known that she paid a substantial amount to purchase the apartment under an alias when first arrived in the US. It had taken a months worth of weekends to renovate the space until it provided hidden exit, panic room in case of emergency, and sound proofed cell as needed for any extractions or interrogations... a cell that had seen much use in recent months.

"Bound Lotus," she ordered, not even smiling as he folded himself into an contorted, immobilizing position that he would never have been limber enough to achieve- without her training.

When he sat at her feet, she grabbed him by his braid and pulled his head forward into her lap to service her. Tony had improved his skills tremendously in the months since the first time he'd served her, but it had become common place and lacked the excitement she had reveled in the first night after pulling him out of the car, dragging him at the end of the leash as he struggled to crawl - with the fully inserted plug - through the empty garage to the obscured door of his future kennel.

~ ~ ~

Ziva had barely been able to wait until the door had closed behind her before she was pushing him over onto his back and dropping to straddle his face for the first of many times he would serve her that night. She hadn't even bothered to remove her pants or the ball gag, but given no other choice, Tony had soon worked out how he needed to push and rub to provide the right amount of friction to bring her off.

If he had expected relief of his own arousal, either from the fourteen inch plug or trapped fiercely-red erection that had been forced on him during the several hours long ride wearing the plug, he had been sorely mistaken... a fact he soon realized as she pulled the usb power charge unit out of her jacket pocket, plugged the charger into the wall and the other end into the base of the plug that he had almost completely sunken into himself. A frantic, unintelligible string of questions poured out around the gag, but the answer must have been quickly apparent as the little motorized pump in the end of the plug caused it to vibrate, filling the inflatable plug another two inches in length and another inch in diameter - well past the stretch needed for their later activities.

His panic-stricken gaze as he tried to understand what was happening with the plug had been so enticing that - when she mounted his face again- she was careful to sit back enough that she could see his eyes through every moment of his performance. When Tony had satisfied her a second time, in such short order, Ziva finally rose, and briefly walked away while he tried to catch his breath. It didn't take long to find the carpentry toolbox she had secreted away when she's first renovated the apartment and return with the flat-crown, heavy duty stapler.

The shear fear that sparked in his eyes at the sight of it had been difficult not play with, but having other plans for the night, she resisted temptation and merely stapled through the edges of the pink collars at his ankles, thighs, wrists, and throat to lock him in place while the plug thrummed away.

Stepping into Tony's line of sight, Ziva had slowly stripped and ran her hands up and down her torso, smirking when his writhing stilled and his eyes darted up and down her body following the path of his finger tips. Cutting short his first true glimpse of her completely undressed, Ziva retrieved the sizeable roll of nitril gloves from a bag that she'd dropped by the door and tossed it beside his hip then dropped forward into a push up position over him, grinning down into his startled eyes. With a smirk, Ziva curled her hips in until she brushed ever so lightly over his erection.

His eyes widened as She lowered herself marginally and pushed forward rubbing over his trapped erection in long slow stretches that quickly had him groaning through the gag. The pink collar she'd wrapped around his shaft only served to highlight the swelling and bruised appearance of his shaft when she raised herself up enough to glance down between them. His stomach was already showing trails of pre-cum from the additional stimulation just since she rolled him over and secured him down. Remembering how easily he had filled the champagne glass with his release, she was certain it wouldn't take much work at all to coat his entire stomach in the fluid, especially given how quickly he started trembling every time the plug's pump came back on.

There were several cycles left for the plug to reach its fullest possible length of 24 inches diameter of eight inches across before it defaulted to vibrating, and Ziva made it a personal challenge to work enough ejaculate out of him before the last cycle finished to practically glue his shaft to his stomach when the fluid dried. It would be messy for her, but she could take a shower immediately after. Whether she would permit him to or not would depend on how amusing she found him to be in the mean time.

"Would you like that, Tony?" Ziva purred into his ear as she rubbed her breasts into Tony's chest. "Giving you so much pleasure that your release will paint your stomach like sun oil? Tell me, Tony."

His eyes though unfocused were alight with panic, misery, and exhaustion, but Ziva took no pity on him, sliding back down his body until she was even with his nipples and close enough to bite and pull the left one working a cry from him as she returned his attention ot her.

"If you don't answer, Tony, I will select a harsher course." She threatened, knowing full well that he had no idea what she might have asked despite the fact he was nodding frantically to avoid further punishment.

Taking his nod at face value, Ziva sunk her teeth into the other nipple and worked it with her teeth until his breath was almost constantly whistling through the gag. From there, she began to alternate her attention between his nipples as she writhed and rolled against him, continuing until he started to choke on the saliva building up behind the gag. Ziva rolled off of him with a laugh on seeing that his stomach was indeed coated with a thick layer of pre-ejaculate, and patted him on the hip.

"Stay," she chuckled, standing. "I feel the need to rinse off. You are quite... slimy."

Ziva's laughter had died on her lips, however, when she noticed that - despite the distraction the plug should have been providing - his eyes were roving around the apartment. Grabbing his attention with a forceful slap to across the length of his cock, Ziva warned, "My eyes, my hands, or the floor. Tony, those are the only sights you are permitted, until you've earned more."

He tried to hold her gaze, but it wasn't more than three minutes before his eyes flitted to the side. Ziva delivered two sharp slaps in response, glancing around the room. During her brief stop, she had paused to look at the blindfolds, but hadn't seen any she liked and planned to pick one up later. Looking back on the decision, she realized the mistake it had been. She would have to let him sleep soon and regroup, and soon wouldn't be able stay with him twenty-four hours day, but until Tony bent to her will and could be left on his own - unsecured, Ziva wanted him to have as little knowledge as possible about his new home.

Delivering repeated slaps to keep his attention, Ziva cast her eyes around the room certain there should be something close at hand to cow Tony... and her eyes fell on a small tube in the toolbox... Super strength adhesive.

That would do nicely. It would take three to four days for his tears and mucous to soften and release the glue, but that would be long enough for her conditioning to sink in, and alternately, she'd have him well-secured in the sound-proofed cell until he bent.

~ ~ ~

As it turned out, gluing his eyes shut had been so effective that Tony had spent the first two months in some stage of his eyes being sealed and slowly reopening. His resulting desperation had given those first few days an extra vigor that Ziva had come to miss from his recent service.

In the months since, as his desperation for her approval had begun to wane with resignation and depression, Ziva had made several attempts to recapture the energy of his first days under her control: drugging him to sleep and working him open while he was out so that his next waking moment found her elbow deep, pumping her fist as deep as it could go; gluing arms to his sides and his heels to his hips before giving him multiple spice-filled enemas in a row; emptying full boxes of acupuncture needles to turn his cock into a facsimile of a pin cushion; and several other experiments, but none had returned the excitement she had begun to crave... no matter their effect on Tony in the days that followed.

Pulling his head away, unsatisfied, Ziva barked, "Center!"

As expected, Tony scrambled into position waiting for her next command.

Chapter Text

"Ehbed /slave/," Ziva growled as she stalked through the door, angry to have been - once again- excluded from the case and forced to waste hours reviewing cold cases while the rest of the 'team' Gibbs, McGee, and Langer investigated the death of a pentagon cryptologist.

Despite an inability to find evidence linking her to Tony's absence, as she suspected he had tried - given his increasing coldness toward her in the months that followed her detainment of Tony, Gibbs was excluding her more and more frequently in recent days, and worse was he was doing it a seemingly professional manner that almost openly refuted her trustworthiness - reminding the director and other NCIS members- as he had that morning- that she was a foreign operative.

Of course, she was a foreign operative, Ziva had never attempted to disguise that reality; however, until recently her mossad affiliation had been known by most of her coworkers, but not deeply considered - that is until Gibbs began to exclude her with comments about taking the 'long view' and 'other's' perspectives if it became public knowledge that she had been given such 'free' access to often sensitive information that came up in cases. Since he'd begun, the casual acceptance that most of her coworkers had shown her previously had increasingly thinned out, and their willingness to chat or even greet her with any sort of genuine welcome seemed to to be evaporating.

Even Director Shepard had begun to listen, and just two days earlier Ziva had been called into the director's office to be told that her computer access was being limited to the access commonly permitted foreign consultants. She had barely managed to keep her composure both in the director's presence and later when she returned to the bull pen and had to remain at her desk when Gibb told the others to 'gear up'.

Recognizing her obvious pique, Tony had quickly scuttled into the room and centered as best as he could with his wrists secured to his ankles and a steel-reinforced posture-collar forcing his head back and his his chin out in a straight line from his chest.

"Gebereth," he acknowledged her entrance with soft careful tone, well aware that his failure to do so would mean the cane.

Ziva was far from appeased - convinced that their senior agent's recent coldness toward her could be laid directly at Tony's feet. If he had kept his silence, Gibbs would have then no cause to treat her differently.

"Retrieve my the crop." She snapped at him, waiting until him returned with the crop in his mouth, before she warned him, "You have a great deal to answer for" before commanding "Center!"

Returning his cheek to the floor, after delivering the crop, Tony bit back a whimper as she struck his exposed sack with painful accuracy and wondered what 'broken rule' she would come up with to justify her onslaught. He began to suspect that she intended to inflict serious injury when the crop not only broke skin with her repeated strokes, but painted the floor with crimson flecks and only his recent frequent familiarity with her agonizing punishments, permitted him to restrain himself to whimpering as Ziva often preferred him to stay completely silent when being punished despite the fact that she would punish him for staying quiet when she was amusing herself.

Whether arm-strain or dissatisfaction with his lack of response finally caused her to drop the crop, Tony couldn't say. He was beyond speaking from the pain caused by the unexplained punishment, but caught his breath in momentary relief, and struggled to his knees to crawl to her feet and press his lips to the toe of her shoes before he earned a second punishment.

It wasn't unusual for her to push him away with her foot, but this time, instead of a slight push or nudge, Ziva's response could only be described as a kick, the fact of which sent a spike of panic through Tony as he rolled from it's impact.

"Get off, your punishment is not done." Ziva snapped, retrieving her crop and laying on a rapid series of strikes that rained down on every inch the tip could reach as he rolled and writhed under the assault.. She was panting with exertion when she finally stopped, and it was several seconds before she had control of her temper enough to speak.

"Would you care to know what I have dealt since taking you in after you forfeited your position with your weak-minded confession to Gibbs? Disdain and distrust. With your confession, you somehow convinced him that I am to blame for your pitiful need to be controlled, and do you know what he has done in your absence? While I have taken you in, given you room, board, and the control you need, he has slowly and surely undermined my position and trust at NCIS. Because of you, I have lost our team's trust, the Director's acknowledgement, and my standing as a Mossad Liaison..."

"It seems to me that it is time for you to lose something, as well."

Barely able to catch his breath from the abuse, Tony struggled to get out pleas for forgiveness and leniency between each pained inhale and exhale - even though he was under no illusion that he was at fault for Gibb's behavior. Still, he was well aware that tied as he was, malnourished, and deprived of sleep by the position he was tied in - he was completely at her mercy and once she announced her intent to do some act to him, there was usually little to nothing that he could do to stop her. So it was with a swell of dread in his stomach that he forced himself to suck in breaths until the feeling of dizziness passed enough for him to roll over onto his knees and press his forehead to the floor when she ordered him to 'center' again.

~ ~ ~

Gibbs glared at the garage entrance waiting impatiently for David to try to slip his surveillance and get to Tony, wherever she was holding him. The woman had been careful, exceedingly so, since Tony's disappearance, but she had left more of a trail than he suspected she realized, and once Gibbs had a clue to Tony's location, he was going to take great pleasure in bringing her in and revealing how many different ways that she had screwed the pooch.

Her screw ups had started the first evening of Tony's disappearance when she'd gotten to Tony's apartment just in time to get Tony away before he arrived, but had been caught on a cctv camera three streets south of Tony's and later passing a speed camera five miles before the exit ramp to the highway that Abby had managed to track Tony's cellphone. She'd been sloppy, stripping the battery, sim card, and gps tracker. Only the team members present when Abby had placed the trackers would have known the location, which didn't include Tony - who had at the time been down in the morgue with Ducky getting his wound of the day patched up.

She had done a fairly good white wash of Tony's absence through the rumor mills, but hadn't been careful to ensure that she couldn't be targeted as the source of the rumors. A financial check by Abby showed a marked decrease starting that week in after-hours activities that corresponded with a simultaneous increase in her grocery expenses - a significant enough increase to suggest that she was feeding two. Her behavior had also become increasingly secretive, something even Pride had noticed and warned Gibbs about on their recent case in New Orleans.

But for all of the mistakes, he had discovered, Ziva had still managed to keep one important detail from him (Tony's location), and until he had that he was forced to bide his time. Whatever else he might say about Ziva, he had no doubt that she would be able to withstand any interrogation he put her through and the longer the questioning the higher the risk to Tony until he was found... which left Gibbs parked in his charger two blocks away, hidden as best as the shadows of a large oak and near by bushes allowed waiting for Ziva to come out.

"Damn it, David. What are you waiting for?" He growled, checking up to her darkened window again. He had been certain with the way that he'd been riding her for the past weeks and more to the point, excluding her from investigations and computer access, that Ziva's temper had been close to the point she'd need to take it out on someone, and that someone - in the past- had usually been Tony.

It had been a risk, but after thirteen months without a discernible trace of Tony, he was ready to do just about anything to knock Ziva off her game and push into doing something reckless - like going to Tony, when she had to suspect that Gibbs could be following.

Chapter Text

The fact that Ziva had already deprived Tony of his meager rations by securing him where he could see them but not reach them until she released him was of little consolation to her when Gibbs dropped her latest 'Cold Case' report back on her desk and ordered her to get one of the translators to help her correct it before she could go home. Gibbs attitude and behavior toward her were almost intolerable and had been since her last visit with Tony.

Ziva had mentally toyed with the idea of elastration - an American form of neutering sheep and cattle using tight latex bands - some months earlier, when she had begun to grow increasingly irritated with Tony's complete-but-almost-unwilling submission - hoping to revive and recapture the energy of his early desperate and anxious performances.

At the time, several back to back cases and Gibb's after-hours surveillance had interrupted her attempts to pick up the supplies she would need; but any concern she might have had for proper supplies evaporated under the anger that she had forced herself to suppress with increasing frequency since being called into the Director's office to be told she was to lose standard staff access on her computer. And what little concern she'd had for Tony's suffering was fading even faster with every criticism being piled on her by Gibbs.

Turning her gaze to the construction materials she had repeatedly put to use over the months since he'd first arrived, Ziva was about to settle on using 16 gauge wire and crimpers when her finger caught on the edge of the mini heat gun. Staring down at the unassuming and surprisingly feminine appearing hand tool, Ziva felt her anger begin to settle with a flush of awakening excitement as she imagined Tony's impending reaction. Dropping the tools she'd been moving to the side, she dug deeper into toolbox until she found a dented piece of the heat-shrink, wrap-around tubing she had bought to protect her computer cables from the elements. Setting them aside, she dumped the other tools back into the box - smirking at Tony's every jerk and twist in response to the loud clatter.

"Center," Ziva ordered, snapping her fingers and pointing to the edge of his leash.

~ ~ ~

Abby stared tearfully at the laptop she had been using to investigate Tony's absence- feeling like a complete failure to both a friend she loved and missed constantly and the boss she'd looked up to so dearly. Disappointing Gibbs on a case was gut-wrenching but disappointing him when he was trying to help family... that was like falling into a chasm with a direct channel to the event horizon of a baby black hole.

Something in that thought called out to her... the same way a sample of evidence did when she hadn't run quite the right test on it, but was very, very close. So very close.

Wiping her palms across her eyes, she shut the laptop. Not trying to pin it down, because that really never worked for her no matter how she tried, she wrote the words down on sticky notes that she scattered around the lab.

"Baby" went on the observation glass by the ballistics chamber.

"Black Hole" fluttered when Abby stuck the sticky note to Major Mass Spec's viewing platform.

"Channel" stuck to the volume control on her cd player.

"Falling" ended up on the ceiling directly above her couch.

"Event horizon" ... Abby had to think about that one and walked around and around the lab until she finally slapped it underneath the light switch just inside the door.

~ ~ ~

Tony stared numbly at his image in the triple reflection of mirrors that Ziva had arranged to show him exactly what was and wasn't left of him...

... as if he wouldn't recognize what he'd lost despite the fact that she had kept him virtually blinded for past month - gluing his eyes shut when they had been on the edge of being able to be opened again

... as if he wouldn't have recognized or remembered the constant inescapable ache of the deprived (and never-restored) blood flow

... as if he hadn't felt the loss of flesh when it finally came despite the loss of blood flow leaving the area numb and the forced separation of his legs by a spreader bar, wearing callouses onto the inside of his knees, holding his legs away from the 'offending organ'

... as if his continuous weight loss, which had forced her to tighten the straps holding the bar in-place again and again, hadn't been born from the loss.

He knew what he'd lost. He was all too well aware of what he had lost, and it could all be summed up in a single word: "himself".

Whoever it was looking back at the emaciated, mutilated, and broken form in the mirrors... it wasn't someone Tony recognized. It wasn't Tony DiNozzo; Anthony DiNozzo, Jr.; Spanky; or any other sobriquet, epithet, or label he had ever been known by. The person in the mirrors - if it was a person, which he doubted - had been bleached of it's personality like over-washed dorm sheets, washed so many times that their original patterns had disappeared and they were only good enough to use when nothing else was available. Finally coming to terms - if not to peace with- the reality that there was nothing left of Tony DiNozzo, Tony simply nodded at Ziva's continued epithets and orders, following them without question or complaint when she explained that she was going to turn him into something else entirely. This was what she had turned him into, after all, a lump of clay to take whatever form she molded him into - a golem, without the letters carved into his forehead, although it might not be too long before she decided to add those as well.

Ziva's smile when he voiced the thought after she noticed his expression and questioned it was one that would have made him queasy early on, but had lost the power to do so in the intervening months.

She was still smiling when she returned with the first clothing she had permitted him to wear since she'd brought him to 'his room': a corset that easily fit his waist and cinched in further than even she seemed to expect, garters, hose, and black heels that took a great deal of practice for him to balance on. After days of being forced to walk in circles, like a horse in a training ring, his arms tethered above his head from the time she left in the morning to the time she returned in the evening to feed him if he showed some improvement in his stride, Ziva's golem finally managed to walk with enough grace to earn a release from the tether and move on to the next step of Ziva's remodeling, earning more clothing in the process.

He didn't question that she brought him three tight fitting mini-dresses that left his shoulders bare, but covered his upper arms down to his wrists. He'd given up wondering about how people would react to him if he'd gotten free of her rooms and made it out to wherever they were when he had been kept constantly stark naked - after he'd realized that Ziva's inborn, ingrained, and trained paranoia would never give him the chance to get away ... once he'd come to his senses enough to realize the heavy cost of the bargain he'd made with her.

He'd given up when he was naked, so why should he be bothered by the idea now. Instead, complacently slipped whichever minidress she pointed to over his head and adjusted it to her liking, then practiced his walking again until she'd decided he did the dresses the proper justice, and moved on to the next set of 'improvements', which focused on how to sit properly in the dresses while wearing heels, how to eat properly, how to bend to pick something up... and whatever other behavior modifications that it amused her to throw in. That's not to say that she'd given up on her past training methods, especially when she returned from work peeved by some slight from Gibbs or Director Shepard, although she would 'punish' him equally for smaller unintended, unrelated, or even imagined slights like barista from the nearby coffee shop forgetting to use almond milk instead of cream -using the justification that the general disrespect he'd 'seeded' was underlying everything.

So at least once a week, he would end up his hands tethered over his head, walking in increasingly higher heels that she'd locked on his ankles, weights hanging from nipple clamps, vibrating rings around what remained of his genitals, and plugged with whatever uncomfortably-large plug suited her mood for the day. More than once, instead of taking him off the tether when she'd come home, she'd don elbow length gloves sewn so that the seams were turned outward, take out the plug, push one or both gloved hands in without any other preparation, then 'stimulate him' to beyond painful over-sensitivity but never close enough to the new threshold he needed to have any sort of relief. She would order him into one of the mini dresses and delicate undergarments she'd started dressing him in, then encase every available inch of his cock with vibrating rings, and expect him to sit still during meals - punishing him afterward for any spill, flaw, or error. Likewise, he'd been punished when she'd decided that she wanted to try to style the now shoulder length hair, she'd formerly kept braided to use as a convenient handle when she'd wanted to drag or position him, because 'he'd let' his poor diet make his hair brittle and dry, despite the fact that they both knew that had been completely in her control.

~ ~ ~

Returning to her lab from the morgue, Abby froze, and wilted, as she noticed Gibbs staring at the sticky note on Major Mass Spec. The sticky note she'd put there four months earlier but hadn't solved, yet. Her sense of failure had become so overwhelming that outside of required case reports she had begun to avoid Gibbs completely- telling herself that she could go to him again when she could turn something up. As far as she could tell, her disappointment in herself was mirrored by his own because he certainly hadn't tried to seek her out, and had stopped even checking to see whether she was still working their unspoken case.

"Black Hole..." He muttered. His stance and stiffness telling her immediately that she'd recognized it as something pertaining to Tony.

"Black Hole..." He repeated, turning to look at her.

It wasn't a question. It was an order, one she understood, and she caught his arm to pull him to the next nearest sticky note on her cd case - praying he'd understand: "Channel".

"Channel," Gibbs read it off in a tone that told Abby that something about it was calling to him too.

"Channel... Black Hole..." His voice came out as a tense frustrated growl as he repeated the word, and he refused to move with Abby's pull toward the next stick note.

"Chann... ... Hole... A Tunnel... Fuck!" He cursed and turned, the suddenness of his move throwing her off balance as he barely paused to catch her, and order, "Keep her here."

He was out of earshot before Abby was steady enough to remember that Tim and Ziva were already on the way to the airport with Director Shepard providing security as she attended the funeral of a former partner.

Chapter Text

Ziva stepped off of the elevator and into the 'bullpen' with a triumphant smile - as people who hadn't deigned to speak to her in months- amiably congratulated her for 'saving' the director from the ambush in California.

They seemed to forget, as they did, how easily they had turned their backs on her in the months beforehand. Ziva wouldn't forget. Even the Director, despite the fact that Jenny had once again asked her to use her given name and was making a show of regarding their friendship.

Ziva might call the director, Jenny, in private, and fake sincerity when she did but that was a far cry from forgetting how quickly the woman had turned 'fickle' letting Gibbs taint her seeming respect for Ziva, whether or not he had just cause. Nor would she forget that Gibbs' opinion seemed to matter far too much to the woman who was supposed to have been his superior. In Calilfornia, after McGee had practically forced Jenny to accept their protection -when she clearly hadn't wanted it - with claims that he couldn't go back to Gibbs and falsely report that he'd been on protection detail when he hadn't much less lie about it... saying "Gibbs would always know."

And Jenny had caved, and not even to Gibbs himself, but to the mention of him - proving that she wasn't the ally that Ziva had thought she could be. Still, the trip hadn't been entirely fruitless as that evening while Tim stood guard outside their door during dinner and drinks, the director admitted she'd had been trying to find to find Tony for her own reasons. With some plying and more alcohol, Ziva had gotten her to share that she hoped to 'take advantage of his departure from NCIS. Even if he no longer wished to work for NCIS, the director thought he might be willing to 'look into a little something' for her.

Unlike Gibbs, Jenny seemed to accept that Tony might have wanted to leave and didn't recognize Ziva might have any blame in the man's continued absence. In fact, she was certain Jenny knew nothing about Tony's disappearance - despite her long history with Gibbs- other than it had been the result of a case that had happened on her watch and that Gibbs hadn't been the same since. Both facts were true enough, but Ziva took some pride in the silent knowledge that she was the underlying and unspoken cause.

Pausing when one of the more attractive agents on Balboa's team stopped to congratulate her again and asked if she was doing anything for dinner, Ziva smiled at him coyly and demurred, but suggested perhaps another time. Tony was at home waiting for her, but if matters went according to plan wouldn't be for that much longer, and it wouldn't hurt to keep her options open.

Just one more reason, while the director still felt somewhat in debt to her, that Ziva asked Jenny to consider moving her to another team - claiming that it was obvious Gibbs clearly didn't trust anyone from the middle east and had probably only tolerated her because Tony had wanted her as a partner.

Jenny had tried to argue it, but Gibbs own comments were working in Ziva's favor.

One day, Ziva would have to thank Gibbs both for the comments he'd made in the office and in whatever confrontation he'd had with Tony because they had given her so much seed to work with. Perhaps she could even push to be put on Balboa's team.

But she wasn't quite finished with Tony, just yet.

In the beginning, her primary interest in him had been to ply her trade and training on her primary rival for Gibb's respect and affection. If she could force him to succumb to anything she put him through and submit to the her will, as her devoted puppet: someone she could control for her own whims, not someone she'd have to turn over to her father... it would have been all the better. He had eventually broken for her even if her victory had been longer in coming than she'd anticipated and not as complete as she had desired.

While Tony had finally submitted with unquestioning obedience to her will, her satisfaction had been denied by the knowledge that he had never done so with heartfelt surrender she knew he would have given Gibbs.

Despite his recent admission that she had broken him and description of himself as a golem waiting for her will to mold him, Ziva knew that she had failed. She had failed: first in not securing her position with Gibbs and then in the ultimate goal of failing to bind Tony's will to the point that he submitted eagerly and wholeheartedly to her. He might have given her what she wanted once, if they had met before he'd fallen under Gibbs sway, but, now, she recognized there was only one way she would achieve her goal of stealing him from Gibbs.

The only way she would win was by taking what was left of Gibbs' loyal St. Bernard and turning it into something that bore no resemblance to the person they'd known as Anthony DiNozzo... a feat she was very close to achieving especially given the unhindered control that she currently had over him for as long as she wished.

Of course, Ziva knew that Gibbs had been looking for Tony since the evening she'd taken him away and had suspected Ziva for equally that long, but despite his years of experience.... or because of it he was caught looking for non-existent financial transactions, unexplained detours in her day to day travels, and places of the beaten path where she could have hidden Tony and still be traced back to... instead searching for him of tucked away in the apartment next to the one he knew to be hers and only accessible from the outer door or if one knew that there was a latch at the top of the bathroom medicine cabinet - securing it to the wall- and had the key that opened it. None of which he knew, or would know.

In the meant time, Ziva would kept Tony chained in the room, waiting on her mercies.

Very soon, though, her preparations would be complete, and she could let him go without another thought because very, very soon, she would have that so called golem, who was even now regularly responding to an entirely different name, Antonya Dinardo -- convinced to stay as far away from NCIS and Gibbs - as humanly possible.

~ ~ ~

Glaring at the text warning that he'd just received from Abby, Gibbs did one last sweep of Ziva's apartment and backed out the door.

He'd found nothing.

Or to be more accurate, he had found a fridge stocked with more than Ziva would eat by herself, but -disturbingly- not enough for two - even considering the long hours his team regularly worked, or evidence in the sparse trash can that meals for two had been even prepared.

He'd found clippings of plastic lamination and the edges of photo paper, suggesting she was making new ids for herself. Or Tony? But not the finished product.

And he'd found exactly...
- 0 hidden trap doors in the floor,
- 0 vents that didn't lead directly to the air unit,
- 0 false walls, and
- 0 apartments rented around the time Tony disappeared that she could have run a tunnel to.

Despite that, his gut was continuing to scream at him that he'd been right, which was why he had taken the risk to come back in and plant the ridiculously expensive ultra-miniaturized cameras (better than the gear they normally use on standard NCIS ops) Abby had gotten from a friend they now both owed favors to.

Gibbs hated owing favors, but if it helped him find Tony, it would be worth it.

~ ~ ~

"Come on, Gibbs. Come on! Get out of there." Abby chanted under her breath as she watched the light indicating the gps tracers in Gibbs' and Ziva's phone - as he slowly left the building, and she turned down the street toward her apartment.

It wasn't like the Ziva could help but spot Gibb's bright yellow charger if he didn't get away soon.

"Hey, Abbs. Everything alright?" McGee asked as he came into the lab, hoping to pick her up and get a bite to eat.

His go bag was still over his shoulder - as much of a reminder as he'd let himself give that he'd been part of the team that had saved the director. He knew she was busy after all, but had kind of hoped that she would have been up in the bull pen to greet him when they came in... even if she had been seeming to avoided the boss lately.

Her surprised slap of the laptops lid completely wiped the disappointment from his thoughts.

"Abby," He asked, worried that she was doing something that would get her in trouble, and trying to make his tone as firm and Gibbs-like as possible when he asked, "What's going on?"

~ ~ ~

Noticing a splash of familiar lemon yellow reflecting from a lamp post at the far end of the apartment's parking lot, Ziva smirked at Gibbs' poor attempt to hide his charger behind another tenant's work van. She had expected him to be there when he hadn't shown up in the bullpen before she left, so it wasn't a surprise to see him there - other than the fact that he was doing such a poor job of keeping himself hidden. Then again, it had been more than a year, and he had never located Tony, so perhaps it shouldn't be a surprise after all.

In fact, now that she thought about it, this wasn't the first time she'd noticed his surveillance.

Between the time he'd spent after work trying to find Tony and the hours he'd dedicated to the cases that had come up in their absence - especially as he'd put more of the work on himself and McGee by 'benching' her, he was probably close to exhausted, and clearly slipping as a result.

Considering her plans for Antonya, Ziva stared at the charger's yellow reflection debating whether she should try to wait for a later date after a long case when Gibbs would be more likely to make mistakes or test her luck and 'Antonya's' training while the Director was still in her debt.

Buoyed by the reception back at NCIS headquarters and wanting to draw matters to a close with Tony, who was providing her less and less satisfaction with each passing day... Ziva stared at the splash of yellow and smirked as she came to a decision.

It was definitely time to test Antonya's progress, and if Gibbs decided to interfere, well, his reaction to Tony's new appearance could very well be turned to Ziva's advantage. His last reaction certainly had.

~ ~ ~

"Antonya, I have a surprise for you." Ziva's voice carried into the room before her, sending a shiver down Tony's spine.

Chapter Text

"Antonya, I have a surprise for you." Ziva's voice carried into the room, sending a shiver down Tony's spine.

In his recent experience, Ziva's surprises rarely meant anything good for him.

When she entered the room, however, instead of any of the wide range of anxiety-inducing 'toys' he'd anticipated seeing, her surprise seemed almost benign.

In one hand, she was carrying a new cobalt blue mini-dress with a strikingly high-collar, cut out shoulders, long tight sleeves, and cut to fall quite high on the thighs with a slice up each side in a way that he knew would expose more of his hip and seat than the others he had gotten used to. Hanging from another hanger behind the dress, he thought he could see a new flesh colored spandex corset and what looked to be a matching pair of spandex panties. In her other hand, she was carrying a new pair of patent-leather, stilettos boots with straps that ran from ankle to knee and secured over a tiny hasp at the outside of the ankles where little locks were clearly meant to hang. She was also carrying, tucked under that arm, a small plastic mesh bag, but from the shapes in it- it appeared to be a standard makeup kit.

Well-acquainted with her recent tendency to play dress up, he relaxed when she ordered him into the shower - only mildly concerned with the smug smile she was wearing... a smile that used to be one of his first clues that Gibbs was standing behind him when he was saying something stupid. Rubbing his wrists gratefully, when she released them from the overhead lead, he pushed that thought away as quickly as possible, refusing to acknowledge the pang of pain and longing it woke and hurried to follow her order.

His first indication that Ziva's 'surprise' was going to be something out of the ordinary was the bottle of self-tanning lotion that Ziva handed him when he stepped carefully out of the shower.

"Head-to-toe, Antonya, it should look natural."

Tony hadn't thought that Ziva had even cared what his skin looked like, much less noticed the pasty egg-shell white tone and paper-thin texture his skin had taken on recently. Apparently, she had reached the limits of what she was willing to put up with, but instead of increasing and improving his diet or taking him outside, she had elected to dye it with cheap tanning cream. He was careful, though, and applied the cream as thoroughly as he could, trying as he did to not to let her see how much he was affected by the cooling and soothing effect of the cream as it was quickly absorbed by his dehydrated skin - afraid if he did she would take it away and make him earn it as he had been required to earn everything else.

He only met her approval after three applications of the cream, with time to dry between, while he grew increasingly anxious that she would lose patience, but for the first time in months, Ziva seemed willing to be patient. When the last application of cream had dried to her satisfaction, Ziva gestured for him to hold the back of his chair, spread his legs, and hold still as she used her palm to press his flaccid penis (the only undyed portion of his body) tightly into the crevice between his buttocks and taped him in place before she slid the tight shape sculpting panties over his heels and guided him to stand so she could pull them up in place before wrapping him in his new corset and securing it to at its narrowest, which thanks to his lost weight, only impaired his breathing slightly as she picked and pulled at it, adjusting it to smoothness over panties before handing him the stockings to pull on.

Her unexpected gentleness, though, began to work on his nerves, increasing his initial trepidation. In the past year (or eighteen months or two years... He didn’t know, having long ago lost track of time and only given mild hints of the passing seasons by the change of Ziva’s clothes when she visited)... but whatever length the portion of his time in her captivity had been… Ziva had never been gentle, never patient, and the sudden appearance of the trait made him wonder, frankly, whether she had spiked the tanning cream with some kind of neurotoxin and whether one of the local PD’s would shortly be finding his body, dumped in an alley near some of the bars and streets frequented by prostitutes. He didn’t fight her, though, when she secured the boots ankle straps, and he complacently put on and smoothed the mini-dress when she handed it to him. Nor did he resist when she had him sit and straddled his lap to do his makeup.

While he couldn’t remember certain how long it had been since he’d resigned himself to the thought that she’d one day go to far or forget to feed him for too long or just grow tired of ‘visiting’ him and leave him to die of starvation, thirst, or the rigors whatever position or device she’d last left him in, he had resigned himself to the possibility, and by comparison, a quick death caused by neurotoxin exposure was as close to mercy as he was inclined to believe that he could ever receive from her.

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“Yes,” Ziva's voice was an unusually pleased purr in Antonya's ear as she stepped back and studied her creation in the three-way mirror… certain that not even Gibbs would recognize his former second in command.

Corseted and dressed in the long-sleeved, off-the-shoulder minidress; tight spandex ‘shape-enhancing’ stockings that forced flesh loosened by muscle loss and weight loss into more feminine curves; and knee-length high-heeled boots, with shoulder length hair and eyebrows, now dyed as black as Ziva's own, his pallid-prisoners’ complexion disguised by by a tanning cream; and his false femininity underscored by an application of false eyelashes, blush, suggestively red lipstick, and equally bright-red false nails -- the former Tony DiNozzo more resembled a diet-conscious, promiscuous, female athlete than he did a male federal field agent. His gait and posture even were those of her training and his voice soft and tentative from her conditioning. He was nearly perfect.

His expression, one of relieved disbelief tinged with the hope spawned from Ziva's announcement that she was going to let him leave, was the only remaining imperfection and smacked of disrespect to Ziva, who had wanted to see at least a trace of anxiety at the thought of losing her control. Denial or fear would have suited her as well, but instead, she was irritated to see a growing glimmer of life returning to his eyes. Well, there had been several punishments she'd already put in place but held in reserve for him to learn of on his own. Revealing them early, where she could have the pleasure of seeing his reaction, she decided, should be effective in at least quelling his disrespect and bringing home the precariousness of his situation.

“Hmmm, let us see,” she commented mildly, walking over to minimal go-bag she had packed for him while he’d showered, Ziva dropped in the makeup kit, and pulled out the small ziplock of documents she’d prepared for him. Beneath the mini-dresses, hosiery, corsets, and heels that she’d supplied for him, she’d also hidden a few of the toys he’d had particularly strong reactions to in the past sometimes even to the point of nearly hyperventilating when he suspected he might be subject to them again (the acupuncture needles) or completely freezing when she reached for them (the super hold glue) and a few others… but those weren’t what she was interested in at the moment. She’d leave them for him to find later.

Instead, pulling out the ziplock, she opened it, and began withdrawing and holding up each item for him to see as she listed them off:

”State ID for Antonya DiNardo - It should hold up to scrutiny, but you should not risk being questioned by law enforcement for, of course, the id number will not be in ‘the system(?)’, " ... which wasn't entirely true as a cursory search for the number would produce several planted records of solicitation arrests, but he could learn that when the time came.
”Antonya DiNardo’s birth certificate, the same restrictions hold true, but it should be sufficient for you to get … certain kinds of work,”
”A PayMe card, linked to an online account for Antonya, and an app...”
”On your new phone, registered in the same name,” She held up the phone in demonstration.
”At last check, Antonya, you had a balance of somewhere around $7,500, which should be enough to help you make a start somewhere, but there may be more.”

As his gaze turned confused and wary again, she explained, “I believe your former landlord has deposited all that he was able to get from selling your remaining possessions after the back rent had been covered, but many of the videos of you that have been posted on the’Hardcore Hotties’site have been very popular and may have turned some additional profit since I last checked. Speaking of that…” She continued with a smirk as his shocked gasp turned into pleasingly strained breathing.

Holding up a bundle of jump drives, she swung them on the chain smirking at his shellshocked expression as she explained, “These have many more videos I have… edited ... for you so may post them to your account when your … sales (?)” she asked in a falsely sweet, questioning tone before continuing, “drop. There should be enough that you will not need to be without funds until you can find a suitable job or perhaps they will be the start of your new job, Antonya.” She suggested in a contemplative tone. Pausing to enjoy his reaction to her announcement, Ziva was not disappointed, as -despite the thorough application of self-tanner- he looked pale enough to faint and his breathing suggested that it was a very likely possibility. She couldn't help but wonder what his expression would contort into when he finally worked up the nerve to search the site and find his screen name. The thought of it was almost tempting enough to pull the site up just to see his expression, but she knew she was already likely running out of time.

Intentionally misinterpreting his reaction, she accused, “Certainly you did not expect for me to pay your rent when you resided here. Is it not enough that I paid for this place and your food, from my own pay? Did you expect your landlord to go forever without being paid? Or to pay for storage for your things without any promise of payment? Your arrogance is astonishing. If I had time, you arrogance should see you punished for your attitude, but I think it is past time for us to be leaving.” His shudder and breathless keen of “Gebereth, please!” was finally enough to satisfy her, and Ziva tucked the contents she’d already read off back into the bag, and zipped it up, leaving her other surprises for him to find -- at his leisure.

Unlocking and opening the only other exit from the room for - the first time in his conscious presence - Ziva watched almost gleefully as he approached the door warily as if he suspected his possible freedom would be snatched away from him, at any moment, and teased him with a taunting pull of the door almost closing it, before holding it open for him and letting him slide through. It tickled her when he immediately headed toward the car - seeming to expect he would still be under her control enough to be going wherever she took him, but Ziva had other plans and shook her head before handing him his go back and gesturing him toward the front entrance to the garage.

”No, Antonya, we are done. It is time for you to go. I think it would be best if it were to other places as truly what is left for you here, but if you wish to torture yourself by being so near to the job you lost and people who have happily moved on?”

Not answering her question, he froze for several seconds before finally accepting that she had no intention of stopping him, and took a few stumbling steps toward the entrance before a remembering himself and returning to the closest semblance of an appropriately feminine gait. Hanging back in the shadows as ‘Antonya’ reached the entrance, Ziva almost laughed as he reached the opening and froze with a loud whimper immediately spotting familiar yellow and black charger.”

Chapter Text

Gibbs sighed almost petulantly as he realized that the dark-haired woman leaving the garage wasn't Ziva. Even though Ziva leaving so soon after returning from Jenny's security detail wouldn't have fit his latest theory for Tony possible location being a hidden closet, pantry, or crawlspace in Ziva's apartment, but he'd be happy to be wrong if it meant that he could trail her to wherever Tony was stashed away.

Cursing under his breath as the woman froze, staring straight toward him, Gibbs waited, his hand hovering over the ignition to see if she would pull out a phone or go back into the complex to report him lurking in his car… and waited… and waited. It seemed to take several minutes for her to decide to do neither, choosing instead to lift her small tote almost protectively in front of her and hurry away, her face turned even further away as if not acknowledging him would keep him from confirming that she might be someone he was supposed to be following... if he'd been there for the wrong reasons.

Now that she had his attention, though, it was easy to pick up on the signs of her distress and decide that she was running away from someone. Given how small the tote she was carrying was, though, he suspected she was sacrificing speed and portability for possessions and possibly preparation. The most likely reason or at least one he'd seen all to often was an abusive spouse… possibly one who had hired a private eye to trail her, which would explain why she had frozen at the sight of an unexpected car and driver in the parking lot. He was glad she'd kept her nerve and kept going. As far as Gibbs was concerned, no one deserved to be stuck in that kind of relationship, and the kind of men who abused the people they claimed to care about didn't belong in the world - despite what the law said.

If it weren't for the nagging feeling in his gut that his time to find Tony was quickly running out, he would have approached her and offered whatever help he could, but Ziva's grocery expense, when Abby had run that morning suggested that right up until the woman was assigned to the director's protection duty, Ziva had been buying for more than just herself. If his suspicions were right, after the length of the trip, she'd have to see Tony, if only to resupply his rations, and either he was going to see it from out here, or Abby was going to catch it on one of her micro cameras, but he was going to find Tony tonight. And he wasn't going to jeopardize that by letting himself get distracted helping someone who was clearly on the way to getting herself out of whatever situation she’d been in.

He still kept half an eye looking out for her as she reached the bus stop and sat primly on the bench, casting nervous half glances back and forth between where he was parked and the apartment - her hands doing anxious little drum rolls on the tote bag while she waited for the next bus. He didn't feel he had the freedom to look into whoever was causing her to run, but at least, while he was there, he'd make sure that whatever bastard had been hurting her didn't stop her getting on the bus and getting away. Whatever else happened after that, well he wished her the best, and planned to lie to anyone who asked after which way she'd gone, but until he got Tony home that was the most attention he could spare.

Still, when the bus hadn't arrived by the time he called to check in with Abby and was informed that Abby hadn't been able to check the video feeds because McGee, who hadn't been and wouldn't be read into the situation, yet, had shown up - he decided to kill two birds with one stone by setting McGee into finding out what the next bus due to that stop was, and whether there was any way to track what stops were made while Abby got back to monitoring the video feeds. He didn't know what he'd do with the information, but since it got McGee off Abby's back, and was after hours, he didn't mind using the task as an object lesson to teach the probie the follies of nosing into operations he wasn't cleared for. Besides it would be handy information to have if that was how Ziva was getting to Tony without using the car he'd planted a tracking device in months ago while he'd kept her busy working cold cases.

Waiting while Abby reviewed the footage captured by the various cameras, Gibbs heaved a sigh of frustration as he noticed Ziva's familiar shadow cross the light thrown against the kitchen curtains, before turning back to watch the woman sitting demurely on the park bench - her hands slapping the tote in agitated drumrolls that seemed somehow familiar before they abruptly stopped and the woman grabbed up the tote, standing up.

Jerking his gaze around to scan the building's entrances in case the woman's abuser had realized that he'd lost track of her and was coming out to bully her back in, Gibbs was relieved to see the lot and entrances empty even as he heard the distinctive sounds of heavy hydraulic breaks wooshing as the bus pulled up in front of the stop. After a brief discussion with the driver, the woman cast one last glance toward the apartment then one toward him that he acknowledged with a shooing gesture, silently trying to reassure her that he wasn't a pi or thug hired by her bastard husband or boyfriend, and smiled encouragingly when she nodded and stepped on letting him turn his attention back to finding Tony.

As if that little, unspoken deed had warmed fate's favor toward him, his cellphone jumped and vibrated in his hand. Seeing the labs number, Gibbs immediately answered, and immediately held the phone away from Abby’s near shout of, “GIBBS! GIBBS! GIBBS! IT WORKED! SHE DOES HAVE A SECRET ENTRANCE. WE CAUGHT HER!!!!”

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~Gibbs!~ Tony froze at the sight of his former boss, sitting in his charger, staring impatiently at the garage entrance. A whimper broke from his throat at the sight of his boss ... former-boss, and he was hard-pressed not to step back into the garage as Gibbs stared at him.

~No. … Just No. ~ Tony felt the unwanted urge to shake his head in denial at the sight but was caught as frozen as a dear in a car’s oncoming headlights. ~

Gibbs wasn’t supposed to be there. He wasn’t supposed to see Tony like this or rather the wreckage of what Tony had become.

But damn it, Tony missed Gibbs … desperately. He missed the certainty he’d always had -- right up until his confession -- that Gibbs would know what to do and what he needed to do… that Gibbs would ‘have his six’ as long as he was under Gibb’s protection… protection that he’d thrown away after letting Ziva manipulate him - compromise him beyond Gibbs ability to tolerate or forgive the weakness. The last time he’d seen Gibbs, his former boss had been disgusted by Tony, and that had been when there had been something to Tony… something substantial… something worthwhile. What he was now, so much less than what Gibbs had been disgusted by. ~ No. ~ He couldn’t let Gibbs see that.

Even worse, though, was the thought of Gibbs - or anyone- but especially Gibbs seeing the videos the Ziva had warned him about. Tony had no doubt that Ziva had been utterly honest about making those. Without question, while Tony had been under her thumb, Ziva had lied, at the drop of a hat about her justifications, but never once had she lied about the torments that she would inflict. It also went without needing a second's consideration that if Tony even thought of approaching Gibbs - or otherwise doing or saying anything that reminded Gibbs of Tony's fall from grace and her role in it - that Ziva would make sure that Gibbs (and probably everyone else at the Navy Yard) saw in hi-def detail just exactly how far Tony had fallen.

Remembering far too many of the ways that he’d debased himself to win even small measures of her non-existent mercy, Tony had no doubt that the scenes she could have recorded would - if ever seen by Gibbs - destroy any remaining respect that his former boss had held for him after his screw up, much less destroy any hope of him finding employment in even the most remote law enforcement agencies if not any sort of legitimate employment at all. ~ So, no, no matter how much he wished it were otherwise, he didn’t believe in the possibility for him to regain the life he’d lost… the life that he’d thrown away, even if Gibbs had wanted to talk to him.

Thankfully, though, Gibbs didn’t call him over… or even seem to recognize him - despite the intense stare that he was casting in Tony’s direction, and while that cut at what little of his ego remained, he realized that it shouldn’t really have been a surprise. Hadn’t it been months since Tony had even recognized himself?

Finally forcing himself to turn away, Tony scanned the surrounding area until he spotted a bus stop and started toward it, keeping his face turned away in hopes that Gibbs wouldn’t suddenly recognize something in his profile. Feeling Gibbs’ gaze on him every step of his escape attempt, Tony didn’t realize that he’d been clutching the go-bag Ziva had packed tightly to him like a defensive shield until he reached the bus stop bench, and had to force himself to let go of it and lay the bag across his lap.

Knowing Gibbs was there, though, made it impossible to ignore the man, and Tony found himself surreptitiously peaking back to study Gibbs, who he realized must be waiting for Ziva. She had said that it was time for them to be going; he just hadn’t realized that Gibbs would be waiting for her; though, of course, Ziva must have and was probably taking great pleasure watching him twist in the wind. Turning his glance back toward her apartment building, Tony breathed a silent prayer that she’d get her ass in gear so she and Gibbs could leave.

True to what he’d seen of her nature, though, Ziva seemed to be taking perverse pleasure in drawing Tony’s torment out, and instead of coming down and leaving with Gibbs, appeared to have returned to her apartment and could be seen moving through various rooms - her shadow cutting through the rooms cast light.

So, Gibbs was still there, and so was Tony’s ever-present longing to see the man again, to be in his presence and under his protection, and Tony was torn between his desperate longing to give up the charade and beg Gibbs for forgiveness and his feelings of worthlessness and self-disgust that whispered all too convincingly that forgiveness wasn’t even possible for what he’d thrown away and what he’d become. No matter how many glances he took in Gibbs direction or how long Ziva drug the torture out nothing seemed capable of cutting the tension between the conflicting desires and belief - winding Tony up until he couldn’t even stay still anymore and had to tap out his excess adrenaline into the top of his bag before he was forced to jump up and pace to relieve the energy. If he did that, he was sure that he’d give himself away to Gibbs who’d seen him burst into pacing too many times during his early years as Gibbs’ probie.

While it did nothing to help Tony stop darting his eyes between Gibbs and Ziva’s apartment, by the seventeenth run through of his favorite drum pattern, salvation came in the form of the public bus line. Despite himself, Tony couldn’t help taking one last look in Gibbs’ direction - only to deal with one last cutting blow as he watched Gibbs wave him on his way.

Trying to keep himself from crumpling in despair at the final cutting of ties to his longed for personal idol, mentor, and protector, Tony at first didn’t hear the driver asking him for his fare and was blindsided again when he realized that he had been so panicked at the thought of being recognized by Gibbs that he hadn’t even thought about the fact that he’d need cash to get on the bus.

Sensing his distress, though, the driver, a soft voiced older man in his fifties, took pity on Tony, offering, “Come on up, Hon, I have to drive the route whether the bus is empty or full, so giving one free ride won’t hurt the company one but. Where are you going?”

”I - I don’t k-kn-ow.” his voice and nerves still shaky from not speaking to anyone beyond saying his forced acknowledged of whatever so-called truths Ziva wanted to force on him, Tony found he could barely stammer his answer without his voice cracking and breaking as thoroughly as everything else about him had.

”That’s alright, hon, you can just stay on until you know where you want to get off. There’s no rush at all.”

Unaccustomed to simple kindness, it took Tony several seconds before he could marshall his voice enough to thank the driver before falling back into silence as more than one door closed behind him.

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Ziva let Gibbs pound on her door for several minutes, watching Antonya’s bus get farther and farther away and finally turn the corner before she walked over to the door and opened it, smirking as she caught Gibbs in the act of dropping to his knees, his lockpick set in hand.

”Agent Gibbs, come in.” She stepped out of the way of the entrance as if there were nothing at all wrong with him picking the lock on her door to get in, and only smirked as he pushed past her and headed toward her bathroom.

He could look around as long as he liked, but he wouldn’t find anything; she had been trained from early youth how to erase the traces of certain activities and had used the sprays, cleaners, and technology that had been available since coming to America to ensure that there wasn’t even single eyelash to be found even bare minutes after he was gone. So Gibbs could look to his heart’s content, and the longer he looked, the farther away Antonya would be.

She was unpleasantly surprised when he was able to find the entrance to her spare apartment within seconds of entering the bathroom, but despite his unexpected knowledge, there was still nothing left to find, so she sat back smugly, waiting for him to return and admit defeat. Tony was gone, and from what she’d seen, it was apparent that their former teammate knew better than to come back.

Chapter Text

”Hon, come on now, wake up.”

Tony cringed as a fingers tapped his cheek lightly, and opened his eyes but immediately clenched them shut as a spear of light felt as if it was stabbing straight into his brain.

”Shhh...shhh… Hey there. Hon, you with me?” The drivers voice crested over the throbbing in his ears and added to the spears stabbing at his brain.

Tony tried to acknowledge that he was in fact conscious, but his came out as more of a groaned ‘uh-huh’ than actual confirmation. His eyes were open, and he could see the driver, but that fact didn’t seem to ease the driver’s concerned expression one iota… especially when he jumped as the driver wrapped his fingers around his wrist, pulling desperately at his wrist trying to dislodge the fingertips pressed into his veins.

”Hey, hey, hey, it’s alright, Hon. I don’t think your heart’s supposed to be beating that fast so … you need to calm down if you can. Can you try for me? Don’t know what you’ve been through, but your out of it now. Just calm down. Okay. Take a deep breath and calm down. You’ll be okay. I need to step over to my radio… won’t take a second.”

Tony listened numbly, not quite understanding what was going on as the bus driver argued with his dispatcher about switching lines and times, before another voice broke in and seemed to provide a solution that satisfied the dispatcher and he presumed the driver because, a few moments later, the driver came and sat at the other end of the bench seat, clearly trying not to crowd Tony, and explained:

”It’s all settled. A buddy of mine can take over the rest of my route, and I’ll catch his tonight.”

The explanation must have made sense to the driver, he assumed but didn’t make sense to Tony, whatsoever. He didn’t think to hard on it, though, and shut his eyes, trying to block out everything that was making his head pound.

”That’s probably a good idea; you just rest. It’ll take Arnie just a bit to get here.”

”Kay.” Tony agreed when the driver’s silence suggested that he seemed to expect some sort of answer.

Arnie turned out to be a short, withered looking man in his late 50s who grumbled as he climbed up the stairs, took a long once-over before sneering at the other driver and accusing, “Didn’t know you had a thing for trannies, Mack.”

”Shut it, Arnie, and give me the keys.” Tony’s bus driver growled, putting a hand on Tony’s shoulder when his eyes shot open at the other driver’s accusation.

”Not!” Tony croaked, “I’m not.” Trying to deny the insult and accusation, even though he knew that that must have been what it looked like. But he wasn’t… he wasn’t all there… physically, and well, probably mentally either, but it wasn’t by choice. He’d never wanted to change who… what he’d been. He’d never…

Tony hadn’t realized that he’d begun to shake his head frantically, much less shake almost violently at the slur, so much so that even Arnie looked at him a little concerned, although the wizened man didn’t hold back mumbling, “sure as hell dressed the part” as he handed a set of keys to Tony’s bus driver.

”Don’t mind him, Hon. He doesn’t get on with anybody and prefers it that way. Arnie, my lunch’s about up, you probably better get on the road.”

”Well, get your asses off my bus, then.” The older man retorted.

It took a few moments, when his bus driver, Mack apparently, stood and watched him expectantly, for Tony to realize that the man expected him to go with too. He hadn’t known where he’d been going in the first place, and had been relying on the bus driver’s generosity in giving him a free ride, but now wasn’t certain that he wanted to get off the bus with the man. Was ‘Mack’ expecting something in return? Clearly, the other man thought that Tony looked like … like something he wasn’t. Had his bus driver misread Tony’s … situation… or willingness to ‘pay’ for his ride through other means? Shaking even more violently at the thought, Tony backed further into the seat shaking his head.

”Heyyyyy, easy. I don’t know what you’re thinking; well, I think I do, but it’s not that.” Mack coaxed, “You just seemed to be hurting, quite a bit, and having some trouble breathing. I just wanted to get you to a clinic, where you can get something for that headache, okay? That’s all.”

Mack’s words seemed for the most part genuine; although, he suspected that once at the clinic Mack probably thought they’d be checking over more than just his headache, which Tony was pretty sure he’d be fighting tooth and nail, but he couldn’t argue that he didn’t need something for the headache, that the man seemed sincere enough, and that one way or other, he probably wouldn’t be able to stay on the bus without Mack being there… So, gave in with a weak nod and tried to stand up.

”Woah there,” Mack cautioned, catching Tony’s elbow when he swayed, and Tony had to fight the instinct to jerk his arm out of the man’s grip - realizing how irrational it would appear when he was clearly unsteady on his feet. “Here, hand me your bag so you can hold the rails. That’s it, just take it easy, one step at a time. There you go. Now, the company van is right over here. Let’s get you into the passenger seat. Buckle in. There we go. Now here’s your bag, okay. All in? I’m closing the door now. Be right around.”

Embarrassed by how much the driver was babying him (and how much he realized he needed it because the walk from the bus to the van had almost exhausted him), Tony turned his head away, trying to suppress the tears that were coming to his eyes. This wasn’t who he was… who he was supposed to be… who he had been. But, ~Christ!~ he had no idea how to get back to even half of that person from the husk he’d been turned into. What was there left for him? … Of him? Was there anything?

Despite the fact that he’d been watching out the window for the whole ride and had realized that they’d come to a stop, Tony was still so startled when Mack opened the door that he almost fell back off the when he seat pulling away. This time, the driver didn’t say anything though, seeming to recognize that Tony was at just about the end of what he could cope with - especially when he waited until Tony scooted back closer in the seat before he gently lifted a handkerchief to wipe the running makeup off his cheek and saw Tony was having to fight not to pull away.

”Ready?” Mack asked, and while the answer was a definite ~NO!~, Tony nodded in defeat and let Mack help him out; putting off the inevitable wouldn’t make it any less inevitable or give Tony any more energy to do it later than he had at that moment.

Tony was glad when Mack settled him in a seat closest to the door; although, he was a bit suspicious that Mack had done so in order that Tony wouldn’t hear him speaking with the nurse, but he had to admit to himself that he wasn’t certain he could have walked much further anyways, so it really was a moot point. His suspicions were confirmed a few minutes later, when Mack came back with a pack of intake papers for him to fill out seeming watchful then satisfied when a woman who appeared to be a senior nurse approached them leading another woman dressed in what Tony mentally thought of as ‘patiently-friendly, hospital counselor attire’.

Tony immediately tried to stand up, intent on getting out of there, because there was no way… No. Way. In. The. World… that he could tell anyone what had happened to him, and not just because he didn’t want to talk about it. Knowing the crueler side of Ziva, he was certain that she’d be checking local hospital centers for either of his names and would make sure that the videos she’d mentioned would make the rounds at NCIS and probably any other local agency she could get them noticed by. Unfortunately, the adrenaline that had been powering his retreat since Ziva released him, had run out, and his long-near-constant state of malnutrition left him nothing in reserve to keep him standing as the counselor reached them. Also, unfortunately for Tony’s desire to leave, Mack knew just what to say to keep him from trying to get up again.

”I’m sorry, Hon, I knew you wouldn’t want to let them look you over, but I can tell you need it, and I just wouldn’t feel right leaving you to get back to work, without knowing that there’s someone watching over you cause, honestly, I don’t think you can take care of yourself right now. So, do me a favor, okay, and let them help you? “

Tony stared at the driver miserably and realized that his eyes must have been a little bit pleading because Mack shook his head and answered, “I just wouldn’t feel right, if I left without knowing for sure that you’re being looked after, so I’m asking you to cooperate with them, okay?”

Not feeling like he really had any other choice and not wanting to hold the driver up any longer after the man had really gone above and beyond what anyone could expect from a bus driver, who hadn’t done anything or had any reason to get dragged into the mess that was Tony’s life, Tony gave in and nodded, offering the man a shaky, “Thank you.”

”You’re welcome, Hon; you let them take care of you, okay?”

”Okay,” Tony agreed in a doleful cracked-murmur. Really, they wouldn’t be able to keep him there, so what harm was there in letting Mack think he’d stay. The man really had been far too kind to him already.

”Good, Ladies, I’m leaving him in your gentle hands; take care of him, please.”

”That’s our job.” The senior nurse said stiffly, but the counselor nodded, promising, “We will Mr. Talbert, thank you.”

Tony wasn’t sure why, but when the driver, whom he had only known an hour, maybe two, left, he suddenly found it difficult to breath and had to grab onto the chair arm to keep from swaying dizzily.

”Maggie, thank you, will you take this back to the desk please?” The counselor asked, handing the clipboard that Mack had brought from the front desk.

”But, he’ll need intake paperwork!” The nurse protested slightly, and Tony jumped again as he felt the counselor lay a stilling hand on his which, without his awareness, had gripped the chair handle again in preparation to pull himself out of the seat.

”I’ll take care of it.” She assured him, before turning to Tony.

”Hi, can I ask, first, whether you self-identify as male or female?” The counselor asked gently, nodding her understanding when he slightly croaked, “Male”, before she continued. “Sir, I understand that you may not want to be here, but can I ask, ‘if I were to tell you that we have the ability to check you in anonymously, would you consider letting us checking you in and at least identifying any medical issues you may need treatment for?”

”Y-ou can do th-at?” Tony questioned, his voice still dry and cracking from lack of use.

”Yes, we can’t treat you without your permission… except in extreme circumstances… but yes, there is an option that I believe will let us check you in anonymously, but I do need to ask you to verify some information first before I can promise that it’s possible.

Taking out her phone, she opened a window, tapped in something, then worked with it a second more before turning it to him so he could read a list in high-contrast, white-on-black text. His first glance at the list was enough to send his heartbeat racing again as his throat tried to constrict. Easily picking up his distress, the counselor pulled the list out of his line of sight and spoke to him in a soothing stream of words that he couldn’t understand for several seconds.

After seeming to wait for a response to some question he hadn’t understood, she waived the senior nurse back over and sent her to get a cup of water and a small cup of liquid that she explained, but her explanation might as well have been from the teacher on Charlie Brown for all that Tony understood it. Still he didn’t fight it when she offered him the cup then the water. He had no idea how long passed before he finally understood her when she said, “I don’t need you to try to tell me any details, just -if you can- please tell me the numbers for any of the sentences that apply to you. Do you think you can look at the list again?”

When she turned the phone back to him, Tony swallowed twice then another time before he could finally answer, “One, t-t-t…”

”Two?”

Tony agreed with a nod then continued, “three, five, seven, ei-eight, nine.” His words were almost soft gasps, but she seemed to hear them and tapped the check box beside each one as he named them off, before finally nodding as he reached the end of the list, and hitting a submit button that he hadn’t noticed before that.

”Ok, we can definitely get you checked in as mentioned. Give me a moment, and I’ll have a wheelchair brought over to help you get up to your room.” She offered softly, before waiving to the nearby nurse.

Even though she’d pocketed the phone, when he closed his eyes, he was still able to see the ghost of the list against his eyelids:

In the past year, I have been in circumstances where I:

1. ...was not free to leave or come and go as I wished
2. ... was in the commercial sex industry or required to perform or be the recipient of sexual acts that were performed without my freely given consent
3. ... had a pimp / manager/ or other person who controlled my actions and access to outside resources
4. … was entrapped/ recruited through false promises concerning the nature and conditions of my work or home environment
5. … was subjected to high security measures in mythe work and/or living locations (e.g. opaque windows, boarded up windows, bars on windows, barbed wire, security cameras, etc.)
6. … was unpaid, paid very little, or paid only through tips
7. … was subjected to physical restraint or confinement
8. … was subjected to physical injury, mutilation, and or torture
9. … was deprived of food, water, clothing, medical care, or other necessities

Chapter Text

”Cynthia Ford, PsyD, from Central Washington, presenting next.” The Freedom Foundation’s moderator announced as the previous doctor from MedStar - Rock Creek medical center gathered the files she had been presenting from and stepped down from the stage.

Accepting the projection remote from the moderator as she took stood behind the podium and began the recitation of her patient’s history: “ Desiderio D. is a 37-year-old male, brought into the Central Washington clinic after suffering a non-responsive fugue state that reportedly lasted in excess of 45 minutes. On arrival, he presented with signs of severe dehydration, exaggerated startle reactivity, diminished verbal ability though not comprehension, muscle weakness, diminished stamina, confusion, and passivity.”

”On the basis of staff and third-party observations, the patient asked to complete the 'Trafficking and Exploitation Inventory’. When shown the inventory, the patient presented with shortness of breath, sweating, dizziness, a rapid onset of tachycardia, and became non-responsive though sufficiently aware of his surroundings to also present active startle responses. After non-pharmaceutical calming strategies failed to address the patient’s response, it was deemed necessary to treat the patient with an oral dose of a benzodiazepine, which the patient responded positively to. As the patient appeared fearful of seeking treatment if it required registering under his own name, the inventory was presented again to facilitate anonymous registration in accordance with the 2000 Trafficking Victims Privacy and Protection Act.”

”On the second presentation of the inventory, the patient confirmed seven of the nine indicators, with six of eight remaining indicators confirmed by staff observation. The subsequent physical examinations confirmed the veracity of the patient's statements, so the patient was admitted.”

” The patient's active and acute physical and physiological challenges include dehydration, severe malnutrition, a body mass index of fifteen, pulmonary scarring and decreased capacity, pulmonary hypertension recording an average pressure of 27 mmHg, headaches, muscle deterioration, suppressed immune system, compromised excretory system due to frequent and repeated severe assaults, hypertrophic scarring on 80% of the patient's back, deteriorated vision and chemical burns from the long-term use of commercial adhesives to limit his vision.”

Cynthia paused as the board's disturbed murmurs rose. She had known that the extent of her patient's condition would draw a reaction for more than just the fact that he was a male well over the normal age that the usually saw sexual exploitation of. After the murmuring faded, she continued, “the focus of our current course of treatment is to attempt to restore his fluid levels and bmi, replete his nutritional deficiencies and address his compromised immune system as these factors directly impact the processes of repairing his excretory system and restoring his pulmonary functions.”

As she spoke, Cynthia slowly clicked through the test results, blood panels, vital statistics, photos of his scars, and x-rays pausing to answer questions as various doctors raised them until the questions ended and she thanked the audience, gathered her files, and moved to the back to wait for interested specialists to speak to her and possibly offer their services - pro bono. It was one of the ways that the foundation optimized the funds they donated to trafficking and exploitation victims - by recruiting interested specialists who were willing to donate time and services to people who usually had no means or recourse to pay for treatment. She knew her hopes for such offers were mixed, though: her patient's condition was sufficiently critical to stir the consciences of the professionals primarily interested in the charitable side of the equation while being equally likely to scare away the doctors interested in protecting or improving their reputations.

Even in the best case scenario, where they were able to get the man back to a healthy weight, nutritional balance, improved lung function, and controlled blood pressure, the man was still in for a long arduous recovery including possibly numerous surgeries, physical therapy, and occupational rehab, and likely lifelong counseling… if they could even get him to engage in the process. He was currently on suicide watch and the prospect of any of his conditions turning south could be the camel's last straw; in her experience, losing the will to live in such critical states of health was just as effective as actively seeking one's death.”

“Ms. Ford, may I see the x-rays of his lungs and left leg, please?”

”That's an odd combination.” Cynthia challenged, “May I ask your specialty?”

”Pulmonology, but I do have a reason for looking at his knee as well. If I'm right, I can offer you more than just my services… I can give you a full medical history.”

”What?!?” She asked shocked as he took the x-rays out of their sleeves and held them to the light, he explained, “those lungs look familiar, or really I should say the damage looks familiar, but I can’t be sure until....”

Surprisingly, despite the fact he’d declared that his specialty was pulmonology - not orthopedics or rheumatology, the x-ray’s that the pulmonologist found most convincing were not, in fact, the films of her patient’s lungs, but we're instead the slides showing the unrelated damage caused to his knee from a sports injury in his youth.

”Christ! DiNozzo,” the pulmonologist mumbled, handing back the films before thumbing through the binder of documents and photos detailing his injuries, “What the heck got hold of you this time? … And how the hell did you survive it?”

”You’re familiar with our patient?” Cynthia asked for confirmation, a sinking feeling rising at the possibility that he was as much a friend of her patient as his doctor - a factor which would, by medical dictates, foundation standards, and necessity- exclude him from participating in her patient’s treatment. Trafficking victims, in particular, those whose separation from their friends and families had lasted an extended time, commonly had extreme difficulty facing and interacting with acquaintances from their ‘previous lives’.

”Only professionally, as his physician,” the man offered, understanding immediately, “Although, we did have a brief interaction, roughly fifteen years before he became my patient… As it happens, I was one of the Wolverine linebackers responsible for the tackle that cauesed the damage to his knee. I'm afraid that when I was treating him for… another condition, and had the opportunity to check view his records - couldn't resist the chance to well … take a look. It's not often one gets to see the full results of ones youthful actions through adult eyes - with full awareness.”

Taking his explanation at face value, Cynthia smiled her understanding, and gave him her contact card before turning to the next specialist whose interest in her table seemed to have been drawn by the other specialist’s presence there.

ブレンキン

Leon Vance silently watched the team leads enter the MTAC and take the first two row of seats. It didn't escape his notice, although he wasn't sure if the man himself had noticed, that the other team leads had arranged themselves in a protective semi-circle arround Gibbs, the MCRT team lead. It wasn't usually so noticeable, how protective the other agents had become of the Senior agent, who had - in their more experienced eyes - not been completely recovered on his return from Mexico, haunted not only by the memories of his late wife and child but also by the unnecessary deaths on The Cape Fear. Leon suspected the real blow had come from losing three of his junior (or former junior) agents in such a short time: Pacci's death barely a year before Todd's, only months before DiNozzo's disappearance, and now Shepard - while director had also been a former trainee then partner of Gibbs. As much as he had found Gibbs manner abrasive as Assistant Director, he wasn't blind to the fact that NCIS would lose a great asset if Gibbs burned out and retired early... He almost regretted what he was going to ask of the man.

Turning back to the lone tech he had read in on what they were about to watch, Leon ordered him to cue up the video then turned back to address the senior agents, “The announcement of the fire in Director Shepard's home and her subsequent death while the official narrative is not the full story. The video of last evening's events that you are about to watch a portion of was streamed to and recorded on a private server accessible solely to the Secretary of the Navy. Due to the security concerns revealed on the video, the SecNav has released a portion of the video solely for this meeting and has authorized me to detail our initial directions and plans subsequent to this.”

On cue, the tech started the video, expanded to the full screen.

On screen, the late Director Shepard rose from a leather-backed chair at the large oak desk of her home office and walked barefoot to a decanter set up on the hearth and poured a drink into a small cut-crystal shot glass. Pausing as her hand rested on the decanter's ornate plug, she asked without turning:

”Straight or ice?”

”You heard me enter?” A husky female voice with an Eastern-European accent questioned.

”I knew you were coming.” Shepard answered with a shrug. “Just as you knew I would be meeting … an associate at the bar.”

”Did I disappoint you - not falling for your trap?”.... “Ice”, the woman yet to come on screen answered after a moment when the director lifted the decanter suggestively.

”Did I disappoint you not falling into yours?” Director Shepard asked almost coyly as she poured the drink and delivered it to a side table before walking over to a seat across from the table.

”You are exceedingly calm for a woman about to die.” The owner of the voice observed as she finally stepped out of the shadows, a pistol held firmly and steadily in her right hand as she picked up the glass though electing not to sit.

Director Shepard responded with a dry, slightly-bitter laugh, as she lifted her drink in a mock toast, answering, “believe it or not, Svetlana, if you're anywhere near as competent of a shot as I believe, you might be the lesser of two evils.”

”So you do not think to ask for mercy?”

“I knew … before California … that mercy isn't on the menu. I am curious, though, how you acquired my identity much less my agenda? After so many years, I would have thought that it would be difficult to find.”

”Oh, but I have known who you were for many years, many, many years. In fact, I knew several months before your late father's passing… It was one of the last things we discussed, in this very room, before I made him an offer...”

“My father would never have made any kind of deal with you.” The director snarled, losing her composure for the first time during the confrontation.

”Have you always been so arrogant? So certain of your beliefs?" The woman taunted as she took a seat, "No, you have been so very mistaken in a great many ways, but especially regarding your father. You may remember that there were several innovations in communication technology in the years before; I offered him the opportunity to access a then-up-to-date transmission system to view something of great interest - in exchange for a small action on his part… not even two minutes of his time, even if they were his last two minutes.”

“No,” Shepard protested, “Benoit was responsible. It took years, but I finally got the intelligence to confirm it was Benoit.”

The woman, Svetlana, laughed as dryly and bitterly Shepard had before him, not seeming to notice that the firm grip and aim she’d earlier held the gun with was beginning to fail as she taunted the director: “And where did your intelligence come from? Who whispered those tips in your ears? You asked how I acquired your agenda? Can you not put two and two together? I have and have had associates in your little agency for years: watching you, watching your former partners, whispering in your ears and guiding your little hunt, and when they weren't planting false leads, they were digging up juicy secrets to sell to the highest bidder all at a nice profit.”

”Agent Gibbs will see through your setups just as easily as I did.” The director denied.

Derision thick in her tone, Svetlana continued to deride the director: “No … No, I have made no plans to release him from his torment. As I said, there have been eyes on you both, and fate has been doing a fine job with him on its own. He grieves still for a wife and child, long lost, and more for his subordinates being taken from him one after another after another … so broken by his memories that he flees the country to escape them. Foolish man, such memories cannot be escaped…” Svetlana paused shaking her head, her expression almost empathetic (even if it was the hardened sort of empathy that enemies occasionally shared) as she continued, “No Killing him would be a mercy, which as you say - is not on the table.”

The momentary empathy evaporated completely as the woman refocused on the director “You are a different matter: I offer your father the choice between watching a sniper put you down in Rome or taking his own life, and you do not even honor the life he gave for you - missing his funeral for liasons overseas. But that is not unusual for you is it?”

“You abandon your so-called partner for a position in Rota, without a seeming care. Your lover in Rota drowns, but instead of investigating, you take another to your bed within weeks. He leaves, and you fall into Eli David's bed and under his protection, which has - admittedly - served you well, given the position you have risen to and the protection his children provided, but even David’s protection could not reach inside your own agency and shield you from those I’ve placed closest to you.” Smacking her lips dryly, Svetlana paused, taking another drink.

Although her speech was beginning to slur, the woman’s words were still understandable as she made a final declaration, ”No. For months, I have been killing you and would have been satisfied watching your decline even from a distance, had time permitted, but the cost of having you poisoned with thallium was the risk of exposing myself in the arranging.”

Director Shepard refrained from commenting into the silence that followed Svetlana’s admission, waiting as the gun drooped lower and lower, and Svetlana’s blinks came at longer and longer intervals, before she set her crystal shot glass aside and pushed herself out of her seat, a gun that hadn’t visible previously held in a slightly shaking grip as she approached her murderous visitor. In the background, too quiet to be clearly picked up, there was a brusk murmur of another voice from the shadow warning her off, by the tone, but the director disregarded it as she got closer, shaking her head as she reached to take the gun out of the other woman’s hand.

Whatever the warning had been, its wisdom proved true a moment later, as in almost the same instant, the gun in Svetlana’s hand jerked with a small flare and muffled crack, the director’s torso writhed in an almost convulsive spasm as it dropped, the warning voice erupted with an almost discernable curse, and a second crack followed almost instantly on the heels of the first as Svetlana was thrown forward - blood darkening her blond hair as her evident corpse doubled over.

Doing a short slashing-signal to cut the feed, Leon gave the leads a moment to absorb what they had seen before he began:

"After reviewing the transcripts and recent events, the SecNav, Secretary of Defense, and relevant analysts agree that the claims made by the Director Shepard’s assailant, who we have identified as Svetlana Chernitskaya, arms dealer and inheritor of the syndicate formerly run by Anatoly Zhukov are credible. To address this, we are currently in process of selecting and vetting staff to join two investigative teams, who will be charged with the task of identifying and investigating, respectively, potential moles. I will be speaking privately with the leads who will be asked to head these teams, after this meeting.”

”To distract from and disguise the purpose of these teams, the SecNav has authorised an announcement of and general reshuffling of teams based on so-called ‘optimized team structures’, at the end if the investigation, each of you will be given the option of requesting the former team members who have passed vetting individually or as a group to reform your teams, or alternately to keep any of the new team members who you feel will fit with the selected team members of your previous team. As I am sure you understand, these facts are not for discussion outside of this room - even among each other; if you have any questions or concerns, bring them to me immediately. That will be all for the moment.”