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Violent

By: katu



The sex was violent. The sex was always violent; thrusting, pounding, pulsing desire running through them both as nine full inches of cock was forced into a hole far too small for it.

Things were better now than they were. No more petty resistance, no more snippy remarks...Kate had finally come to, and Sheldon was not entirely convinced that he hadn't gone mad and started dreaming shit up. Kate's moans in his ear, her whispered words, gave Sheldon all the motivation he needed to fill her with every ounce of come he could produce before collapsing on her chest.

They panted together, for a moment, Kate's fingers drawing little circles on his shoulders, and occasionally trying to move his hair out of both their faces. She kissed his cheek gently-  a far cry from the vicious bite she'd given his shoulder when she'd come - and sighed.

"I'm fucking dreaming. I've just gone insane, and I am actually in some padded cell somewhere, humping the floor and making a mess in my hospital gown, aren't I?" he breathed, trying to calm his racing heart. His sister chuckled beneath him and ran her tongue along his neck and nipped him gently. Sheldon sighed, smiling.

"Hey, hey there," he said, softly, pulling away to look at the woman beneath him, "Don't. You'll get me all excited again, and god dammit my cock is exhausted."

Kate smiled and apologised sorrowlessly, kissing Sheldon firmly on the mouth before letting him pull out of her and lie beside her on the bed. She turned on her side to press her naked body against his, her breasts brushing distractingly against his shoulder as she made to kiss his cheek.

"I love you."

That was the only bothersome part. It wasn't that Sheldon particularly minded hearing it, anymore. He actually enjoyed it, truthfully, and not just for egotistical reasons. It was the closest thing to feeling he got, really. What bothered him was feeling obligated to say it back. Society says that in a healthy relationship, one person does not say "I love you" and have it go unreturned. It was required.

Of course...society also said that in a healthy relationship, a brother and sister do not willingly fuck like rabbits in a Viagra testing laboratory. And Kate insisted that she didn't need, or even necessarily want him to say it. She just needed to say it, herself. So, all right. So long as nothing was expected of him (except, perhaps, a constant erection), he could deal.

She was stroking his stomach, he realised when he'd resurfaced from his deeper thoughts, and getting dangerously close to what teenage girls liked to refer to as his "treasure trail;" the line of dark, thick hair leading down to his pubis. He smacked her hand away, flattered but tired.

"I mean it, Kate. I'm fucking wiped out," he said with regret. He couldn't help but be amused, however...he hardly thought that one day, he would be pushing his reluctant, prudish sister's hand away from his crotch because he'd come too many times that night.

"All right, all right," she conceding with half a resigned smile. She kissed his shoulder in a disgustingly endearing way, draped her arm over Sheldon's chest, and relaxed, eyes shut. Shel allowed himself a vague smile as he, too, allowed sleep to creep up on him.

((Asterisk, Asterisk, Asterisk...))

Suddenly he was awake again. He couldn't have been asleep long...only an hour, it felt like. But here he was, awake. The reason for this, he realised suddenly, was planting kisses down his chest and stomach, and licking along his inner thighs.

Well, he'd be damned if that wasn't the most pleasant wake-up call in the world, even if it was unwarranted. He felt himself rising to the occasion, no matter how tired he had protested to be before falling asleep. He supposed he could probably handle it. After all, she was down there and everything, and it would be mean of him to - 

Kate ran her tongue from the thick base of his shaft to the slightly tapered end, leaving a slippery trail of saliva, before taking the head into her mouth and teasing it tortuously with her suckling and licking.

Sheldon moaned quietly, stroking his sister's dark brown hair absently with one hand. "Not that I want to discourage you," he said breathily, "But this might take a while..."

There was a smacking sound as Kate removed her mouth from his cock, to flash him a smile that he could not see. "It might not take so long if you remember that it's your older sister's lips wrapped around your cock..."

A little wave of pleasure coursed through Sheldon's body, causing his stomach to do a little flip and a smirk to magically appear on his mouth. "God, you're dirty."

Kate nodded and smiled, both interesting effects, considering that her mouth was currently occupied by Sheldon's sizeable member. She bobbed her head up and down a few inches of it, goaded father along its length by Sheldon's gentle insistence with his hand.

Kate gave great blowjobs. There was none of that fancy-schmancy butterly tickling or whatever the fuck the girls were calling it nowadays. She didn't distract herself by trying to use her tongue and her lips at the same time, when it really didn't make a goddamn difference at all. She just did what he wanted her to do - just fucking sucked on it.

Like a goddamned Hoover, he might add.

His hand moved automatically to encompass more of the back of Kate's head, pressing her down, farther. Normally, she didn't go past four inches on her own...but with Sheldon's "encouragement", she could go nearly the whole damn thing. He began to thrust into her mouth, gently at first, and then more firmly, trying to fit every goddamn inch of his aroused cock into his sister's throat.

"Oh, yeah," he groaned, "Oh fuck yeah. Make me come, bitch."

He could feel Kate shiver with pleasure at his reaction. She tried to moan, but it came out little more than a squeak, distorted around the dick being forced past her gag reflex. Sheldon grunted gutterally and groaned, thrusting upwards into Kate's mouth, while holding her head still with a powerful hand.

"Oh god," he moaned, "Oh yeah, suck my dick. Fuck yes."

Kate tried to moan again, and the vibrations against Sheldon's cock were highly pleasurable, pushing him all the more close to his imminent orgasm. He knew that Kate loved it when he said things like that to her, especially in her ear, though he wasn't so flexible to be able to do that, now.

Kate was right, Sheldon realised as he pressed himself farther and farther into her warm, fleshy mouth. Knowing that he was, at that moment, choking his own goddamned older sister with his cock was driving him to orgasm much faster than he thought possible.

"Oh god...Kate," he cried, suddenly thrusting himself completely into her face as he felt his balls tighten. His cock began to pulse and spasm, and he sent each fiery hot blast of come straight down his sister's throat, pressing hard into her as he did so, until he was spent. He then let go immediately, and let Kate breathe. She wiped her mouth, more out of habit than necessity, and kissed his thigh, leaning her head against it.

She left it soon enough, however, and climbed up to lay next to her naked, panting brother. She kissed his shoulder and nipped at it as if she were some cute little sex kitten and not a goddamned tigress.

"Goddamn that was hot," she sighed in his ear, "I never thought I'd be so happy to have you come down my throat."

The familiar wave of arousal rushed through Sheldon's nerves, and he smacked Kate playfully upside the head. "You have the dirtiest goddamn mouth..."

"And you love fucking it."

"Jesus Christ, Kate!"

She laughed, and pulled the sheets up around herself, making herself look like some sort of Roman goddess. Sheldon couldn't see, but he didn't need to. He knew just what she looked like. And if he didn't, he was happy enough with his imagined version. He smirked smugly and adjusted himself to put his arm around his sister. She cuddled in close under his chin, and lay there, soft and warm, breathing on his chest.

"Good night, Sheldon."

"'Night, Kate."

"I love you."

Ach, what the hell.

"I love you, too."

Violent  and Loving



"So how many guys have you slept with today?"

Zelda rolled her eyes and tossed her blonde hair behind her shoulder, "That's none of your business."

"I know you're a slut. At least three, right?"

"Only two."

"Slut."

"Shut up, Chris." 

"Hey baby, I didn't mean to make you upset. Come here." He rubbed her bare shoulder until she was relaxed enough to lay against him. "Good girl, do you feel better, sweetheart?" 

"Yeah, I'm okay."

"Smile for me, baby."

She smiled as angelically as she could. Chris kissed her softly and held her close. "I had a fantasy about you."

"Tell me all the details!"

"Well," he began, "we were cuddling softly just like this, talking about all of your sexual adventures. You were really drunk though, and high, just a fucked up mess. You know how you are on Friday and Saturday nights." 

"Mmhmm..."

"And you were so out of it, you could barely stand up, so I raped you. It was so hot."

"Dumbass. I'm always too horny and willing to get raped."

"Yeah I know, who's my little slut?"

"I am, baby." This time she kissed him. 

"It still gets me hard." 

Zelda slapped him across the face. Sometimes he was just too annoying for her to deal with. 

He pushed her down. "Damn bitch!" He was going to pick her up to smack her, but she kicked him in the chest. 

He got off the bed to retrieve her from the floor and really teach her a lesson, but she had already stood. "You wussy slut. You couldn't even hurt me if you tried!" 

Chris was getting hard seeing her try to be controlling. Even though she slept around a lot, Zelda was still an anal virgin. He wondered if he could scare her into thinking she was going to get her precious ass raped. He wouldn't really do it, of course, just give the slut the reality check she was asking for. 

Zelda wasn't heavy, but her ass was big and stuck out rather far. She loved to bend over and tease his cock with that smackable ass. 

"I want you to put on your black pumps for me." 

"What? We're having a fight here." 

"It benefits both of us. I get to see you in them, and you get to kick me with them when you want to." 

She agreed, but only if he'd do it for her. She stood over him while he sat on the bed. Chris held her foot in his hands and rubbed her baby-soft skin. The desire to force her foot into his mouth was growing, as was his seven inch rod. He gripped her small ankle hard in his big hand, loving the feel and the image. As he slipped the shoe onto her foot, he felt as though he was binding her, confining her in those sexy heels. 

The straps and the hooks, and that deathly high heel. Walking would be no easy task for the young woman now. He lifted her right foot onto the bed, stretching and flexing her long, yet babyish leg. He put a firm hand on her inner thigh and began to stromp dangerously close to her pussy flesh. Chris knew she would be leaning on him since she was trapped in those shoes. She would be whining for him to touch her and lick her, and force the cum out. 

Her body was giving in to him. Skillfully he teased her long pink lips and charmed several strings of nectar out of her. 

He leaned his neck toward her mound, his eyes checking in with hers for the signal. He moved in, tongue first. She felt a tiny tornado of wet, smooth tongue. She cooed and moaned with delight. 

He moved up, wanting his tongue to flick and flick directly on her supremely sensitive clit. "No, baby, come on you know I can't take that." 

Ignoring her, he used his right hand to gain better access to his goal. She could sometimes handle a towel between his hand and her clit if he used the most delicate touch, but this was far more intense. She screamed in confusion and backed away from him, but he held her ankle, and she fell. 

Chris pressed the side of her heeled foot very gently against his erection. It soothed him and excited him equally. Zelda, always loving the opportunity to rebel, knocked her foot against his cock as hard as his grip would allow. 

The room smelled of Zelda's arousal. He hopped off the bed as she hopped off the floor. They faced each other, each ready to pounce. Neither was completely sure if they were ready to hurt or fuck the other. 

Chris jumped at her and grabbed her in his arms. She clawed and scraped at his back, so he released her and then clung to her tits. They both cried out at the mild torture. 

"You, uhhh, stupid mother fucker!" She yelled.

"Mmmm Nasty whore," he pushed toward her and bit her teeth lightly. She squealed with delight. This time she didn't even try to fight back, instead she opted to enjoy the kinky treatment. 

He bit harder and harder, trying to get her angry. She finally gave in and threw her hands around his neck. "Oh damn girl, I love it," he gasped. His teeth released her flesh to attempt to breathe. She had gained control. She savored it, pushing her hands together as tightly as possible. 

Chris pushed his knee up toward her pussy to show his humble appreciation. She spread her legs, needing any type of release. "Please, oh god, Chris." 

He tried to please his goddess, massaging the blooming crevices the best way a knee could. Zelda could stand it no longer. She grabbed her own womanhood and let her ass vibrate to her own instincts. 

Chris, happy to breathe, walked behind the distracted girl. Her ass was rocking at a delicious angle thanks to the shoes and the unusual position. 

He grabbed her waist and lunged his cock right beside her dripping pussy hole. She was not speaking English, just moaning and making pitiful pleas. 

"Do you need this baby?"

She clawed at his arm, trying to thrust herself at his cock. He threw her to the floor and thrust a finger into her hot ass before she could make a sound about it. He held it there, waiting for a response. Oddly, she didn't even stir. 

"Relax," her little ring was squeezing his finger, her muscles tense and shaky. "I knew you could take it baby." Her bare ass right there at his mercy. The only thing that kept him from plunging straight in was the consideration for her needs. 

They did have violent sexual tendencies, but they had a deep understanding for eachother. They needed to get rid of their strong sexual energy. 

She kept her body perfectly still while her head turned to the side, "My ass is yours, baby, but I need you somewhere else right now."

"Always teasing me! Maybe you need to choke to death on my cock!"

Her entire body was tense with terror. She knew he could force her hand into her ass at any moment. "Please, baby, you can ass fuck me in a minute, okay?" 

He had waited several months to fuck her ass and decided a few more minutes wouldn't kill him. He smacked her butt gently and then carried her to the bed. She slung her arms around his neck as if he were her hero, as if she felt safe and loved in his arms. Ironically, she did. She was. 

He rested her on the soft mattress to do the same thing they had done a half hour earlier, the same thing they did almost everyday, when she could get away from her boyfriend and couldn't find anything better to fuck. He was a cheater too, but they needed each other for the time being. 

She had her arms around his neck again when he mounted her. She also slung her heeled feet around his back so she could hang from him and try to fuck up his cock. 

He adored her urgency, the pure sex drive she possessed. Chris was loving the feel of her tight pussy climbing and pushing up his manhood, but sometimes the need was just too damn great. He moved her left leg, and she took the hint to release her right. 

He then pushed her incredible, flexible legs over her head. He had a great view of her pussy, her cheeks, and her heels. His hands automatically went to her slender ankles, as if they were the tickets to rocketing to orgasmic bliss. 

The drive to get to her ass, the biological need to reproduce, countless factors led to the masculine and screaming thrusts he fed her needy pussy. 

Finally she gripped his hair and tugged with everything she could muster. He listened closely to each whine and moan and groan she involuntarily let out. 

He came with a mighty roar and let some of his semen drip to her pubes as he pulled out, his way of claiming her. 

"I know you want to take my ass now baby, but I promise I'll let you later."

"When???"

"Soon," she sighed."

All he heard in his head was her earlier statement, "My ass is yours." 



Violent Vixen



She loved walking down dark streets. The eerie shadows, the tingling of icy sweat in her groin, wondering, wondering. Would it be tonight?

Her mind drifted, lazily contemplating how she came to this strange place in her life. When her husband died, leaving her with a teenage daughter and a small income, she had been lost in grief and dismay for several months. Find a conventional job, remarry one of the guys who kept chasing her, become a prostitute, all kinds of strange, unfocused ideas occurred to her. But as some degree of sanity slowly returned, she ended up focusing on a return to the karate training she had pursued when she was young, before her marriage and child.

The hard work getting her body back in shape, feeling her mind clear as both the improved conditioning and clearer thinking helped her settle down, led her to do the sensible things that resulted in this night. It was really her only perversion. She had avoided any romantic entanglements, concentrating instead on advancing her martial arts skills, and enjoying her proficiency at them. She knew she was sublimating sexual need in the physical effort, but in the circumstances, was comfortable with her choices.

After a year, she had moved in with her younger sister, who had her large house with plenty of room for she and Debbie. Selling her own duplex had given her a measure of financial independence, and Constance didn't seem to mind the intrusion. She and her husband of six years, Steven Brown, had no children, and there was a tension between them even before the extra strain of two permanent houseguests. Constance wouldn't talk about it, but it probably had to do with sex. So many things did.

Victoria Pleasance had been a knockout since she was eleven years old. Her slim body had always been shapely, and when she discovered a talent for fighting at fourteen, the training had made her body even more attractive, even though she covered it and bound her large tits. The loose pajama's hid her voluptuous charms, and her conservative upbringing kept her from ever enjoying sex. Until she got married.

Men had always pursued her, but the shy, equally conservative John Pleasance had lured her with his diffident affection. They had met in church, and courted in a very old fashioned way. He had never even touched her breasts until they were engaged. On their honeymoon night, he had been amazingly tender, breaking her cherry gently with his fingers, then asking for nothing more than her hand on his cock as he masturbated, staring at her nude body.

But they ended up with an amazingly good sexlife. The second night he had gotten her to orgasm twice, once with his mouth in her cunt, and then with his stiff member deep inside her, her clitoris seeming to have a life of its own separate from her inhibited mind. It turned out he had had a very wild youth, and reformed after some trouble in College. Even the months of her pregancy had included fantastic pleasure as she experienced the wonders of sexual bliss. When he died, falling from a skyscraper his firm was building, she had felt vaguely that it was a punishment for their secret passionate enjoyment.

So she pulled her long auburn hair back in a tight bun, left her pretty, round eyes and wide mouth plain, and returned to a staid style of dressing. The three classes daily she taught to brown belts, afternoons and evenings, gave her some added income, and the only temptation she felt was the single class that had some men in it. The body contact always reminded her of John, but she was formidable in her ability to throw even large men around, and the occasional contact with their bodies was tolerable.

The first fight had been a surprise. On a warm summer evening, one of the guys in her class had waylaid her on the street as she walked home. A big strong bear of a man, he had assumed he could overpower her without the formalized rules the classes involved. But he didn't know nearly enough. She tossed him around easily, finally smashing his head against a wall of the dark alley. As she stood over his broken frame that night, breathing hard, she had an orgasm.

As she massaged her body, feeling the waves of pleasure roil her groin, she gave him one last kick. It was even better than with John. Mastery, domination, thrilling enjoyment of her skill, and a little sadistic excitement in his pain threw her into a euphoric trance. Her pussy creamed hard, and she smelled the familiar sexual perfume overpowering the sweat. Her tall body reverberated with the experience.

Since then, she had made subtle changes in her appearance for the mixed class, wearing a push up bra instead of the tight binding, letting her blouse gape open a little, and she would apply a little mascara and lipstick when she went too long without an attack. Sometimes it would be someone from other classes. But it was amazingly easy to induce their aggression, as though they wanted to assert their masculinity in spite of knowing she was the most accomplished woman in the dojo.

And she found herself stretching out the adventures, letting them see her flopping tits, rubbing her foaming box on bruised skin as she hurt them, letting her hair loose and wild. The thrill of inflicting damage on their unskilled bodies, of easily overcoming their stronger frames, and the final groans of pain always gave her those thrilling cums. When she eventually relaxed beside her daughter in their large king sized bed, still tingling from the experience, she wondered where it was leading. But it became a compulsion, too good to abandon.

So tonight as she walked home in her usual leisurely way, the familiar tension in her stomach returned, even though she had no reason to expect an attack. She never really did, and that was half the fun. The surprise. The sudden adrenalin rush. The blooming explosion from her pussy. She smiled, and swung her hips in the heavy pants she wore on this cool fall evening. C'mon fellas.

Vicky always walked the same route home. There were several good spots a potential attacker might choose, and she was coming up on one now. Her heart jumped slightly. A white panel van was parked near a wide alley, and she had had a couple of guys try her there. Maybe tonight. She resisted the feeling of excitement building quickly in her groin. You could never be sure.

Then a man appeared from the mouth of the alley. He wasn't that big, maybe a little taller than she was, but looked very trim. He was in black, tight fitting pants and a jersey, and wore a Ninja style mask over his face. She let the surge of pleasure wash over her. Yes, oh yes, tonight. Her pussy already felt wet.

He stood there as she approached. This was new, the mask and the waiting, showing himself. A challenge. As though he knew what she wanted, what got her off. Confident he didn't have to drag her in there, that she would accept the challenge. A familiar feeling of being surrounded by a bubble of privacy came over her, as though they were alone in the world. She felt a savage smile on her face. Shrugging off the cardigan sweater, she hurried toward him.

He backed into the darkness as she approached. Momentarily, her excitement wavered. He wasn't trying to overpower her, to rape her. He seemed to be looking for a fight, not a fuck. This was new. Maybe one of the men had broken their silence and told someone about their beating at her hands. Then her resolve strengthened. If he wanted a fight, she was ready. What other motive could he have?

As she entered the mouth of the long dark tunnel, he was standing midway back, in a prepared position. She glanced behind her. Was it a trap? Were there more men? She heard his voice. "There is only me." It was a baritone, calm statement. Confident. Slightly arrogant. She particularly liked the arrogant ones. But better be careful.

She loosened her hair from its bun, shaking it out. Then she got into her slight crouch, one leg forward, and started shuffling toward him. His arms came up in a boxer's position, but the bent legs showed some training. She feinted with a leg, seeing his position turn away, and launched a deadly kick with the other leg, that always got the ribs, starting the process of robbing him of oxygen. Then he would be an easy target.

But the man saw that coming, leaped, and planted a flat foot right in her solar plexus. She felt the breath leave her body with a whoosh, even as she twisted away. She danced backwards, gasping to regain her wind. He didn't follow to take advantage of his momentary success, but waited in the same position, as she fought the panic, the haze in her eyes, and the light head. It took a minute for her to get back to breathing again.

Okay, so he knew what he was doing. She knew she could get away, with her back still to the street, but now she was mad. And her groin's flaring need was even more than normal. A worthy foe. Bringing this one down would be really fun. She came back to the attack. As she did a spin, losing sight of him for a moment, planning to fake a short kick to the head, then close and get him in his stomach with the heel of her hand, she felt him sweep her legs out from under her, and as she went down, his fist slammed down on that same spot, just below her ribs, and she saw stars.

He had hit her hard. Her head was spinning, she was gasping, and she felt herself dragged quickly to the van, thrown inside, and the doors close. It was dark. As she tried to suck in air, her hands were suddenly stretched and handcuffed, and her legs tied with something. She felt it digging into her ankles. The man moved silently up front and started the motor. As she felt the gears mesh and the vehicle lurch forward, she heard his voice again. "You may scream, but no one can hear."

She gasped to get some air, and as her head cleared, looked around. As her eyes adjusted, she saw that foam covered everything, which would practically soundproof the van. His voice had come through a small opening in the front which was now closed. She struggled with her arms and legs, but was effectively immobilized. She was lying with her head forward in one corner, and her legs were fastened to the rear. Relax, she commanded herself. Get control back. Concentrate.

They drove for ten minutes, and she found the bonds on her legs were loosening, and was near getting out of them when the van stopped. She realized they must be in the dark, remote park that bordered the river. Many rapes occurred there, and there had been talk of closing it, but it was very popular during the day. The back doors opened and she heard a chuckle when he discovered she had almost freed herself. She watched him closely as he freed her legs, then her hands. As she jerked a knee up toward his head, he ducked expertly and lept from the van. She scrambled out after him.

They were in a little glade, deep in the park. No one would be near. But she could run, get away. He wasn't trying to stop her, just standing there in his prepared position again. She rubbed her wrists, waiting a few moments to be sure there was circulation. Their eyes were locked together. Her pussy was radiating thrills outwards, as they began circling slowly in the moonlit glade. It was like a sexual dance to her, part of a ritual, a mating ritual. She had to get off, one way or another. It was crazy, but oh god, how exciting.

He feinted with a leg, and she realized he was testing her reflexes and responses. Then in a flash he caught her with a well aimed foot to her ribs. More oxygen deprivation, and she could feel it having an effect on her ability to think. She caught him a glancing blow to the hip as a counterpunch, but knew it wouldn't do any damage. Even before she could regain her balance, he closed and flipped her over his prone body to land hard on her back.

Her breath whooshed out, and the red haze was back. He was straddling her, and efficiently stripped her tee shirt off, and ripped the bra away. His eyes were wide behind the mask, staring as her big tits pushed out, the nipples already hard with tension. She felt hands on them, callused but firm, and for just a moment she arched to their touch. Then she aimed a chop at his neck, but he did an amazing backflip out of the way, landing on his feet. As she stared, he stripped off the black sweatshirt.

His chest was firm and hairless, muscles taut with strain, very handsome looking. His skin gleamed with a light sheen of sweat. Her mind was slowly clearing as she struggled to her feet. Crazy feelings were alternating through her. Hurt me, fuck me, strip me. She dimly realized she couldn't beat him now, she had lost too much energy, and he was almost fresh. She should run. But instead, she tried to dance around, getting back some breath, making herself move and flex. Her upper body was bare, and she found herself preening her breasts at him, even as she plotted another move.

She did a spin, far enough away so he couldn't take advantage of it, then a barrel roll with both feet aimed at his chest. One of her feet caught a shoulder, but then a chop hit her main neck artery, and she collapsed, defenseless now. Her mind was almost dark, still with some stars blinking. She felt him rip off her shoes, her pants, and then the panties. She was completely nude, stretched out on the ground. Far away, she felt her pussy creaming.

Her body was starting to protest its pain. Get out of here, run, protect yourself from any more damage. She tried getting her feet under her, and managed to get on her knees. She looked up and saw him standing there naked in front of her. His cock was standing straight out from his groin. Well built legs and narrow hips. Her ideal man, a perfect fighter. She stared at him, letting a little more life crawl back into her, preparing one more effort. But at the same time, tingling with desire.

One of her legs shot out, aimed at a kneecap. He slipped it and grabbed her foot, twisting it over so she was spread wide. He fell on top of her, one hand on her throat, and she felt fingers and a thumb squeezing the big arteries, making her again hurtle into semi-consciousness. He eased the pressure before she went out, and she felt his firm body pressed to hers, and his hips against her abdomen. With her last bit of strength, she ripped off the mask.

He had a handsome face with a slight oriental cast, and coal black hair, rumpled from being wrapped up. The big eyes were bright, and a little smile made him seem like a lover, not an antagonist. His other hand reached between them, and suddenly she felt something in her wet cunt. He was watching her closely. She beat at his head with her fists, but he squeezed her neck gently, and the strength left her again. A sigh escaped her. Her hands beat weakly on his strong shoulders.

It was his cock, sinking slowly into her, and as it did, she groaned with a savage, wild mixture of pain, defeat, surrender, and passion. The tube kept sliding into her, and she felt her hips hump up to his thrust without any conscious effort on her part. As he made firm contact with her clit, jolts of sensation shot into her belly. Her hands formed claws on his back, and she pulled him to her. His mouth closed on her lips, wide open, tongue penetrating her, and she abandoned herself to his rape.

He pulled his prick out, then stuffed it back inside her creaming cunthole with a violence that drew a small squeal of pleasure. Her whole body was keening with vibrating sensation, their sweat and her juice's musky smell creating a sensual perfume. She wrapped her legs around his hips, and he broke the kiss, crooning to her. "Magnificent, magnificent woman. Victoria, Victoria."

She whispered with tremors of weakness in her voice "You bastard, fuck me, you son of a bitch. Goddamnit, oh goddamn it. Rape me, ream me, oooooh." She was lost in a euphoric sense of being conquered, taken, beaten, used. He began slowly fucking in and out, his turgid meat touching every inch of her welcoming vaginal tunnel, thrills filling her mind. Her legs helped him sink into her, and she writhed up to the rampaging lust of his marauding member.

It had been three years since she had felt the wonderful filling of her pussy by a cock. Even though she had had orgasms, she realized as he pistoned into her how much she had missed, how she had suppressed her need. The slow building up of tension, the keening flush of pleasure, the heat radiating from her clitty. Her arms and legs gripped him, her body straining uncontrollably to press harder and harder to his firm, rapacious flesh. His body felt so good on top of her, writhing with his fucking prick, drawing her outside her being into a soaring void of fulfillment. She could feel it coming, the wonderful release, approaching slowly.

She grabbed his hair and pulled his head away, staring with open mouthed lust into his face. He seemed surprised at their passionate coupling, even though she could see the pleasure in his eyes. He's as amazed as I am, she thought, as she pulled his face back to lock her lips frantically to his, her tongue seeking his with wild abandon. "God, god, god" she gasped.

There was still pain as he thrust more frantically, his large tube touching every fiber of her cunt, seeming to capture her whole being. She realized she would have a few bruises, but the whole sense of a fight lost mixed with rising sensation in a strange, fantastic combination of mental surrender and driving need. His mouth on hers was groaning, and she knew he must be feeling something like she had felt with her defeated victims, and the whole sense of him possessing her was increased by knowing how he felt.

"I'm gonna cum for you, damn you. Oh fill me, fuck me, rape me, take me aaaaaaaaaaah." She felt the cliff coming, the hanging on the edge, the slower, violently explosive completion so near, so welcome, so desired. He was spasming violently, as out of control as she was, and his face raised to stare with wide eyed glee at her own open mouthed want. "You bastard, you fucker, you son of a bitch, oh yeahhhhhhhhh."

His cock was driving faster and faster. Her climax was blooming slowly, extraordinarily powerfully, better than the orgasms when she won. Heat was radiating out of her surging tunnel, from the tingling love button spasming from the base of his cock, from the depths of her pussy nipping at his surging tool. "Aaaaaaagh, yeahhhhh." The peak carried higher than any she could remember, violence and fury driving it incredibly. Her hips were humping with frantic attempts to make it wilder and wilder.

She soared on and on. She felt both their bodies were one animal, an instrument to produce this crushing pleasure, this exploding orgasm. In the midst of her release, she felt his jism spurting inside her, and heard his grunting as each shot filled her ovaries, the heat adding to her experience. Her arms and legs flexed as hard as she could, pulling him into her, wrapping herself around his cock. It kept moving, keeping her excited.

It was such an intense completion it ended almost with a whoosh, like her blackouts in response to his blows. Vicky's arms and legs weakened, and she collapsed from her embrace of him, as her mind spun into semi-consciousness. Her head was twisting slowly, feeling him softening inside her from a long distance away. Then he was gone, too suddenly, too quickly.

She was back in the van, and they were moving. After five minutes, she realized her clothes were in a pile beside her, and langorously pulled them on. Just as she started to plot an escape, the van stopped, and the doors opened. He was dressed, and had the mask back on. "You are a block from home, Victoria." Christ, he knew where she lived. She considered an attack, but decided against it, her body's lassitude and euphoria no match for his skill at this point. Another time, another place. Better prepared.

She scrambled weakly out, standing on shaky legs, as he closed the doors, got in the van and drove away, not even looking at her. She watched as the white truck faded from her sight around the corner, and started for home.




Violent Vixen



Peter Farrell's mind whirled as he drove away. From a light hearted payback for the woman's beating of his friend and officemate, to an intense, erotic experience unlike any he had ever known, the evening had not gone anything like his expectation. The morning two weeks ago when Jack had come to work bruised and lousy looking came back to him.

They both were employed in a brokerage house on the currency trading desk. They had become good buddies over the two years they had been working together, Peter's calm, unflappable style a sharp contrast to Jack's excitable, volatile personality. They had quickly developed an efficient relationship, freely using their different styles to dazzle the many arbitrageurs who tried to exploit their firm's large positions in asian money. Their success had earned them a strong reputation in the small world of strange exchange driven by world trends and impulsive reaction to crisis.

He felt an almost fatherly sense of protection for Jack. The night he first saw Peter fight two guys trying to mug them as they walked home with dates, Jack had been so impressed he had enrolled in Karate classes at the local dojo. Peter had counseled him to be careful of getting too confident after just a few months of immersion in the martial arts, but Jack's usual enthusiasm made him reckless. He kept wanting to try Peter, but that wouldn't have been fair. He had worried that Jack would do something stupid after he won a couple of matches with other neophytes, and of course he eventually did.

"What did you do now, Jack? You look like shit." 

The big, florid Irishman looked sheepish, and it took a while to worm the story out of him. "She's such a turn on, Pete. Gives you little hints of her tits and that firm butt, then won't go out with anyone. I figured, what the hell, get her in an alley, maybe strip her, bring her down to size a bit." 

"Never knew what hit you, huh Jack. I told you it takes a lifetime to be really good, a few months can't prepare you for somebody who's really into it." Jack shrugged the way he always did when caught in a weak moment.

"But the funny thing is, she makes it easy. Walks home through the projects, doesn't hurry. When I pulled her into the dark, she just went along. And I swear to you she was getting off when I was laying there bleeding. Thinking about it, it seems to me she lured me there. None of the guys have said anything, but I think she's done it to some of them too. A couple of them look sheepish around her, and she gives them shit in front of everybody, and they don't do anything." He admitted it was his fault, but kept insisting she was looking for trouble.

They had access to a lot of data networks, and checked her out. Victoria Pleasance. Thirty five. "Looks like twenty." Widowed, one kid. Lives with her sister. Independent income, but not huge. Big in karate when she was young, got back into it when her husband died. A couple of pictures in the newspaper files with her husband showed a gorgeous woman, but Jack mumbled "Dresses down now. Like a librarian. Maybe she's a dyke."

It didn't make sense to him. She must be good, and the idea of luring victims went against all the training and morality. Jack gave up his lessons, and Peter was disappointed that this woman had caused that. He got more and more curious the more they learned, and finally decided that if she was pulling some sort of vengeance thing, it might be fun to teach her a lesson. There were few enough chances to exercise his lifelong devotion to the oriental training his mother had given him.

The whole night had been like a conquest. Her long, beautiful hair as she fought. That fantastic body, big firm breasts wobbling seductively, the well developed, long slim legs so powerful and yet so attractive, the fierce sensuality of her face. He had gone from a playful demonstration that she wasn't superwoman to a primitive desire to dominate her. His own feelings had surprised him, the sexual excitement overcoming his calm exercise of his physical ability.

It hadn't been rape, though he imagined she might have thought so. Jack was right, she had wanted the fight, wanted to get off. His passion went against everything he had been trained to feel, but captured him in a whirl of erotic need. He remembered her preening her nakedness at him toward the end, as though the fight was pure carnality. In spite of himself, he recalled what he had said. Magnificent. It was true.

She could have gotten the license plate, traced it to the customer he had borrowed it from, led the police to him. But he didn't think so. She had enjoyed it too much, though in a perverse way. He'd give it a couple of days to be sure, but knew he would try it again. He thought she would be waiting.

As Vicky bathed, massaging her bruised body, the evening flooded her with wonder. She had never thought there was anything wrong with her little adventures, they always came after her, right? But she realized there was something wrong after the intense fuck she had just enjoyed so much. And she also realized she was hoping to try him again. Win or lose, she had never cum that hard, that well. He was so good, such a good fighter, such a good lover.

But in the morning, all she felt was the pain, soreness, and defeat. Sitting in the big kitchen drinking coffee with Connie, she felt down, depressed. "What's wrong, Vicky? You look like the world's ending." 

"Oh I got hurt a little last night, Con. Some guy got overenthusiastic." 

Her sister hissed in exasperation. "It's such an ugly place. That heavy incense smell covering up the sweat. I can't believe you like it. It must be fun to kick some macho ass, but is it worth it? Ugh."

Debbie came skipping down the stairs, and Vicky noticed again the swell of her daughter's breasts under the tight sweater, the trim hips outlined by a miniskirt. She had developed her mother's sexy body in just the last few months. Well, I've succeeded in keeping her from being inhibited like me, she thought. Maybe too well. "Do you have to flaunt it, Deb. I mean, really." 

As the young blond leaned down to kiss her cheek, she responded "It's just the style, Mom. The boys all know you'll kick their ass if they touch me." 

"Deborah, stop talking like that."

Giggling delightedly, the girl got herself a cup of coffee. She was growing like a weed, blooming into womanhood. Vicky shook her head as the pretty face shone with enthusiasm for the day. Their relationship was one part love, one part competition. Connie chuckled at the little byplay, though Vicky had always detected some jealousy over her pretty child. "You know it isn't nice to defy your mom, Deb. And with her, it's dangerous." They both liked kidding her about her karate ability. Vicky wasn't sure what she'd do if someone ever hurt Debbie, but she liked the sense of being a threat to anyone who got too fresh with her daughter.

She felt they got along pretty well, but had never really talked about sex. That was mostly because of Vicky, since Debbie seemed very naturally comfortable about how boys ogled her, and was always good about coming home on time when she went out. "One of the guys who takes classes with you wants to take me out Friday, Mom. Jimmy Lester. He says I look like you. Can I stay out till midnight?"

As the two women watched the teen skip down to catch the bus, they both shook their heads. "God she's growing up fast, Vicky. In just two years, she's turned into a beautiful girl." Connie sighed. "You're lucky to have her." 

Vicky took Connie's hand. "No luck on that front, Con? Is that a bruise on your arm?" 

Connie jerked her hand away. "It's nothing Vicky. Please don't neb."

They sat in silence. Connie's pretty face was a little wan. Hit a nerve, thought Vicky. As she peeled some fruit, and finished a light breakfast, the silence grew heavy. I should confront her, be a good older sister. But I'm no source of wisdom. Just got raped, or something. Want more. Beat up and loving it. She sighed with mild despair. Where was all this going?

Two

She was hoping he would be waiting, but for several nights was disappointed. Cautious, maybe. Or maybe she would never see him again. Her spirits sagged further each night her trip home was uneventful. She found herself getting horny, but not wanting another fight with one of the amateurs. She took special interest in Jimmy Lester, a good looking senior who was learning fast. He wasn't in her class, but the large teenage boy's club worked on the next mat over. He was a little old for Debbie. His instructor said he was a "good kid."

She had gone over and over that evening. She couldn't get it clear in her mind. Something strange and perverse was going on inside her head. Sex and violence. The American problem. Her inhibited youth, the revelation of her marriage, the frustration of her widow life. But an overwhelming desire for another round.

Tonight, she had caught herself about to deliver a really damaging blow to one of the women in her beginners class who radiated sexuality. As though she was jealous of her blatant availability. Walking home in the cool evening, she felt tiredness instead of anticipation. He wasn't coming back. He had just been playing with her, looking for a free piece of ass. Maybe she should go out with one of the guys who were always sniffing around. Even as the thought occurred to her, she knew the idea was foolish. She wanted only him. That wild, violent, incredible experience.

Then she saw him, no mask tonight, but the same black outfit. Standing in the same place. A BMW instead of the van. Waiting for her. A bloom of excitment, of anticipation changed her mood instantly, and she felt alive again. As she neared him, he opened the door of the car, and she got in wordlessly. The tension was thick enough to cut as he drove toward the warehouse section of the city. She noticed the nameplate on the dashboard, Peter Farrell. In profile, as she studied him, there was calm concentration as he shifted gears, making several turns. She thought he was about her age.

The car stopped in front of a decrepit looking building, but there were no broken windows as many around it had. He came around and opened the door, and she got out, feeling somehow safe, unthreatened. He walked ahead of her to a door and opened it with a key from the same ring as the ignition. He held it open for her. She looked in his eyes, but got no hint of what might be in store. Just as on that first night, he was simply waiting for her to decide. Her choice.

She entered and he closed the door behind them. The massive open space was warm, and soft light illuminated a finished oak floor, with a large exercise mat directly in the center of the halo of light from overhead. She got a sense of other rooms around. A faint smell of incense, with none of the underlying stench of the dojo. It was very quiet.

He walked to the mat and faced her. His eyes locked to hers, and she felt the tension grow, her stomach tingling, the beginning of excitement down in her cunt. Peter. It was a good name for him. His hand went to the neck of his pullover, and with a sharp tear ripped it from his body. The sudden sound made her suck in a little breath. He stood gazing at her, his handsome face still showing no emotion, his powerful torso pale in the light.

He had loved it as much as she had. He wanted to do it again. She would get him this time, knowing his skill, prepared for a more difficult fight. And she wanted the sexuality, the raw emotion. She imitated his action, ripping away the long sleeved blouse she had just bought. Her bra fastened in front, and she pulled it away roughly, popping a button. She could see his eyes on her breasts. Her ears were roaring.

More, more. She slipped out of her tennis shoes, and pushed down her pants and panties in one quick movement. As she stepped out of them, he unbuckled his belt, and stripped himself quickly. She strode to the mat as he finished, and they stood staring at each other's nudity. Her hands were hanging loosely, and he rotated to keep her directly in front of him as she moved. She felt his stare, taking in her long legs, her thick bush of untrimmed pubic hair, her lush, full tits. Her narrow waist and flat stomach made a carnal fantasy, she was sure. She felt a surge of pleasure in her exposure of her nakedness.

His wide shoulders sloped nicely to his own muscled hips, without the flare of hers. His cock was already hard. He could control his face, but his excitement showed in the thick tube pulsing at her. She could feel the adrenaline, the cream flowing inside her vaginal tunnel. She fought to keep her face as expressionless as his, but her breathing seemed to thunder in the quiet, cavernous room.

But still, he waited. Her choice. Her option to fight. She began to circle him, and he assumed his prepared position. She forced her mind into the hunting mode, becoming a stalking lioness, eyeing her prey, ready to strike. Always on balance, her weight on the balls of her feet. She feinted twice, watching his responses carefully. She couldn't see even a slight flinch. She danced in and swung a leg, but short of real striking range. It fooled him, and he tried to sweep her again. As he did, she lept to the side and caught him in the ribs with her foot.

He rolled with it, and she saw a small smile. But she knew it had an effect. She circled again, and made a pass with her hands chopping in clockwise defensive motion, and started a kick short of the real hitting zone. He reacted and she went for a roll to the side, aiming for the spot on his ribs she had already struck, but he had seen it coming, slipped it, and caught her with an instep in the back.

She had half expected it, and pivoted quickly to deliver a firm instep of her own into his kidneys, feeling it catch him hard. But even as she landed, his shoulders swung and she felt her mind blur as he chopped her ribs. She rolled back to her feet, gasping now, still feeling even. He showed no pain, but she knew the blow to his kidney had hurt him. She circled, waiting for its pain to dull his reaction, and for her mind to clear. But suddenly he attacked.

His charge got him into her reactive punch with the heel of her hand, but he let it glance off his chest and pinned her arm to his side, and they twisted to the mat. She felt the heel of his foot pummel her solar plexus, and her eyes saw stars again. Pain radiated out. He held her with a leg over her abdomen, her arm still captured. It was a stalled position, and their eyes were locked as both gasped with their exertion.

Suddenly he rolled on top of her, released her arm, and locked his mouth to hers, holding her hands. She felt his tongue inside her, and passion flared up and down her spine. She kissed back, sucking hungrily. Their bodies were sweating hard, and the moistness made the contact of their skin slippery and exciting. Briefly, she wanted to go with their passion, now, quickly. But she wasn't finished.

She struck him near the kidney again with her knee. He rolled over her, and she twisted to her feet, but he was already there, and swung a leg toward her ribs. She took the blow on her arm, and countered to his knees, but he slipped to the floor, sweeping toward her legs. She tried to stomp him, but missed, and felt the foot land on her lower stomach, forcing the air from her lungs. Damn. He was too good, too strong. His leg finally whipped back against her ankles, and she went down with a thud.

She lay there, defenseless now, and saw him crawling toward her. His mouth was open, his chest working hard. At least she had made him strain. Ooooh, I'm ready now, she thought. You have won, you own me. He pushed her legs apart and buried his head in her cunt. Through the haze of pain and oxygen deprivation, the thrilling contact of his tongue on her clit was like a lightning bolt. Vicky Pleasance screamed into the room, surrendering to the rapture and pain coursing through her.

His mouth surrounded her slit, the tongue driving through her foaming cuntlips up to the stiff love button. She could feel his desperate breathing as he seemed to try to devour her, and she wrapped her hands in his hair, pulling his mouth into her, while her legs wrapped around his shoulders. "Oh my god, oh my god, eat me, eat me. Ooooooh yes." Her eyes stung with perspiration dripping into them, as she felt the flush of passion add to the heat from her strained body. Dimly, she heard him moaning as he made her pussy soar with euphoric sensation.

He was driving her, sucking and tonguing so hard she felt unable to resist the climax hurtling toward her. It was so fast, yet seemed to join with their fighting in a totality of accumulating desire, to become a long dance of sexual need. "I'm coming, I'm aaaaaaah cummming." The orgasm ripped over her, making her hips frantically hump to his face, trying to help his hungry mouth increase her pleasure. She was soaring in her release, shaking her head as he kept her rolling pleasure keening. Cream was pouring out of her twat as she felt his sucking mouth swallowing her in a white blaze.

It boiled and boiled, even as her hips stopped moving, and her legs relaxed. His mouth was slowing down, but still felt like a glove wrapped on her pubic bone, his tongue moving gently on her clit. Her eyes snapped open suddenly, as she realized she had done nothing to satisfy his passion. His prick had been hard during their fight, and she knew he must be craving his own satisfaction. She flipped her head over his body toward his hips, and felt him roll to his back.

The stiff manmeat was hard and jumping. She pulled her pussy away from his mouth and took the thick flesh between her lips, closing on the pear shaped head. Her tongue licked at the tiny slit and tasted salty pre cum, and she sucked as hard as she could, letting it sink into her throat, swallowing and gasping as she did it. Even as she urgently enclosed the cock in her mouth, she wiggled around to kneel between his hard muscled legs. She heard him groaning with desire. Her climax was still echoing through her, and the taste and feel of his tool kept her tingling.

She let her teeth scrape the blood vessels on the side of his tube as her mouth came up and she sucked frantically for air. Pain and pleasure. Then she concentrated on the head, where she knew nerves would react fiercely. After several small movements of her lips over the hot skin there, she sunk it once again all the way inside her throat, feeling his pubic hair at her lips. She felt his hips jump, and suddenly pressure seemed to bloom the member. She came back up to the head, and caught his eyes. They were wide and tense. He's going to shoot, she thought. Oh hurry.

She pistoned again hungrily, and suddenly felt him hump up and freeze. She raised her head to enclose only the tip of the hard shaft, and felt a stinging burst of hot jism go over her tongue and down her throat. She swallowed wildly, her stomach thrilling as she tasted his essence. He humped his hips again, and another shot filled her mouth. As she swallowed, she let the spitting cock out, and wrapped her titties around it, looking down at another gush of white goo that popped up to her neck, then dripped down to streak over her nipples.

She held it there, as she locked her eyes to his leering gaze. Another little dribble leaked out, and she felt it lubricating her chest between the soft pillows of her boobs, as his smile of completion broadened. Wild, wild, wonderful orgasms. She kept him enclosed in her tits for a while, then crawled up to kiss him. As they moved gently against each other, his breathing began to slow. "Peter, Peter. I like your name."

They lay there together for ten minutes, languidly caressing, not speaking. She was almost afraid to break the spell of their passion and fiery battle. Finally, he whispered "I have a bottle of wine chilled, Victoria. This is my retreat, and there is a shower, and a large bed. Please stay with me." 




Violent Vixen



She raised her head and stared into his eyes. "I have no idea what I'm doing Peter. But I want to be here, with you." She brushed his lips lightly. "We aren't finished for tonight, are we?" she asked. He just smiled.

He picked her up, seeming to carry her effortlessly to a low table in a corner that he lit with a switch that also darkened the arena. It was now a small intimate space, and there was a pink tone that made them both look tan and healthy. Large black pillows surrounded the table, and he eased her down with her back slightly elevated. Her mind had a disconnected feeling, a sense of anticipation, but of being outside herself. What must she look like, all sweaty and rumpled?

He handed her a glass of wine, and both threw down a full glass in one gulp, thirsty from their duel. He refilled both glasses and reclined beside her, but with his hips at her head and on his side, supported by an elbow. As she sipped, he inserted two fingers into her pussy, then pulled them out and sucked her juices into his mouth, holding her eyes. Then his hands began caressing her.

They seemed to mutually decide on silence. She was afraid to lose the mystery of this strange, thrilling combination of attraction and antagonism that had grown between them so quickly. As she felt those callused hands on her breasts, pinching the nipples softly, she wondered what was going on in his mind. But she also wanted him to be her unknown assassin.

Peter was astonished by her fighting skill, her wild embrace of his carefully thought out scripting of this evening, and the beauty she showed him. Completely guileless, not the slightest bit self conscious about her nudity or her savage disarray, she watched him frankly as he rubbed her moist charms. He felt himself hardening again already. She noticed too, and ogled his tool with a small smile. He knew she must be outside her normal behavior pattern, in some sort of fantasy.

The most incredible thing was how she had drawn him into it. The oriental detachment he had always thought was cemented in his deepest psyche from his mother had burst into a flaming passion ignited by the violence of their relationship. As he felt her hand touch his thigh lightly, and work slowly up toward his cock, the surge of desire he felt was completely unlike his normal calm exploiting of women. She had a curious power to inflame him, to draw him into a fierce world of raw, demented aggression.

Until he had experienced it, twice now, he would have decried this immoral, indecent animal lust. But it was warming him, exciting him, drawing deep, aggressive impulses out in the open. He wasn't so superhuman after all. There was also a new embrace of sexual passion that he realized had to spring from some hidden, raw obsession. He thought it was dangerous, but the wonder of these mind blowing orgasms was irresistible. Crazy and unpredictable as it was, he knew he must continue this primitive, savage coupling.

They both finished their wine, and he rose and pulled her to her feet, admiring her lithe grace. She held his eyes, following him to the shower dimly lit in one corner. His prick was hard again, without any control from his feverish mind. Victoria. Circe. His siren.

She gave herself freely to the tingling spray of water, as he soaped her. "My face too, Peter." As he caressed her lovely wide mouth, the small nose and large natural eyes pinched shut, the intimacy was overwhelming. He felt the urge to fuck her right there. What a sexy woman, yet Jack had said she never went out. His hand rubbed her puffy cuntlips, the soap making the contact erotic beyond belief. Her hands rubbed his hips and thighs as he stood behind her.

She twisted and began rubbing him, and he handed her the bar of unscented soap. Water was beading on her skin, and he could no longer pretend to be calm. His gaze jumped from her face to her large boobs, the stiff tips red and firm, their soft bulk amazing for her age. She has a teenage daughter, he marveled. He could feel her well toned fitness, such a contrast to the fleshy girls he had always favored. His tool was poking her belly, and he felt her gently moving against it, watching his face and grinning slyly as he reacted to the touch.

They dried themselves with one of his large terry bath towels, each using one end. The rubbing was sensual and intoxicating, as they explored their nude bodies. As he knelt wiping off her legs, he smelled her cunt perfume, the musky odor another stimulating incitement, and tongued her clitty briefly. She responded by kneeling and kissing his jerking prick, not sucking but nuzzling it in her face. He wanted to sink into her so badly his mind was buzzing.

Suddenly she rose and ran into the dark arena, laughing. He followed her, jolted again by surprise. He heard her trip over the mat, and went to her before she could get up. He embraced her, and they tumbled onto the rough surface. Their mouths locked together, their tongues dueling, pressed frantically against each other. In the dark, his hands wandered over her body, his mind soaring with desire. He broke the kiss, and mumbled "No, No, I must see you, Victoria."

He heard her chuckle lasciviously. "You bastard, you rapist, you assassin, you son of a bitch. Take me, fuck me. Use my body. God, whatever, but hurry, hurry. Oooooh." He lifted her in his arms and quickly returned to the dining room, throwing her down to the pillows. Briefly he stared at her smiling, bright eyed face, her arms stretched out to welcome his assault. Her wonderful body with its furry triangle framed by the dark background of black silk lured him into a mindless rage of need.

She opened herself as he fell on her. Without effort, his cock found her cunthole, and he plunged to her wet depths, the feeling of becoming one with her fantastic. He stayed briefly that way, buried in her warmth. She seemed to give in to his pause, waiting for him to begin fucking, her hard breathing sounding in his ears. Her wet hair was tight to her head, and her naturalness was the most sensual look he could imagine.

He began to move, slowly at first,.a little out, firmly in. Pushing his boner against the top of her slit, feeling her jump with the contact each time. "Oooh yes, yes." He was watching her head squirm languidly, her eyes vacant in rising passion. Her heels dug right on his ass, helping him pummel her. He fought the urge to go faster. Let us stay like this forever, his raging mind wished. But his strokes lengthened unbidden, as they both moaned with the tempo.

His thrusts were firm and smooth, bathing her in fiery stimulation. She met each stroke with slight stretching of her legs, and her stomach undulated to allow his cock to plummet to her depths. Each penetration moved her a little higher, thrilling her, making her croon softly without words. The rhythm began to take her out of herself, drifting into the rapids of building desire.

She began to murmur uncontrollably as he watched her passion build. "Oh, I feel every, ooooh every inch, fucking me, god, god oh Peter get me, rape me, fill me, my hot pussy, my deep cunt, oooooh." She was writhing to him, and his tension soared with her freely confessed need. Deep pleasure churned his belly, down to his groin, as though some deep hole in his mind was opening and forcing its contents to build the wonderful sensation coursing in him. She was wet as hell, his cock slipping in and out effortlessly, each thrust adding height to his keening desire.

Vicky was lost in it, the whirl of excitement out of control in her mind. Every movement of the big prick sent her nerves into insistent tingling, her whole bottom feeling raw and touchy. He wasn't kissing her, just whispering "Victoria, Victoria" in her ear. Waves of delight shot out of her clit each time he reached her depths, and the sense of tightening need in her belly careened around like wildfire.

She seemed to jump from one imagined act to another. Rape, she exulted for a time, then demanding his due of his conquest, then tender lovemaking between strangers. Each scenario propelled her higher, until she reached a plateau of exotic tension, floating in a sea of want, begging silently for completion. For moments she tried to pretend she could hide his mastery of her, then as she felt the edge nearing, she seemed to cry out her secret.

"You're making me cummmmm, you wonderful bastard, oh don't stop, I want, aaaaagh, to cummmmmmmm." She was gone now, sliding upwards, abandoning anything but seeking fulfilment. Her hips fucked back to his rampaging cock, that pistoned and filled, making them one creature of passionate release. It came in a rush, bursting into her whole being, taking over everything. She threw her arms out, and her legs linked at the ankles, squeezing pressure from his strong body on her whole foaming slit.

The nipples of her boobs tingled like nails, joining the climax exploding slowly, her moaning louder and louder. She clawed the silky pillows, crying out "Yes, oh yes, aaaaaaaahhhhhhh." Just as she peaked, lightning filling her mind, heat filled her insides, flowing from his driving prick. He grunted once, then spasmed deeper into her, freezing at the bottom, her clit trapped by his hips, the thrills unbearable.

She almost passed out, as though he was still squeezing her neck. Her mind felt like a balloon, empty but clear and happy. She felt him stroke again, and could almost taste his sweet spunk. The waves rolled and rolled. She had never experienced anything like it. She was dirty, she was lewd, she was thrilled, she was a whore, his whore. "My god, my god, damn, damn." She was swearing like a trooper, and even that little sin sent chills into her. She felt her legs collapse to the soft cushions, as he still pressed to her, though she couldn't feel his tool anymore. 

He whispered her name. "Victoria, Victoria."

He stayed on top of her as they came down, his body giving a sweet, different odor than hers. Her swirling mind began to clear. She opened her eyes to see him gazing at her, and he tenderly lowered his mouth to hers. She ran her fingers through his hair, then through her own as an after thought. 

"I must look a mess." 

"A magnificent angel" he breathed. 

"Some angel" she answered.

He was staring at her. She knew, knew he wanted to talk, to explore their feelings, to try to understand this frantic desire they shared. "No, no Peter. Don't talk. Don't ruin it." He sighed as she pulled his head down and kissed more firmly, her tongue reaching in, tasting him. They clung to each other, trying to exchange their souls. But it didn't work.

Three

What now? Oh god, what now? Vicky was lying in bed, Debbie already gone to school. Her mind was spinning, trying to overcome the dreamy urge to remember every moment of the night before. They had parted wordlessly, with a small kiss, and he pressed his business card in her hand. It was on the dresser. "Any time, any night, whatever you want, Victoria." Written in a neat, careful script.

She wanted him. She wanted to fuck. She wanted to hurt them, to hurt terrible men. She moaned to the room, wishing she could somehow change her raging thoughts. But she had freed them, and now they wouldn't leave her alone. She felt more terrible desires. In her ass. She had never done that. More than one man. A woman. Ohhhhh what was happening.

She swung her legs to the floor, and better control returned. She vaguely felt her body's surging happiness. In spite of a couple of fresh bruises. Fulfilled as never before. She shook her head. Sorry John. But there it is. Was it forbidden fruit? Release of the ugly, repressed side of her soul? It had felt too good to resist. Would talking to him help?

She staggered downstairs, filling a large glass with orange juice, gulping it down. Funny. No coffee. She made some, and waited for Connie. But three cups later, there was still no sign of her. The coffee helped her regain control of her thoughts, as she began to worry about her sister. Was she sick, or maybe had left early for some reason. No, there would have been coffee. She must be upstairs. Filling a cup, and carrying her own, she went up to see.

As she neared the closed bedroom door, she heard quiet sobs. She burst in, and Connie was sprawled on her bed, naked. She had a voluptuous body, big breasts like Vicky, and the same curves without the fitness. A few extra pounds, but young enough to carry it seductively. A surge of fear and affection for her young sister surfaced as the older woman hurried to the bed and wrapped the young blonde in her arms. As the pretty face raised to stare vacantly at her concerned face, Vicky saw the bruises.

One cheekbone was already an ugly dark blue. The other side of her face had a black eye, and there was a little split lip. "Oh Connie, darling, why did he do it? How could he? The bastard." Connie started crying hard, tears streaming down her face. Vicky hugged her tightly, careful of the beat up face, and rocked back and forth. Minutes passed as she tried to comfort her little sister, the way she always had when they were young. Slowly the frantic release of emotion eased.

Once the worst was over, Vicky hurried downstairs and brought a bottle of Kahlua up, filling each of their cups with a generous dose, and helping Connie get it down. She waited for the warming effect of the alchohol and sugar. As it came, the blonde began to relax. She sipped her own more slowly, beginning to plot revenge for this assault. The closeness they had once felt came rushing back to them, and she pulled her robe off and crawled into bed beside Connie, hugging to her. Their tits pressed together, their hips too.

Vicky started to feel perverse desire, mixed somehow with her anger. Her generous, warm sister. So tender, so vulnerable. As she imagined hurting Steven, her pussy creamed, and she pulled Connie closer. But her sense of sexual excitement wasn't returned. Her sister was too devastated by shame, fear, and pain. Get under control, she thought. But an impulse had awakened. Along with concern for Connie, her mind roared with her strange need.

Connie refused to go to the hospital, and Vicky dressed the cut on her lip, and helped put ice on the bruises on her face. There was some redness in her stomach too, but it didn't seem to be too bad. "He gets so angry at me when I want to make love, Vic. This is the first time he hit my face, but it's been this way for years. He hurts me, then fucks me, just a quick in and out. For a while, he was apologetic, but lately it's as though he enjoys the whole hurting thing. I've wanted to tell you, but he kept saying he'd kick you out."

Vicky took some Polaroids of her face. "Once this shit starts they never quit, Con. We have to watch out for it in students. Some of the women are trying to learn to fight back." 

They were still drinking spiked coffee, and it was having an effect. Connie whispered "Will you do it to him, Vic? Hurt him bad? Pay him back?" 

"You bet, Con. But it won't help, sometimes that kicks them over into even worse things. You have to get him away from you, out of the house, then he has to get counseling. But if you want my advice, you'll just divorce him quick. They don't get better very often."

"He'll come home for lunch, Vic. He always does after a night like that." 

"Pack him a suitcase, darling. I'll call that lawyer who did my estate. He was thoughful and understanding. And you know I'll stay with you." They had been sitting together on the couch, and Connie embraced her, and they kissed gently. This time, Vicky felt something more than sisterly affection. She pushed the woman away tenderly. "I know, I know, darling. But get that bag packed."

Vicky had too much experience with battering. Her physical ability to stand up to men had led her to counsel several women at the dojo, and she had read about it extensively. The unique advantage for Connie was her presence, protective and making the right action much easier than usual. Most women were nearly defenseless against their husbands. She felt suddenly useful, dealing with a problem she understood. It was good for her to get out of the funk her strange relationship with Peter had created.

Just as Connie descended the stairway with a large suitcase, the front door burst open and Steven was standing there. He had a look of sheepish concern on his face, but when he saw Vicky, in pants and her bound chest, the look changed to a snarl. "Are you interfering again, bitch?" 

Vicky resisted the urge to start in on him immediately. Connie glanced nervously at her sister, then with a choked voice, told him "You're leaving, Steven. I'm talking to a lawyer this afternoon. I've had enough of your shit."

He started for Connie, but Vicky stepped between them. The anger in his face made him ugly, but she stayed on the balls of her feet, not threatening but ready. She felt the excitement start, the sense of pleasure at what was coming. He hesitated, confusion and fear showing. But then he charged, the anger, even hate, overcoming his fear of Vicky. Her left hand shot into his chin, the heel snapping his head back, making his tall frame straighten. Her right hand in a fist caught him sharply in the solar plexus, and the breath rushing from his lungs made a screech even as he collapsed to his knees.

Connie was screaming. "Don't Steven, stop, stop." She ran down past them both and threw the suitcase out into the yard. "Get out, get out." But Steven wasn't paying attention, just gasping and snarling at Vicky. Come to me asshole. Let me kick the shit out of you. She stared at him, knowing her calm was infuriating him. Her cunt was tingling delightfully.

He lunged at her, and she sidestepped and drove her knee into his face, aiming at his nose. She felt the crunch of the brittle bone, and twisted aside as he fell face down. She got around so she was still between his prone body and Connie. She could hear her sister whimpering "Vicky, Vicky." Her body thrilled to the damage she was doing. He'll try one more time. Mmmmmm.

He was still getting a rush from the flow of stimulation the pain and confusion was causing in his out of control brain. He got up slowly, blood spurting from his nose, and cocked his arm, making a fist. His eyes were cloudy, and the rage was obvious. He swung at her head, but it seemed to be in slow motion. She let the punch slip by her face, stepped in and drove her knee into his groin, feeling the contact with soft tissue as well as his pubic bone. Right in the balls, she exulted. He went down like a stone, managing no sound except a soft groan.

As he lay there, doubled up and whimpering, Connie's arms went around her, hugging to her back. She felt the soft breasts, the hips in her ass cheeks. Her reward. "Yeah, Vic. Yeah." She grabbed the belt of his pants and the collar of his jacket and pulled him on his knees out the door, finally throwing him onto the grass near the valise. Two neighbors were watching. 

Vicky knelt and whispered in his ear "Please come back and try me again, Steven. I haven't hurt you nearly enough yet. I want to make you suffer the way you've hurt my sister. You haven't even seen my best moves. So please, come back. But now, get out of here." She pushed his butt, and he sprawled over. Both neighbors clapped their hands delightedly.

They all stood and watched as he struggled away, crawling to his car. Vicky picked up the suitcase and threw it in the back seat. He sat gasping. "Go Steven. Before I lose my patience." He started the car down the street, weaving slightly. She and Connie hurried back inside.

As the door closed, Connie grabbed her. "Oh Vic, you were like an amazon, a warrior. Oh thank you, my wonderful sister." Their mouths came together in a frankly passionate embrace. Vicky savored the taste, coffee, Kahlua, as the piercing tongue entered her. She wrapped her arms around Connie, pulling their hips together. The violence had affected Connie too. They were both caught by a sense of triumph, of joy in their sudden victory. They ground their twats together. Vicky felt the familiar surge of desire, and they gave themselves to the euphoria of the moment.




Violent World of Vicky Brown



Shane Kiefer is a smart, shrewd, tough, old son-of-a-bitch. He did not rise to become the Eastern European Director of covert operations for the CIA without all of the above, plus he was a stone cold killer when the need arouse. When he retired from the CIA, he set himself up in the business of advising companies of the ways to protect their personnel and trade secrets from the rogue countries and companies that populate our world. In addition, he provided the personnel to protect the company employees, either in the United States, or overseas. 

Odessa Security Consultants was born in August of 1986. Carefully, step by step, Shane built the reputation of his company. Many of his client companies thought that he had the ability to read the minds of kidnappers, or other thugs. Of course, it was nothing like that. If National Security intercepted a phone message about an attempt to kidnap an executive, Shane would receive a message describing the threat in detail. Or, his knowledge of the current events in an area would warn him that certain security adjustment were in order to protect his clients.

Shane was getting old. For a lot of reasons, he was determined to make sure that Odessa would be in good hands when he stepped down. When still in the CIA he had trained an agent. At the time, he had been awed by the combination of talents this person could bring to bear to be the right person, in the right place to secure hard information, or to stop an enemy covert mission from succeeding. Most of all, she was a most deceiving person. What you saw was most decidedly not what you got. She was average height, with brown hair, and a pretty face which she could hide, or highlight as the need arouse. She had a photographic mind, that was lightning quick. In an instant she could change from being the sweet girl next door to being brutal, a stone cold killer, like himself. Shane laughed to himself, "Takes one to know one."

A week later, a woman wearing a black pin stripped suit, carrying an attaché briefcase stopped briefly in front of Odessa's National headquarters. Stubbing out a cigarette, she looked the building over with the experienced eye of a person that could break into any building, anywhere. "Shane has done well for himself," she mused. 

"Vicky Brown, long time no see. What have you been up to?'

"Cut the shit Shane. Before you would have sent me that letter offering employment, you would have gone over everything that I have done in the last ten years. Right?"

"Got me there. I see that you still can come on softly and with tact when the occasion presents itself."

They both laughed. "Martini?"

"Yes, you still remember what I drink?"

"Vicky, I know the brand of your bra and panties, as well as you are a tampon girl, not a Kotex girl. 

"Sexual harassment, and I have not even been hired yet."

"It's part of the job description. See section 122, subsection 7B. The President will present her naked body for the Chairman of the Board to use as he sees fit at least once a month."

"I thought that there would be better perks then that. Only once a month?"

"Vicky. Down to business. What I want to do is bring you on board as another consultant. I will assign you for three months to each of the six offices. It will give you time to determine what you think of the existing personnel, and to study our present clients. As you go along, if you find any areas where we are not providing the absolutely best protection to them, let me know. 

When that process is completed, I will promote you to be the next president of Odessa. When that time comes, you will be completely in control, with the authority to reorganize the organization, personnel and procedures in any way you see fit. I know that the world of security has progressed by leaps and bounds since I was in the saddle at CIA. Odessa needs an infusion of new ideas and intelligence. Here is an employment contract spelling out everything that I have proposed. Your starting salary will be $225,000.00. When you become the President, your salary will be raised to $350,000.00, plus the perks of full use of a Mercedes of your choice, and the company plane."

"I can't find section 122, subsection 7 B? But, the rest is just fine. CIA knows that I am here and I have the go ahead to start as soon as you want me to."

"You first office will be in White Plains, New York. Let's go get something to eat and adjourn to my in-town condo. I will fill you in the specifics about that office."

During the meal, Vicky mused to herself, "Which of my role woman will I be in bed with Shane tonight. Shall I be the tender friend? Should I be the sex starved woman, or should I be the hard fucking slut/whore? How will Shane react to me as my play unfolds?"

Shane, for his part, was reciting to her the background of the personnel at the White Plains office. Who had been with National Security, CIA, or Navel Intelligence. Also, who had covert experience, either with CIA, or as a SEAL. Both knew that Vicky would remember every detail.

A few minutes after ten, they arrived at Shane's condo. Without fanfare they undressed. Seeing Shane's trim, well muscled body Vicky intoned, "You must work out a lot, Shane?" 

"Three hours, three times a week."

With a laugh to go along with her teasing him Vicky said, "Really different seeing you as something other then a rotund, serious faced, spook."

Both knew that Shane Kiefer had never been rotund. Shane put his hands on his hips. He openly stared at Vicky. Many times he had wondered what she would look like naked. He was not disappointed. Though only 5'4", she was perfectly formed, was trim, with neatly trimmed cunt hair, which he would soon get a mouth full of, and then sink his cock into her. It was slightly unnerving to him that she was staring at his body as openly as he was hers. "I can't wait to fuck you."

"Well, come on, I need it. All you got."

Vicky was surprised at how tender and considerate a lover Shane was. By the time he entered her, she was not playing a roll. She was a sex starved woman. Like a violin, Shane played her to perfection. Her voice in orgasm had a beauty, a raw sexual beauty of a woman being taken to the heights of orgasm and held there for minutes on end. It was not often that Vicky let her guard down, and let all her emotions be savored by another human being, but tonight was such a night. 

The slut/whore in her emerged when Shane entered her the second time. Putting her knees next to her head, she said, loud and clear, "Fuck me Shane. Fuck me hard." 

He rode her hard and fast, until they both cum. At seven AM, Vicky woke up. "I'm still horny," she thought to herself. She ran her finger in and out of her pussy a few times. Another thought, "Hell, might as well get Shane back in the saddle."

She played with Shane's limp cock. As he woke up and ye old cock got hard, playfully she said, "Fuck Mister?"

"Oh, Yes!"

Vicky keep him riding until he had and she had each cum twice.

In moch surrender, Shane put his hands up.

Vicky's time in the various offices ended in a year and a half. In each office, there had been a lot of whispers about the demure female that had joined the staff. Shane had not provided her background to the local managers. Some treated her as a secretarial staff person, while others thought that they would try to get into her pants. No one, not one, treated her as the seasoned, undercover, Spook professional that she was. Over the years, a lot of professional spies had made that same mistake. Several were now six feet under ground because of it. 

May 14, 2001 at 0900 hours, exactly, the phone rang in every office. When all the managers were on line for a conference call, Shane Kiefer informed them that one Ms. Vicky Brown was the President and Chief Executive Officer of Odessa with total control over the company. Ms. Brown will have a meeting in each of your offices during the next two weeks. She will present to you changes in positions and procedures. A detailed fax of meeting dates and other information will arrive in your offices shortly.

Sitting listening to some of the comments made to Shane by the managers, Vicky smiled as she thought, "Cynical hard ass bastards all think that I have fucked my way through the glass ceiling."

May 22, 2001 at 0600 hours, Vicky walked up the stairs of the company Raytheon Beechjet 400A. Flying it single pilot was Bob Lemke. Vicky had gone over his qualifications. He was her age at forty-one. He was a retired Naval aviator who had flown "Tomcats." And he had been a "Top Gun" and "Top Gun" instructor. Shane had commented that there was not a better fighter pilot in the world. Odessa was paying him $130,000.00 a year with a guaranteed retirement of $100,000.00 per year for life. He was worth it. Odessa used their own aircraft with Bob flying it for clients that wanted the very best. The Odessa Beechjet was outfitted with the very latest anti-missile and radar avoidance systems. 

With the press of a button, a "Sidewinder" missile could be deployed to take out hostile aircraft. Shane had pulled some strings to get his hands on that.

Vicky, who had a Lear Jet 24 type rating, ask Bob if she could sit right seat.

Bob's eyes met hers. He knew that she was the new Boss. For a couple seconds he measured her. "How did she get to where she is? She must be qualified, because Shane does not suffer fools for a second. Wonder if she fucks? Nice looking."

"Ya, sure. You have any flying experience?"

"My father was a United captain. He wanted me to fly for United, so he bought an Aztec when I was in high school. By the time I was in college, he owned a time share in a Lear 24. I have six thousand hours, of which twenty two hundred are in Lears. I am type rated in a Lear 24."

"This is a lot easier to fly then a Lear. You want to do the take off?"

"Sure. Teterboro tower, Beech seven thousand Oscar Sugar ready for clearance." 

"7 0 0 0 Oscar Sugar is cleared to Chicago DuPage as filed. After departure turn right, proceed to Patterson at two thousand, after crossing Patterson turn left to 330 degrees, and climb to 3000. Upon reaching 3000, proceed direct to Sparta VOR. After crossing Sparta VOR, climb to 14000 ft. Expect Flight Level 2 4 0 ten minutes after departure."

Vicky smoothly said the read back to Teterboro tower, as she taxied to the end of the runway. "What is V1, V2, for this bird?"

"126kts and 129kts."

"Oscar Sugar cleared for take off."

Bob laughed as Vicky sang out, "Oscar Sugar rolling… Up up and away in my beautiful balloon."

As she climbed away from Sparta VOR at full throttle, Bob was surprised and pleased when she did a slow roll so well that his coffee was not spilled.

Bob turned facing her. He studied her face. She had a big grin, a look of pure joy. He had seen that look on some of the "Tigers" he had taught at "Top Gun" school. "This gal is a mile wide, and a thousand feet deep. We have hooked up with a wildcat." crossed his mind. 

By Vicky's standards the Chicago office was the worst office in the company. The manager,Anthony Martello, was once a top of the line operator, but he had got fat and lazy. Lazy will get you killed in this business. 

Vicky entered the main office door with out being noticed, which was a no no and indicative of how poorly the office was run. She identified herself to the security police officer. Quietly, she gave him instructions. She then entered the main office. She had called for a meeting at 0800. It was 0757 and the office was not set up for a meeting.

Walking to the front of the office, she announced that the meeting would start right now, and be conducted with everyone standing in two rows, military style. When they were lined up, the guards walked in with two boxes. They went into Martello's office and gathered his personal belongings. Then they stood next to him.

"Mr. Martello, you are fired. Give your keys to the guards. They will escort you out of the building. Here is your severance papers."

Bob, standing at the back of the room thought, "Wow, it is not a matter of if she will take command, it is only a matter of when." He had seen many fine decisive commanders in his time, and he knew that he was looking at one now.

During her time working at the various offices, Vicky had made friends with key people, often of low rank, that she trusted to provide her with accurate information. Based on that, and her own observations, she demoted three other managers, and made several promotions during the next week. 

May 31, 2001. When Vicky returned to the pilots lounge at Atlanta's Fulton County airport, Bob informed her that a severe weather system was just North of the airport. He recommended that they stay the night in Atlanta. Coming from anyone else, she might have questioned that decision, but not Bob Lemke.

They ate at the "Windjammer." Since it was the end of her work week, she indulged herself by having a thick steak, flushed down by four Martinis. Not knowing that the city was overflowing with conventioneers, they took a cab to the Radisson. 

"Ms. Brown, we are sorry. We only have one room with a king size bed in it."

Vicky slowly turned her head to look at an innocent looking Bob Lemke, who had his eyes looking up at the ceiling. She stepped back to whisper in his ear, "God Damn Communist plot."

"Ha, Ha, Ha, Ha, Ha, Ha, I'm sorry Chief, but it is funny."

Whispering in his ear again, "I should make your sorry ass sleep in the plane." To the clerk, "We will take the room."

After their bags were in the room, Vicky informed Bob, "Lets go for a walk. I need some air."

They were half way down a side street when all of a sudden a man leaped from an alley. Pointing a gun at them he growled, "Give me your fucking wallets, assholes."

Vicky tossed her purse towards him. It landed at his feet. As he bent over to pick it up, she pushed Bob to the side, as her right hand emerged from behind her back with a Glock 27 that she had pulled from a holster in the small of her back. Three shots rang out, each barely louder then a hand clap because her ammunition was "Eagle claw" hollow points, loaded to be fired sub-sonic. The thug put both hands to his chest as he staggered backward. His gun was still clasped in his hand as Vicky stepped forward and fired a fourth round that struck him between the eyes. As she retrieved her purse, her eyes met Bob's. With a nod, she directed Bob to walk up the street like nothing had happened.

Bob now knew exactly, without any doubt, why Shane Kiefer had chosen Vicky Brown to run Odessa Security. There had been no excitement, no emotion in Vicky's eyes when she had turned from giving the "coup-de-grace" to the thug. He now knew her as the cool professional that she was.

After rounding the corner and becoming part of the pedestrian traffic, she returned to their previous subject. An onlooker would have said that she was a demure housewife walking down the street with her husband. Bob shook his head when she took his arm in hers and snuggled close to him. 

Back in the room, she showered first. As he got up to go shower, she kissed him, rubbed his cock, and said, "Anytime Baby," which was a play on an Air Force fighter squadron motto. 

"Coming from you, I have to take that seriously. I'm glad that you are on our side."

"Oh, don't get too serious. I have read your flight record from "Desert Storm." You flew sixty-seven missions. The only difference between you and I is that I get up tight and personnel. The result is the same, It is not a matter of if, it is a matter of when."

Memories of his night flights into Baghdad, with AA fire lighting up the sky, as his Tomcat RO directed him down the path to X, where the GPS guided bombs were to be released, flooded his mind. His face hardened. His teeth clenched. His eyes squinted. Vicky was seeing the best of the best, the elite, with his dander up. But only for a moment. Then it was over. His face softened. He kissed her on the lips. Their titles may have been Pilot and President, but they were equals, both birds of the same feather.


After his shower, Bob emerged from the bathroom naked with a hard on. That was not all that was hard. Vicky whistled, "Whee man, were you chiseled out of oak? Not a bit of fat on you."

"You should talk, Damn woman, you have a nice set of tits. I'm going to chew those puppys."

There is sex. There is love. And once in a while, there is loving sex. Bob Lemke and Vicky Brown, Tiger and Tigress, made love that night. It started slow and tender. Each had never know another like the person that was entwined in their arms. Vicky wanted all of him deep deep in her. As his cock drove home in her, Vicky opened herself as she whispered, "Anytime Baby, Anytime baby, Oh, Oh, Oooohhhoooooo. Oooohhhoooooo."

Vicky used the Odessa plane for all her travel. She overnighted an average of three nights a week. Bob became not only her lover, but her best friend and confidant. As time went on, they only had to look at the other to know what each was thinking at the moment. Bit by bit, she was able to let down her guard with Bob in a way she had never done before to any man, except her father. They were naked laying on her couch one night listening to a Frank Sinatra album, "Only the Lonely." Vicky blurted out to Bob, "I love you."

"Will you marry me?"

Vicky turned to face Bob. "Anytime Baby."

They kissed, a long, long kiss. That was followed by sex. Vicky played her Slut/whore role to the hilt by using her pussy to clamp onto Bob's cock as she sat on him and thrust her pussy forward and back with pleasure and passion, not once, but three times. As his third load erupted into her, he grabbed her. Holding her close, he whispered in her ear, "Mayday, Mayday, Navy 1016 is out of ammo, and has a flameout."

"God, I love you."

John Peters of ITT Roanoke delivered a new fighter plane weapons direction system to NATO in France for their evaluation. Odessa provided security. Vicky went along to watch how the Odessa personnel performed.

In a small town in France, Peters requested that they stop on the main street so he could shop. With one Odessa man on each side of him, as well as one to the rear, he moved from store to store. No one noticed the 5' 4" woman dressed in plain brown with a wide brimmed hat on, that was several steps ahead of the group. 

Hussan Modamman got out of the Mercedes parked at the curb with an Uzi machine gun. As he raised it from his side, his eyes had tunnel vision looking only at Peters. From twenty feet, a female hand raised a Glock 27. Pow. A hole appeared in Hussan's head just forward of the top of his ear. Down he went. Peters was picked up and was in his car speeding out of town in nine seconds. 

After Shane read the report, he turned to Vicky and Bob Lemke, who Vicky asked to attend the meeting. "I could not be more pleased with what you have done to fine tune the Odessa operation. We had no intel on this Modamman guy. CIA thinks that he must have been tipped off to who Peters is by an insider within the NATO staff. You still got him. Good job."

"Shane. Bob and I have something to tell you. We are getting married. So, I'm voiding section 122, subsection 7B." Shane got a big chagrinned grin on his face as he nodded his head up and down in resignation.

Bob inquired, "What is section 122, subsection 7B?"

Looking over her glasses at Shane, Vicky told Bob, "I'll tell you later, honey."

I'm Softly