Ken led them back into the main house. Seal had told him on countless occasions how much fun living at the compound was and he was beginning to get a sense of the perks of doing so. If he hadn't found a natural inclination for instructing, he likely would have been here ages ago. The place reeked of a combination of old money and modern style. Ken pointed out things here and there as they walked, tossing in some instructions here and there. Phil was trying to pay attention but was feeling truthfully a bit out of his element. True, he had grown up in money as well, but had spent the better part of his adult life on military bases.

Ken walked through one side of a double set of mahogany doors, holding the door open for Phil to follow. The second he crossed the threshold, he felt his brother grab him from behind, locking one burly arm over his upper arms and chest, and a large hand locking him by the forehead to the crook of his taller brother's neck.

Phil barely had time to register that they had entered a large traditional library. His initial utterance of, "Sean! What the…" died on his lips as two more men rushed him from each side of the entrance. His lower arms were grasped on either side and his brother drove him forward to a large desk. "Sean!?" he tried again.

"Shut it!" commanded one of the men on his left, who was approximately ten years his senior but still looked like he could give him a run for his money. Two of the men weren't actually touching him but looked like they had been tasked with being at the ready if he started flailing any other appendages, with the way they kept their eyes on his legs. Phil's muscles were certainly taught but knowing that his brother would never truly hurt him, he wasn't actively fighting either.

Seal managed to lift his left hip up onto the side of the desk. The man who had silenced him began to buckle a thick black leather cuff onto his left wrist, while the other man on his left held his arm in a steel grip. The cuff covered not just his wrist, but his lower arm as well and the buckle was high enough that he knew his fingers wouldn't be able to reach to undo it. He was shortly not going to have any say in the matter of what these men had planned for him. He couldn't see where Ken had gone but assumed he had stepped to the side and out of the way, and obviously his new boss was in on whatever this was. Once the buckle was secured, the man, who Phil noted had been addressed as Clancy, flipped a small lever on the desk, exposing an eye hook, which he clipped to the cuff. One arm down. Collectively, the men and his brother, pushed him the rest of the way down onto his back on the desk. Now he started to struggle. "Easy, bro," his brother soothed. "Not worth it and we're going to win one way or another anyway." Phil was at least pleased to hear at some effort to his younger brother's breath from behind him.

The men on his right repeated the action with his right wrist and arm while his brother kept him down with one large bear paw on his forehead and another on his upper chest. He managed to let out one big calming breath, realizing that his brother was right, he was stuck fast. Once his arm was secure, his brother directed, "Zackquarius, I've got him, get the collar on him."

His brother lifted his head and neck just enough for the other man to buckle a thick black collar around his neck. Phil heard but of course couldn't see, the collar being snapped to the desk on either side of his neck. At the same time, leather cuffs were buckled to just above his knees and his legs pulled enough to the side to be also tethered to the either side of the desk. Hands released him as the restraints took their place. Phil tested, pulling against them, and found he could only lift his head and shift a few inches in any direction. His brother spoke again, "Zack, get his shirt off."

The man in question loomed over him with a box cutter in hand. What the hell? He certainly wasn't in a panic; O'Neill men don't panic. If it wasn't for the thick collar surrounding his neck, he might have been worried that the man was about to slit his throat. "Sean?" he tried again.

"Relax," was his brother's only response.

Zack or Zackquarius? That was an odd one, tented his t-shirt up enough to slice it down the middle from collar to bottom seam. He repeated the action on either sleeve, cutting it away from Phil's biceps, exposing his torso. "Wow, I see the family resemblance," he commented, glancing up at Seal. "Nice."

"Looks like Miranda's going to enjoy herself as usual," another man commented from near his right foot.

"Alright, Collins, that will do," Ken's voice was finally heard from.

Miranda? As in Ken's wife? What the ever-living hell?

"Get going, boys. We'll take it from here."

Seal bent down to his ear before making his exit. "Enjoy yourself, bro. The woman's got skills. And from what I hear, it's been a while for you. Take it as a gift." He promptly smacked his left cheek with a light sting and left the room with the others.

"Umm, boss?" he tried. Ken ignored him. He dropped a stack of papers onto his washboard abs as he passed, apparently moving to greet his wife who had entered from a side door. She had changed from earlier; her hair was up, and she had on a long slim fitting dark navy dress. She greeted Ken with a sensual kiss. When they broke apart, his boss moved to a waiting drink cart and poured himself a highball. Miranda stood behind his head and placed her hands on his shoulders.

"Oh, aren't you lovely," she cooed as her eyes trailed down his chest.

Ken had returned to lift up his stack of papers. "Commander? Sir?"

"Don't look at me. Your all hers for the moment," he finally answered.

"Ma'am?"

She finally looked at his eyes, seeing the concern. "Oh, dear, relax. We're just going to have a little fun. Ken allows me a good old inspection of the newbies. It's your own fault that you showed up here without a girl that he's letting me have a little more fun than usual. I'm just going to get you to relax and get you off. My clothes are staying on. She smoothed her hands down his pecs with just the right amount of pressure, giving him her best seductive gaze. "Do you think you'll be ok with that?"

Phil couldn't help the low groan that escaped his lips at the contact. His brother was right. The woman had skills.

"Here, lift up a bit," she encouraged, tugging his remaining rag of a t-shirt out from under him. She folded it and helped him lift his head enough to slide it under as a makeshift pillow. "Better?" she asked.

The little cushion did definitely help. Flat mahogany desks were not exactly comfortable beds. "Yeah, thanks," he answered. Ken had moved to a corner of the room, taking his drink and his papers with him. "He's not going to kill me or anything after this, is he?"

Miranda let out a light, sexy laugh. "No, darling, he may not like it, but we've reached an agreement of sorts. He's staying, but ignore him, and pay attention to me." She paused, nibbing on her lower lip as she continued to trail her hands over his upper torso. "You're still pretty tense. How 'bought we work out those muscles before we get to the main event, hum?"

Not actually looking for a response, she pulled a small bottle of massage oil out of a desk drawer. Phil had already concluded that the desk was often used for far from traditional office work. Miranda warmed a bit of oil between her hands and returned to his chest. Phil relaxed enough to watch her as she worked, when he wasn't closing his eyes mid moan from the pleasurable sensation. She really was a thing of beauty, classic beauty, he decided. She took her time, massaging his pecs, taking care with each muscled arm, hampered somewhat by the restraints. She had a pleased look on her face. Phil realized that she was really enjoying herself as well. She made her way down to his six pack. He knew his brother had closer to an eight pack, but he was no slouch. Miranda played a bit with the taught muscles as she worked, humming softly with pleasure. As she was finishing, Phil realized that he felt a lot calmer, up until the second she snapped open his pants and plunged a slender hand under his waistband.

If he had been able to jerk upright, he probably would have, as it was he nearly wrenched his neck against the collar. "Easy, killer," she cooed. "I told you this was coming." She proceeded to palm him over his boxer briefs. It didn't take much for Phil to feel himself harden under her touch. "That a boy," she encouraged. "I want to watch you cum,' she spoke breathily, just above a whisper, which only fueled his need.

Miranda paused to lower his zipper. "Help me out here soldier," she directed him to lift his hips, sliding clothing southwards, low enough to gain access. His now erect cock sprang forth. Miranda had moved down to position herself near his groin. One slender hand circled the base of his shaft, while the other rested on his lower abs. The oil remaining on her hand intensified sensation as she slid her talented hand up and back down again. Phil nearly chocked on his own voice with the first slide, it felt so damn good. That was when they both turned their eyes to the sound of a door opening from the far corner.