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Assassin Ch. 01

By: Selene02



Lena woke up laying in a spacious king sized bed. The covers were made of silk and so were the pillowcases. She stretched slightly and rubbed the inside of her thighs sending an erotic chill down her spine. The sun shone through the partially open curtains, just enough to warm the bed up. Pulling back the covers she got up out of the bed. Her bikini briefs conformed to the shape of her voluptuous hips and thighs. The sports bra she was wearing hugged her 38 B breasts and she had a fit and tight stomach. Once walking into the bathroom she turned on the light. She wiped the access lipstick from around her mouth and picked up her clothes that were scattered on the bathroom floor. She placed the clothes in a black bag behind the toilet, and walked over to the closet. She shifted through the outfits and picked out her sexy red halter with matching red mini-skirt. The leather lung to her body as she walked again into the bathroom. Opening the medicine cabinet with a cloth, she grabbed her red lipstick. After putting it on, she looked at herself in the mirror. Then she pulled her shoulder length hair into a loose hair clip. After checking herself one more time she quietly walked into the bedroom and picked up her purse. She pulled out a 9mm and a silencer. Slowly twisting it on until it locked. She checked for the bullets…full…

She decided to brew a cup of coffee. She turned on the machine, loaded it and waited for a second. Then she stood at the end of the bed, looking. Still asleep, was her lover? A few years older than her, blonde hair and a great tan. When the smell of coffee entered the room, he quietly stirred. When he opened his eyes he noticed a gun pointed straight at his face he sat up. Behind the gun was a fit and sexy body covered in red leather. Her light ebony skin was glistening in the oncoming sunlight. 

“What’s going on?” he asked moving the covers.

“It’s over.” She replied with her natural English accent making itself really noticeable.

“What do you mean it’s over?” he asked again.

“Goodbye lover.” She said unloading in his face. The blood splattered all over the bed and the wall. She looked down at her outfit and saw there was no blood on it. She gathered her things and walked out the door.

“Like I said, ‘it’s over’.” She walked down the stairs and into the driveway. Lena jumped into her red Honda S2000, complete with intake, exhaust and tight ass rims. She adjusted her rear view mirror and noticed something in the passenger’s seat. A vanilla envelope with an “L” on the front was lying in the seat. She opened the envelope slowly. There was a picture of an extremely attractive man with dark brown hair, green eyes and a body to kill for. Underneath the photo there was a note.

Dear Lena,

You know ultimately what you have to do, yet, before you do find out what he knows. Everything depends on it.

Antony

She stared blankly at the letter and read an address at the bottom. She pulled away from the curb and drove to the place. Once there she parked on the other side of the street and approached what seemed to be a pretty normal looking house. There was a Ford truck in the driveway and a large oak tree in the front of a green and lush yard. She rang the doorbell once and when no one answered she walked around the back. Everything seemed pretty normal until she noticed another house, like a guesthouse in the back yard. The front door to the guesthouse was double locked. She felt the weight of the locks and realized they would be damn hard to get into. That’s when she heard his voice. He walked out of the back door and into the yard only seconds after Lena hid on the side of the house. She saw him in the almost naked flesh for the first time. There was a strange attraction to him. The sun was lightening his shirtless body. The darkness of his hair was a perfect contrast to his white skin. Her body became weak and she found herself biting her lower lip. Stepping forward slightly she broke a twig. The man heard that and retreated back into his home. Surely he had something to hide. She climbed through an open window and found herself in the bathroom. She walked over to the door only to have the doorknob begin to twist. She quickly retreated into the shower, only to be hidden by a curtain. He walked in and unzipped his pants. What was underneath made Lena suck in quickly, a ten-inch dick with the tip pierced like Prince Albert. Lena tried to contain herself as her body quivered with excitement. Now was the perfect chance to kill him, the gun was strapped to her thigh, but she didn’t. She continued to watch him. He brushed his hair with his hand and stretched, flexing his muscles and making Lena’s clit twitch. He then walked over to the shower, when he pulled it back Lena walked out. Such a smooth transition, he didn’t even hear or see her. Then he turned on the water and took a shower. Lena was still standing in the bathroom and she pointed her gun at him, but first she had to find out what he knew, about what, she didn’t know. She retreated to the bedroom and searched some of the drawers. Lena was searching for what seemed like an eternity. What she didn’t hear was the water shut off in the bathroom. Just as he walked out in nothing but a towel Lena was standing on her tiptoes looking at the top of his dresser. He noticed the gun on her thigh and the tight red miniskirt that gave him a sneek peek at her perfectly round and supple ass. Knowing she was probably sent to kill him, he should’ve been more protected but his penis began to swell and rise to attention.

“Hello.” He said in a deep and sexy voice. Lena spun around and pulled out her gun, aiming it at his head. Her heart was pounding for more reasons than one. She wanted to jump on top of him and fuck him hardcore.

“I said hello.” He said again.

“Hello.” She said.

“I like your voice.” He replied noticing the natural English accent. She took a step back and ran into the dresser. “Are you here to kill me?” he asked.

“Maybe, unless you give me what I want.” She smiled.

“And what might that be?” he walked towards her until the tip of the gun rested on his still dripping chest.

“You tell me.” She said preparing the gun to fire. Suddenly he grabbed the gun away from her and pointed it into her chest.

“Who are you?” he asked, Lena said nothing. He started to become impatient. “WHO ARE YOU?” he screamed at her. He threw the gun into the bathroom and grabbed her by the hands. He pinned her hands above her head and planted a huge kiss on her.

“Get off of me!” she yelled.

“So now you talk.” He said pulling at her clothes. Lena tried to fight, but a sudden overwhelming feeling of passion covered her. He pulled her top down and grabbed her breasts in his hands. He realized she had no bra on, so did that mean she had no panties on?

“Unh.” She moaned in reply. His response to this was overwhelming. He grabbed her ass and picked her up. He kissed her over and over again, and then he carried her to the bed. He threw her down and ripped off her clothes. He got off her top fairly quickly. Then it was time for the skirt. Lena started fighting him, punching and kicking but to no avail, within seconds he had her completely naked in front of him. She stopped and looked into his eyes. She could tell her actions weren’t expressing what was in her dark green eyes. He climbed on the bed and then nudged his body between her legs. He eyed her body in its entire ebony splendor. Her perfect breasts, stomach, and waist, which tapered down to a firm and round ass. He even took time to notice her shaved passion. She lay back down, not breaking the eye contact with him when he began to stare at her again. He grabbed her wrists and pinned them up by her head. Her breasts were jiggling and he could almost hear her heart beat. Her breathing became shallow, as she wanted to scream FUCK ME NOW!

“Are you going to tell me what I want to know?” he asked teasingly.

“Never.” She replied. He held both wrists with one hand, above her head. Then he used his other hand to pull the towel from around his body. He moved back into his dominating position and entered her without warning. 

“Ah.” She moaned at the feeling of his penis in her vagina, the sudden stretching and pulsating in her body almost made her cry. The piercing was definitely something new, she loved it.

“Who are you?” he asked. Lena said nothing; she just kept eye contact with him. He pulled out and entered her again making her almost scream her answer.

“Lena!” she yelled.

“Who sent you?” he penetrated her body again.

“I’ll never tell.” She said making him bite and lick her nipples before plunging the deepest he could into her body.

“Unh!” she screamed.

“Who do you work for?” he asked fucking her harder and harder.

“I…unh…god…stop!” she screamed.

“Never.” He said releasing her hands and fondling her breasts. Lena’s hands still remained above her head; he had complete and total dominance over her. As he shifted from fucking her to making love, to fucking again Lena just wanted to tell him everything. 

“Michael, please…unh god…unh…harder!” Lena yelled gripping the sheets and arching her back. Michael kept on with the unrelenting thrusting.

“You feel so good…” Michael groaned pushing into her and resting for a second. Then he pulled out and flipped her over onto her stomach. He used his hands to pull apart her cheeks, and then he entered her pussy from behind. Lena squirmed and moaned as his persistent thrusting, which caused his cock to move deeper and deeper within her. Lena even started biting her lip until it bled and clawing her fingernails into the sheets. 

“Harder, faster!” Lena screamed and screamed as he plunged harder and faster into her. The beads of sweat were falling down his face and onto her back. Every time his dick pushed against her g spot she would cum a little more. Then it hit her. With one very fast plunge Michael sent Lena into one of the most consuming orgasms of her life. She screamed out his name and her pussy clung to his dick and milked it of every steaming drop of cum. Michael grabbed her hips and held his penis still. As Lena tried to pull her ass away from him, he pulled her pussy back onto his still throbbing cock.

“Don’t move!” he held onto her. She could feel his cock throbbing and shooting cum deep within her body. It seemed like Michael had gallons and gallons of cum. When he finally finished shooting out his load he laid on top of her. Then he rolled over next to her and wrapped his arms around her. 

“So, you know my name is Michael.” He kissed her neck and gently licked the sweat from her ear.

“Yes.” She sighed.

“Since we had some fun, are you going to tell me who sent you?” 

“Antony.” She replied grabbing his hands and moving them to her breasts. He rubbed her breasts in circles as he replied.

“I know him. So what are you supposed to find out?”

“What you know.” She moaned as he played with her hard nipples. 

“About what?” he bit her ear.

“Unh, I don’t know.” Lena shivered.

“Hmmmm. That puts you in a slight pre-dick-ament doesn’t it?” he moved his hands towards her clit.

“I can’t do it.” She said as he skin twitched with every touch.

“What do you mean?” he used his finger to circle her bellybutton.

“Right about now I should know what you know, let you fall asleep, get ready, and kill you using a 9mm and a silencer.” Lena said.

“Wow, how long have you been doing the whole assassin thing?”

“Three years.”

“That would make you how old?”

“Twenty.”

“Shit, you’re young.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty two.”

“You’re young yourself.” She said as he started fingering her clit. He began to do it faster and faster. She moaned louder and louder then she came, screaming out her orgasm.

The next morning, Lena woke up before Michael. They were both lying in his bed naked. His arms were wrapped around her, and she knew if she moved he would wake up. She slowly reached for the pair of cuffs lying on the floor next to them. She barely reached it with her fingertips and when she was finally able to reach the handcuffs she grasped them in her hands and turned to Michael. She was able to handcuff his hands to the bed frame before he realized she did it. She sat up and looked at Michael, his hair falling into his face while he slept. He didn’t realize that he was caught until he felt Lena get out of the bed. He opened his eyes and twisted his body around. The way she had him cuffed caused his wrists to cross over each other while he was lying on his back.

“What’s going on?” he asked looking at her naked body. Her hair was falling over her shoulder and almost covering her right nipple. 

“It’s all over.” She replied grabbing her gun from the bathroom floor.

“What are you talking about?” he asked as Lena pointed the gun at his head. She prepared the gun to fire and then she noticed something. The sun from the outside shone on his tight abs. She could see the tiny blonde hair on his chest, were glistening and he could tell she was contemplating something. He grinned slightly and said.

“You can’t do it can you?” he said twisting his wrist around slightly.

“Yes, I can.” She said making his face change. He thought she was about to kill him until she dropped the gun and climbed on top of him. She leaned in to kiss him placing her hands on his chest gripping his tight pecks. He wanted to grab her so bad, but he was still cuffed. She broke from his kiss and proceeded to pull the covers off of him. He wasn’t really hard but all she had to do was rub her inner thigh on his dick until it became hard and stood straight up. When she saw he was ready she climbed on top of him. She grabbed her breasts and moaned. As she positioned herself above his penis she started rubbing her fingers through her hair. He lifted his hips and entered her body. 

“Ah.” She moaned as she squeezed his cock from inside and finished lowering herself onto him.

“Oh God.” He moaned as his abs tightened with the feeling of his cock inside her. She started riding him like a bull and he grabbed the bed rails. 

“Want me to let you go?” she moaned grinding harder and harder. 

“Fuck yeah.” He said trying to contain his orgasm.

“What’s…the magic…word!” Lena pushed her pussy onto his cock making him plunge farther into her.

“Fuck!” he moaned as Lena grabbed a hold of the cuffs and somehow she unlocked them and threw them across the room. Michael grunted as he flipped over on top of Lena. She grabbed the bedrails as he fucked her harder and harder. 

“Oh, God!” she screamed as Michael grabbed her breasts and came long and hard, making her scream her orgasm through his name. Then they both collapsed out of pure exhaustion. Michael realized that she didn’t have the gun. He jumped out of bed and grabbed it.

“What are you doing?” she asked sitting up in bed.

“Just what you were going to do.” He said with his hands shaking.

“Please don’t.” she said covering her body with the white sheets. 

“Why shouldn’t I?” he asked lowering the gun.

“I didn’t shoot you.” Lena climbed out of the bed and walked towards him.

“Why didn’t you?” Michael asked pointing the gun straight at her heart.

“Because…” She paused.

“Why!” Michael yelled. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he asked.

“You reminded me of someone.” She said. Then Michael dropped the gun and pulled Lena to her feet. He grabbed her around the waist and kissed her passionately, causing her to drop the sheet. Suddenly three masked guys broke the bedroom door down. Michael and Lena were standing naked in the center of the room. Lena grabbed the sheet and wrapped herself in them. Michael grabbed another sheet. Then one of the men grabbed Lena and threw her against the wall.

“Leave her the fuck alone!” he yelled making one of the men pistol whip him.

“Shut the fuck up!” he yelled. When Michael finally came to his senses Lena was being cornered by two of the men.

“Michael!” Lena screamed as one of them handcuffed and blindfolded her.

“Lena!” Michael yelled and tried to get over to her. The third man knocked Michael out and Lena was taken.

“Lena, how could you?” a voice said waking her up from her drug induced slumber.

“W...what?” she moved around a little. She was fully clothed and lying on a white satin covered bed. She was still pretty sluggish and was trying to focus on the figure in front of her. There was a tall man, broad shoulders, black, wavy hair.

“Antony.” She said wiping her eyes. 

“Lena, you didn’t do what I wanted you to.”

“Which was?” she asked.

“Find out what he knew and killed him. You’re too busy fucking his brains out!” Antony yelled hitting the wall.

“I was going to-,” she said until he interrupted her.

“I was watching!” Antony yelled.

“Well what the hell do you want me to do? You killed him.” she stood up. ”Please forgive me. I’m sorry.” She knew that he could kill her right then and there if he wanted to. Antony murdered her fiancée on their wedding night, in order to get Lena. She knew holding it over his head would only piss him off.

“Absolution will be yours, the moment you kill Michael.” He turned, grabbed her by her neck and pushed her against the wall. Keeping her pinned against the wall with his right hand, his left leg spread hers and his left hand went under her skirt and he stuck a finger into her pussy.

“Unnh.” Lena placed her hands on the wall and closed her eyes. Antony held it there for a minute reveling in her pleasure, and then he said.

“When you kill him, I may spare your life.” He dropped the bomb and kissed her breasts. Lena reluctantly let him and when he let her go she jerked away from him.

“Go now.” Antony said handing Lena a gun. She took the gun in her hands and checked for bullets…full. 

“Where is he?” she asked.

“Basement.”

Michael woke up tied to a chair. His hands and feet were bound and he had a blindfold on. Suddenly he heard a door open, the sound of footsteps filled his ears.

“Whose there?” he asked.

“I’m sorry.” She said.

“Lena!” he exclaimed as Lena took off the blindfold. Lena’s eyes were filled with tears and he saw a gun was held at her side.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“I’m sorry Michael, but it’s the only way.” She raised the gun to his head.

“What is?” he questioned, and then Antony appeared behind Lena. He wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her neck.

“Absolution.” Antony whispered in her ear. Then Lena fired the gun, shooting Michael in his head. He died instantly, splattering blood all over the wall behind him.

“Happy?” she asked dropping the gun and letting tears fall down her face.

“You’re forgiven.” Antony turned her around and kissed her lips.

“Am I next?” she said breaking his embrace.

“No, not yet. I have another job for you.” He smiled licking a tear from her cheek and left the room.

*Cumming soon, Assassin Ch. 2

Assassin Ch. 01



Well, I am glad to see the Assassin Prelude was good enough for you to come back. Chapters 1 & 2 will be coming out very close together. The first chapter is a little different, but I think you will enjoy it.

Since we didn't make my appointment last night, I have to get it done tonight. It's my anniversary & I really want her to be able to come home to nice pretty pierced nipples. Last night about did me in. I was still so nervous. If I didn't need you to be able to do this, I don't know if I would be able to look you in the eyes ever again.

J (my wife) helps me clean Saturday. The house desperately needed it. It looks fantastic. She leaves for work at 5pm. I don't think she suspects a thing. 

I jump into the shower and enjoy the cool water. It's really hot today. I grab the showerhead, turn it on high and massage my clit with it. One foot is up on the edge of the tub and I am leaning on the wall. It doesn't take long and I shriek your name. All I can think of is you. I am not going to make it through tonight. 

I quickly throw a shirt and pants on, and wait. 6 pm then 6:30pm, no call or text, I have convinced myself that you ditched me. I'm sad. I had really wanted to do this. I was hurt because you promised. You knew I couldn't do this without you.

At 7:06 I couldn't stand it anymore.

I send you a text: Ok, what's the good excuse (she better be cute) so I can find something else to get into tonight?

That's breezy, right? It's fine. I am not letting him know he hurt me. I am fine, got it?

At 7:07 a text beeps right back.

He sends: I've been waiting on you. Told you after 3 I'd be free lol

At 7:08

I send back: No, you said you would let me know because you wanted to sleep, I've been ready.

At 7:09

He sends back: I went to the show and slept. I thought you were going to text me.

Ok, screw this. I need to be there by 7:30 at the latest. I call you, and ask where you are. You say you're at home, but can meet me there. The tattoo shop is roughly halfway between the two of us. It takes 15 minutes to get there. I say ok. It's a really good thing that for the first time in my life I am actually ready to walk out the door. 

I jump into my blazer a little sad that I don't get to ride in The Assassin, but it's more important to get this done. I make the 15 minute trip in about 7 minutes. I sit for a couple of minutes. I'm trying to stop shaking and breathe. I have been so nervous I didn't eat today. I'm hoping I don't fall out when they do this. I definitely think you don't want to have to call my wife & explain you're taking me to the emergency room. 

Ok, I sit for 2 more minutes, its 7:30 I have to go in. I know I have paperwork to fill out. I walk in. The artist is talking to a guy about covering up a nasty blue home tattoo with some tribal. I smile thinking of your truck & the tribal details down the side. The other artist finally wanders out and asks what I want. I tell him I want to get my nipples pierced. He has to tell me to speak up. I tell him I want both of my nipples pierced. I keep looking out the window for you. I know you will be there, I just need to breathe. 

I took as long as possible filling out the paperwork. As he takes my debit card to pay, I hear you pull in. I don't even need to look up. I would know that truck anywhere. 

" Holy shit, that's a sweet ride." Says someone behind me.

You have everyone's attention. The guy handling my paperwork wonders aloud, why you might be here. 

I tell him. "That's my moral support."

He looks up surprised because my voice is calm & clear. There's no whispering now. I keep my head down while you walk in the door, because I don't want you to see me smiling.

You're texting, as usual. You ask me if I'm ok. I tell you, no not really. I've been shaking since noon. You tell me you're sorry for being late, that you had a county sheriff & state cop behind you. I tell you, you still made good time. I loved your entrance, but I leave that part out.

The piercer comes up & asks if I'm ready. I, of course say no. You laugh & say come on. We follow him to a room in the back. He tells us to come in & sit. He has to get the stuff together. He asks if I'm familiar with what he was going to do. I told him I had, had my breasts done 10 years ago, but one got ripped out. You sit in the corner on a stool. Al, the piercer, tells me to hop up on the table. You actually put you cell away. Wow. You slide the stool up next to me. Al asked if I was ready. 

I said, "If I have to be."

Both of you laugh. It gets quiet. You are both just staring at me. I wonder what's wrong. Oh crap I have to take my shirt & bra off. I hesitate for just a second. Then I whip my shirt off with no problem. The bra is a pain in the ass. I ask you to help, and you look less than thrilled, because this is the same kind as last night. Yes, you have the same problem getting it off that you did last night. I had to bite my tongue not to laugh. You finally get it off. Somehow both the bra & shirt are behind my back. 

You reach for them & ask me if I want you to hold them, so I might be more comfortable. I nod yes, but think that nothing is going to make me feel better. Al had offered to pierce both at the same time, but I didn't want you to rush off. Al has me hold them up a bit, so he can mark them. He tells me to get up & go look. I really just want to ask you if it's ok. I'm afraid to try to walk. I get up, look for maybe a second & sit back down.

Al cleans the left nipple off. He says the scar tissue doesn't matter, it healed well. He puts the clamp on & I tensed up. I want to try to bolt. My hand is beside me on the table. I want your hand, leg, something I don't care. You reach out for my hand, palm up. Your long fingers wrap around mine. They are so incredibly soft. I have got to remember to ask you what you use. 

On three I take a deep breath. The needle goes ¾ of the way in & Al must hit scar tissue. I squeeze your hand. I hope I didn't hurt you. I force myself to open & relax my hand, but you hold it for a minute until he is ready to do my right nipple. My eyes are shut, I am only aware of your hand. Not you, Al, or the hard metal bar through my poor little nipple.

Your voice startles me & makes me jump.

"Hey brother, you want me to switch sides with you?"

Is that your voice? Is it really that deep? I am swimming in endorphins, I have to concentrate on your voice. Al asks if I'm ready, I nod. I reach out for your right hand. The same thing happens again, your long fingers & soft hands encompass mine. There is nothing else except that connection. I have never had something like that happen with any of my tattoo's or piercing's before. I have no idea of what to make of it.

I wait for Al to count down for me, the clamp is on. Oh wow, it feels really good. My eyes are closed & my head is against the back of the table. Al doesn't give me any warning whatsoever. He just puts the needle through. Slower than the other side. I take in a deep breath. I make a whimper noise. Oh my god. My pussy is tingling. I think I had a mini nipple orgasm. You don't let go until I do. 

I know you felt that energy surge. I know you're not sure what to make of it. I don't know what to either. Al tells me to go ahead & get dressed. I can't believe it's over. You're going to walk out and that will be that. Actually Al is buying me a few minutes by looking at all the tattoos on my back. I don't want him to, but you're looking too, so I'm happy. I ask Al if I should put my bra back on, he says sure. I have to get you to help me. 

You are starting to hate this thing. We wander out of the back talking. The Assassin comes up & I am now soaked. You couldn't have trained me any better, if you had tried. I am not going to let on to it either.

We are walking out & there's 5 or 6 guys wandering around the truck. You know how the seagulls stalk the Mc Donald's parking lot? It's a lot like that. 

I lean over to your ear & ask, "Is it always like this?"

I can actually see a little smile. I love it. Then the barrage of questions come. They all want to know how much you've spent on it.

You say, "No, idea, don't care."

It's so strange, when you talk to me about the truck, you are proud & happy. Standing here talking to these guys, you are quiet, reserved, almost depreciating. You try to ask me what I have planned for the night, but we keep getting interrupted by the seagull people. They of course all know everything about trucks, all trucks. We try to walk to your driver's door. 

I ask what you're up to tonight, and you say heading to a local bar, a friend is bartending. I nod, and say I guess I'm heading home. I kind of hope you ask me to take along, but at the same time, I really need to go home & handle something. I have to run my hand down the tribal on the door, very gently I don't want to take a chance of scratching the clear coat. 

I feel the energy surge through me. I ask you about the flame tattoo that you got some more work done on. You say you're leaving it black, no color. You have a spider web tattoo on your elbow. I am about to ask about the stars when you tell me you just got the stars. I ask you about color. You said red, of course. I really like the stars. I pull up your right sleeve. I couldn't remember for the life of me, what you had on your right arm. The only pictures you had up, didn't have it, yet. It's a 1950's era pin up. I love it. I pull your sleeve back down because I'm afraid I'm going to bite it. 

You open your arms and say you will give me a gentle hug so not to hurt the nipples. I reach up & put my arms around your neck & squeeze. I take a deep breath in. It does hurt, but it is a slow ache. I am so hot right now. I know you can feel my energy surge again, but you don't say anything. If I can't get any relief from you, I have to go home. NOW!

You lean in and whisper," Come on, let me take you for a little ride. I have a few minutes."

I am a bit dumbfounded. I didn't expect this. You laugh at me, because for once I am speechless. Thank God you are a gentleman, and walk me to the passenger side door. You have this habit of making me unsteady on my feet. You grab my ass as I climb up in to the truck. There's no mistaking what is on your mind. 

When you pull out of the parking lot, you lay rubber. I love this very fine piece of machinery. I close my eyes a minute and let the vibration of the tires on the road make me even wetter. 

"I don't have a lot of time."

Your voice brings me back to the present. I waste no time on subtleties. I stretch out across the suede bench seat, like a cat. I use both hands to find your stiffening cock. At least I don't have to fight you this time. With a little help from you, I am able to quickly divest you of your shorts. 

"Um, should I pull over?" There is the slightest quiver to your voice. 

"Keep driving, while I suck every last drop of cum out of you." Who said that?

That doesn't even sound like me anymore. I make sure you get to enjoy my tongue stud. I run the tip of my tongue in your slit collecting the droplets of pre cum. I take just the head into my mouth to tickle & torture you. I lap it like a kitten laps up cream. I wrap one hand tight around you like a cock ring. The other hand is firmly fondling your balls. 

It's a good thing I trust you with my life. I know you only know how to drive one speed. Fast. The fast I suck and stroke your cock, the faster you drive. My shirt has worked its way up and my nipples are rubbing the suede seat through my black lace bra. 

The gentle friction is killing me. I openly moan when they catch your thigh. I am going to pay for this tomorrow. 

You reach down and I pause for a moment. The last thing the piercer said was not to play with them for 4-6 months. You flick the hooks to the back of my bra, and you are finally able to get it off with little effort. I would have laughed if my mouth wasn't very full. 

I lean up so you have better access to my breasts. Your long fingers wrap my breast and your fingers gently squeeze my nipple. I can't help it this time and am openly moaning. I don't know who is pleasuring whom now. 

You pick my head up and tell me that I need to cum first. I must have looking really confused, because you chuckle at the look on my face. It takes me a minute to catch up with your thought.

"I want to watch you while we drive"

I have to take a deep breath. I would love to put a show on for you. I would do anything you asked. I am however very grateful the truck has a lift and big tires, otherwise everyone on the road would be getting a show today. 

I flip my shirt over my head so you can see my very pretty pierced nipples. They are so sensitive. I don't want to fight with my skirt, so I just slide it up so you can see everything. I love the look of surprise on your face when you realize I didn't wear any panties. I lean back against the door and spread my legs so that you can see hot, dripping pussy. 

I feel so naughty knowing any big truck that pass us, can see everything I am doing. I am afraid I will drip on the suede. I take 2 fingers on my right hand and dip into my honey pot. My left hand caresses my large breast. My eyes are closed as my fingers slide in and out of my pussy. I add a third because two are not enough when I am this far gone. I am openly moaning in pleasure and lust. I need more. So wet, I want to cum for you. I open my eyes to beg and plead with you to let me cum. You shake your head no. I pull my fingers out and taste my sweetness. You do a double take and a very knowing lustful smile caresses your lips. 

You reach over take a hold of my long blonde hair and pull me into a deep passionate kiss. You bite my lower lip. Deeper, it's amazing I have never been kissed like this. It takes all of my being to pull away from you enough to run juice soaked fingers over your lips. I sink my fingers deep into your mouth. You suck them clean. I can't let this get personal. I am addicted to you.

I lean back against the cool glass so you can finish watching what I started. My nipples are like diamonds and sore from rubbing on the suede. I spread my pussy lips. My fingers tease my aching clitoris. It sends shivers down my neck and back. I look over and see your amazing eyes staring through me.

"I don't care about the seats, just don't rush." Your voice a low growl.

I am convinced you are a mind reader. I am a bit surprised, but more than happy to oblige. I plunge three fingers deep into my aching slit. Over and over, but I don't want to cum too fast. I reach up to play with both of my nipples. I tease and twist them until I am making gutteral nonsense for words. I gasp as my pussy is suddenly filled. I open my eyes to see you just a few inches from me.

"Just hold on."

I am not sure if this is a threat or for my own safety. I am your wanton slut. I wrap my arms around you tightly and hope I survive. Emotions wash over me and I give myself over to you completely. Your long fingers violate my hot, throbbing pussy. I can't handle anymore. Tears run down my cheeks. 

"Don't deny me. Relax."

All I can do is cling to you and beg. You bite my neck and I cry out for more. You pull me onto your lap. I am completely overwhelmed. My fingernails are sunk deep into your back. Suddenly I am empty. I feel devastated.

It's only a moment, and I am filled even more completely with your cock. You pound my aching pussy, over and over. I wrap my legs around you to slide you into me as deeply as possible. 

"Cum for me" I barely recognize you.

You bite my neck again. Your final stroke is deep and hard. Every orgasmic pulse of your cock makes me cum harder. It's pleasure it's pain. Our energy meshes and explodes. You have to hold me to keep me from collapsing. Slowly, you lean me back against the door again. You check me over slowly and gently to make sure I am okay. 

I whisper, "When did you pull over?" 

The Assassin Chapter 2 will be posted shortly...



Assassin Ch. 01



Chapter 1

The Contract

She stood back and admired her handiwork. His hands and feet were securely fastened to the bed posts by a length of thick cord. A gag in his mouth. She reached in her bag and withdrew a large, black plastic bag. She brought it down over his head and securely fastened it around his neck by a rubber band. She quickly searched her bag and retrieved a short hose and pump. She inserted one end of a hose under the lip of the bag, and the other end she plugged into the small air pump. She flipped a switch and the battery-powered pump whirred to life, filling the bag with air. Once it was fully inflated, she retracted the hose and placed the whole assembly into her bag.

She nimbly plucked up the lip of the bag and quickly wafted smelling salts under his nose. She let the bag go, the rubber band pulling the bag tight around his neck once more. She stood, replaced the cap on the jar, and placed the jar in her bag.

After a few moments, she heard him let out a moan, followed by a tug at his restraints. While the bag was inflated enough to mask which direction he was looking, she could tell by his body language that he was turning his head from side to side. A muffled scream come from the bag, audible in the room, but too quiet to be heard through the walls, especially with the rain pounding the windows.

This is how it always starts, she thought. Always the panic. She could hear him breathing heavily through the holes in the gag, his head thrashing to and fro, pulling hard at his restraints. Strangely enough, she never enjoyed this part of the job. It was what came after that thrilled her.

She put a knee on his abdomen and gripped his neck with her slender fingers. Immediately, he quietened. She could feel him trembling underneath her grip.

"Listen up, you piece of shit," she said menacingly. "You've been marked. Not for death, no. You've been marked for education." She leaned down until she was face to face with him. She imagined that he could just barely make out her face through the thin material. "You've fucked up, to be in this situation, make no mistake."

She stood, snugging up her gloves. "This is your re-education." At this, she heard another muffled cry followed by more thrashing. 

"Listen to me, asshole!" she said, forcefully.

The man immediately became attentive. She smiled to herself. "You will stay like that for one hour. If you survive, I will assume you've learned your lesson. If you don't, I will also assume you've learned your lesson."

She walked slowly over to the table in the center of the room. On it she sat a small travel clock. "You're time starts... now," she said. The man let out a quiet sob. She looked back and said, "I'd try to conserve my air, if I were you."

The man quieted and soon his breathing fell into a slow, smooth rhythm. She walked over to the side of the bed, removed a glove, and placed the palm of her hand over the man's heart. The man let out a muffled grunt as she did so. She could feel his heart beating slow and strong in his chest and the rise and fall of his chest. She smiled to herself.

She sat on the edge of the bed. "I'm not such a bad person, you know. I just sort of fell into this line of work when I accidentally offed the leader of one of the families." She sighed, and continued. "I was in love with him. But, he didn't love me."

She stood and aimlessly paced the floor. "He was into breath play and he made me... do things to him. He had been a total asshole to me one night, so I drugged him, tied him up much like yourself, and watched him squirm."

She turned to face the man. "He didn't even last an hour. First he stopped fighting. Then he stopped breathing. I was horrified, but at the same time it was a thrill." After a moment she composed herself and continued. "One of the rival families caught wind of what I'd done and took me in. I have been in their employment ever since, re-educating those whom they see fit, in the style that I see fit."

She looked down at the man, then at the clock. A mere 5 minutes had passed so far. He had a long way to go. She walked back to the small table, picked up her bag, and placed it on the floor beside it. From her bag she retrieved a notebook and sat down behind the desk.

She reached forward and tugged at the chain dangling from the desk lamp. Her eyes narrowed as it flooded the desk with light. She unclipped the pencil from the front of the notebook and thumbed through a few pages, pages filled with photographs and writing, coming at last to a blank page. She wrote the date at the top of the page, then beside it, she wrote the target's name. She leaned over, rummaged through her bag for a moment, then sat back upright with a smartphone in her hand. She stood briefly, aimed the phone at the bed, and took a snapshot, the imitated click of the camera lens the only sound in the room. She admired the picture for a moment, then sat back down.

She looked at the clock. It'd been only about 15 minutes. She needed to give him more time. She routed through her bag once more, retrieving a small plastic box. Flipping the switch on side, a small amber light lit to let her know it was active. She set it down on the desk and, after pushing a few buttons on her phone, it began to emit an electronic whirring sound. After a few moments, the picture she had just taken began to slowly emerge from the portable printer.

After a few minutes, the photograph had been fully printed. She returned the phone and printer back to her bag and retrieved a stick of glue. She ran the glue stick across the back of the photo, coating it evenly. Once done, she flipped it over and carefully placed it on the blank page in the notebook, pressing gently to secure it. She placed the cap back on the glue stick and replaced it in her bag.

She heard a rustle of the bag and looked up. The man was still doing well. His breathing wasn't out of control. She could see the bag gently deflating and inflating as he breathed. She imagined that he was already becoming aroused. This had always fascinated her about men. All men were apparently turned on by it. 

She stood up and walked over to the window. The pale light filtering through the window gently illuminated the curves of her tight outfit. She reached into her bag and pulled out a tin box and a lighter. She chose a cigarette from the tin, placed it between her lips, and lit it.

She took a long drag, held it for a moment, then let it out. She absently watched the rain for a few moments, then took another slow draw from the cigarette, the tip illuminating her slender face. She placed the tin and lighter on the edge of the bed and fetched another tin box from her bag. In this she lightly flicked the ashes. Didn't want the police possibly finding anything useful.

She walked back around the desk and sat down, propping her feet on the desk. She absently smoked for a while, admiring the way the smoke would curl from the tip of the cigarette, deep in thought. At long last she finished her smoke, extinguished the cigarette in the small tin, and placed it beside other tin on the side of the bed.

She looked over at the clock. He was coming up on 30 minutes. She stood, walked around the desk over to the side of the bed. She looked him over. He was breathing faster now. She placed a gloved hand on the man's chest. His heart was beating fast. She checked his restraints, they were all holding tight. The bag was still fastened tightly. 

She reached down and unfastened the belt around his waist. She then unzipped his pants and reached through the open fly of his boxers. He was very hard now, no pre-cum yet though, which was good. With a quick movement she ripped his button-up shirt open, exposing his bare chest.

She quickly walked back over to her bag, her heels clicking on the wood floor, and retrieved a small cellophane package. Walking back to the bed, she opened it. She placed the condom on the end of his penis and slowly unrolled it along its length. "This is so I don't carry away any evidence. Nothing personal," she explained as she did so.

Once done she stood, she walked over and flicked off the light on the desk, then removed her gloves, laying them on the floor by the bed. In the She sat on the edge of the bed, unzipped her leather boots and sat them beside the gloves. She slowly shrugged out of her spandex top, exposing her pale skin and breasts, her dark hair spilling down to her shoulders. She likewise removed her pants, followed shortly by her panties.

She stood naked, in front of the bed. This was the part she enjoyed. She gingerly crawled across the bed, positioning herself over the man. Straddling him, she reached down between her legs and lightly gripped him. The man let out a startled gasp. Slowly easing herself down, she guided him between her pussy lips. She smiled, and inhaled sharply, as he entered her. He wasn't the largest she'd had, but he felt wonderful all the same. After a few moments work, he was fully inside of her.

She sat there for a moment, just feeling him inside her. It was difficult for her to have a normal relationship, and this was such a turn on she couldn't resist. She never actively had sex with any of her targets. She simply enjoyed having them inside her and feeling them struggle to breathe. She suffocated vicariously through them. They always came in the end.

She slowly lay down across him, her generous breasts pressing against his chest. She wrapped her arms gently around his neck and turned her head toward the window. The feeling was fantastic. She could feel him throbbing deep inside her and she knew it felt good for him as well. His breathing was coming faster now and his heart was beating hard and fast. His chest was on fire, as she lay pressed against him. She smiled to herself.

He let out a quiet moan. "Shhh, it'll be alright, just relax," she said gently, still smiling. She always waited until the men had been under for a while. By this point they were just weak enough so they wouldn't try thrusting into her. She could lie there peacefully, enjoying the quiet bond they shared.

She closed her eyes. It was always a struggle for her to fight the urge to fuck them. It's such a powerful instinct. Once someone is inside you, one, or both, of you are going to start testing the waters. A light thrust here, a small push there, until you're going full bore. To quell that instinct is difficult. 

She didn't bring the clock with her, but she guessed he had about 20 minutes to go. She could always tell, there were always telltale signs. His heart was beating very fast and hard and she could hear his breath whistling through the holes in the gag. The bag rustled softly with every breath. Her own breaths were coming faster as she became aroused. She could feel her own sex beginning to swell, the heat building. She was incredibly turned on, and considering how hard he was, she imagined he was as well.

Only about half of her targets ever made it the entire hour. The ones that didn't panicked early and used up all their air quickly. The ones that remained calm usually made it. This guy really didn't deserve this. It was a case of the wrong man at the wrong place at the wrong time. A delivery gone bad. 

She shifted slightly, her swollen lips grasping his manhood. A bolt of pleasure shot through her, catching her off guard. She began lightly moving back and forth along the length of his shaft before she caught herself. She let out a sigh and relaxed.

His breathing was becoming more forced. She could hear the bag rustling on every exhale. She hugged him lightly, pressing herself against him. His heart was beating so hard now that it felt as if it were in her own chest. This just further excited her. She needed something to help her relax.

She slowly unclasped her hands from around his neck, reached over and picked up the tin of cigarettes and the lighter. She plucked out a cigarette, lit it, and inhaled. She let it out and closed her eyes again. She knew they were nearing the end, for better of for worse. He was probably completely disoriented by now or possibly even passed out. Everything at this point was on autopilot. His cock was still pulsing deep inside her. She could feel every heartbeat.

She lazily smoked her cigarette, watching the rain pour outside the window. She could see the smoke in the room illuminated by the light coming from the window, curling in small eddies due to tiny air currents. She finished her cigarette, stamping it out in the tin box, and closing the lid.

The man's breathing was becoming more labored. Shallow inhales, followed by forceful exhales. His heart was racing beneath her. She was so excited now, she felt tingles around her hips and groin. She wondered if she was going to come. She'd only come one other time, and it was intense.

As the man's breathing became more shallow, the feeling was steadily growing. She was definitely going to come. It took all her willpower not to start grinding away on him. She wanted it to happen without moving a muscle. Her own breaths were coming deep as she struggled with the feeling growing deep inside her.

Finally, it overwhelmed her and she came. She cried out in shock as pleasure wracked her body. She tensed as the waves crashed over her repeatedly. It was the one of the most intense orgasms she had ever had and it seemed to go on and on. She felt like she was falling, her insides were ablaze. As her own orgasm began to subside, she felt the man tense underneath her for a moment, followed by his own. She could feel the rhythmic contractions as he came, pumping his semen into the thin condom.

After what seemed an eternity, it ended. She collapsed, shivering, covered in a mist of sweat. She took a gasping breath, realizing she had been holding her breath. After a moment, she came to her senses. She could feel the man still breathing shallowly underneath her, his heartbeat light and thready. "Was it good for you, too?" she asked, kissing him on the chest. 

At that moment, the alarm went off on the clock, startling her. She breathed a sigh and smiled to herself. She knew he'd make it. She slowly gathered herself up and stood up. "Looks like it's your lucky day, friend," she said. She leaned over grasped the lip of the bag and removed it. "You'll have a hell of a headache when you wake up, but... you'll wake up."

He was unconscious, barely breathing. But he'd recover. She quickly dressed, gathered her smoking paraphernalia and placed it in her bag. She opened the hotel room door, took one look back, blew him a kiss, then left, closing the door behind her.



Assassin Ch. 01



She was surrounded by four men.

Two of them were behind her, carrying assault weapons. Both of them were dressed in black, with muscles straining and peeking out from the short sleeves of the tight T-shirts.

One of them had an AR-15 semi-automatic, the civilian version of the M16, standard issue for the U.S. armed forces. He held the rifle casually slung across his broad shoulders. His salt and pepper hair was bundled into a pigtail, giving him the look of an aging hippie. He was probably a Vietnam vet. His face was angular, with narrow eyes, a nose broken at least twice, and a cigarette hanging from the left side of his mouth. He was a few inches taller than her. She memorized his features and burned it into her memory.

The other man had an AK-47, the most popular assault rifle in the world, standard issue for the Russian military and former Warsaw Pact countries. He was more disciplined than the American hippie, holding the weapon rigidly with both arms. He had a small face, which was in contrast to his big nose and thick eyebrows that almost met in the middle. At five foot nine, he was about the same height as her if she was standing barefoot and upright. She tagged him as Russian.

The other two men wore face masks and were dressed identically in dark suits. The only way to tell them apart was that one was very tall, probably six foot six. The other was about the same height as her. They stood within a foot of each other, both looking at her.

Her wrists were pulled sideways and upwards, tied to the ceiling, and she was wearing only a halter lace slip from Victoria's Secret. But she smiled at her captors, radiating the confidence of a model on a photo shoot, instead of the paralyzing fear that the men were used to seeing in the eyes of their victims.

These men were ruthless and capable of unmentionable atrocities. One of them, the taller suited man, worked mostly in the flesh trade. His job was to snatch young virgins and break them in before selling them to South America, Middle East, and other places with thriving black markets for fresh meat. He did not speak, and she was unable to guess where he was from.

The shorter suited man appeared to be the leader. He knew he was not dealing with an ordinary woman. "Although we are totally in control of your situation, the outcome of what happens to you will be solely determined by your decision whether or not to cooperate." His voice was French, but overlaid by mid-western American, as if he was trying hard to hide his origin.

This group was international and expensive to fund. In her mind, she ran down the names of possible enemies that would have that kind of money. She gave up when the list topped a dozen.

"The best case scenario is for you to be totally honest with us," the short suit continued, as if laying out a business case to a boardroom of executives. "My colleagues here hate the best case scenario, because they would like to do nasty things to you. I am the only person who can help you." They were using the classic good cop, bad cop routine.

The leader placed his face six inches from her eyes. "Let's start by telling us your name." 

She remained silent.

He nodded to the hippie behind her, who slapped her hard across the mouth. Her arm muscles tensed against the ropes, which creaked and twisted, swinging her body from the waist up. A strand of her champagne blonde hair stuck to her bleeding lip.

Smirking, the leader moved even closer and coiled her hair in his right palm, then jerked her head back without warning. "Your name?"

She saw his watch on his left wrist. It was almost four in the morning. They had taken her at one, after she had been sleeping for a couple of hours.

"My name is Megan," she decided it was not worth holding back such basic information. She did not lie because anyone who tracked down her address would probably know her real name.

"Good, you are beginning to think for yourself and very wisely decided to cooperate."

She avoided eye contact. Her poker gave them no clue of the terror she felt inside.

"See that laptop," he pointed to a table behind her. She twisted her neck sideways to catch a glimpse of her own computer from the corner of her left eye. "We took that when we captured you."

Her capture had been carefully planned. Using high-tech devices, the three-man team waited a block away until she was sleeping in her suburban house in Oceanside, California. Two men went up to the second floor bedroom. She awoke when she heard the footsteps. Standing next to the door, she surprised both men, chopping the first man behind his neck and kicking the second in his balls. Both men went down momentarily.

When she fled downstairs, the third man fired a Taser at her. The two barbed probes landed on her bare flesh, embedded just below her right collar bone. Millions of electrons flowed through her, incapacitating her muscles. The men quickly handcuffed her hands behind, chained her ankles together, and placed a heavy hood over her head. She was driven across the border to be interrogated in Tijuana.

"Tell us the password." She knew that they would eventually crack the system. But delaying as long as possible was important. If she could hold out for two more hours, when she failed to report at six, her partner would know something was wrong.

"I cannot remember. I wrote it on a piece of paper hidden in a book on my nightstand at home."

"Bullshit!" the leader raised his voice for the first time. "I hate it when people try to bullshit a bullshiter." The room broke up in laughter, even though there was nothing funny about the statement.

Another nod to the hippie. Behind her, he pressed his cigarette on her thin left strap, burning the flimsy nylon material as well as the skin on her shoulder blade. She twitched but bit her tongue, not wanting to give them the satisfaction. When the strap was half burned, the hippie tore off the strap, leaving her left breast fully exposed.

"Give me the password and I'll get you a T-shirt."

"Wait. Let me try to remember."

This time, the leader nodded to the tall suited man specialized in breaking women. He moved slowly, keeping his eyes on her left nipple. When he was inches away, he cracked his knuckles by pressing them against her cheek, one hand at a time.

With his left hand, he twisted around her hair and held her tight. He used the thumb and index fingers of his stronger hand to trap her exposed nipple. Then he gripped hard, closing his eyes to focus on twisting her defenseless nipple. She bit on her lower lip until it bled.

When he did not hear the expected scream, he pulled and twisted at the same time, stretching the sensitive skin behind her nipple half a foot from her body. She shifted her legs as much as the ropes would allow to mitigate the pain.

After a full minute, it was obvious she would not break. Frustrated the tall man left the windowless room. The metallic door slammed shut with a thud.

A few seconds later, the short suit said, "Sooner or later, everyone breaks. Surely you know that."

"I know, that is why I am trying to remember my password."

"Maybe this will help you remember."

Again, the leader nodded to both men. Without a word, they seemed to know what to do next. It was as if they were in a well-choreographed dance. She heard both men behind her removing their leather belts. She braced herself to be gang-raped.

The hippie stood in front of her, with a wry smile, leather belt in his hand. The Russian was behind her, kicking her legs apart.

The hippie touched her between her legs with the barrel of his AR-15. "Don't move, honey." He removed his cigarette long enough to utter the three words. She obeyed.

At the same time, the Russian tied each of her ankles with fresh ropes, keeping them three feet apart. The strain on her shoulders and upper arms increased.

Both men now looked at the leader for approval.

"Last chance, or you'll be whipped until you pass out." She would not be raped, at least not yet.

"At least let me sit down and refresh my memory. Let's see, it could be my birthday, or maybe it's the name of my first pet."

"Keep thinking," the leader said as he nodded to both men.

The hippie struck first, the belt slicing into her exposed breast. The Russian took his time, winding up and rotating his body for maximum torque. When his belt hit her shoulder blades, she screamed for the first time.

The scream was only for a split second, but it encouraged the hippie. This time, the belt landed on her right breast, still covered by the flimsy slip dress. She did not scream. The next blow from the Russian landed on the small of her back. She shrieked. 

Learning from the Russian, the hippie took a little time to rotate his body. He targeted her exposed nipple but missed an inch. Still, the blow was so hard she screamed. From then on, the men took turns to hurt her on one-second intervals. Her screams were continuous. She paused only to breathe.

Things turned gray and dark spots appeared before her. She felt her head dropping down before darkness enveloped her.

*** To be continued in Ch. 2 *** 



Assassin Ch. 02



He walked in creating a shadow from the candlelight. His broad shoulders spread the shadow over her waiting body. While he entered the room she could do nothing but stare at him. The masculinity held within his body was enough to make any woman go crazy. The difference in color between them was evident, he was white, and she was black. Did that matter to them…not really. He was the only man that made her feel the way she did while having sex. The total submissiveness and then dominance was exactly what she wanted and loved. 

She slowly took off her blouse and removed her bra. By the time he reached her she laid back and let him start to take off her panties. He was going to tease her and take them off slowly, but he soon changed his mind knowing that he wanted to be in her as soon as possible. He grabbed her panties roughly and ripped them and threw them over his shoulder. She moaned and arched her back, feeling his hands move up her thigh. She spread her legs awaiting the impending pleasure. When his hands finally reached her folds, she sucked in a deep breath and felt a finger enter her slowly. Once inside he held it still and she squeezed his finger from the inside. He removed his finger, whispered softly in her ear and removed his pants. Letting them fall to the floor, he climbed on top of her. He spread her legs using his left knee and firmly planted his hips in between. He planted many gentle kisses on her lips and cheeks. Savoring the sweet taste of them, like cinnamon and sugar. Then he used his tongue to part her lips and tasted the inside of her mouth. First their tongues danced, then kissed, then they fucked. She moaned slightly and gripped his shoulders. He broke the kiss and looked her in the eye. She rubbed her hand through his dark brown hair and tugged on it giving him the go ahead to proceed. And proceed he did. 

Rough, but painlessly he drove his penis into her waiting pussy. With each thrust they moaned and she wrapped her legs around his waist creating the perfect position for a climax. Her body was so tight that he thought he would hurt her, but she was enjoying this way too much to be hurt. The throbbing cock plunging in and out of her aching cunt was driving her closer and closer into ultimate ecstasy. This went on for what seemed like an eternity when their lovemaking reached a fevered pitch. They both moaned out their orgasms and he collapsed next to her.

“Lena, I love you so much.” He said tracing her lips with his finger.

“I love you to.” She replied as he made his way down to the foot of the bed. Just hearing her say those four words gave him a second wind. He grabbed her knees with his hands and parted them. Then he placed the tip of his tongue on her clit, teasing it, making her body quiver with excitement. A moan escaped her lips and she gripped the bed sheets. He gazed into her eyes and started to finger fuck her. 

“Faster…oh god!” she arched her back and started squirming around. Then she started breathing heavily and when she screamed out her powerful orgasm, she let out high-pitched squeals and childlike laughter. All he did was smile and laugh, watching her try to catch her breath.

Lena suddenly woke up and realized she was touching herself. Her lover was not next to her, not making love to her, she was alone. She stopped and climbed out of bed. She walked into the bathroom and grabbed a washcloth. She bent down over the sink and turned the water on. Splashing the water into her face, trying to calm herself down, she sighed with a sudden feeling of loneliness. As she watched the water circle the sink and go down the drain she closed her eyes and imagined something else. 

She suddenly heard the shower water running. He was standing in the shower. The steam was circling his body and filling the bathroom. Lena could smell the soap he was using, that clean smell that so frequently invaded her senses making her drunk with lust. The steam settled down and Lena watched him as he washed his body, the soap sliding down his masculine body. She couldn’t help but bite her lower lip as she watched the water flow over his head and down his body. The water shut off and the shower door slid open. He stood in front of her, his manhood still dripping with water. Lena grabbed a towel and handed it to him. When she let go of the towel, she realized he wasn’t there. The towel had fallen to the floor and she stared at it for a second. Then the doorbell rang. She didn’t want to answer it but she did.

“Hello?” she asked noticing a tall man standing in her doorway.

“Antony sent me here.” He said.

“No.” Lena said shutting the door in his face. When she walked away the door suddenly flew open with one swift kick from the man.

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” she asked, before he had even said anything Antony walked in.

“Lena.” He smiled and walked towards her. Lena used the robe she was wearing to cover up her lingerie. 

“What do you want?” she asked backing away from him.

“You’re not still upset about Michael, are you?” he asked wrapping his hand around her waist making the robe open up.

“Stop it.” She said trying to pull away.

“Listen, I want you to do a job for me.” He fixed his tie.

“NO!” Lena yelled walking into the kitchen. Antony became so enraged that he ran after her. Throwing her up against the refrigerator he made her listen to him. 

“You will do what I ask when I ask you to.”

“What do you want!” she yelled as he pushed his hips up against her.

“Besides the obvious…” he kissed her softly. “I want you to kill someone else for me.”

“Who is it?” Lena pushed him away from her.

“Christian.” 

“Who’s Christian?” She asked.

“My brother.”

“You can’t be serious! You want me to kill your brother!” Lena screamed and ran away from him. He ran after her and caught her in the bedroom. He smacked her in the face and threw her on the bed. 

“You will do what I tell you to!” he screamed scaring her beyond words.

“Please, don’t make me do it.” She begged.

“You have to.”

“Why? Why your own brother?” her eyes began to tear up. She couldn’t believe he was asking her to do this. Before he answered Lena stood back up and turned her back towards him.

“He doesn’t understand, and he’s threatening to turn me in and tell everyone about this business.” He grabbed her hips and rubbed her inner thighs. 

“What business?” she rested her head on his shoulder. No matter how much he pissed her off or how much he scared the shit out of her he still could turn her on light a light switch. With each touch Lena shivered, he knew she was enjoying this, and so was he.

“Baby girl, you are a part of the business.” He gave her a kiss. She gave him a questioning look and then she realized she was being bought. That was the business she was a call girl by night, and an assassin by late night. Antony smiled at Lena and left her place, his minion, behind him.

Lena was given all of the information about Antony’s brother Christian. Christian's place of business was a local law firm. He was one of the star lawyers, very wanted. Lena entered the lobby café and sat in a booth. She stared at a picture of Christian and put in her purse when she saw him walk in. 

“Hey Christian, how’s it going?” one of the waiters said.

“Pretty good, how’s everything in here?” he smiled, showing his pearly whites. He was wearing a dark blue suite, dark purple shirt and black tie. Lena smiled and wondered what he looked like underneath that suit. The waiter looked over to Lena and saw her watching them.

“Nice, a little busy, hey, there’s a fucking hottie over in booth 3.” He said as Christian turned around and saw Lena staring at him. He turned back around in embarrassment. 

“Was she staring at me?” he asked.

“Yeah man, she wants your dick man.” He teased Christian and pushed him in the general direction. Lena watched as the tall man with his dark brown hair and sky blue eyes. Christian noticed Lena with her long ebony legs and small dark denim skirt. She raised her eyebrow and bit her lower lip when he started talking.

“Can I, uh, buy you something to drink?” he asked.

“Martini, two olives.” She said tracing her lip with her finger.

“Nice,” he smiled signaling to the waiter, who came over and took the order.

“What’s your name?” she asked making her accent more apparent.

“Christian, are you from England?” he asked as the waiter returned with the drinks.

“Hmm, Manchester.” Lena took a sip from her martini. Christian looked down her body from her head to the tip of her heels. 

“What’s your name?” he asked as a bulge began to form in his pants.

“Lena.” She smiled, “So, what do you do for a living?” she asked stirring the martini with her finger and sucking the liquid from her fingertip.

“I’m a lawyer.” He smiled in return.

“I hate to be so blunt, but I wish that you would take me back to your office and…” she leaned over and whispered in his ear. Christian became flushed and his dick grew to full length. What she was saying was turning him on to no end. When she sat back in her chair she opened her legs just enough to let Christian see that she wasn’t wearing any panties. Her pussy was neatly trimmed almost hairless. The next thing he did was place a fifty-dollar bill on the table and he grabbed Lena’s hand and pulled her to her feet. 

He took her to the elevator and when the door opened they walked in. Lena pushed Christian up against the wall and started kissing him. His hands were roaming down her back and under her skirt. He gently pulled on the denim exposing her to his hands. Her round ass was putty in his hands as he kneaded and massaged the cheeks. Lena moaned in his mouth and rubbed the outside of his crotch with her hips. 

“Lena, shit…I think that…we should take it slow…er.” Christian moaned as Lena looked him in the eyes and jumped on him in the elevator. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he grabbed her ass cheeks.

“Fuck me now.” Lena said tearing his shirt. He moaned feeling the space between her legs rub up against his bulge.

When the elevator came to a stop the doors opened to a beautiful office. Crystal desktop, fur carpet and a huge fish tank in the center of the room. Lena laughed as Christian carried her to the desk. As he sat her on the desk, he pushed all of the papers onto the floor. 

“Give it to me now!” she said pulling him onto her. Christian pulled her skirt off while she pulled her top over her head. She also wasn’t wearing a bra. He noticed her sudden and exquisite nakedness and pulled off his belt. Lena grabbed his shirt and bit off all of the buttons, letting the shirt fall with his pants. His ten-inch dick stood at attention and Lena gave out childlike laugh. 

“Cum here.” She opened her legs wide as he moved in between them. The initial entry nearly brought Lena to a climax. A low moan came from his throat as he grabbed her waist and worked his way into her. Lena lay back on the desk and fondled her breasts, pulling and twisting the nipples while biting her lower lip. Christian enjoyed watching her enjoying this. No doubt she was having as much fun as he was.

“Talk to me.” Christian moaned plunging deeper and deeper in Lena. 

“Harder…uhn…faster!” Lena started to climax, squirming and arching her back. He could tell she was close so he decided to make her wait.

“Not yet.” He moaned pulling out and stroking his cock.

“What are you doing?” Lena sat up and stared at Christian' sweaty body. He pulled her to her feet, turned her around and bent her forward onto the desk. Lena laid flat on the desk with her legs hanging off the edge. Her breasts were flattened against the desktop. Christian reentered her pussy from behind and she screamed in agreement, slamming her palms on the desk.

“Christian…shit…fuck me harder!” Lena slammed her hand against the desk again. As his balls repeatedly hit her clit Lena became his. Christian pulled her hair and she ended up holding herself up with her hands. 

“I’m gonna cum!” Christian screamed holding her hips in place. 

“Unh…shit…I’m going…to cum!” Lena started shaking and gave out a high-pitched scream clamping her legs around his. When they were finished, they ended up lying naked on the floor. 

“So, I only know your name and where you’re from.” He kissed her hand. 

“What else do you want to know?” she smiled, slipping his finger into her mouth and sucking on it. 

“Why me?” he asked running his finger though her hair.

“Why not you?” she smiled.

“Good answer.” He laughed as Lena stood up and gathered her clothes. He sat up against the desk and watched her get dressed.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“Home.” She grabbed her lipstick from her purse and put it on without looking in the mirror. He thought she was perfect. She walked out of the office and left the building. 

The next day Christian was fixing up his office and reminiscing about the great night of sex he just had. His phone beeped and his secretary said.

“Christian, your 1 o’clock appointment is here.” Christian remembered that he didn’t have an appointment and turned around just as the office door opened. In, walked Lena. She was wearing a long leather trenchcoat and a pair of stiletto heels. Her hair was pinned up with a pencil and a purse was dangling at her side.

“What are you doing here?” Christian asked, obviously not arguing the fact that she was there. 

“I figured you would need a little break.” She licked her lips and dropped her purse. Christian slowly walked towards her, his lips becoming dry. There was a bulge appearing in his pants and Lena could see he really wanted her. By the time he had reached Lena she was beginning to untie her coat when he stopped her.

“Let me.” He said slowly pulling the string. When the coat opened he saw that Lena was wearing a bright red bra with matching panties. Her abs flexed slightly as she allowed the coat to fall to the floor. Christian eyed her delicious body from head to toe, becoming more and more aroused, the more he looked. Lena stood still for a second then dropped to her knees. She unzipped Christian’ pants and unleashed his cock. She eyed the monster and slowly placed the tip of it in her mouth. He groaned as his throbbing cock became harder in her mouth. She gently cupped his balls and started to make her way down his shaft until she had deep-throated him. She sucked slow and soft, and then fast and applying deliberate pressure. He gasped at the oncoming orgasm and pulled out of her mouth. He knelt down and pushed her onto her back, pulling off her now drenched panties and throwing them across the room. 

“I want it hard and fast.” She smiled taking off her bra. With her breasts now uncovered and Christian waiting to fuck her crazy she lifted her legs and placed them on his shoulders. She pulled the pencil from her hair, letting her hair fall around her shoulders. Lena screamed as he forced his way into her tight hole. The feeling of his cock stretching every part of her drove her insane with passion and she groaned and whimpered. 

“Don’t stop!” she screamed removing her legs from his shoulders and having him hold her thighs. The harder and faster he pushed the more they both wanted to scream. “Ah...ah…ahhhh…ahhhhh!” Christian started to slow down as Lena clenched her pussy around his cock and gasped over and over again in one of the most incredible orgasms of her life. She bit and sucked on her finger. Cleverly, Christian replaced her finger with his.

“Fuck!” Christian released her legs and started rubbing her clit, making her shake and orgasm for an even longer period of time. 

Christian, feeling his cum shoot through his shaft gave one more thrust and exploded inside her. Sexually spent, they both laid on the floor. Lena was the first to get up, she opted not to put on her underwear, because she couldn’t find it, and walked over to Christian’ office closet. Inside she found a shirt and put it on. When she walked back towards Christian’ desk he was already dressed and looking at a piece of paper. When Lena straddled him in his chair he was forced to pay attention to her.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“I’m ready to go again.” She smiled unzipping his pants.

“Hey now.” He grabbed her hands. “I really have to do some work.” He smiled.

“I call this work.” She started kissing his neck and grinding against his body.

“Lena, stop.” He said making her climb off of him.

“What!” she asked.

“I have to do this. Otherwise, I’m dead.”

“You’re right.” She smiled and turned around. She opened her purse without him knowing and eyed the 9mm in it. She held onto the gun for a second and then let it go. Why did she just do that? She had the perfect opportunity to kill him, and she didn’t. Fuck, was she falling for him? 

His office had another area strictly for entertainment. There was a couch and a flat screen wall television. Lena nuzzled her way into a corner of the couch and watched television, while Christian finished his work. When Christian was finished with his papers he walked over and noticed Lena was asleep. He ran his fingers through her hair and watched as her chest rose and fall with each breath she took. 

“Lena.” He whispered into her ear.

“Hmmm.” She moaned moving slightly.

“Wake up, let’s go.” He said waking her up. She moaned and stretched then rose to her feet. Christian wrapped his arms around her and they kissed. Lena gradually ended their embrace and said.

“I have to tell you something.” She said.

“What is it? He asked.

“You know how you asked me why I picked you?” she said.

“Yeah.”

“Well, your brother sent me here to kill you.” She backed away from him.

“Are you serious?” he asked.

“Yeah, but I don’t want to, I’m actually finding myself falling for you.” She finished.

“Well, I don’t care what you were sent here to do. All I know is that I’m falling for you to.”

“Really?” she asked.

“Yes.” He pulled her in close to him and began kissing her. His hands made their way underneath her shirt and he rubbed her back. Suddenly the phone rang. Lena woke up and noticed it was another dream. She rolled over and fell back asleep.

Christian didn’t finish his work until late that night and Lena was sleeping on the office couch. Christian cut off the television and watched her still and beautiful body in the moonlight. Then he stood in front of the window looking out onto the midnight sky and city. Not many people were out at this time of night, only the whores and their pimps, plus a few businessmen looking to cheat on their wives. Christian turned to watch Lena; only she wasn’t there any more. He searched the office high and low only to find her looking out of the window at the view. Walking up behind her he could see the perfect outline of her body under the somewhat see-through shirt, and he imagined what he’d found under that shirt. The most flawless silkiest ebony skin was under that shirt. He had a flashback of rubbing her breasts underneath the palms of his hands; he almost became rock hard in his pants.

“Beautiful.” She smiled.

“Yes, beautiful.” He replied not looking at the scenery. He wrapped his arms around her and felt her relax with a sigh.

“I love it here.” She said “I could look at this view forever.”

“Then do.” He smiled making her turn towards him.

”What do you mean?” she asked.

“Stay with me, that way you can see the view forever.” Lena wanted to say that she would but something told her to tell him the truth. Why she did, as semi-fearless as she could, she didn’t know.

“That’s really sweet, but I can’t.”

“Why not?” he asked.

“I belong to someone.”

“What?” 

“Your brother, Antony.” She said causing Christian to jerk away from her and give her a look of pure disgust. He was wondering if what he heard was really what he heard.

“You can’t be serious?” he asked.




Assassin Ch. 02



Violet's head swam about her. She floated through the nothingness for an indeterminate span of time. She couldn't think clearly, everything was a blur. She tried to move her arms, but they felt heavy, as if they were made of lead. Her legs shared this bizarre physical abnormality.

She felt something snap loosely around her neck. She tried reaching for it, but her hands were still dead weight. However, the fog in her mind slowly began to lift. She opened her eyes, just a little. Wherever she was, it was dark. She tried once again to move, but found she couldn't. This time, she felt a light tugging at her wrist as she did so. She tried to move the other arm, but experienced the same curious feeling.

At last, she felt herself again, but still disoriented. She tried moving her arms again, but they still would not budge. She suddenly thrust her eyes open wide in realization. She turned her head to see in the dim light that her hand was bound to what appeared to be a bedpost. Her heart sank as she realized that was the least of her problems.

The world around her looked as if it had been wrapped in gauze. She could make out the shape of her hand, the bedpost, and the dark cord binding her to it, but nothing in detail. She rocked her head from side to side, hearing a crinkling sound as she did so. She knew this sound all too well. She'd heard it countless times, when meting out punishment, but never from this vantage point. Her blood ran cold as she heard a tap on the floor to her right.

"Who's there?" she called out, turning her head in the direction of the sound.

She could make out the silhouette of someone standing in front of a weak light source. From the shape of their body, she guessed it was a woman. "Oh, nobody important," she said. She took three steps closer to the bed, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor. The form leaned down over Violet.

"Comfy, darling?" she asked, in a low mediterranean accent.

"Who are you?" Violet asked, pulling at her restraints.

"Tsk, tsk," the woman replied, wagging a gloved finger. "You, of all people, should know the benefit of conserving your air." Violet realized the truth in her words and relaxed.

Violet could not believe this was happening. Who was this woman? What did she want? Was she related to one of her targets? If so, she had a feeling that this wasn't going to end well.

"I've studied your methods," the woman continued, pacing the floor slowly. "You like to suffocate your victims, sometimes killing them."

"It's just a job," Violet quickly replied.

"And for me, also," the woman said with a sigh. "It is just a job. My methods are a bit more... direct, most of the time."

The woman walked over and tugged at the corner of the bag. "I've never tried anything of this sort before. I could walk out right now, knowing that I've completed my contract, and you're dead."

"I never leave any of my intended targets!" Violet exclaimed.

"Yes, yes, I know. You... how can I put this? You make love to them?"

Violet flushed, feeling guilty. "Not exactly," she said hesitantly. This woman would never understand what she felt when she was on the job, intimately connected to her target.

"Oh, that's right. You tease them," the woman said with humor in her voice. "You just lie there while they slowly suffocate."

Violet couldn't argue with that. That's pretty much what she did. It was always such a thrill to lie there, her target deep inside her, feeling them struggle for breath.

The woman paused, awaiting a response. Upon receiving none, she continued, "That's what you're going to get. You've been marked for death by my employer. Your trademark is well known and it was decided that that is how you'll meet your end."

Violet was beside herself. She had no idea what to do. She struggled against here restraints for a moment, realizing that it was for naught. She was trapped. The woman let out a small laugh. "Not so much fun now, is it?" she asked.

"Oh," the woman said, turning back around. "There is one small, little change. Hardly worth mentioning. There'll be no alarm for you, dear."

How could this be? Violet was always so careful. She couldn't fathom how anyone could have tracked her down. This woman meant to kill her and it looked like she would probably succeed. She had to escape, but didn't see any way out.

Violet heard the flick of a lighter and the soft glow of the flame. The woman inhaled deeply and then let it out. She couldn't see her in the darkness of the room, only the red tip of the cigarette as she took another drag. The woman sat, smoking, watching Violet for several minutes.

The air inside the bag was already getting warm. Surprisingly, though she had administered this form of torment several times, she had never experienced it first hand. She didn't actually know what to expect beyond what she witnessed externally. She guessed that 10 minutes had passed so far. Of course, there was no way of knowing how long the bag was on before she woke up. She had probably 15-20 minutes of time left, before she'd be to weak to do anything at all.

At long last the woman stood, extinguished her cigarette, and approached the bed again. The woman removed one of her gloves and pressed her bare hand between Violet's breasts. For the first time, Violet realized she was naked and she felt her face flush. "You have a strong heart, my friend," the woman said at length. She slid her fingers down her bare skin to her abdomen. "And you are a beautiful woman."

Violet didn't know what to say, so she said nothing. She, instead, concentrated on her breathing, and trying to formulate a plan to escape. The woman scoffed and retracted her hand. "A pity, really." She heard the click of the shoes recede and she saw the woman's silhouette against the pale light once again. She appeared to be thin, curvy, but that's all she could tell from the low light and clouded bag.

She had to escape, but how? It seemed impossible. She was bound too well, and there was no way she was going to free her hands or feet. The bag itself felt as if it were held on by something weak, but she knew from experience that unless it was purposely removed it might as well have been fastened by 20 lengths of chain and padlocked. She had no way of knowing where she was. There could be an army outside the door. She only had one weapon at her disposal: her voice.

"Why don't you just get it over with," Violet asked coldly.

The woman turned. After a few moments she said, "So eager to die?"

"No, but there's no point in making me suffer, either," Violet replied flatly.

The woman just stood there for a moment, not saying anything, as if she were contemplating her words. "True, but the contract holder specifically asked for this type of execution."

"Who are you working for?" Violet asked.

"Oh, you know I'll never tell you," the woman replied

"I'm as good as dead, what's the harm?"

"Honor among assassins?" the woman asked.

"Let's just call it a final request."

"Sorry, as much as I'd like to, I can't. I don't want my own fortunes reversed," the woman said heavily.

Violet thought about her next move, but her breathing was getting deeper as the minutes ticked by. She could already feel a warm tingle in her toes. She had to think of something quickly, but nothing was coming to mind that would lead to her freedom. This was getting her nowhere. All she could do was talk. Unfortunately, she wouldn't be able to do that for much longer.

"No one would have to know," Violet suggested. It was getting harder to talk now.

"The first time someone saw you walking around, I think they'd know."

Violet didn't respond right away. "I could... I could disappear," she said at last.

The woman walked back over to the bed. "Yes, you could. But then you could also attempt to make me disappear."

"I would never. Honor among assassins, remember?" Violet pleaded.

"Sorry, friend, but I must do what I was sent here to do," the woman said after much hesitation, resignation in her voice.

Violet heard the tapping of the shoes recede from the bed and the woman disappeared out of her field of view. The woman would not listen and Violet was wasting her breath. She lie there in the darkness for what seemed to be an eternity. The tingle that had started at her toes, had slowly been making its way up her leg, leaving everything numb in its wake. To her dismay, her fingers began to follow suit. Her breathing was faster and her heart was beating faster than normal.

The woman appeared again at Violet's side. "It looks like you're about ready," she said.

"Ready for what?" Violet asked, feeling winded.

"My, my, you sound out of breath, dear. Just relax. I'll do all the work."

Violet could hear the rustling of fabric. She could barely make out anything in the gloom, but she could swear the woman was disrobing. After a few minutes of work it was quiet once again. Suddenly the bed shifted slightly. The woman was crawling across on all fours.

The woman sat down on Violet's legs, her bare skin making contact. She was holding something long and slender in her hand. There was a click, followed by a whirring sound. "One for you," the woman said. There was another click and the whirring sound intensified. "And one for me." Violet's brow pinched as she tried to make out what the device was.

The she felt something soft and foreign being pushed against her pussy lips. The woman gently maneuvered the vibrator until it finally slipped inside her. Violet gasped as the woman did so. "Oh you like that, do you?" the woman asked. To Violet, it felt amazing, but she'd never tell her captor. Violet squirmed as the woman pushed it deeper. "You must. You're already beginning to swell." It was true, Violet could feel it.

The woman slowly rocked forward and then sat back. Violet heard her inhale sharply as she did so. She assumed that the woman had inserted the other end of the device into herself. The woman sat there for a minute or so, then slowly lay down across Violet, putting her arms gently around her neck in a mockery of Violet's own actions.

So, this is what it felt like for all those men, Violet thought to herself. She could feel the woman's firm breasts pushing against her, and her own breasts pushing against the woman's bare skin. She could feel the woman's hot breath on her arm. The vibrator was intense. Heat was building around her swollen sex and she could already feel a tickle forming at the small of her back.

Violet didn't know how long she had been enclosed in the bag, but she already felt weak. She wanted to move her hips against the vibrator, but didn't have the strength, and couldn't accomplish much more than a weak rocking motion which she gave up after a few seconds. Her breaths were coming even faster now and her heart was beating fast. Both her legs were dead weight, up to her hips and both her hands were tingling now.

As the seconds ticked by, the tickle at the small of her back spread its way to her groin. She was scared. That was certain. This woman was going to kill her. That seemed certain. So, why was she so turned on? Was she deep down enjoying this? And if so, why not? If it was were last gasp, so to speak?

"You have been very quiet," she heard the woman say, turning her head toward the bag. Violet wanted to respond, but it took all her effort to keep breathing as normally as possible.

"How do you feel?" the woman asked. Violet did not reply. "It is hard for you to talk now. That is a pity, I was hoping we could talk for a while."

Violet took a deep breath and said, "Then take off the bag," while exhaling heavily.

"You know I can't do that," the woman replied and turned to face the window once more.

Violet could feel the relentless pulsations of the vibrator deep inside her. She was teetering on the edge. She was going to come. The heat and sensations around her sex were steadily building. Within a minute it was unbearable. Then she suddenly felt all the heat in her body rush out between her legs as she came. She spasmed twice as the pleasure surged through her, spreading to her extremities. It wasn't a big orgasm, but it felt good all the same.

The woman propped herself up by her arms and looked Violet square in the face. For the first time Violet could make out some of her features. She had a shock of long, dark hair, a slender face, and calculating eyes. "Did that feel good, my friend?"

"Yes," Violet said in a gasp.

"Then let's see if you can do it again," the woman replied with a smile and lay back down on top of Violet.

Violet was exhausted after her orgasm. Her breathing was rapid, almost panting and her heart with beating hard and fast. Worse yet, the numbness that had been traveling up her extremities was slowly creeping into her abdomen. As the seconds went by it closed in around her chest, until finally she felt completely numb.

As the last of her body went numb, her breathing slowed, but was still incredibly deep. A moment later, she began to have the sensation that she was floating. Her legs felt as if they were lifting off the bed and her head felt as if it were sinking into it. Stranger yet, every breath she now took was pure bliss. It was as if the act of breathing itself was somehow arousing. She could feel the heat gathering in her groin again and a smile involuntarily flickered across her face.

Violet's desperation slowly faded. Everything just felt so good now. It didn't matter that she was only minutes away from death. She knew it wouldn't be long now. She just hoped the end wouldn't be painful. It never seemed that way from her outside point of view.

"I wish you could tell me how you felt," the woman said, her voice sounding as if it were coming from far away.

"I wish I could, too," Violet thought. "It is unlike anything I've ever felt before."

"Your heart is beating so hard and fast. Is this not frightening for you?" the woman asked.

"Not in the least," Violet thought.

The woman paused. "You came so fast."

"You have no idea," Violet thought, another smile crossing her face. Violet already felt the telltale tickle at the small of her back. Every breath was bringing her closer.

Violet wanted to come again. She wanted to so badly. The vibrator ceaselessly hummed away inside of her. It seemed like it was getting more intense as time passed by. The world was beginning to slowly spin around her and it felt like she was floating away, the other woman a passenger. The only part of her that still had feeling was her swollen mound.

"I have to admit, you are strong, my friend. I assumed you would have succumbed after 45 minutes. I'm not sure that I would survived as long."

"45 minutes," Violet thought to herself. But even that small fact was quickly lost in the mist that filled her mind. 

The woman let out a gasp and she began to very lightly rock her hips. Violet was getting weaker by the moment. Her heart was pounding in her chest so hard that she could only hear the crinkling of the bag in between the quick beats. Her breaths were coming faster again.

The tingling tickle was creeping around Violet's hips and butt. She could feel the vibrator gently moving inside her as the woman rocked her hips. Every breath she took, she seemed to breath less deeply. 

The woman began to breath heavily and began moving her body slowly against Violet. Though numb, Violet could feel her. It was an incredibly arousing and served to stoke the fire. Everything around her seemed to be fading away into the distance. She could barely hear the woman's breath. Violet began to feel as if she didn't need to breath any more and her breathing became slow and shallow. Her body was giving up. She was on the verge of going out. This was it.

"It seems that I am close to coming finally, my friend," the woman said from a thousand miles away. "And it seems you are close to your end."

Violet didn't care. Her sex was on fire, the tingle had made it's way to her mound and she was going to come. The woman rhythmically moved her body over Violet. Violet's own climax was beginning to build. Suddenly, the woman let out a loud gasp and went rigid. A moment later Violet could feel the woman jerk then she collapsed.

Violet's own orgasm ripped through her. Her back arched and she let out a startled gasp. It was like no orgasm she had ever had. It was hard, deep, and seemed to go on for an eternity. Her body shook with the effort. It washed over her again and again. Each time her body would tense. Then she suddenly felt nothing at all and the world went black.

- - -

Slowly Violet awoke. Her head hurt and her mouth was dry. It took her a few moments to come to her senses. She slowly opened her eyes. The room she was in was bright. After a few minutes her eyes adjusted and she looked around. She was surprised to find herself in the same hotel room where she had dealt with her last target. She was doubly surprised to find that she was still alive. She was still bound to the bed naked, but she could care less... she was alive! The woman must have taken pity on her, or it was all just a scare tactic. Scare tactic or not, she had almost died. She could feel it. 

Violet noticed a note laying on her chest. It read: "My friend Violet. My orders were to kill you, but I could not bring myself to do so. Honor among assassins. I would like to meet with you. Please come see me at Carver Hotel at 9PM. Room 514. -Elene."

She couldn't believe her fortune. Yes, she would go to see her, but she would be cautious. What was she up to?

Violet started as a crash sounded from one of the doors. The door flew open as a cart rolled into the room, pulled backwards by a heavy set housekeeper. The housekeeper turned to see Violet splayed across the bed, her jaw falling open.

"Hi, there." Violet said politely.



Assassin Ch. 02



She came to in a dark room. They had cut her down and chained her ankles to the legs of a cold metallic chair. Her wrists were handcuffed behind her, with twisted barbed wire forcing her elbows together.

The thin nylon fabric of her slip clung to her waist, soiled by dried blood and stale male perspiration. Both her bare breasts were crisscrossed with welts, which would leave permanent marks on her. Better than tattoos, these scars all over her body would earn her street credibility anywhere in the world.

She half opened the remaining eye, the other eye too swollen to be useful, and saw the camera mounted on the wall. With only a single low-wattage bulb hanging high above her, the room was not well lit. She hoped that whoever was watching her through the camera did not notice she was awake.

She closed her eye and slowly adjusted her sitting position. She leaned against the back of the chair, allowing the barbed wire to eat into the bare skin on her back. She needed to stay wide awake to craft a reasonable story of who she was and what she had done. They already knew her name and address. Her story would need to be based on true events and credible enough for her next round of interrogation. She could only lie about events and places they could not easily verify.

>>>>>

2 Days Ago

Hong Kong, China

She hated the long flight from Dallas to Hong Kong. It had been twenty-two hours since her last shower. She slept most of the time, waking up only for meals and trips to the cramped restrooms.

But the money made it worthwhile. As usual, it was half upfront, and the other half when the job was done. In the last five years, her account in the Bahamas had grown to the point she was seriously considering retirement.

"Ma'am, would you like breakfast?" The short flight attendant with a round face and thick makeup asked about one hour from landing. Megan Rock thought it strange that the airline would serve breakfast, even though the video screen in front of her indicated it was almost nine-thirty in the evening in Hong Kong.

"Are you from the Deep South?" Megan asked as she unfolded the small tray.

"Yes, ma'am. I grew up in Alabama." She placed a plastic tray with scrambled eggs, two sausages, and biscuit on her tray. "How would you like your coffee?"

"Black, no sugar." She sipped her coffee, wondering when exactly flight attendants had stopped calling her Miss and started addressing her formally as Madam. At twenty-nine, she was fit, tanned, toned, and thought of herself as young.

Swallowing the last bite quickly, Megan put on her stilettos and went to the restroom. She brushed her teeth, touched up her makeup, and pulled back her dark blonde hair into a ponytail. Removing her leather jacket, she adjusted her silver halter dress and retied the straps that ran across her back below the shoulder blades. She rotated her five-foot-nine frame, lifted up her arms, and checked herself in the mirror.

When she returned to her seat, she noticed the usual raised eyebrows and a couple of winks from the men in business suits sitting next to the aisle. The man next to her tried again to say something to her, but she ignored him.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. Please fasten your seatbelts for the remainder of the journey. All electronics, including mobile phones, laptops, and computer games, must be turned off until we are at the gates in about fifteen minutes. We will be arriving at Terminal One of the Hong Kong International Airport in Chek Lap Kok. Welcome to Hong Kong."

As soon as the wheels touched the runway, Megan quietly switched on her cell phone and touched a button. Ten thousand miles away, Fabian Long saw her coded message and smiled. Working with Megan had been the best part of his life. He thought of her as a sister rather than work partners. He loved her specialty, taking an assignment only when the target was a foreign man. She would not touch women or children. Her favorite kill zones were nightclubs and hotel bedrooms.

Because she had no luggage, Megan was one of the first to clear immigration and customs. At 2300 hours, she walked directly to a man holding a sign with three Chinese characters, describing Tsim Sha Tsui, the tourist hub of Hong Kong chockfull of nightclubs, hotels and restaurants. The man walked her to a waiting van and pulled back the sliding door. She entered the back of the van. He rode shotgun.

Once the van started moving, the man turned around and spoke in a British accent. "The target is a money launderer," he pointed to a high resolution picture on his iPad. The man in the JPEG picture was bald, his head was egg-shaped, and his eyebrows almost touched. He had pale skin, double chins, small ears, and a large gap between his front teeth.

"Does he have a name?"

"Our client told us only that his first name is Ian. His recent client base included members of several terrorist organizations. After passing through Ian, the untraceable money is wired to sleeper cell groups in North America and Europe."

"Where's the kill zone?"

"A large nightclub in Nathan Road. The club attracts hundreds of business clients every night, perfect cover for you. Ian is being entertained tonight."

"What's my cover story?"

"Tonight, your name is Honey. A group of women will dance in front of Ian at midnight. He will be encouraged to pick one of them to go to a private room. Make sure he picks you."

"Does it need to look like an accident?"

"No. Just get it done quickly, and get out of there. There will be a team to clean up." The man spoke quickly without taking a breath. "Take a taxi to the airport, lie low, and catch the six o'clock flight out. Questions?"

"When will the rest of the money be wired?"

"As soon as the client receives confirmation that he is dead. By the way, he likes blondes with their hair down. He also likes to be punished."

Megan let her hair flow down her back. Her heartbeat gradually increased as she saw the skyline of Hong Kong. No matter how many times she had been to Hong Kong, the sight of it took her breath away. The van dived into the famous Nathan Road, three miles full of neon and flashing English and Chinese signs that emerged from the sides of buildings and crisscrossed over the traffic below.

Passing the main entrance, the van turned and stopped in a narrow back alley. Megan stepped out on the uneven street, balancing herself on her five inch stilettos and climbing the steep stairs that led to the side entrance. A burly man with a shaved head patted her down, lingering longer than he needed on her chest and butt. He poured out the contents of her purse, checked it carefully, and gave it back to her.

Entering the main hall, she paused to let her eyes adjust. Hip hop music emanated from the giant speakers mounted on the high ceiling. She could see dozens of low tables surrounded by leather seats, the men in suits and women in club wear. Some of the women sat on the laps of the men.

A rotating crystal ball, disco style, hung from the center. Below it was a circular stage. On the stage were two vertical stainless steel poles, three feet apart. The two poles were joined together by a horizontal bar about sex feet in the air. The entire setup reminded Megan of the chin-up bars in army camps. The scenes of basic military training flashed through her mind.

She spotted Ian, sitting front and center next to the stage, two women on his arms, a brunette and a redhead. Two serious looking Chinese men sat to his right and left. He did not seem to have a bodyguard.

Her thoughts were rudely interrupted. "Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we have the best of the best competing." The DJ spoke in an accent that sounded Australian. He mentioned a couple of Chinese names, and then he mentioned Honey. "All three ladies are yours for the right price."

The first girl took to the stage. She was petite, no more than five-foot-two and possibly less than one hundred pounds. She ran around both poles, making the figure eight over and over. At the end of the song, she removed her tube top and shorts. She stood on the stage only with her bra, panties, and heels.

"One hundred dollars, do I hear more? Two hundred. Any more?" The bidding continued until it stopped at nine hundred Hong Kong dollars, which was about one hundred and fifteen dollars stateside. Ian was too busy with the brunette next to him to notice the auction.

Megan untied the straps behind her and retied the knot so it was easy to remove. She did not expect this job to include a meat market auction. But she was a professional and would go through with it.

The second girl was bigger and stronger, around five-foot-six. She used the two poles creatively, dancing on one and then another. At one point, she inverted herself, hooked her ankles together and slid down the pole. Her miniskirt flew up to her chest, exposing red lacy panties. The crowd went wild with delight. Ian nodded his head and applauded.

Megan's heart skipped a beat when Ian raised his hand and opened the bid at one thousand Hong Kong dollars. "Do I hear more?" The DJ hollered.

"Two thousand dollars," the Chinese man in the table next to Ian stood up. He pointed his middle finger at Ian.

"Ah, a banking rivalry," the DJ was giddy. "Which bank is going to win?"

"Three thousand," Ian was not giving up without a fight.

"Ten thousand," the Chinese man showed all ten digits of his fingers. He stood up in victory, knowing Ian could not match him. The girl snuggled up to his shoulder and they both disappeared.

"Let's give it up for Honey," the DJ was having a good night. He would pocket from the girls a ten percent commission. The club would extract another sixty percent, leaving only thirty percent for the girls.

Megan climbed up to the stage as the DJ started playing Eminem's Lose Yourself. She twirled around the pole with one hand, shaking her hips as hard as she could. Moving to the other pole, she hiked up her skirt and high kicked with right leg, winking at Ian. Ian winked back. She went down on all fours and crawled to Ian, giving a generous view of her cleavage. At the edge of the stage, close to Ian's table, she licked her lips and parted her mouth.

She stood up suddenly and swayed to the beat. With her back to Ian, she pulled the knot behind her. When the music stopped, there was a blur of motion. She swung on the horizontal bar like a gymnast, inverting herself and hooking the front of her ankles on the corners, her legs spread apart and her halter dress bunched around her neck. Her chest was completely bare and her crotch covered only with a string bikini bottom.

She maintained her inverted position as the auction kicked off.

"Five thousand," a man in the back row shouted.

"Ten thousand," another man shouted.

The serious man sitting next to Ian suddenly stood up. "Fifty thousand dollars." Anyone listening carefully could tell he was American. Ian had a broad smile on his face, his ego had been restored. He would have her for tonight.

Ian had one arm around Megan; his other hand carried a laptop bag. He led her to a room off the main floor. The room had a king-sized bed, satin sheets, and a dozen pillows.

"Take off all your fucking clothes," Megan said as she stepped out of her outfit.

Ian had more items to remove, but was only a second slower than her.

"You naughty boy, you need to be whipped," Megan picked up Ian's own belt from the floor. "Spread yourself on the bed," she tried to sound authoritative.

Ian was on his stomach, his arms holding the metal bars of the bed, his legs spread as wide as they can go. Megan stood on the bed and swung the belt on his buttocks, his waist, and his shoulders. Each time she hit him, he giggled. The man was a pain slut, fusing the concepts of pain and sexual pleasure.

After about a dozen whips, Megan jumped and landed her knees on his back, breaking a couple of ribs. She coiled the belt around his neck and twisted hard. He tried to turn over, but she kept her knee firmly on his back, giving him no chance. He tried to scream, but the music was loud outside, the crowd roaring as another group of girls danced and was auctioned off. He gradually became weaker, his body twitching in its final moments. Grasping his head and locking it with her muscled arms, she gave it a sharp twist and broke the spinal cord.

When she was sure he was dead, she put on her dress and shoes and left the room with his laptop. She walked through the crowd and left by the main entrance. The bouncer opened the door of the taxi for her.

>>>>>

Satisfied that she had a story in her head that would work, she shifted her position and relaxed. She found a position that minimized the aches and pain tearing her up from the inside, and fell asleep. Her head hung down on her chest, her chaotic hair tumbling forward, just long enough for the tips to cover her exposed nipples.

*** To be continued in Ch. 3 ***



Assassin Ch. 02



“I am.” She replied. Christian became so angry that he flipped the couch over. Lena cringed. It wasn’t like her dream, not at all.

“You mean to tell me that he sent you here?” he returned yelling in Lena’s face.

“No.” she replied making him smack her in the face. Lena fell to her knees and started crying. She was totally caught off guard.

“Liar!” he screamed at the top of his lungs.

“Yes!” she sobbed.

“Whore!” 

“Yes! Yes!” she screamed holding the side of her face. Christian saw what kind of damage he had just done and he knelt down by her side.

“Fuck, Lena, I’m sorry…Lena?” he removed her hands from her face and lifted her chin. The tears were still rolling down her face making it all red.

“Did he want you to kill me?” he asked sincerely.

“Yes…” Lena sobbed scooting away from him.

“Shhh…Shhh…come here.” He opened his arms to her. She didn’t move she just stared at him. Christian crawled over to her and held her in his arms.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come here.” Lena cried breaking away from his embrace and stumbling to get up.

“No, I shouldn’t have blown up like that. I knew he would send a hit-man, I just didn’t think it would be you.” He got up and went after her. She was grabbing her clothes and getting ready to leave when he caught up with her.

“Come with me.” He said grabbing her hand and walking out of the office.

Down in the parking lot Christian pulled Lena towards his car. He walked her over to the passenger’s side and opened the door. He removed a gun from the seat and Lena jumped back and started crying.

“Oh god, please no!” she screamed.

“No, no, no. Shhhh.” Christian said putting the gun in the front of his pants. He pulled Lena towards the car and closed the door when she got in. When he climbed into the driver’s seat Lena stared at him and was as far away from him as she could be. 

“Lena, just relax.” Christian reached for her hand and she didn’t let him touch her. “Lena, please.” He said with a sigh. He turned on the car and drove off.

Christian had taken Lena to his home, a beautiful and spacious penthouse suite at the top of the main corporate office building. Christian was still pretty embarrassed about what happened at the office, Lena wasn’t talking to him. She didn’t know what to say.

“Lena, this is my home.” He said trying to break the ice. “Are you mad at me?”

“No.” she sniffled.

“Why aren’t you saying anything to me then?” he held her close.

“I’m supposed to kill you, not lov-.” She stopped, realizing she said too much she pulled away from him.

“Love, you love me?” he asked making Lena tear up again. Christian took that as a sign and embraced her. He started kissing her lips and rubbing his hands all over her body. Lena quivered at his touch and became increasingly wet between her legs. Christian began to unbutton the shirt she was wearing and she bit her lip in response. When both of them were completely naked, Christian carried her to the bedroom. Lena saw a king sized, blue silk covered bed with vanilla scented candles. Christian laid her down on the bed and spread her legs with his hands. He welcomed her now aching pussy, teasing the clit and slightly nibbling on her pussy lips.

“Ah!” Lena climaxed bucking against his face, but he still wasn’t done. By now he was hard as a rock and he wanted Lena to feel the same passion he had for her. He licked a pair of his fingers and shoved then inside of her.

“Ah…unh…ooooh.” Lena grabbed the sheets and arched her back. Christian moved them around a bit and then held them still. Feeling Lena’s body calm down he quickly fingered her sending her over the edge and screaming his name! 

“Christian! God! Fuck me Christian!” Before she had even finished with that orgasm he had climbed on top of her and shoved his rock hard cock into her shaking pussy.

“God, you feel so good!” he moaned plunging in and out. Lena, feeling another orgasm building up, reached up and wrapped her arms around Christian’s neck. He was now holding both of their weight, and the only thing keeping them together was his cock.

“More!” Lena moaned in orgasm letting go of Christian and landing back on the bed. Christian grabbed her feet, closed her legs and pushed them towards her face. Lena obliged and wrapped her arms around her legs to keep them in place. Christian started pushing faster and faster until he came. Lena was moaning and panting until she came to.

“Unh!” Christian groaned jerking his penis one last time. Then, he and Lena covered each other with blankets and slept in each other’s arms. Christian watched her as she fell asleep and while she slept he used a tissue next to his bed to wipe away the traces of tears from her face.

“Heard anything from Lena?” Antony asked as he smoked a cigar.

“Nothing, but.” The man stopped suddenly pulling Antony’s attention towards him.

“But what?” he asked.

“I had a man follow her and what he found was quite disturbing.”

“What did he find?” Antony was becoming more and more impatient.

“She’s been compromised.” 

“What!” he stood up throwing his cigar across the room.

“She told him everything.”

“You have to be fucking with me!” he walked over and stepped on the cigar before it started a fire.

“Sir, I’m not. Lena has been compromised.”

“Never send a woman to do a man’s job!” Antony returned to his desk, pulled out a gun and exited the room.

-Still to come…Assassin ch.3



Assassin Ch. 03



---to all of those who sent me feedback and wanted me to continue with the story, here it is, I hope you all like it and continue with the great constructive criticism.---Selene

Dawn was just around the corner and the birds started to stir. Silence had fallen over the forsaken lovers and the world seemed to stop. They were asleep; the only noise in the home was the ticking of the clock on the wall and the soft hum of the ice machine in the kitchen. Lena was the first up and she climbed out of bed. Her feet hit the carpeted floor and she stretched them slightly before walking. Christian was still sleeping and did not even notice when she got up. Lena walked over to the closet and shuffled through the clothes, yawning at some of the choices. That was when she saw it. There was a silver case at the top of the closet. It was past the shoebox, and she really would not have seen it if it were not for the sun coming through the blinds. She slowly reached for it and only after standing on her tiptoes did she finally get it. She listened for Christian, sat on the couch, and opened the case. Inside, was a gun and shiny silver bullets that were next to it. Lena thought for a second and left the case on the couch. She left the room and came back with a cloth from the bathroom and a towel wrapped around her body. She picked up the gun, wiped off her fingerprints and loaded it. Then she left the case on the couch and walked into the bedroom. She watched Christian, still asleep, with hair falling in his face slightly and the sun beaming on his chest. Christian was about to have a rude awakening. When he heard the click of the gun, he woke up and jumped at the sight of the gun in his face.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked looking at her. She didn't say anything in response. He eyed her body and then he eyed the gun.

"Don't do it Lena." He replied seriously fearing for his life. Lena began to lower the gun when she felt a hand stretch across her stomach. The feeling sent goose bumps down her spine. She glanced over her shoulder and then felt a gun in her back.

"Do it." Antony whispered threateningly into her ear. Lena was ready to fire when she hesitated. Antony then took it upon himself to finish the job. He removed the gun from her back and shot Christian four times right in the chest.

"Aaahhhh!" Lena screamed sitting up in bed. It had been another dream. Christian was startled awake and he pushed Lena's hair back to get a look at her terrified face.

"Jeez, are you alright?" he asked rubbing her arm and pulling her into him.

"No…" Lena pushed him away and sat at the edge of the bed. Christian kept his distance for a second and then began rubbing her shoulders. 

"What's wrong?" he asked kissing her shoulders.

"I have the feeling that Antony knows I haven't killed you yet." She stood up and walked into the bathroom. Christian ran his fingers through his hair and walked in after her. She was running bath water and she turned to look at him. It was midmorning and Christian looked at the clock. 10:30.

"What should we do?" he asked kneeling in front of her. She was sitting on the side of the tub. He looked at the striking difference between his white tub and her creamy ebony skin, he found himself thinking if that was how it looked when they fucked. Him being white and all.

"I don't know." She replied shaking her head. She stopped the water and unplugged the drain. She sat there for a minute thinking and running her fingers through her hair. Christian started rubbing her legs and pulled her down to him. His hands calmed her incredibly. Lena wrapped her arms around his neck and began rubbing the back of his head. Their breathing started to increase as their hands explored. He put one hand between her legs and the other on her breast as he put the nipple in his mouth. Lena's head fell back as his mouth totally enveloped her nipple. Christian sat her on his lap, his hardened penis nestled between them. Lena, biting his ear and scratching at his back ground her body against his causing him to moan loudly in response. 

"Make love to me." Lena panted and Christian obeyed. He laid her on the floor and began kissing her entire body. She closed her eyes and shivered when he touched her inner thigh. Christian nestled himself between her legs and entered her slowly. After a few seconds, Lena looked into his eyes.

"I've changed my mind, FUCK ME!" Lena pushed him off her and mounted him. His grunts and groans signaled a nearing climax, but he held on. Lena could be a kitten when having sex but then she could be a tiger…she was a tiger right now. Lena started grinding faster and then she would stop, which told Christian she was about to come. As soon as the orgasm ripped through her body, he couldn't hold out any longer. Her walls gripped his cock and pretty much strangled it.

"Uh…ugn….uuhhhh!" Christian came soon after and without missing a beat he pushed Lena on her back and held her legs in his arms picking her lower body off the ground as he was on his knees.

"Come again." He said pushing into her. Lena moved her hips in circles pausing shortly, as he would hit her spot. With each push, she would push into him sending him deep. Soon, the lovemaking ended as Lena arched her back and came finally relaxing onto the floor.

Hours passed as the two of them lived what seemed to be a semi-normal life. Christian walked into the bedroom and used the phone. Lena was in the kitchen cooking chicken enchiladas. When Christian returned she asked.

"Did they believe you were sick?" she asked getting the cheese out of the fridge. 

"No, my boss kind of heard us the other day, he just told me to show up tomorrow and be ready to work." He laughed in reply. Lena turned bright red. 

"So, he only heard the good parts right?" she asked becoming concerned and putting the bag of cheese back on the counter.

"Yeah, he sounded supportive. He said you sounded hot." Christian picked a slice of tomato from the cutting board. Christian sat in the kitchen and watched her as she cooked dinner for them. When she placed the enchiladas into the oven, she closed the door and turned around to find Christian standing behind her. She did not say anything to him, she could tell what he wanted. He began walking towards her, forcing her to walk backwards and into the wall. When she stopped at the wall, she never stopped looking into his eyes. He began to breathe heavier and slowly began touching the baggy shirt of his that she was wearing. Every now and then, she would close her eyes and suck in her breath. Christian's hands found her erect nipples and he playfully slid his hand over them, never making contact for more than a second. Lena sighed deeply and he grabbed the bottom of the shirt and pulled her up. Bracing her body against the wall with his he reached down, and released his cock and pushed up and into her. Lena gasped at the sudden entry and let her legs dangle over his arms. He had her in the perfect position she couldn't do anything but bend to his will. He pushed further and further into her and all Lena could do was open her mouth expecting sound to come out, none never did. With each thrust, he grunted and groaned until he exploded inside of her. They rested for a moment and then he let her down. She was tiny compared to him and her head fell into his chest. He wondered if he had hurt her in anyway but she said suddenly.

"That was brilliant." Lena wiped the hair away from her face and walked into the bathroom to wash up. Christian stood at the bathroom door and watched her.

After dinner, Lena and Christian decided to sleep and in the morning, they would do something about Antony. As they got ready to go to bed, Lena became uncomfortable about getting in the bed.

"What's wrong baby?" he asked climbing in.

"It's not safe to sleep in the bed." Lena replied pulling the sheets and pillows off and placing them on the floor. 

"Okay, we can sleep on the floor." Christian replied helping her make their bed. Lena, now wearing another shirt was beside him and fell asleep in his arms. 

"You bitch!" Antony yelled running in with henchmen in tow. Christian and Lena were still lying on the floor. She had pulled the covers up to cover her beasts. 

"Antony!" Christian yelled as Antony ran over, and grabbed Lena by the hair and pulled her towards the door.

"Kill him." Antony said as his groupies unloaded on Christian. Lena didn't watch and Antony pulled her to her feet and led her into the kitchen.

"Do you want me to fucking kill you?" he asked putting his gun back in his pants.

"What?" she replied stepping back into the fridge. Antony pulled a knife from a drawer and walked over to her.

"I specifically asked you to handle this. You didn't…you disappoint me so." He replied getting very close to her. Lena stood there starting to cry as she looked over his shoulder and saw the other men dragging Christian's bloody body out of the room.

"Christian." She sobbed almost in a whisper. When Antony saw her reaction, he thrust the knife forward and into the soft flesh of her stomach.

"AAH!" Lena screamed and sat up. She frantically felt her stomach and found it still to be solid. Christian, awake looked at her and knew it was another dream. The two of them sat silently and Lena suddenly got up.

"What are you doing?" Christian asked as she turned on the bathroom light blinding him shortly.

"I have to make it look like we struggled." Lena knocked over glass vases and turned over tables.

"Why?" Christian asked lying on the floor, those rigorous sex sessions left him tired.

"So Antony believes me." Lena ran naked into the kitchen and grabbed a knife. When she returned Christian was filling the tub with hot water. He saw Lena with the knife and backed up. 

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Cut me." She replied handing him the knife.

"No." he replied giving it back."

"Look, if he sees I'm injured and there's blood everywhere, then he will believe me when I tell him that I killed you."

"I won't." Christian folded his arms.

"Fine." Lena holding the knife in her left hand cut a deep gash into her right arm.

"What the fuck!" he yelled grabbing a towel and putting it on her arm.

"I'm sorry." Lena said stabbing Christian in the side with the knife. It didn't go deep, but he started to bleed.

"Lena!" he yelled. Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Lena put on one of Christian's shirts and told him to be quiet. He did, trying to ignore the blood poring from his side and getting everywhere. Lena looked into the peephole and Antony was on the other side with a gun in his hand. She returned to Christian and told him Antony was outside the door. Christian started yelling and breaking stuff.

"Hey! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? PUT THAT KNIFE DOWN! HELP!"

"Bye lover." Lena put in flailing the knife around splattering blood on the walls. When he heard the yelling he smiled and put the gun away. Lena returned to Christian kissed him passionately on the lips and pushed him into the tub.

"Play dead." She said rubbing her blood on her face and letting it drip down her legs. Before Lena opened the door, she picked up the knife.

"Hello." Antony said as she opened it. He saw blood and tears all over her face. Then he saw the gash on her arm.

"Is he dead?" he asked looking in and seeing a bloody scene.

"Yes." Lena dropped the knife at his feet. She was waiting for him to say something when she felt dizzy and fell to her knees. Antony grabbed her and tried to pick her up when he noticed her paled ebony complexion.

"I have to get you to a hospital." Antony scooped her up in his arms and carried her to his car. Before he left he walked back into the loft and into the bathroom looking for the body. There he was floating in the blood-filled tub. Antony smiled and left.


While in the hospital Antony stayed by her side telling every nurse and doctor who asked, that Lena was his fiancée. He sat down by her bed and watched her. She was ignoring him and flipping through the television channels.

"Are you going to ignore your future husband forever?" he kissed her hand and she jerked away.

"You are not my fiancée. I hate you." Lena said simply as Antony stood up, grabbed her neck with both hands, and began choking her. The alarms and bells went off as her heart beat rose and a nurse ran in.

"Oh my, what's going on?" she said as Antony let her go and started rubbing her hair.

"Thank goodness you came, my baby here was having trouble breathing." Then a cop walked in.

"Is that true ma'am?" he asked her.

"Um, yes, I was…" Lena started coughing. "I must've swallowed my water wrong, he was helping me." Lena smiled at them through teary eyes. When the cop and the nurse left Lena started crying silently.

"Baby, I'm sorry, you know how I get sometimes. I'm sorry." He touched her tear drenched cheek and she nodded slightly. Lena turned away from him and curled up in her bed sobbing. Antony, feeling bad left her alone and went home for the night. Lena didn't move until she heard another man walk in her room. She turned over, saw Christian walk in, and shut the door.

"Christian, is that really you?" she asked.

"Yes, it is. How are you?" he asked caressing her cheek. She knew this wasn't a dream and she tried to sit up to give him a hug.

"Take it easy." He replied lying her back down.

"How's your side?" she asked.

"It will heal…I sent a cop friend of mine in here to talk to you, I guess Antony was here."

"Yeah, he tried to kill me." She replied wiping a tear from her face.

"What?"

"Don't worry Christian, I'm okay as long as I'm on these monitors." She smiled and touched his arm.

"I hate to tell you this, but, in order for us to get him, you have to go back in."

"I can't." Lena said, accent apparent. "He'll kill me, you do understand this don't you!" Lena started hyperventilating.

"Baby calm down." He sat down.

"I can't…don't make me…" she started crying. Christian shook his head and said.

"We'll have a wire on you…"

"He'll find it." Lena interrupted him in a panic.

"Well, we'll put one in your purse or something."

"You do realize that if I go back we will have sex." Lena said as Christian put his head down and nodded.

"I won't want to, but Christian, he would kill me if I said no." Lena put her hand on the back of his head as he looked up at her.

"I understand." He replied as he suddenly heard Antony's voice down the hall. Christian, not having a way out ducked behind the bed as he walked in.

"Baby, I've talked to the doctor and I can take you out of here. Let's get you dressed." He smiled handing her a bag of clothes. Lena, using all the strength she had at the time, opened the bag and sifted through the clothes. When she found what she was going to wear, she looked up at Antony.

"Do you mind? It's only polite to let a lady dress in private." She said as he smiled and walked out of the room. Christian came out from behind the bed and helped Lena get out of bed.

"Baby, I love you so much…" he started to say something else but she stopped him.

"I know, I love you too." She replied trying to get off her hospital gown.

"Marry me." He asked looking into her eyes.

"No." she replied.

"What?" he asked crushed.

"When you same me from Antony, ask me then." She hopped off the bed. Christian shook his head and helped her get dressed quickly. He touched her ebony skin and slid his finger from her neck, down her shoulder and onto her belly. Lena held her breath trying to concentrate on his hands touching her. He pulled her into him, slowly clasping on her bra. He slid a pair of panties up her legs and kissed her bellybutton when he finished. When she was finished, she walked out of the room and met Antony's kiss in the hallway. Christian stayed in the room until they left, then he realized, they didn't get a tap on her. He looked around and saw that she had purposely left her purse there. 

Two days later Lena was furiously searching the estate. She ended up in the office where Antony was.

"Baby, what are you doing?" he asked putting down a stack of papers and photos. Lena bent over and her leather skirt gave him a glimpse of her perk ass. He became rock hard in his pants.

"I think I left my purse at the hospital, baby, can I take the Benz and go get it." She gave him that seductive look and he stood up from the desk. 

"Come here." He replied as she slowly walked over to him. She walked behind the desk and he pushed her over on it. He began rubbing the leather skirt she was wearing and ran his hands up her thighs. Lena moaned in pleasure as he touched her. When he got to her pussy, he found she wasn't wearing any panties. He had expected at least a thong, but no panties! He unzipped his pants letting out his rock hard penis. Lena looked at it and licked her lips.

"Give it to me now…hard and fast." Lena purred as she looked up at him. His rigid breathing only became louder when he entered her.

"Shit, you're so hot…I want you so bad!" he grunted pushing into her. Lena spread her legs apart farther, grabbed his hands, and placed them on her hips. As he held onto them, she pushed, back sending him into her very core. Lena watched him over her shoulder pretty much trying to ensure he wouldn't strangle her.

"Oh, you're going to make me cum!" Lena squirmed as an orgasm ripped through her body. Not soon after she started, Antony joined her. His ass was clenching and his knees locking as he unloaded into her. It seemed like he shot gallons of cum into her. He pulled out and handed her the keys, plus a few hundred to go shopping.

"Thank you baby." She replied kissing him on the lips. She felt in between her legs and pushed her fingers into her. She pulled her fingers out and shoved them into Antony's mouth making him lick them dry. When he finished Lena smiled and left the house. Shortly after she left the room, Antony got on the phone.

"Follow her." He said hanging up and leaning back in his chair.

Lena had driven to the hospital and found her purse, inside she saw the bug and she closed her purse with a smile on her face. When she got back into the car, she took a trip to Rodeo. Valet parking was excellent and she took the time to walk down the street and enter a few shops. She knew that Antony had someone follow her, so, to flex her seductive muscles she tried on the skimpiest outfits and anything with an excessive amount of cleavage. She looked up and saw a man in a hat enter the store, he walked back and into the dressing room. Lena knew it was Christian. She grabbed a few outfits and walked over to the dressing room. After going in, she walked around the corner and into the first one, she saw with male feet. 

"Hey baby." She said dropping the clothes. 

"Hey." Christian replied taking off the hat and hugging her tightly. Lena started kissing him and pulling at his clothes.

"We can't do this here." He said, "You're being followed."

"I know." Lena replied unzipping his pants and pulling up her skirt.

"Lena…mmmmm." Christian groaned as Lena put his cock in her mouth sending it into the perfect erection. He stifled his groaning long enough to pull her onto her feet and face her towards the wall.

"You're going to be the death of me." He replied entering her from behind.

"Oh don't stop!" Lena exclaimed pressing her breasts against the wall. Christian felt her ass and went all the way down her legs. On the way up, he rammed into her making her yelp in surprise. His thrusting started to increase until he was pushing so hard and fast he thought he was going to come first, but Lena beat him to it. He grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her back as he pushed faster and harder until he came. They didn't have time to catch their breath when a store worker walked in.




Assassin Ch. 03



Violet stood outside the Carver Hotel in the dark. Shielding her eyes from the lamp overhead, she looked up at the monolithic structure. It was apparently quite old and quite ornate. Inside, her would-be assassin, Elene, awaited her. She hoped she wasn't walking into a trap. She could turn around right now and walk away. Strangely, she sensed that she needed to trust her. With resolve, she pushed through the revolving door and entered the lobby.

Several people in the lobby turned their heads to look at her. She was dressed in tight, light leather. They probably thought she was a hooker, or worse. She didn't care. Loose fabric threw her off balance, and she wanted to be ready for anything.

She walked up to the counter and placed her bag on top. A severe looking attendant looked at her with disdain and, with barely concealed disgust, asked "Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for a friend. Room 514. Has she checked in yet?" she asked, ignoring him.

The man stared at her steadily for a moment, then turned and tapped on the terminal to his side. After a moment, he turned around. "Yes, she checked in half an hour ago. Would you like me to call ahead?" he asked, flatly.

"No, thank you. She's expecting me." She didn't want to tip her off if it was, indeed, a trap. A girl needs to be cautious.

With that, Violet turned and crossed the lobby, stopping in front of the bank of elevators. She jabbed one of the call buttons and watched the indicators above the elevators. A ding to her left indicated an elevator had arrived. She walked into the elevator, garnering looks from everyone. "Fifth floor, please," she said, as she entered.

On the fifth floor, she exited the elevator alone. A sign directly ahead of her indicated that rooms 501-510 were to the left, while rooms 511-520 were to the right. She turned right and walked down the hall. Her gaze scanned the doors on either side, until at last she came to room 514 at the bend of the hall.

She knocked on the door and waited. After several seconds there was no response. She knocked again. Still nothing. Violet felt something wasn't right here. She gingerly pushed against the door with her shoulder, as she slowly twisted the knob with her hand. She was ready to spring out of the way at the first sign of danger.

As the door opened, the sight that met her took a moment to register. Just inside the door sat two oversized recliners facing a large, flat panel television. One recliner was empty. In the other lay a slender woman, in a nightgown, tied to the chair, in the reclining position. She appeared to be completely immobilized. She had a large white bag over her head, fastened with what appeared to be a bungie cord. The bag rustled as the woman's chest rose and fell in deep breaths.

"Elene?" Violet asked out loud, still not grasping the situation.

"Violet?" the woman answered, out of breath.

Violet went on alert. She crossed the room quickly. "I'll get you out of there," she said, kneeling beside the recliner.

A gruff voice behind her said, "I don't think so."

Violet spun around, ready to spring into action. She found herself staring down the barrel of a handgun instead. She followed the gleaming gun up and back toward its owner. She didn't recognize the man, but he had gotten the drop on her, so that made him dangerous.

"Don't be stupid," Violet said, unflinching.

"Don't be stupid? Honey, I've got you right where I want you. And you are a hard one to find. Who's stupid?" the man answered, laughing.

"Then let her go, if it's me you want," Violet said defiantly. 

"Give yourself up and I'll consider it," the man replied, waving his gun toward the empty recliner. She couldn't rush the man. She'd be shot, then Elene would die. She was too far away from the doorway leading into the next room. She saw her only possible option, and dove behind the second recliner.

Her attacker was on her in an instant, pushing her to the ground. Pressing the gun against her cheek. "And I'm the one that's stupid? I expected a lot more out of you. Carl!" he shouted over his shoulder.

A large man, with a shaved head, entered the room, wielding another gun. "You ready, Joe?"

"Yeah, tie her up."

"No!" Violet shrieked, as the two men lifted her from the ground. The gun was placed against her temple as Joe whispered in her ear.

"You give yourself up willingly and we'll let her go," he said. Violet only stared back at him, but after a moment quit resisting. If she could free Elene, then she'd only have to worry about freeing herself.

"Now, that's a good girl," Joe said. The two men pushed her into the second recliner with enough force to cause the footrest to pop outwards and the back of the armchair to fold back. Joe trained his gun on her as Carl moved to restrain her. She had no choice. She looked over at Elene. She was breathing heavily and didn't have a lot of time. It was the only way.

With a knife, Carl quickly bore holes through the thin material at the back of the recliner and weaved a piece of cord through them. He worked his way down to the wooden handles. He forced Violet's arm into the tangle of cord and pulled it tight. Despite its appearance, it held her like steel, all the way from the pit of her arm, to her wrist. He repeated the same procedure with her other arm. It was only a couple of minutes work, but to Violet it was taking forever.

Carl then tied each leg, at the knee and ankle, to the struts supporting the footrest. Violet struggled once she was bound, but couldn't move at all. Carl left the room, but returned a moment later carrying a clear plastic bag. He inflated it and placed it over her head, fastening it around her neck with a thin bungie cord. 

"I'm going to do you like you do all your targets," Joe said, waving the gun, indicating the plastic bag.

She was completely in their hands. For the first time in her entire career, fear was taking hold of her. Even when she was with Elene, she didn't feel real fear. In a quivering voice she said, "Okay, you've got me. Now, let her go."

Joe stepped over and leaned down close to her face. "Now, now. Why would I do that? I've got two high paying targets right here, in my grasp."

"You son of a bitch. You promised!" Violet said angrily, tugging at her restraints.

Joe mimed confusion, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't remember promising. Carl, you remember me promising?"

"Nah, Joe, I don't think ya did."

"I didn't promise nothing. And since you care about her so much..." Joe pushed the footrest with the ball of his foot, folding it down and bringing the back into the upright position. He then pushed the bottom edge of the recliner, turning it to face Elene.

"You son of a bitch, " she said, tears running down her face. She could see Elene breathing hard and fast. She wasn't doing well. She didn't know how much time she had, but if she was going to save them both, she'd have to come up with something fast. 

The man put his gun away. "Carl, I think we're done here." Joe opened the door, stepped out into the hall, and waited for Carl. Violet's mind was racing. If they left, she'd have no chance. She'd have to think of something fast, and she didn't like what she was coming up with.

"Before you go," Violet blurted out. "Can you do me one last favor?"

"Me do you a favor?" Carl asked, incredulously.

"Um, could you unzip my top, so I can breathe easier?" she asked. God, she felt dirty, but it was the only thing she could think of. "It's so tight."

The man eyed her for moment, apparently taking in her slight figure and generous breasts, wrapped in the tight-fitting catsuit. "Sure, why not," he replied.

He leaned down, grasping the zipper just under her chin. He slowly unzipped the front of the catsuit, her breasts pulling the material to the sides as he did so. He stood there for a moment, looking down at her, then he reached underneath the material and massaged one of her breasts. She could feel the warmth of his fingers. After a moment, his other hand joined in, gently kneading the other.

"Hey, Carl, you coming, or what?" she heard Joe call from the doorway. Carl instantly straightened, looking flustered. Damn, it was working.

"What? Oh. Yeah, uh, you go on ahead. I'm going to make sure we're good here," Carl replied, stumbling over his words.

Joe eyed him for a moment. "Fine, I'll meet up with you later," Joe replied, pulling the door closed, until only his face could be seen. "Don't do anything stupid." And with that, he closed the door. Violet breathed a sigh of relief.

Carl didn't waste any time. He immediately went to work, massaging her breasts again. "Oh, that feels so good," Violet said, feigning pleasure.

"Really?" Carl said, stopping what he was doing.

"Oh, yes. Don't stop," she said.

Carl took this as a positive sign and freed one of her breasts from the confines of the suit. He immediately began suckling her nipple. She had never liked it, which made her seduction routine that much more difficult. Still, she let out a fake moan, which egged the man on even more. 

She could feel his free hand slowly working its way underneath the tight leather towards her groin. There was nothing she could do to stop him, and if this plan was to work, it wouldn't be the only part of his body making its way down there. She opened her eyes and performed a visual check on Elene. She was still breathing hard and fast. She hoped she could hang on.

Suddenly, Violet stiffened as a bolt of pleasure shot through her. Carl had apparently found his mark. She let out a gasp and rocked her hips. She couldn't believe how good it felt. She shouldn't be enjoying this... she had to concentrate. But the pleasure continued as Carl sank two fingers into her. She struggled to remain in control. Her body was betraying her at the worst time. She had to take control.

"Fuck me, Carl." She looked up into his eyes as he abruptly stopped and stood up, as if she'd said, "I'm a sofa, Carl."

"What?" Carl said.

"Give me one last fuck," Violet said, trying to make herself sound alluring.

"I don't know if I should," Carl said, rubbing his chin and looked absently toward the door. She was losing him.

"Unzip your pants, bring your cock over here, and let me help you decide," she said. God, if this worked...

Carl stood there for a moment, apparently contemplating her offer. Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, he made his decision. He slowly unzipped his pants, then slowly took them off as well, tossing them to one side. Violet took a good look at him. He was a pretty well built guy, actually.

He made his way over to the side of the recliner. "Now what?" he asked.

Violet responded by reaching out with her right hand. Her arms were bound so tight that she could only just reach the tip of his penis. Carl got the gist of what she was trying to do and moved forward. She grasped him firmly and he immediately began to harden. She could hear him let out a pent up breath. 

"It'd be easier if you'd loosen these a bit..." Violet said, looking into his eyes.

Carl seemed to think about it from a moment, then frowned. "No, I better not." She had hoped he would have loosened her restraints, but no. She'd have to fall back on plan B, but that required time. Time she didn't know if Elene, or herself, had.

She began stroking his manhood. Unfortunately, she couldn't move her hand too much, but that didn't seem to bother Carl in the least. He continued to harden. She'd have to be careful. She didn't want him to come.

After a few minutes work he was rock hard and he had begun lightly rocking his hips. It was time to launch phase 2 of plan B. And not a moment too soon. Her own breathing had deepened and she could see Elene breathing incredibly deep and fast.

"Okay, Carl. Have you considered my proposal?" she said, still stroking his cock.

"Wha?" was the only thing Carl could say.

She let go of him. "Get over here and fuck me."

Carl obeyed and walked around to the front of recliner. He looked down. She guessed he was processing the fact that her legs were tied together, making entry impossible. At least she hoped so. He didn't seem incredibly bright.

After a few seconds Carl picked up his switchblade, then turned to her. He quickly cut the ropes binding her legs to the chair. She could feel her circulation returning quickly. Carl then took the knife and slipped it between the fabric and her bare skin. She could feel the cold blade slide along her abdomen. In a quick motion he sliced through the fabric and exposed her sex.

Violet let out a gasp as Carl then pushed the back of the chair down, putting her in the reclining position. Carl quickly climbed on top of her. She could only make out the top of the Elene's bag over his shoulder. She was worried she wouldn't be able to see her at all.

Carl grasped his penis in his hand, giving it a few strokes. He then slowly guided it into her. Violet stiffened as he did so. She did not want this man inside her, let alone to come inside her. But if she or Elene had any chance at all, she would have to make him do just that.

He slowly pumped her, propping himself up with his arms. It actually felt quite good. She had to concentrate to stay focused. She could feel him sliding deeply inside of her. The deeper the better, she thought to herself. Anything to make him come quickly.

But he didn't come quickly. She wasn't sure how much time had passed, but it had to be 10 minutes or so. Her breaths were coming faster now and deep. Her heart was beating hard in her chest. Her fingers had started to tingle. Of what she could see of Elene, her bag was rustling very fast now, as if she were panting. Elene didn't have much time left. Violet realized that she didn't either. Soon she would be too weak to execute her plan.

Five more minutes passed. She could feel a tickle growing at the small of her back. She had to fight to remain in control. She did not expect this to feel this good. Carl was apparently taking his time. She needed to speed things along before it was too late.

Violent locked her legs around Carl's backside, driving him deeper inside of her. He let out a grunt as she did so. She hoped that the deeper penetration would make him come sooner. Unfortunately, it also had heightened her own pleasure. She tilted her head back and let out a breathless moan. The tickle that had started at the small of her back had been slowly making it's way around her hips. She couldn't come. 

As the minutes ticked by her breathing got deeper and faster. Her heart was now beating very hard and fast. Both her hands and feet had gone numb, and it would only get worse. This was using up far too much of her air. If he didn't come soon, she'd be done for.

At long last, Carl began pushing into her harder and harder, grunting with each thrust. She hoped this was it, she was so close herself. It took all her concentration not to give into the pleasure. Finally, she could feel him tense and thrust into her hard and deep. After a few moments, she could feel his orgasm, followed by a warmth spreading inside her. Carl collapsed on top of her, breathing heavily.

Fortunately, she did not come, but it had been close. If it had gone on even a minute longer... Now, she just needed to put the last part of her plan into motion. She hoped he fall for it. She'd have to hurry, her air was running out.

"Carl, I want you to make me come," she said, breathlessly. She hoped this would work.

"You didn't?" Carl said, raising back up. He got to his feet.

"No, Carl, and I so very badly want to."

"Oh, well, um." Carl didn't seem to know what to do.

After a moment, Carl knelt down, pushing the footrest down, bringing the chair back into the upright position. He then slipped two fingers into Violet's swollen sex. Violet stiffened again as he did so. She was still extremely aroused and he hadn't done what she'd hoped he'd do. Her plan was falling apart. Her breaths were coming even faster now and she couldn't feel her arms and legs. She hoped they would still obey her commands.

After only a minute, she was on the edge of orgasm. "Carl, carl," she said, in a gasp, trying to remain composed. "Lick me. I like to be licked."

"Oh yeah?" he said.

With a smile on his face, he removed his fingers and stuck his tongue in between her pussy lips. At that exact moment, Violet brought both her legs together with all the strength she could muster. Carl immediately reacted, flailing his arms, trying to pry her legs apart. The chair upended and flipped over onto it's back. Carl was kicking the base of the chair in an effort to free himself. Violet quickly twisted her hips and an audible crunch could be heard as she snapped Carl's neck.

She released the dead man and collapsed, panting. It had taken a lot of her strength and she didn't know if she could do what needed to be done next. She brought her legs up toward her body, as if she were an contortionist trying to put her legs behind her head. She could only bring them up part way before she relaxed again, breathing hard. She tried again, but just couldn't do it.

Then she looked up at Elene. Her bag was barely inflating and deflating. This gave Violet the strength she needed. She rolled her hips backwards, grasped her own bag between her calves and then pulled it off of her head. She sat there, breathing hard for a moment. Now she needed to free Elene.

She crossed her right leg over her knee and placed the heel of her stiletto, into the knot binding her left hand. With a few tugs, she was able to free herself. She then untied her right hand. She was instantly up and at Elene's side. She had the bag off her head in just a moment more.

Violet watched as Elene's breathing deepened once again and color came back into her face. She busied herself untying Elene's bindings. She had just untied her legs when she heard her say, "Violet?"

"Yes, Elene, I'm here," Violet said, placing her hand on Elene's cheek.

"What happened?" she asked.

Violet quickly untied one of Elene's arms. "I was... I was able to get loose."

Elene looked over at the naked, dead body on the floor. "I see."

Just as Violet unbound Elene's other arm, she heard the door open behind her. "Carl, what the fuck are you..." she heard Joe say.

In a flash she was across the room. She knocked the gun from his hand and it went skidding across the floor. She dodged as he countered with a right hook and kicked him in the jaw with the ball of her foot. His eyes rolled back in his head as he slowly sank to the floor.

Violet turned and looked over her shoulder. Elene was now sitting up, rubbing her ankles. "Elene, pack your things. I've got an idea."

In less than five minutes Elene emerged from the bedroom, dressed in a dark suit. She tossed a dark red catsuit to Violet. "I hope this fits."

"I think it should," Violet replied with a smile. "But we're not leaving yet."

"Oh?" For the first time, Elene noticed the Violet was doing something with the recliner.

Violet spun it around, revealing Joe strapped down, tied exactly as he had them tied earlier. A gag was inserted into his mouth, stifling his angry shouts. Violet reached beside her and retrieved the clear plastic bag from the other recliner. She quickly shook it, inflating it, and brought it down over his head. She fastened it in place with one of the bungie cords.

Joe let out a muffled cry as the reality of his situation sank in.

"Good riddance, let us be rid of him," Elene said, spitting at him. Joe just snarled at her and continued with his muffled shouts.

"Not quite yet."

"Oh? You have something else in mind?" Elene said, clearly surprised.

"Oh, yes." She turned and looked at Joe with a smile. His eyes widened in fear.



Assassin Ch. 03



Chapter 3

Somewhere in Mexico

Icy cold water was splashed on her face. She lifted up her head. The two men in front of her wore black jeans and combat boots. One of them wore a sleeveless camouflaged shirt. The other was shirtless. Both of them were of the same height as her, although it was difficult to tell from her awkward and uncomfortable position.

These two men were not the same as the others. She wondered how many men were involved in her capture and interrogation. She had a good memory, and had memorized the faces of those she had seen, and the voices of those she had heard.

"Wake up, bitch," the shirted man spoke softly and slowly as he slapped her across her bruised breasts. He had a southern accent. She placed him as someone from Alabama or Arkansas. She assumed he was the leader of the two.

They had moved her again when she was out, probably still near the border on the Mexican side. The room appeared to be larger, but otherwise the same. Her arms were handcuffed behind her, her wrists lifted up by a rope running from the ceiling. With a nod from the leader, the shirtless man pulled the rope further up until she was forced to stand on tip toes to ease the pain on her shoulders, her shoulder joints internally rotated unnaturally, her wrists higher than her head. In the sixties and seventies, the Vietcong forces used this technique on their captives. The technical term for this stress position was the strappado.

She glimpsed at the large watch the shirtless man wore. The time was five minutes to six. If she was still in Pacific Time, her trusted partner Fabian would soon realize she had been captured. She only needed to hold out for five more minutes.

The shirtless man moved within an inch of her forehead, his six-pack stomach directly facing her lowered head. She looked down on the floor, avoiding eye contact. She could smell his erection inside his tight jeans. He waited for instructions from the other man.

The familiar ring tone of the leader's cell phone rang. He stepped outside the room. She was now with only with one man. She assessed her chances.

The shirtless man did not carry a gun. His jeans were too tight to hold a gun. In his pocket, there appeared to be some kind of tool. The handcuffs were tight. It was impossible to get out of them without the keys or at least some sharp metal objects. She was half hanging from the ceiling and would not have the leverage to plant a proper kick. Besides, her legs were not free. They were secured to a spreader bar, forcing her ankles to be 3 feet apart.

Although she might be able to head butt the unarmed man, she assessed her chances of successful action at less than ten percent. The leader returned to the room before she could formulate another plan. The time was now five past six. Hopefully, he was wearing an accurate watch.

"We have to move faster," the leader spoke in Spanish to the shirtless man. "Our boss wants us make her talk quickly, and then kill her."

"Do we get to fuck her before killing her?"

"Only if she gave up the password." The men did not realize that their green-eyed, blonde-haired captive was fluent in Spanish.

"Oh, she will." The shirtless man grinned, as he removed a pair of pliers from his left pocket.

The leader moved behind her and twisted his right palm around her hair, forcing her to look up. She felt the cold hard pliers grip the soft flesh around her left nipple.

"Last chance, tell us the password. We are going to eventually hack through the laptop anyway." The shirted man switched back to English.

"I prefer to let your guys have the opportunity to apply their computer hacking skills. Perhaps your army of hackers can crack the code." She remained defiant, hoping to buy a few more minutes.

With a nod from the leader, the shirtless man tightened his grip on her defenseless nipple, twisting and pulling it, the pliers tearing into it. Pain thundered through her naked body. She screamed and lost control of her bladder, the warm fluid trickling down her inner thighs. A small pool of blood oozed out of the center of her left nipple.

He let go of the plier but her body was still twitching.

"Vomit if you need to," the southern voice continued. "Let's see if your right nipple is tougher."

With another nod, the shirtless man touched her right nipple with the pair of pliers. She was no longer strong enough to stand on tip toes. Her shoulders were on the verge of being dislocated. She knew she could not hold out much longer. A sideways glance from her good eye confirmed that it was fifteen minutes pass the hour.

"Okay," she whispered. "I remember my password."

The leader grabbed a handful of hair and jerked her head up. "Lie to me and I'll slice off your already bloodied nipple." He produced a blade and held the flat part against her left nipple. The other man put away his pliers and sat in front of the laptop. He touched the spacebar to reactivate the screen.

"The password is motherfucker88, all small caps."

The leader raised his eyebrows, but spelt out every letter of the word to his associate. The password was correct. A quick phone call to the boss confirmed the correct files were on the hard drive.

"We know you did not act alone. Who is your partner?" The pliers returned to her right nipple. He started to squeeze and she shouted, "Fabian, his name is Fabian."

"What's his address?"

The pliers moved to the soft fold of skin between her legs.

"One twist and you will never feel anything there. Be smart and talk."

There was no more point in resistance. She told him Fabian's address.

When she was cut down, her legs could not support her weight and she collapsed sideways onto the hard cement floor. The leg spreader was removed and her ankles were shackled with leg irons. The shirtless man carried her over his shoulder and moved her to a windowless concrete room, six by four foot. She heard him lock the metal door. Finally alone, she wondered if she had given Fabian enough time to disappear. It was only last night that Fabian had worked so hard to crack the code and transfer the files to her computer.

>>>>>

Last night

Dallas, Texas

Fabian's phone vibrated. The single word "landed" appeared on the screen. Dressed in skinny jeans and a tight black tee, Fabian checked the clock on the phone. Her flight was almost half an hour early, almost unheard of these days.

He pulled the BMW into the unloading zone, scanning the curb to see if there were any officers nearby. Even without luggage, it would take Megan at least fifteen minutes to walk through the huge terminal. He texted back, "Curbside, waiting 4 U."

His phone vibrated again, "Money?"

"Wired. No surprises." As usual, he thought, Megan worried too much. He wished she would trust him to do his job.

His thoughts were interrupted with two firm knocks on the window. He glanced to his left and saw an officer's gloved hand moving in a circular motion. He pressed the button to roll down the window. "Sir, this place is for dropping off departing passengers."

"Oh? Where do I go to pick up my wife? She had just returned from China after a missionary trip." Fabian looked the officer in the eye, practicing the cover story he had often used.

The officer was not moved. "You'll have to park your car in the garage and wait for her inside the luggage claim area in the building."

"But she had already landed and would miss me if I do that. Can I just wait for another minute?"

The officer shook his head. "Move on, sir, before I write you a ticket."

Fabian stepped on the gas and drove half a mile, and then he made an illegal U-turn and headed back to the same terminal. This time, he parked behind the Hertz shuttle bus. He dialed Megan's cell.

"Hey handsome, where the hell are you?"

"Behind the Hertz rental bus. The driver's helping an old lady load her multiple bags. As soon as the bus moves, you'll see me."

"Are you in your usual flamboyant red BMW convertible?"

"Yes, do you not like it?"

"It's too flashy and noticeable for our profession, don't you think?"

The bus moved and she started to fast march to the BMW. Fabian moved the car into the bus zone to meet her halfway. She walked in front of the car to the driver's side.

"Move over so I can drive," she said as she opened the driver's door.

"Don't trust my driving and afraid I'll get us killed?"

She elbowed him and placed one foot inside the car. He realized she was serious. He unbuckled the seat belt and slid out of her way. She would have sat on him if he had not done so.

"See if you can break the password," she tossed the laptop to him when the view of the airport disappeared from the rearview mirror.

"Right now?" Fabian loved Megan to death. But sometimes, her restless energy and impatience were not compatible with his laid-back nature.

"I've been trying to crack it in the plane. Don't make me wait another second."

Fabian touched the power button. He knew better than to pick a fight with a jetlagged woman.

"The battery's low, probably less than five minutes of juice left. I might have a car adapter somewhere." Fabian opened the glove compartment, removing the contents one item at a time.

"Any luck?" She asked when the computer started beeping.

"Looks like I have to do this in my apartment."

"Let's go there." She abruptly took the exit ramp, drove a couple of side streets, and entered another freeway leading to Oak Lawn. She pushed the gas pedal until it was about ten miles over the speed limit.

"Where did you get this laptop?"

"It belongs to the dead guy. Isn't it strange that a man would bring a laptop to a strip club?"

"It must be valuable to him."

"That's why I brought it back. Somebody might find it valuable enough to pay us."

"I see." Fabian loved this part of Megan, always thinking of how to maximize whatever situation she found herself in. As her lucky partner, he had enjoyed the fruits of her work, always splitting the proceeds fifty-fifty. They might just be fortunate enough to make another bundle from the secrets embedded in the laptop of a money launderer. 

Despite working closely with Fabian in the last five years, Megan had never been to his apartment in Oak Lawn. The tony suburb, Dallas residents called it the "gayborhood", was famous for its bars and restaurants along Cedar Springs Road.

Like most gay man, Fabian decorated his one-bedroom in an artsy way. Megan was afraid she would break something as she stepped carefully around the 550 square foot condo.

"This is fancy," she said as she stepped out to the balcony facing the community pool.

"Do you want something to drink?" Fabian plugged the power adapter to the socket under his bed.

"Got beer?"

"Help yourself. I have Bud Lite in the fridge."

Fabian fished out a USB drive from the nightstand drawer. When he inserted it into the laptop, colorful icon images appeared on the screen. He double-clicked the icon of a pirate's skull.

"How long would you need to break in?" She joined him with two beers in the bedroom.

"It's hard to say. If the electronic lock is a recent version, maybe thirty to forty-five minutes, one hour tops." On the screen, red was slowly turning to green on the time bar. "There's nothing we can do now except wait."

"Do you mind if I take a shower?" She was already out of her dress. "I can still smell him in my hair."

"Feel free to borrow my clothes," Fabian said with his eyes still glued to the screen.

Fabian was about the same size and height as her. His wardrobe was extensive, exceeding hers in both quality and quantity. He had a section containing women's club wear. Megan skipped the stripper club wear, opting for a denim miniskirt and a sleeveless cropped top.

"Holy cow!" She heard his high-pitched yell while she washed away the shampoo from her eyes. 

She stepped out of the shower wrapped in a towel. "What do you have?"

"I cracked the initial password and got in. But when I tried to open the first folder, the system froze up and shut down. I need a stronger key to overcome the second password."

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" She said that just to get a reaction from him. Fabian was the best computer hacker she had ever met.

Fabian ignored the question. "I am going to copy the entire hard disk when the system reboots." He unplugged the power cord, inverted the laptop, and removed the battery from the base. Then he repeated the cycle in reverse, inserting the battery, restoring power and pressing the power button. Using the same USB drive, it took exactly the same amount of time to break the initial password.

"Pass me the device inside the second drawer of my nightstand," he said without looking away from the screen." She handed him the Passport, a portable 500 gigabyte hard disk the size of a paperback novel.

"How long is this going to take?"

"Probably all night until sunrise."

"Let's go out to celebrate. No point waiting here."

"Do you mind going to a gay club?" he asked.

"Those are the most fun. Where do you want to go?"

"Let's go to JR downtown," Fabian removed his shirt and walked to the bathroom. "I'm going to need to look my best."

>>>>>

Her thoughts of Fabian grew cloudy as she slowly lost consciousness.

To be continued in Assassin Ch. 4



Assassin Ch. 03



"Ma'am are you alright, do you need another size?" she asked.

"No, this size is perfect!" Lena looked down at Christian's penis and gave him a kiss. She exited the room before him and left the store. 

When Lena returned to the estate Antony was waiting in the living room. The room was dark and she walked in not knowing who was there. When Antony flicked on the lights, Lena jumped and dropped her bags.

"You were gone a long time." He said picking up his scotch and water. 

"I know darling, but I bought you something." She smiled coyly. 

"What?" he replied as she picked up a satin red number from a Vicki's bag.

"Wow." He said as she held it up to her body.

"They ran out of the matching panties, so when I wear it, I won't wear any panties." 

"Nice, look I have another job for you." He said handing her a stack of papers and photos.

"Who is it?" she asked.

"Vincent Martinelli…son of a mob boss."

"You want me do make it look like a suicide?"

"No, just kill him." He replied as Lena put her purse on the counter. The police were listening to the entire thing and suddenly her cell phone rang. Lena looked at Antony to make sure he wasn't going to say anything else and she picked it up.

"Babs, how are you darling?" she said walking into the other room. Antony got up and followed her.

"Yes, I had left my purse in the hospital…"

"We have to meet." Christian said in reply.

"Babs, sweetie, I had to go shopping."

"Reese Hotel, room 258, noon."

"Sure I will meet you tomorrow at noon sharp, yes…we will go for tea then."

"I love you."

"Ditto, see you tomorrow, tell the family I said hello." Lena hung up the phone and Antony asked.

"Who was that?"

"Babs, we were going to meet to tea and it slipped my mind, I swear, sometimes I think I have amnesia." She smiled and gave him a long French kiss. She walked out of the room and grabbed her bags.

"Are you coming to bed?" she asked.

"Yes, shortly."

The next day Lena arrived at the hotel. When she walked into the room, Vincent Martinelli was sitting on the bed. Lena jumped for a second and turned around to see Christian.

"What's going on?" she asked pointing to him.

"Lena, we have to talk to you about something."

"What?" she asked sitting on the other bed.

"We're thinking we should take this big scale. Fake your death."

"What!" she was shocked, turned, and looked at Vincent.

"We've already talked to Vincent, he knows that Antony has been trying to kill him…now what we have to do is…" Christian was interrupted by Lena.

"What? I can't fake my own death."

"We can make you a Jane Doe, we just need to make sure that Antony can see your body and that he knows Martinelli is the one that killed you."

Hours later, Antony became worried, Lena hadn't returned from her meeting with Babs. He wondered if she had gone to finish the job. That's when one of his men ran in.

"Jeez, turn on the TV.!" he yelled as Antony walked into the living room and switched it on.

-"The story just seems to be unfolding here tonight at the Martinelli mansion. Reports came in that a woman, seeing youngest son Vincent Martinelli, arrived here tonight intent on killing him. Martinelli's bodyguard shot the assassin four times in the chest and when medics arrived she was dead."- Antony stopped breathing as the room filled with his men. They all looked around in shock, his prize girl was dead. 

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING JUST STANDING THERE!" Antony screamed. "KILL MARTINELLI!" He paused. "Wait, I'll do this myself." Antony grabbed his 9mm out of the desk drawer and left the house. Antony drove up to the mansion about thirty minutes later. All of the cameras had left and he could see Martinelli standing in the kitchen window. Antony was soon inside the house.

"Mama, listen…" Vincent was talking on the phone as Antony walked in holding the gun up. "Mama, let me call you back." He hung up the phone and held up his hands.

"How'd you do it?" Antony asked holding back his tears of anger and sadness.

"What do you mean?" Vincent replied.

"The girl! How did you break her…?"

"My bodyguard shot her." He replied as Antony walked towards him with the gun and suddenly a click came from behind him. Antony turned around and Christian was standing there with a gun in his hands.

"You're dead!" Antony yelled pointing the gun at Christian.

"No, I'm not, and uh…"

"Neither am I." Lena walked out from around the corner pointing a gun at Christian.

"Shit, Lena what are you doing?"

"I told you I didn't want to go through with this." She walked towards Antony as he kissed her wildly and wrapped his arms around her. She smiled and gasped as he put his hands all over her body. He had all of his attention directed towards Lena and he looked up at Christian.

"Two birds with one stone baby." He laughed as Lena turned and started sticking her tongue down his throat.

"This is a day you will never forget." Lena replied turning the gun on Antony and shooting him once in the stomach. He fell to the ground and looked up as Lena started wiping his kisses from her neck.

"I can't believe I let you cum in me ugh." Lena shuddered as cops and paramedics filled the room. Christian walked up behind her and turned her around.

"Ready to go home?" he asked her. 

"Definitely." She replied kissing him and dropping the gun on the table.

"Wait, one more thing." He asked stopping in the doorway. "Antony, you may want to hear this." He said as Antony was being moved onto a stretcher.

"Will you marry me?" he asked.

"Yes." Lena replied as Antony started yelling, all they heard past the breathing mask was muffled obscenities. 

What happened to them? Lena and Christian got married a year later and another year later welcomed their first child, a little girl. Antony, convicted in over three dozen murders and the brainwashing of several women, who became assassins, confessed and rather than getting the death penalty, will be spending the rest of his life in jail.



Assassin Ch. 04



Assassin: Chapter 4
Just Desserts


Both women glared at the man before them. The very man that had wronged them both and tried to kill them. The man who now found himself at the mercy of two very angry, and skilled, assassins. This hit wasn't going to require much skill, but they would enjoy it immensely. They were going to make him pay for what he'd done to them.

He had tried to kill both Violet, and her newfound ally, Elene, by slow suffocation. Violet had cheated death by offering herself to Carl. Carl was Joe's accomplice, and he was now very dead and residing in a very cheap pleather chair in the small kitchen of the hotel suite. It was Joe's turn to suffer, and he was right where they wanted him.

The room in which they stood was in a disarray. One of the deep green recliners was tipped onto it's back, the footrest broken and hanging down at an odd angle. Violet's ruined outfit lie off to one side, just below a faux wood credenza. A bag, bits of rope, and a bungee cord lie in a heap underneath the large, mounted widescreen television, opposite to the kitchen door. Joe was seated in the other recliner, in the center of the room, looking very, very panicked.

It was the same recliner in which Elene had been trapped, just an hour ago, struggling for breath. Violet checked the bindings once more, and with a satisfied smile, pushed the footrest down forcefully with her heel. Joe lurched forward, his head flopping forward. He looked at her with wide eyes and made an inarticulate sound through the gag in his mouth.

Violet turned to Elene, who was placing several items on a small table. "Condoms, lubricant, cigarettes," she said out loud, placing each item onto the marbled top. Elene looked up from her task and saw what must've been an incredulous look on Violet's face. "What?" she said, shrugging. "I was prepared for a very different kind of evening."

Violet smiled and laughed. "We're ready."

Elene lifted the small, round table and brought it over next to the recliner. It teetered on one leg for a moment, before stabilizing. Elene hurriedly placed her hands over the items, sliding precariously close to the edge, before they had a chance to fall off onto the floor.

Violet had busied herself with one of the plastic bags. It was large and clear and she thought it must be the one that had been bound around her own head. It was wet inside, drops of condensation running down the inside as she held it up. Holding the bag closed, she walked with it into the bedroom. There, she lay it out on the bed, until it was flat. She then retrieved a fluffy, white towel from the adjoining bathroom. Lifting the lip of the bag, she gently dried the inside, blotting with the towel. Satisfied she returned to the living room, bag in tow.

She picked up one of the short lengths of bungee cord from the floor and crossed the room toward Joe. He snarled at her as she approached. Once he saw the bag in her hand he began shouting something at her, muffled by a gag. "A ball gag?" she asked, looking over her shoulder Elene.

Elene just shrugged again. "Different kind of evening," she said in her light, Mediterranean accent.

Violet turned her attention back to Joe. She shook the bag once, twice, and then on the third attempt it instantly inflated with a loud plastic pop. She quickly brought the bag down over Joe's head and twisted it shut in the front, under his chin. Joe thrashed his head, trying to free himself, but Violet's grip was too tight. She quickly fastened the bungee around his neck.

The bungee was a bit too small, and cut slightly into his neck. It held the bag so tightly that Violet couldn't remove it even by tugging on it. Joe made a bestial "grrrr" followed by what sounded like "stupid bitches." Violet firmly grasped his chin with one of her gloved hands and smiled.

"If you make us both come, we might let you go." She stood back, letting him go. The bag was swelling and shrinking as he breathed hard through his nose. Normally she would warn her target to breathe slowly, but this time, he could use up all the air he damn well pleased.

She turned to Elene. "You should fuck him first. We're going to get some pleasure out of this bastard for what we did to us. You should be first."

Elene looked at her with luscious eyes. "If that is what you think, my friend," Elene said, placing her hand on Violet's shoulder. Violet picked up the small bottle of lubricant from the table she had placed next to the recliner. 

With her thumb, she flipped open the cap on the bottle. She upended it, gently squeezing it at the same time. A small rivulet of clear lubricant dripped onto the tip of Joe's penis. Joe started and made a grunt as the cool lubricant touched his bare skin. After a few drops she was satisfied. She clicked the cap closed and placed the bottle onto the table.

Joe was already naked. Violet had seen to that. His clothes lay in a heap in the kitchen next to Carl. 

Violet kneeled in front of Joe, between his legs, and picked up his member with her gloved hand and began massaging it. Joe sharply inhaled. She looked up at him. "Enjoy it while you can," she thought.

She continued her ministrations, slowly sliding her hand up and down the length of his penis. It took no time at all for him to begin hardening. As he got harder, she increased the speed of her strokes. She was amazed at how fucked up the situation actually was: Joe, for all intents and purposes, was going to die, yet he was enjoying this all the same. I guess he figures it's his last gasp, so to speak.

After a couple of minutes, Joe began lightly rocking his hips. "I think you've had just about enough," she said in distaste and stopped. She reached over and picked up a sealed condom from the table, it's gold wrapper glinting in the dim light, and a small hand towel. She toweled him off quickly and then she tore open the cellophane wrapper and slowly unrolled the condom down the length of his now fully erect penis. Once finished, she crumpled the wrapper, deposited it on the table and stood.

"Okay, he's ready," she said, snagging a tissue from a box on the floor and wiping her hands. Violet looked up just in time to see Elene, facing Joe, inserting him into her. She watched with fascination as she slowly inched her way forward and down, ever so slowly, until he was fully inside of her. Elene let out a pent up breath. "He actually feels quite good," she said with a smile.

Slowly, Elene began lifting herself off of him. Elene's slow, ginger moments reminded Violet of her own experience with her just hours before. Elene absently let her mouth fall open as she slowly rode him. Violet was starting to feel warm and fuzzy just from watching Elene and involuntarily touched her breast.

Elene turned, mid-ride, and motioned for Violet to join her. Violet quickly went to the kitchen and in a moment returned with one of the kitchen chairs. She sat the chair directly behind Elene and sat down on it. Violet leaned forward and ran her hands across Elene's ample breasts. Elene inhaled sharply as Violet's fingers brushed across her nipples. Violet personally didn't enjoy nipple-play, but apparently Elene did, and her thrusts intensified.

Violet enjoyed watching Elene, immensely. Her slim form, rising and falling, encapsulated by her own arms. She watched Joe breathing, the bag puffing with each breath. It was quite a turn on and she bit her lip. 

Elene turned, reached back, and placed her hand on Violet's chin. She pulled her down and kissed her passionately, her soft lips interlocking with her own. In the course of her work there had been other women she had seduced, but this was different. She had never felt anything like this before tonight. Violet cradled Elene's head in her hands, kissing her again.

Violet kissed her more passionately, her soft lips locking with Elene's. Violet could feel her heart racing and she could feel warmth spreading through her body. Elene's gentle rhythmic movements, as she slowly moved back and forth, only further excited her.

They broke off the kiss, her lips trembling. Elene reached up behind Violet's neck and lead her around until she was standing beside the chair. She then guided her down to her breasts.

Violet looked up at Elene, then tentatively kissed the mound of her breast. It was soft and warm. A smile flickered across Elene's face for a moment and she gasped. Violet steadied Elene's breast gently with one hand and began suckling her nipple. Elene loudly sucked in a breath. Violent involuntarily began massaging her other breast.

After a few moments, Elene let out a moan and began thrusting hard and fast. She was obviously getting ready to come. Violet inserted two fingers just inside her pussy lips and began to slowly massage her. "Oh my god!" she heard Elene exclaim and her thrusts became even more pronounced, almost animalistic.

Elene suddenly tensed and shook with the force of her orgasm, grunting with each contraction. Violet kept rubbing her, prolonging the orgasm as long as possible. At long last Elene collapsed into Violet, breathing heavily, sweat standing out on her brow.

At long last Elene looked up into Violet's eyes. They stayed that way for a few moments, before they kissed each other, this time tenderly and slowly. Violet helped Elene lift herself off of Joe and onto the floor. 

Violet left Elene's side and walked back over to Joe. She bent down and examined the condom. "Well, the son of a bitch didn't come, it looks like," she said with a frown. She looked up at Joe. He was breathing hard and the bag was now inflating hard, each breath accented with a crinkly pop. Joe looked at her with pleading eyes, and tried to say something through the gag, which was unintelligible. "What's that, Joe?" Violet asked, mocking him, holding her hand to her ear. "You want me to fuck you now? Sure, no problem." Joe let out a dissatisfied grunt and squirmed against his restraints.

Violet gave Joe's cock a few tentative strokes to ensure herself that he was still hard and ready for business. He was rock hard and standing at full attention. She aligned herself over the tip of his penis and slowly slide down over him. As she did so, she could feel him rubbing her in all the right places and she let out a gasp and sucked in her lip. Joe was actually quite impressive once he was inside of her. She looked over at Elene, who was lounging on the floor, enjoying a cigarette. She looked so sexy, naked, glistening, with a cigarette smoldering in her hand.

She rode Joe, slowly at first, enjoying the moment. She unconsciously ran her hand across the smooth skin of her breast, trapping her erect nipple between index and third finger. Warmth spread from her breast, engulfing her entire chest. She absently opened her mouth and intensified her strokes. 

Elene appeared in front of her, holding an unlit cigarette. She then moved around behind her. Elene tugged at her elbow, until Violet relaxed and alloweed her to pull her arm behind her: first her left, then her right. Violet had to fight to stay upright as she did so. She then felt something binding her wrists. In surprise she tried to retract her arms, but they were bound tightly behind her back.

Violet stopped. Elene quickly came back around and reassured her. "It is okay, my friend. I am just, as you say, enhancing the experience." Violet relaxed. She had no reason to distrust Elene. Elene held the cigarette out for Violet. Violet grasped it between her lips as she resumed her motions, lifting herself up by her legs.

Elene disappeared for a moment, but returned promptly. She brandished a gold lighter, stamped with detailed artwork. She bent over, flicked the thumbwheel, and a flame sparked to life. She guided it toward the tip of the cigarette hanging forlorn from Violet's lips. Violet grasped the cigarette tighter with her lips as Elene brought the flame to meet with the tip.

Violet inhaled. At first all she could taste was the sweet tang of the tobacco, then tip of the cigarette glowed brightly for a moment and a rush of smoke filled her lungs. She inhaled deeply, relaxing even further. She let her head fall back and blew the smoke out carefully as to not drop the cigarette. She detected a light perfume mixed with the thick smoke. This had to be one of Elene's, she thought.

Violet suddenly felt a warm sensation on her breast. She looked down surprised to find Elene beginning to suckle one of her nipples. Violet let out a moan. She took another deep drag on the cigarette. This was all becoming too much, she thought. The telltale tingle had gripped her quickly and she knew she was going to come soon.

The room was deathly quiet except for the rustling of the bag behind her and the gentle suckling noises Elene was making. Her mind was spinning, it all felt too good. The heady smoke filling her lungs, the warm tingling emanating from her aroused nipple, and the constant deep rubbing of Joe's cock was about to send her over the edge.

Suddenly, she felt a rush of heat as she drove Joe as deep as she could. She came hard, her orgasm deep. She shuddered slightly, her mouth agape, the cigarette barely hanging on her lip. A series of moans escaped her lips coinciding with each one of her throbbing contractions and she jerked slightly with every one.

Once it was over, it took her a moment to recover. Sweat stood out on her brow and she breathed heavily. But now she was invigorated. She looked down at Elene, who was unfastening her wrist bindings and was smiling up at her. Violet stood up, letting Joe slip out of her. She smiled to herself. The son of a bitch still hadn't come. She looked back at him.

He was breathing much faster, the inside of the bag covered in condensation. His head was lolled to one side and his eyes were closed. She reached out and placed her hand on his chest. He was burning hot and his heart was beating quickly. At her touch, he opened his eyes slowly and looked at her. He made another muffled sound.

She turned toward Elene. "We did promise to let him go if he made us both come, didn't we?" she said, rubbing her chin.

"That's right, my friend, I believe we did," Elene replied, smiling. 

"But, did we say how many times we were going to come before we let him go?" she asked quizzically.

"No. No, I don't believe we did."

Joe made a defeatist sound, and said something that sounded like a muffled "please".

"You make me come one more time, Joe, and we'll let you go." Violet said, turning back to Joe. With a heavy breath, he grunted, closed his eyes, and let his head fall backwards.

Violet smiled at Elene and then looked downwards at Joe's member, which was still rock hard. She gave it a tight squeeze and felt it jerk. She was surprised that he was still hard, but doubly surprised that he hadn't come yet. She was going to take advantage of it... one more time.

She decided to turn around and face Joe this time. Watching him breathe was such a turn on, and that's what she wanted right now more than anything. She quickly stamped out her cigarette in the ashtray next to the armchair, exhaling a lungful of smoke, and picked up the bungee that had been so recently binding her wrists. The held it out for Elene.

Elene reached out and took the bungee. Violet positioned herself over Joe, once again, and guided him into her. Elene smiled, stood up, and rebound Violet's wrists behind her back, kissing her softly on the back of the neck as she did so. She slowly began sliding along the length of Joe's erect staff, gasping as she did so.

Elene positioned herself behind Violet, reached around her, and began softly running her hands across her skin. Each time Elene's soft touch would pass her nipples, Violet would gasp and intensify her movements.

Soon she was riding fast and hard and didn't notice that Elene had left her to herself. Once she realized she had gone, she opened her eyes. She didn't see her anywhere. Maybe she'd gone to the bathroom. It didn't matter. Joe felt so good. She watched him breathing hard and fast, the bag inflating and deflating with each breath. Tingles ran down her spine just watching him breathe.

She closed her eyes again and enjoyed the moment. She was so surprised that he hadn't come yet. Two women riding him, one of them twice, coupled with the severe lack of air that he must be experiencing by now, should have set him off. But it hadn't. Not yet. And she was going to enjoy it while it lasted.

She heard Elene's footsteps behind her, along with a crinkling sound. She turned to see Elene carrying the other bag. Elene shook it once, and then smiled. "Do you want to?" she asked. Violet smiled back at her and nodded slowly, biting her lip as a bolt of pleasure shot through her. Elene came up behind Violet and gently shook the bag out in front of her face, smoothing it until it was flat. She then quickly brought it back, just under her eyes and cupping her chin, tying it together behind Violet's head. Violet imagined she resembled a villain in an old western movie, where the bad guy would wear a bandana to mask his identity.

Violet's tried to take a breath, but found it difficult. While the bag didn't cut off her air completely, it made it extremely hard to breathe. After a few breaths, she opened her mouth to get a bigger breath of air, but the thin plastic instantly covered her entire face and cut off her air. She blew it back out after a moment and tried again, but with the same result.

Elene noticed this and reached around, pulling the thin plastic away from her face. This afforded Violet a little more comfort and she could breathe a little easier, but it was still far from normal. This gave her such a thrill that she tingled all over again. She was surprised she didn't come right then and there

Elene once again began running her hands across Violet's soft skin, stopping on occasion to fondle on of her breasts or the other. Violet could feel soft kisses on her back as she did so and it was almost too much. She was beginning to feel the tingle at the base of her spine once more. It had taken longer than she imagined it should have.

Slowly, as she rode Joe with long strokes, the bag slowly began sticking to her face again. Each time she would exhale forcefully to dislodge it, but she would always suck it back across her mouth. Her breaths were becoming so hard that she could feel the plastic being pulled into her mouth. Elene didn't seem to notice. She was busy massaging Violet's breasts, her soft cheek resting on her back.

After a minute, Violet could feel her strength beginning to wane. Her long, strong strokes turned into more of a grind. She was now grinding back and forth along Joe's cock. The tingle had grown and spread around to her hips and butt. Her breaths were coming fast as she tried to breathe. It still felt amazing, but she didn't know how much longer she could keep going. She tried to say something to Elene, but something barely audible came out. Elene seemed oblivious... or perhaps this was her plan all along?

She kept grinding his manhood, sweat beginning to bead up on her forehead. She could see him breathing hard and fast in front of her, both their bags rustling loudly. A bead of sweat rolled down her face and across the plastic sheet. Joe's chest was rising and falling quickly, a blush of red around his neck and chest. She kept going.

After another moment, Violet begun to become dizzy. The room spun lazily around her and spots appeared before her eyes. She closed her eyes. She didn't have her hands to steady her, and her rhythmic thrusts slowed. Eventually, she slumped forward onto Joe, her face turned to his. Elene simply moved forward and continued caressing her. Her mound was on fire and she was so close to coming again. She kept pushing herself down onto him with what strength she had. What was Elene doing?




Assassin Ch. 04



The Previous Night

Dallas, Texas

After Megan left with a copy of the laptop's hard drive on her USB jump drive, Fabian continued to work on the laptop. He unzipped the files, one at a time. The files were so large it took him hours to open up all 4000 of the PDF files.

Fully unzipped and decompressed, each file contained a series of zeroes and ones. Fabian recognized that they were coded representations. Without the decoding key, it would take him days to sort out the information and understand what the numbers represent. Perhaps Megan could give him a better idea tomorrow. The man in Hong Kong that she took the laptop from must have had something to do with its contents.

Fabian's eyes started to water. He stared blankly at the digital clock and realized it was almost 3:00 a.m. His brain was screaming for a break. He would have to try to catch a few winks. As a security measure, Megan would set her alarm at 5:55 a.m. and call him at six sharp. They would usually do this every twelve hours for the first three days after a mission.

It was a hot and humid night. Fabian decided to open the bedroom window to let in fresh air. The bars and clubs below his apartment were starting to wind down. Dallas had an ordinance that allowed drinking establishments to stay open only until 3:30 a.m. He could hear the traffic sounds gradually thinning, as he drifted off to sleep.

In the office building directly opposite Fabian's apartment, one floor higher, the sniper looked through his infra-red binoculars and realized that it was time. The rifle was modified from an AR-15, with a range of more than 1,000 feet. With the target just fifty feet away, the sniper could easily aim at an area the size of a man's eyeball. Tonight's work would be a walk in the park for him.

Exhaling through his teeth, the sniper put down the pair of binoculars. The rifle was already set up on a tripod next to the window. He sat down next to the rifle, closed an eye, and looked through the scope. The faint light from the moon was sufficient for the sniper to see Fabian through the scope without using the infra-red attachment. He preferred it that way. Somehow, looking at a victim through the naked eye enhanced the thrill of the kill.

Fabian slept fitfully, turning and tossing frequently. His nightmares were filled with images of Megan being buried alive and howling at him to rescue her. When Fabian finally turned his torso to face the window, the sniper held his breath and gently squeezed the trigger. The 5.56 caliber round took less than a tenth of a second to slice through the air, entering between Fabian's eyes and exiting at the back of his head. He was instantly brain dead, his heart beating for a minute or two before ceasing.

The circle of blood on the pillow had radiated to half the bed, soaking the front bed posts and reaching the carpet by the time the sniper picked the lock and entered the apartment. Wasting no time, he found the laptop, jerked it away from the power cord, and carried it under his right arm. 

Both laptops, one still with the USB drive attached to its side, had been recovered. Alan Wong was very pleased to hear that when he received a call on his disposable flip phone. He threw the phone as far as he could into the dark waters of the Hong Kong harbor.

>>>>>

Alan Wong hated America. He was not born with the hatred. In fact, for many years, he loved the United States of America. The USA had been good to him.

Born in Penang, Malaysia, Alan grew up learning Bahasa Malay in public schools. On weekends, his parents would take him to private schools in learn Mandarin Chinese. Alan was a good student. He especially enjoyed mathematics, and excelled in it.

By the age of 18, he decided that he wanted to be an engineer when he grew up. His working-class parents could not afford to send him to the local university. But Alan learned from a friend that he could work as a taxi driver in Australia while attending school.

Every summer, Alan worked hard as a taxi driver, driving 16-hour shifts. By the end of summer, he would make enough to pay for his tuition fees. During the school year, he worked on weekends, ferrying passengers from the airport in Sydney from the airport to downtown hotels. In this way, Alan worked his way through school.

Upon graduation, he returned to Penang, getting a job as a junior engineer in Motorola. With his work ethic and native intelligence, he excelled in his job, winning kudos from his managers and peers. After just two years, a Vice President from America took an interest in him. He was promoted to a managerial position in Motorola Hong Kong.

In Hong Kong, Alan made many useful contacts as a procurement engineer. Three years later, even though he was rapidly promoted, he grew tired of earning merely a fixed salary from the conglomerate. Together with another engineer, Alan founded an electronics assembly plant, selling printed circuit boards back to Motorola. The factory was located in Shenzhen, China, just an hour by train from Hong Kong.

With an initial investment of only $50,000, Alan Wong and his partner grew the company until it was shipping hundreds of thousands of circuit boards to numerous consumer electronics customers. When Motorola made a $5 million offer to buy the factory, Alan did not want to sell, but his partner persuaded him to. Suddenly case rich and only in his mid-thirties, Alan started a new company that made electronic toys. Sales were initially modest. But he struck gold when Walmart decided to sell his range of cutting-age educational toys.

Finally, Alan was able to relax a little. Through mutual friends, he met his soul mate. Also in her thirties, Shirley was a professor of physics in the University of Hong Kong. During her summer vacations, Alan and Shirley took long trips abroad. They enjoyed traveling throughout the United States in a recreational vehicle. Alan would drop by as many Walmart stores as he could, checking the toys section to make sure the displays were fresh. Shirley loved to study the night skies through her telescope. As soon as Alan was done with a store, they would drive to a remote location dark enough for her research into the distant galaxies light years away.

Their happy lives were too perfect to last. When the couple was vacationing in New Mexico one day, Alan received a phone call from his sales manager in Arkansas.

"How the fuck did that happen?" Alan was normally a polite man. In five years of marriage, Shirley could count on one hand the number of times he swore.

The sales manager chose his words carefully. "According to the buyer, our prices are not competitive. Another supplier had offered a better deal."

"How much business are we losing? I hope it's not more than one model that is overpriced."

Again, another pause. "According to the buyer, all ten of our models are over-priced."

"Are you telling me we will lose all our business?"

"Not unless we can match the competition's price."

"How much lower do we need to be? We are already operating on very thin margins."

"We need to be 20% lower or we lose all of Walmart."

"When is your next meeting with Walmart? How much time do we have."

"The buyer said if he don't hear from us in two hours, we are out."

"Sam, listen carefully," it was the first time Mr. Wong addressed his sales manager using his first name. "Go back to your spreadsheet, cut all the prices by 20%, and give the buyer what he wants. We need to keep all of Walmart's business. Understand?"

"Yes, sir. I will adjust the spreadsheet and email it to you in one hour."

Alan left Shirley alone in the Class-C recreational vehicle. He brought his laptop and cell phone and took a taxi to a nearby bar. He drank almost half a bottle of whiskey before an email with an attached spreadsheet showed up on his MacBook. Inserting a few columns, he quickly found out the size of the loan he would need to continue selling to Walmart. There was only one place he could find some much money so quickly.

Punching a long string of digits to dial a number in Macau, Alan waited inpatiently for the connection.

"Golden Fortune Casino, how can I help you?"

"Two times two is equal to lucky eight." Alan had almost forgetten the code.

"One moment please."

Five minutes later, Alan spoke in Chinese to the loan shark. He asked for ten million dollars to be wired to his account. The next day, Alan and Shirley flew out of LAX. Back in Hong Kong, Alan immediately called an emergency meeting with all his engineers. They needed to work out a long term solution to the new cost demands of the world's biggest retailer. Ten million dollars would last only a few months before the company would have to declare bankruptcy.

>>>>>

Megan woke up tied hands and legs to the corners of a king sized bed. She counted five men in the room, all smoking cheap cigarettes. She was naked, but four of the men paid no attention to her. They were too busy playing poker on a square wooden table. One man was alone. He sat on the bed and pushed two of his fingers into her when he saw that she was awake.

To be continued in Assassin Ch. 5 



Assassin Ch. 04



The plastic was now permanently obstructing both her nose and mouth. Though her chest was heaving, she could only exhale weakly before attempting to gulp down more air, pulling the plastic tight across her face with an audible pop. The room dipped and swayed and she could feel her heart beating wildly in her chest. Still she kept slowly riding Joe in the hopes that Elene would take notice or that she would at least come.

Everything was so unreal. She could no longer feel anything at all except the red hot throbbing of her sex. She was exhausted, she couldn't breathe, and she felt like she was going to pass out at any moment. She finally stopped moving and just lie there, panting, the room spinning.

She was mildly aware of Elene climbing up behind her, onto Joe's knees. Elene grasped Violet around the waist and began making grinding motions, grunting with the effort. The affect of this was Violet began sliding back and forth along the length of Joe's penis. Elene was basically making Violet manually fuck him.

Violet wanted to come so badly. She weakly began helping Elene with her motions, but it was so difficult. She felt like she was floating away. Every movement felt incredible. Then off in the fog of her mind she heard Joe grunt and seemed to feel him tense. Just after that, the felt a flood in her mind, pleasure pulsating outwards from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Her body was wracked with waves of bliss, each contraction causing her to stiffen. Despite her lack of air, she let out a quiet moan each time.

Her orgasm seemed to last forever, but once it ended she felt several smaller contractions, further apart. She lie there, content, barely breathing. Then, just like that, the world disappeared.

She woke slowly, first aware of Elene's voice coming from what seemed a million miles away. Moments passed and her voice came closer. She opened her eyes, slowly. Elene was looking down at her, with a worried look on her face.

"Thank god you are okay!" Elene exclaimed. "I thought I had killed you," she said.

Violet's only answer was a grunt, followed by a light cough. She cinched her forehead, rolled her tongue around the inside of her dry mouth, and asked "How long was I out?"

"Only about a minute, but it seemed to be an eternity!" Elene said, visible relief crossing her face.

"Help me up," Violet said after a minute or so.

Elene got to one knee, and helped sit Violet upright. Violet shook her head. She then looked up at Joe who was still strapped to the chair and still enclosed in the plastic bag. She could see the bag lightly ballooning outward and collapsing again. "How's he doing?" she asked.

"He is still alive, my friend," Elene said, now helping Violet to her feet.

"How long do you think he's got?" Violet asked. 

Elene just sort of shrugged. "He's unconscious."

"He's probably got a few more minutes left. I've got an idea."



A few minutes later, the elevator doors opened in the lobby of the Carver Hotel with a loud ding. There were sudden gasps from several guests as the doors slid open and they began moving backwards. The assistant manager suddenly appeared within the throng of people, trying to backpedal, asking "What's going on here?" Then he glanced into the elevator.

On one of the housekeeping carts sat in the middle of the hotel elevator. But it was what rested on top of the cart that had garnered so many strange looks. There, on top of the cart, lie a naked man on his stomach. He was attached to the cart by a series of bungee cables and atop his head was a large plastic bag.

"Oh, my god!" the assistant manager exclaimed. He quickly shuffled over to the man and tore off the bag. "Someone call a medic!" he said over his shoulder as he began quickly unfastening the bungees.

The man looked dead, but checking the man's pulse, the manager determined he was alive, but just barely. His pulse was racing. He breathed a sigh of relief. Some of the staff raced over and gently lifted the man from the cart and carried him over to one of the couches in the lobby area, one of the porters covering the man with his jacket.

The manager turned back to the cart and saw a small, white piece of paper, embroidered with the hotel logo. On the note was written, in a very sloppy scrawl, "It was fun, Joe! See you later."

Violet and Elene disappeared. It was assumed they ended up together, somewhere. Rumors speak of Mexico. Others say Europe. We say this is not the end of their story, but only an intermission.



Assassin Ch. 05



"Do we kill her?" The air was so muggy the mobile phone stuck to his ear.

"The boss has not spoken, but I imagined so."

"Do we get to do her before killing her?"

"Isn't that the standard operating procedure?"

"I don't know. These days, with our new clients, you never know."

"I believe our client wants her dead."

"I agree. But didn't you tell me the client hates her so much he wants her to suffer first."

"What I told you was that he wants her to be humiliated. Make sure you have a camera so you can send it to the client. Perhaps he will pay extra for the footage."

"Okay. I will send someone to order one from Amazon. It should be here tomorrow."

"Don't you have a webcam set up?"

"Yes, I do. But the resolution sucks. A high definition picture is worth more to the client, don't you think?"

"One thing is important. Make sure your men don't touch her until we've been given further instructions."

"Will do."

"And switch on the webcam so I can monitor it stateside."

When he hung up, Jose hurriedly returned to the basement.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Jose yelled.

"We are playing cards. Is that a crime?" More than one man replied.

"I am not talking to you guys, I am talking to that motherfucker." Jose pointed his index finger at the man on the bed.

The man with his fingers inside her hung down his head, avoiding eye contact. "What are you waiting for? Get the fuck out of here." Jose's face got red when he was mad.

When the disgraced man had left the room, Jose announced to the group, "Tell him not to work here anymore. If I see him again, I swear I'll put a bullet in his brain. Now clean her up, set up the webcam, and someone go order a high definition camera online."

The men placed the cards face down and jumped into action.

>>>>>

Many years ago - How she started

She checked her makeup in the rear mirror, wondering if she was sane. But this was the only way to resolve the problem without violence.

She crossed the parking lot and marched to the neon lit entrance. The bouncer took one long look at her and waved her into the adult's only club. It must be how she dressed. She was wearing a white halter top that ended an inch above her navel, cheap perfume that anyone could smell from a mile away, and a black leather micro skirt that provided adequate cover only when she was standing still.

The bouncer visually followed her as she sashayed past. Even in the dim light, he could see the muscles on her bare shoulders, arms, thighs, and back. There were hundreds of fitness centers in Las Vegas, but he wondered which one she used for her workouts. Perhaps he could ask later on her way out.

She headed straight to the bar.

"Honey, how can I help you?" The bald bartender wore a Harley Davidson sleeveless shirt.

"Tell your boss to release my father. I am here now." With her five-inch stilettos, she stood eyeball to eyeball with the bartender, who was six two.

"Anything to drink while I make a phone call? It's on the house." 

"No thanks." She sat on the high stool, crossed her legs, and adjusted her skirt. Harley had a glimpse of her tanned cleavage and concluded she was not wearing a bra. He stuck his right hand in his pocket and made his own adjustments.

Harley lumbered away from the counter and made the call. Even though he lowered his voice, she could hear him use the word whore. She had no doubt whom he was referring to.

"Honey, it's this way." She let Harley rest his palm on her bare back and guide her to the swinging doors at the far end. The small office behind the doors led to a dozen narrow but steep steps that went down to the basement. She had to turn her heels sideways to climb down.

Harley knocked on the door using Morse code, spelling out the word F-U-C-K. After a few seconds, he fished out a key and unlocked the door. When the door opened to the smoke filled room, she saw her father tied to a chair, his head down, too ashamed to look at her. Two men looked up from opposite sides of a pool table. At first, they were irritated at the interruption. But the twisted eyebrows slowly turned to crooked smiles as soon as they saw her.

"No shit. I did not know this loser had such a hot daughter. Backed by such valuable collateral, we would have given him a lot more money to feed his gambling addiction." Tony announced to the man holding the cue.

"The deal is I show up and you let my father go. I understand you are a man of your word." She faced the man who spoke, assuming he was the leader.

"Baby, that is correct. A promise from Tony G is something you can take to the bank."

Tony nodded to the man across the pool table. The man produced a switchblade and cut away her father's ropes.

"Dad, take my car keys and drive away." As Megan hugged her father, she whispered the name of the motel, placing the keys into the inside pocket of his jacket.

"Alright, break it up." Harley pushed Megan away from her father.

"Did you search her before you brought her down here?" Tony poked his index finger on Harley's chest.

"Look at her. There's no room for this bitch to hide any weapons." Harley completed his sentence before he realized he had forgotten who he was talking to.

Tony punched Harley squarely on the nose before he could continue. "You idiot, she could be wearing a wire."

Harley realized he had crossed the line. Talking back to the boss in front of his subordinate was a very dangerous thing. He went down on his knees, "I'm sorry. Please forgive me."

"Take this gambler upstairs and let him go. As for you, go home and think about what you have done. I will deal with you later." Harley left the basement with his bleeding nose and the gambler. He left the room and locked the door from the outside.

Only two men were left in the room. Although she was a black belt in taekwondo and could defeat a man three times her size and twice her age, two against one was not a good equation. Besides, the room was locked. She had to be patient and play along.

Tony turned to the man with the switchblade. "Search her." She was taken to the far wall, her hands above her head and against the wall, her legs kicked apart. Switchblade took way longer than necessary, feeling her up. He went under her skirt and pulled down her black thong panties. When the panties were wrapped around her knees, his knife slashed through and sliced the flimsy fabric into two unequal parts, letting them fall to the floor. "She's clean," he held her hair and turned her around to face Tony. 

"Do you know how much your father owed us?" Tony took a chair and turned it backwards so he was straddling it, leaning his elbows on the chair's back.

"Of course. I would not be here without all the facts." Her voice was suddenly low and husky, even sensual, in contrast to the contents of her words.

"$20,000 is a large sum of money," he puffed out the words as he exhaled through the nose. "But a sweet young thing like you could pull in a lot each night."

"What if I offer you the chance to double down?"

"What do you mean?"

"I will owe you $40,000 if I lose, but we're debt free if I win."

"Young lady, that sounds like a fair deal. But how would you pay off $40,000?"

"Like you said, a hot body like me could bring in a lot."

"That was not exactly what I said, but close enough. Still, even for a hot number like you, it takes a lot of lap dances to cover $40,000."

"I'm not talking about lap dances." Megan swayed her hips from side to side as she approached Tony. His bodyguard moved between Tony and Megan. But Tony raised his hand to signal that it was okay.

She moved right up and crossed her fingers behind his neck. Her cheap perfume filled his nostrils, and he liked it. Her hot breath whispered in his ears, "How much are you willing to pay for one night with me?"

"Let me check the merchandize," Tony traced his index finger down her neck, collar bone, cleavage.

She pushed it gently away. "That's enough sampling. How much?"

"What do you think?" Tony looked at Switchblade.

"Boss, do you want an honest quotation of the market rate?"

"That's a great way to put it. Yes." Tony said.

"I would say about $2,000." Switchblade pressed his fingers to his temple, attempting a serious quote.

"What about with both of you?" she asked.

"You mean like a threesome?

"Yep."

"Based on my understanding of the current market, about $3,000 for one 8-hour night."

"What about for 24 hours? I think you guys are strong enough to handle an entire day."

"I would quote $5,000 to a customer."

She pressed her chest against Tony, sensing his throbbing heartbeat. "So I can pay off $40,000 in just eight nights?"

"Good math," Tony took over the conversation from Switchblade, "but no. You would have to give a volume discount when you increase the days. I would say one whole month for forty grand."

She raised her eyebrows.

"Wouldn't you say that is a fair number?" Tony asked Switchblade. Switchblade nodded.

Tony extended his right hand, "So, deal or no deal?"

"We have not talked about what we are gambling over." She reminded him.

"Two games, you pick one, I pick one. Win both and you win. Lady pick first." Tony said.

"Let's play eightball." She shook his hand. Unknown to Tony, she was a high school champion in pool.

"Head or tail?" Tony asked as he dug out a quarter.

"Tail. I love to give head, but you're not getting any tonight."

Tony and Switchblade laughed so loud the echoes off the walls of the small room made it sound evil. She rolled her eyes and followed the coin, which rolled to her side of the table.

"Stop laughing and show me what you have." She spoke over the laughter as Tony glided over to confirm that he had won the toss. He took the cue and quickly placed a shot.

The balls scattered, noisily knocking into each other as if they are drunk. It took a long time for the motion to stop. But none dropped. Her move.

She took a deep breath, exhaling through the gap on her two front upper teeth as she circled the table. She picked up a cube of chalk, slowly grinding it into the tip of the stick, considering her options. Both men sat down on high stools, puffing away. She waited for the smoke to clear the table before picking her shot.

She winked at Tony as she glided to the opposite side of the table. As she stood poised over the table, assessing the angles, gravity found her, tugging at her tight halter top and exposing the top semi-circle of her firm breasts. Her nipples pushed against the cotton, adrenalin coursing through her veins. She hoped they did not notice her own heartbeat pulsating on her neck.

She took her shot and stood up, her halter sliding back into place. The men heard a ball drop. It was the three ball. They did not see it as it happened because all four eyes were enjoying the sideways movement of her cleavage as the cue struck the cue ball.

"Good shot," Tony said as he stood up to check the pocket.

She nodded and smiled, acknowledging the compliment. The cue ball slowly moved to line up perfectly with the two ball. It was an easy shot. She took it quickly. This time, both men saw the blue ball drop into the pocket nearest to them. Tony remained standing. He was no longer smoking.

The cue ball bounced off the cushioned bank and settled near the eight ball, surrounded by the nine ball and the thirteen teen ball on the other two sides. Tony clapped his hands to celebrate. Switchblade put out his cigarette and joined in.

"Let's raise the stakes, shall we?" Tony moved to the short end of the table. Switchblade remained next to the high stools on the long side.

"Let's hear your proposal." Megan cupped a hand to her ear, placing the stick down and leaning it against the pool table.

"Each time we fail to drop a ball, we remove a piece of clothing."

"Like strip billiard?"

"Exactly. Do you dare to play?"

"Sure. How about each time we miss, we also drink a bottle of beer, in addition to stripping?"

"Even better. And to be fair, I will remove my shirt now because Switchblade has already removed your underwear."

"Do shoes count?"

"You are a damn good negotiator. You should definitely come work for me, no matter what happens tonight." Tony unbuttoned his shirt and threw it to the same corner of the room as her panties. His chest was bare, without hair or tattoos. "We both have a pair of shoes. Let's count each pair as one article."

"So we start with three articles each?" She touched her top, skirt, and looked at her stilettos.

"That's fair. I have my Italian shoes, pants, and belt."

"Agreed."

Tony turned to Switchblade. "Get us a six pack of Shiners."

Switchblade was about to exit the room when Tony told him to just order the beer on his mobile. With Switchblade remaining in the room, it was still two to one for Megan.

The six Shiner Bock bottles were placed on the long edge of the pool table, near the high stools. Megan did a quick mental calculation. Four point four percent alcoholic content meant she would be legally drunk with just two beers. Getting pulled over for DWI was the least of her worries right now.

"Shall we continue?" She lifted her stick and circled the table, turning sideways and brushing against Tony as she passed him. She felt the hardness inside his jeans and smiled inside.

To have a chance, she had to lean far over the table at an odd angle, her right leg stretched over the edge. Four of her left fingers were planted an inch from the eightball, upright and rigid, pressing hard on the table to form an arc for the cue stick.

The men were behind her, glued to the hem of her skirt, which had hiked up. Her fingers were shaking as she took the shot. Nobody was breathing when the cue struck the white ball. The one ball moved like a rocket into the corner pocket. But she had hit the cue ball too hard. The white ball inched lazily in the same direction, taking its time to roll along the same path. Tony was already twisting the beer's cap when it dropped into the same pocket.

She stepped out of her stilettos and accepted the bottle. Gathering her dark blonde hair behind her, she closed her eyes and downed the entire bottle, not stopping to breathe. Wiping her lips with her hands, she said, "Let's continue."

Both men clapped their hands as if they were watching an Olympic competition. Tony picked up his stick as Switchblade took the empty bottle from her and set it down on the short edge of the table.

No longer underestimating her, Tony pocketed four striped balls in quick succession. But he missed the next one. The cue ball was still moving when Tony stepped out of his shoes. Walking on bare feet, he collected his Shiner, held its neck against the table's edge, and snapped at the cap with his fist.

She stood up from the high stool and adjusted her skirt, pulling it down as far as it could go. When Tony had finished his drink, she circled the table twice, clockwise first and then the other way. It was not difficult to figure out what to do. She was simply buying time. It was a long shot from corner to corner.

As she set up the shot, she was aware that Tony was watching from the opposite corner, his palms together, as if praying that she would miss. Switchblade remained seated, rubbing his chin with one hand, the other still holding the switchblade.

"Sweetheart, what are we waiting for?" Tony asked. "Why don't you just give it up and removed your top. Perhaps you can win by playing topless and distracting me." Switchblade laughed, but not Tony. Instead, Tony narrowed his eyes at her.

She ignored the trash talk, spreading her bare feet, pointing the toes at right angles to each other. Her upper body was twisted sideways, her left breast pressed against the edge of the pocket, the stick sliding against the right breast. Gravity had pulled her halter to the left, exposing her left nipple. She closed one eye and took the shot.

The seven ball wobbled when it was struck by the cue ball, spinning and rotating slowly until it dropped. She stood up and shrugged her shoulders, her top whispering back into position. She had set up the cue ball so the rest of the game was easy. Tony did not get another chance.

As she dropped the eight ball, she asked, "Tony, what's the next game?"

"The next game is between you and him." Tony pointed at Switchblade, who was surprised and stood up.

She placed the stick on the table and stood next to Switchblade, her arms folded. "What do we do?" She squeezed her chest together, her hips cocked and knees slight bent, ready for action.

Tony pointed at the four beers. "Why waste the beer? Each of you should finish two of them and then proceed to darts." Tony opened two bottles for her, leaving Switchblade to open his own. She finished hers and was pulling out the darts by the time Switchblade finished his second bottle.

"Can I go first?" She closed her left eye and aligned a dart to the bull's eye.

"Hang on, put on your stilettos so it's fair." Tony pointed one finger at her and another finger at Switchblade. "After all, he is also wearing his shoes."

Megan stumbled a little as she slid into the five inch heels. It was absolutely unfair. She had three bottles of alcohol and Switchblade had only two, not counting that she was a smaller package. Still, she was confident of winning darts as well.

"Go ahead, honey." Tony announced.

The dart board was positioned slightly lower than her with heels. She readjusted her footing, holding one dart in her right hand and the other two with her left. Holding her breath, she threw all three within a few seconds. All three darts landed inside the bull's eye. She exhaled and returned to the stand next to the pool table, next to Tony.

Switchblade pulled out the darts and took his position. The first two darts were inside the bull's eye. But he put too much force into the third, which bounced off the dart board.

"Give me the key so I can leave." She opened her palm in front of Tony.

"Sure," Tony signaled to Switchblade, who circled back to the table and stood behind her. She was sandwiched and trapped. "Here is the key," Tony held it between his thumb and index finger. "How about a lap dance before you go? You are perfectly dressed for the occasion."

She took half a step back and encountered Switchblades hands on her bare shoulders.

"Either take off your own clothes or he will do it for you." Tony reached inside her top and fondled her as if he was squeezing lemon on a salmon.

"Okay, okay." She reached behind her neck and started to untangle the knot holding up her halter. Both men made the mistake of relaxing their grip.

In a blur of motion, she elbowed Switchblade, spun around, kicked his balls, and smashed an empty bottle on his head. Tony grabbed his cell phone and called someone upstairs. It gave her time to stab Switchblade with the jagged edge of the bottle, leaving the glass fragment inside his neck. She took the switchblade from the pocket of the unconscious man.

When the locked door was opened and two men appeared, she had the cold sharp blade on Tony's throat.

"Order your men to let me go or I cut your neck." She pressed the sharp point on the soft flesh below his trembling chin.

"Do as she says. Back up." Tony's voice had traveled up one octave.

She had the knife on his neck and used him as a hostage. His men had drawn guns but did not try anything. As ordered, they stayed in the bar as she took him to his car. She sat behind Tony when he drove until they were on a deserted road dirt road, a hundred miles out of the city.

"Leave the keys in the ignition and get out." She ordered in the dark desert. "Take out your pants and pee at the cactus." He obeyed.

She turned the car around and threw out his cell phone. "Go get help." She did not want him to die in the desert when the sun came up the next day.




Assassin Ch. 05



The stars were numerous and so bright she could see them through her windscreen. She headed east, intending to reunite with her dad and disappear forever.

When she opened the door of the motel room, Harley had a bandage on his nose and a gun pressed to the temple of her handcuffed father. She raised her hands in the air.

"Tony called. You are in big trouble." Harley removed the switchblade from her skirt pocket.

Two men surrounded her. She was kicked at the back of her legs, dropping her to her knees. Her wrists were twisted behind and handcuffed. At the same time, her ankles were secured with leg irons. A black hood was placed over her head, a drawstring tightening around her neck. She could breathe through the hood but could not see through it.

Chained and blinded, she was defenseless as Harley used the knife to cut through her clothing. The men lifted the naked woman to a fully enclosed van.

"We got the bitch, naked and chained like an animal." Harley reported to Tony.

She was brought back to the club.

>>>>>

To be continued in Assassin Chapter 6...



Assassin Ch. 06



The blond 19 year old was unconscious, naked and tied to the chair. Her face was swollen, her breasts burned with cigarette butts. Tony G was furious that she had dared to humiliate him in front of his men. The night before, she had pressed a knife against his neck and forced him to let her go.

Fortunately, she was inexperienced and allowed him to call his men after leaving him alone in the desert. His men had followed her dad to the motel where he was holed up. She was taken down and had no chance when she reunited with her father in the motel.

Two men entered the basement of the strip club.

"Wake up, bitch!" Switchblade slapped her so hard she fell sideways with the chair. He twisted both his hands in her hair and yanked her upright. She could hear dozens of her own hair separating from the roots.

Tony G spit at her when she opened her eyes. "Slut, nobody fucks around with me. You understand?"

She nodded.

"I want you to prove that you understand who the boss is." Tony unzipped his pants. "Open your fucking mouth."

Switchblade stood behind her, one hand pinched her nose, the other twisting her right tit.

"If I feel any teeth, he will cut off your nipples slowly, with a butter knife." Tony hooked his pants with his ankles and kicked them off. "Understand?"

She opened her mouth, accepting the pulsating organ. She had done this before, but had never been forced. Closing her eyes, she tried to imagine the high school quarterback.

"Open your eyes and look at me." Tony was intent on full humiliation. Make sure you swallow or I'll bite off your tits."

After Tony had been satisfied, she did the same for Switchblade. When they were both done, Tony ordered that she be cleaned up.

"Let's see how much we can get for this slut." Switchblade nodded and punched a quick dial number.

After a long hot shower, she was brought to the client. She had been dressed in a halter bra top and denim shorts. The top was knotted at the neck and between the breasts. Her midriff was bare, showing her ribs and washerboard flat stomach. Her shorts were tight and very short, hanging off her hips and barely covering her butt.

The client nodded his head. A suitcase of cash was handed over. She was taken to a waiting helicopter.

>>>>>

Megan remembered her humiliation all those years ago. But this time, it was worse. There were five men in the room, not just two. Worse, she was not sitting on a chair. Instead, her ankles were tied to her thighs, her wrists tied above her head to a ceiling pole, her body precariously balanced on her knees. Every few minutes, she tensed her biceps to pull herself up by her tied hands, easing the pain on her knees. The men sat in a circle on folding chairs, legs straddling the back of the chairs, watching her, smoking. Two cameras on tripods captured every moment of her torment, one placed directly in front at the level of her nipples, the other behind her.

A cell phone rang, with the ring tone of a Justin Bieber song. The leader of the group answered. The conversation lasted less than a minute.

"You're in luck," the leader announced to the group. "You have one hour to use her anyway you want." He left the room and locked the door behind him. Only these animals would gang rape an unwilling woman. He preferred women who wanted him as much as he wanted them. He never had any trouble finding willing participants. Even if they fake it, at least they were voluntarily doing it.

The four goons had her cut down and handcuffed her hands behind. They filled her every opening. She was forced to keep her mouth so wide two of them face fuck her at the same time. Finally, when the hour was almost up, her bound wrists were lifted behind her and tied to the ceiling. She was taken from behind at the same time she had another man in her mouth. Another man pinched her nose and forced her to swallow.

Choking and coughing, she heard the leader enter the room.

"Cut her down and take her to the farm," he yelled.

Seated between two men in the backseat, she was covered with sweat, semen, and blood. The ride was bumpy, the driver flooring the pedal and cussing at the mud-covered narrow road. He was talking to himself, with nobody riding shotgun. The two men behind continued to abuse her, twisting her nipples and pulling her hair. She did not resist, letting the men do whatever they fancied because her hands were handcuffed behind. She had to save her strength for the moment of opportunity.

Police cruisers and motorcycles passed them frequently, but the tinted glass did not allow any chance of signaling her distress. In any case, this being Tijuana, the Cartel controlled the streets. Even if a cop pulled over a car with a gringo slut, he would assumed she was a naked Russian prostitute cum drug addict that richly deserved the beatings. Perhaps she had stolen money from the Cartel. If the policia asked any questions, all the goons had to do was to pay him off, or pump some bullets into him.

Darkness had descended as the sedan pulled into the entrance of a fenced property, guarded by arms men in military garb. The driver touched a button on his console. All four windows whirled down, reminding Megan of the doors of a elevator in downtown Dallas. Just days ago, she was in Dallas celebrating another triumphant mission with Fabian. Unknown to her, Fabian was dead and she would soon face the same fate.

"Where are you taking the senorita?" asked the guard in Spanish.

"Boss wants to make her dig her own grave before shooting her." The reply was also in Spanish.

"You guys are not going to fuck her before killing her?"

"We have already done that. Too bad you missed it. She was a great screw."

Both the guard and the driver laughed. The two men in the backseat put their fingers in their mouths to signal how they had fucked her.

"Make sure the hole is at least six feet deep. The last time you buried a man, it was only three feet and the dogs dug it up and dragged the body around."

"Don't worry. We'll do it properly this time."

"Go to the back of the farm, about 15 kilometers from here, okay?"

"Will do," all the windows were closed as the driver sped off.

Unknown to them, she understood Spanish. She would have to make a move soon, regardless of the chance of success. She stole a glance sideways and saw that only the man on her left had a gun tucked into his front waistband. As soon as the car was out of the view of the guards at the entry point, the man on her left put one hand on her breast and another on her butt. The man on her right inserted two fingers, one from each hand, into her cunt. The fingers were long and sharp, circling her inside, scratching and pulling her wall.

When the car hit a bump, she used the opportunity to twist her body sharply to the right, both her legs kicking the back of the front seat, butting the back of her head into the nose of the man on the left, allowing her cuffed hands to snatch the glock from his pants. Enraged the injured man circled her neck with his fingers, tightening it and choking her. She pushed off the safety and fired a shot directly into his left lung. His grip loosened.

The man to the right heard the shot, opened the door of the moving car, and jumped out. The driver stopped the car and put his hands up.

"Get me out of the farm and I promise not to kill you," she spoke in perfect Spanish.

The driver did as he was told, smiling at the guards, aware that she was on the floor of the backseat. She had hooked her hands to the front so that her cuffed hands were now holding the gun in front of her.

An hour later, she allowed him to run away from the car. She took the car keys, dug around, and took only a minute to free her wrists from the handcuffs.

A day later, back in the states, she found out Fabian was dead and vowed revenge.

To be continued in Assassins Ch. 07...



Assassin Ch. 07



Megan picked Arkansas to commence her journey of revenge. It was out of the way and nobody would guess it as her base of operation. Although not well known, the northwestern part of Arkansas had decent transport links to the rest of the country because of the presence of major corporations like retail giant Walmart, food giant Tyson Foods, and transport company JB Hunt. Northwest Arkansas was also the home of the 20,000-strong University of Arkansas, the state's flagship college. Arkansans were fanatically proud of the Razorbacks football team and obsessively attended every game.

Her first order of business was gathering information. She had to know who killed Fabian. More importantly, she had to understand why he was killed. What was in the laptop's hard drive that was worth murder?

She also had to understand if the same person or persons who killed Fabian took orders from the same group that kidnapped and tortured her, and wanted her dead. All she knew right now was that Fabian was dead, they wanted her dead as well, and there was something that was worth killing for.

She needed a call phone that could not be traced. Fortunately, Arkansas was the headquarters of Walmart. She went to the store just a stone's throw away from Walmart's global headquarters, locally known as Store 100. As she entered, she was greeted warmly by the senior citizen standing at the entrance. Company folklore had it that Walmart stationed a person at the doorway not just to make customers feel welcomed. They were also there to watch customers leave; making sure that nobody was taking away merchandize without paying.

"I am looking for the electronics section," she winked at the older man, probably retired and in his seventies. Bella Vista, a neighboring suburb, was full of retired men and women that came from all over the country to enjoy the quiet inexpensive Arkansas lifestyle, complete with golf courses, hiking trails, and world-class medical facilities. Lately, the area had even scored the world-class Crystal Bridges Museum, which housed renowned art sponsored by the Walton's -- Walmart's founding family.

He stood at attention and replied professionally. "It is at the back of the store. You walk pass the grocery section, almost where the milk and orange juices are, and take a left, just pass the footwear." He sounded as monotonic as the voice from a car GPS. 

"Thank you." She tucked at her dark jacket, straightened her blouse, and walked away. He turned to take a last look at her pencil skirt and the back of her bare thighs, her hair in a ponytail, swinging in rhythm with the click clack of her heels. The retired man thought she must be from out of town. Everyone around here did not need directions inside a store because they shopped in Walmart at least once a week. There was nowhere else to buy groceries in Benton County, Arkansas.

After picking a one-time use prepaid cell phone, she wandered to the apparel section and picked up a push-up bra, fishing for the label to make sure it was two sizes too small. She almost could not believe when she noticed that the price was only $3.98, so she bought a dozen, all black with front hooks. She tried to use the self-checkout lane, but needed assistance anyway to activate the cell phone.

Shopping in Walmart was a deliberate act because she wanted to remain anonymous and difficult to trace. If she was picked up again and interrogated in another city, nobody would know her home base because there were 4,000 Walmart stores throughout the nation. As a headline in "USA Today" once put it, we were now "One Nation under Walmart."

She found a new Motel 6 at Walton Boulevard, not far from the "Home Office," which was local lingo for Walmart's global headquarters. She checked in using cash, paying in advance for one night. The Indian born clerk barely looked at her when he issued the electronic key, thinking she was just another supplier, although most suppliers paid with credit cards.

She needed information and she knew exactly where her first lead would be. She had saved his life once. He knew both sides of the criminal world and would likely know somebody who knew somebody who knew who tortured, raped, and tried to kill her.

She bounced on the motel bed and fished out her new phone. She looked at her watch, noted it was two in the morning, and punched a number with a 561 area code.

"I want to speak to Chuck."

"Who may I say is calling?"

"Tell him Black Cat from Siberia is collecting."

"Chuck is in a meeting but would call you back."

When she saved his life, he promised that she could always seek his help. He gave her a password which she could use to get through his security people. In the last five years, she called him twice to find out of anyone on the street knew about her activities. They had not.

Chuck called her back within a minute. Of course he could meet her. What about tomorrow, he asked? She would have to drive twenty hours through four states to reach him. No problem, she replied. What about 6:00 p.m. tomorrow? She knew that his club would not get busy until 10:00 p.m., and that Chuck would sleep all day before starting work at 5:00 p.m.

The drive from Arkansas to Florida was long. She would have preferred to fly, but she wanted to be with her Glock all the time. She had enemies she could not see and was determined not to be unprepared again.

She knew what kind of man Chuck was and how to motivate him. He liked the trashy slutty look. She colored her hair platinum blonde and had blue contact lens. Inside her leather jacket was a black sports bra with thin crisscrossed straps at the back. Under the micro mini denim skirt, which struggled to cover her butt, she wore a lacy black G-string, pulled high so the strings on the sides peeked out from the skirt's waistband.

With her outfit, she found the only place for her baby Glock 26, a subcompact with ten rounds, was on her back, tucked tightly between her skirt and panties. As she drove, she leaned back and savored the security of the hard metal against her bones.

She knew Chuck's men would search her and discover the Glock. Still, they would expect her to pack and would find it suspicious if she appeared unarmed.

Right outside Atlanta, she was tired and decided to stay in Motel 6 for the night. She adjusted her jacket so the Glock would not be visible to the clerk. He tried to hit on her but she smiled, telling him she was not in the mood. She collapsed on the bed, shifting her gun to the front of her skirt, falling asleep in under a minute.

Waking up early the next morning, she got to Boca Raton early, with plenty of time to spare. She drove pass Chuck's strip club twice in the day, mentally rehearsing what would happen inside. Then she parked her car in a rest area meant for tourists, made sure the car was under the shade of a large tree, and took a nap. Checking in to a motel in the Boca area was risky because Chuck controlled the entire area and she did not want him to be tipped off on her early arrival.

At 4:00 p.m., she parked the car two blocks from Chuck's. She entered a Starbucks just opposite the street from Chuck's club, ordered a Grande Latte, and settled on a window booth on the second floor. Again, it felt good to have the fully loaded Glock trapped between her butt and the thin cushion of the booth, even though she knew it would soon be taken away from her.

Like clockwork, Chuck showed up a minute after five, clean shaven and neatly dressed in a white shirt and khaki pants. Other than his receding hairline and salt and pepper hair, Chuck really had not changed much. He still had the bony chiseled face, reminding her of her first date in third grade. Even his bodyguard remained the same. She searched her memory and thought his name might be Rocky.

She called him at the appointed time. His office was on the second floor and she could see him picking up the phone when the receptionist transferred the call.

"I am sorry to hear about Fabian," he wasted no time and came straight to the point.

"Do you miss me?" She tried the soft approach.

"Where the fuck are you? You are late."

"I am right across the street from you."

"What are you waiting for?"

She was tempted to respond to that but knew that he had the upper hand. She needed him a lot more than he needed her. A man could be motivated in only one of three ways, or a combination of. Money was one, but would not work for Chuck because he was rich. There was no amount Megan could offer that would match the information she was seeking.

The second way to turn on a man was power. Again, Chuck had plenty. As a retired government man with extensive links with both criminal elements and law enforcement, he knew where the skeletons were hidden and plenty of men and women owe him career changing favors.

The carnal way would not ordinarily work because with wealth and power, Chuck could have almost anyone. Almost, but not everyone. Megan had saved his life and was so far untouchable. But someone or something big was hunting her. She desperately needed help and Chuck was in a position to name his price.

"I am worth the wait. You will not regret this." She crossed the street and looked directly at the security camera, bending forward and squeezing her chest to make the point.

One of the bouncers escorted her upstairs to the waiting room of Chuck's office. A blonde sat outside his office, typing and not bothering to look at her. The bouncer asked her to remove her jacket, saw the Glock, removed the magazine and all the ammo, and returned it to her. She stuck it back to her back. Strangely, even an empty gun conveyed a sense of comfort.

She was brought to Chuck's office.

"Long time no see. Please have a seat." Chuck sank into the three piece sofa without waiting for her. She had to carefully adjust her skirt to sit, crossing her left leg over her right thigh to conceal her panties. No point showing the goods before the negotiation.

"What can I do you for?"

"You know. Information."

"What are you offering?"

"What else can I offer to a rich and powerful man?" Megan uncrossed her legs and recrossed it, trying her best to channel Sharon Stone. She licked her lips and waited for his response.

"How motivated are you?"

"Very."

"Why? What is Fabian to you?"

"Fabian is not just my business partner. I guess I have a loyalty that you would not understand." She regretted it as soon as she said it. She had to remember she was here to beg, not to antagonize.

"I'm sure you know about my kinky taste."

"Yes."

"I don't make love. I simply fuck hard and violently. Are you sure you want to go down that path?"

"Why? Are you afraid I am too hot to handle?" She tried to walk the delicate balance between challenging and plain rudeness. She had to maintain the fantasy persona that would make him want more. This might not be a one-time event.

"You'll have to wait until we close tonight. I am busy until then."

"What time do you close?"

"3:00 most nights, sometimes later, waiting for the last customer to call it a night."

"Wow. The man believes in customer service."

"As should you when we fuck."

"Are you now my customer?"

"Isn't this what this is? You are offering your body in exchange for information. Don't tell me you expect romance."

"Nope. Strictly business. The way you like it. Be careful not to fall in love with me, though."

"No way. You are bad for business."

"We have a deal then?"

"Sure."

They were both comfortable leaving out the details.

"Come back at 3:00, but I want a down payment."

"Give me some information first. It does not have to be specific."

"You pay on your knees first."

He pressed her bare shoulders with both arms. She did not resist, maintaining eye contact until she was staring directly at his lump in his pants. He unbuttoned the top of his pants. She bit the zipper and pulled it down slowly, her hands on his butt.

"I am sorry, but I know you could kill with those hands. I need them behind you."

She crossed her wrists and placed them behind, touching the Glock. The bouncer ripped out a phone cord and used it to secure her wrists. He also removed the Glock and gave it to Chuck.

He removed the magazine and checked again that there were no rounds in the chamber.

"Open your mouth." He inserted the barrel of the gun into her mouth, pinching her nose at the same time. "Show me what you can do."

She licked and sucked the cold metal, making it warm and wet. When her movement became regular, he coiled her hair around the other palm and made her move according to his tempo. His tempo was fast, then slow. She altered her breathing to match his rhythm, closing her eyes and moaning softly. She was face fucking a gun with her hands bound behind, but anyone watching could not tell she was faking it.

"Okay. Stand up." He removed the gun abruptly.

"How's the appetizer?" She looked directly into his eyes with her blue contacts.

"Good enough for me to anticipate the entrée."

"So who are they?"

"There are two prime movers. One of them has a Malaysian passport, the other is a middle easterner, probably Arabic."

"And?"

"That's all you get for giving a blow job to your own gun."

"I need more information. You know I can do so much more."

"Come back at 3:00 a.m. and change your outfit."

>>>>>

To be continued in Assassins Ch. 08... 



Assassin Ch. 08



As usual, the beach was not yet crowded at nine in the morning. About 50 miles north of the madness of South Beach in Miami, Delray Beach was lightly littered with the local beach crowd. Megan was on her stomach and elbows, trying to read a thriller on her Kindle. She did not sleep the night before and just could not concentrate. 

She gave up after about ten minutes, returning the Kindle to her backpack. She turned to her face the sky, the sun now pleasantly hidden behind the clouds. Putting on her oversized sunglasses, she closed her eyes, images from the previous night clouding into her consciousness. She knew that no matter how hard she tried, she simply could not force the memory of her hours of humiliation out of her mind.

Anyone walking along the beach would see a blonde long-legged woman lying down on a rainbow colored towel. But almost nobody would look closely at her wrists. If they had done so, they would have noticed the deep marks left behind by a pair of handcuffs.

>>>>>

Only a few hours earlier, her wrists were tightly locked behind her. Rocky, Chuck's bodyguard, had made sure her wrists were rotated so her palms were facing outwards before clicking the cuffs. He kept squeezing tighter until the cuffs ate into her flesh, then her bones.

"Nothing personal. It's just business, okay?" Rocky had heard that she was dangerous. He was trying to do a thorough job before bringing her to the basement, where his boss Chuck was waiting.

But Rocky had not done his job thoroughly. Although her wrists were handcuffed behind her, she could easily slide them under her butt, down the back of her knees, and over her toes. If she managed to move her wrists to the front, picking the handcuff lock would be easy, as long as she could get to sharp metal object. For example, the prong on the buckle of Rocky's watch could be adapted to be a lock pick. In fact, she was skillful enough to turn even a tooth pick into a handcuff picking device.

Even if she had no time to pick the lock, she could still be fatal with her cuffed hands in front of her. Rocky would not last a single minute if she were to wrap the chains connecting the cuffs around his thick neck. If Rocky were truly professional, he would have snapped a second pair of cuffs on her elbows, forcing them together and making it impossible for her to hook her arms to the front. If she had her elbows cuffed behind, even if she somehow managed to pick at her wrist cuffs and free her wrists, she would not be able to pick at the elbow cuffs.

But she could not take advantage of Rocky's sloppy actions. She had no freedom to act on her thoughts because she needed critical information from Chuck. Perhaps Chuck told Rocky about her deep and complicated feelings for Fabian. Her strong motivation to avenge the death of Fabian bound her more than any physical restraints would have done.

With her wrists firmly secured, Rocky felt a surge of hormones through his veins. Rocky lowered his voice and took a step nearer. "Turn around and face me, slowly."

She did as she was told. She dragged her stilettos in a semi circle, leaning against the brick wall. Her halter dress was completely backless, exposing her shoulder blades to the rough edges of the connecting cement between the bricks. With her four-inch spiked heels, she stood eyeball to eyeball with Rocky. Unused to a woman's direct challenge, Rocky blinked first. He camouflaged his nervousness with a cough, looking down and balling his right fist.

"What else?" She asked.

"Strip down to your underwear so I can search you."

"I would if I could. But my fingers are behind. Besides, I am not wearing any underwear." The thin straps of her black denim dress were tied to the back of her neck, which she could not reach. The dress had a front metallic zipper, which she also could not reach with her cuffed hands behind her.

He grinned and pulled down the zipper midway, stopping at her navel. Completely removing the dress would be tricky. He would have to go all the way down until the zipper ended mid-thigh. He would then have to unhook the slider from the opposite zipper, separate the two sides of the front. Next, he would have to untie the knot behind her neck. The dress would slide down her arms but still hang above her cuffed wrists. The only way to completely remove it was to cut it off with a knife or scissors.

Rocky knew that his boss preferred to have women presented to him fully dressed. It was enough for his purpose to have the zip halfway down. Twisting the dress one side, then another, he exposed her breasts one at a time, examining them closely, as if she could hide anything under her nipples. He ran his fingers inside the dress, apparently attempting to detect any hidden objects sewed onto the inside fabric.

Satisfied with her upper body, he re-tied the knot behind her neck, then push the zip up, stopping it between her nipples, pushing the slider down to lock it in place. The new zipper position was a few inches lower than before the search, the cold metal resting on her chest bone.

"Turn around," he ordered. Before waiting for her response, he gripped one elbow and compelled her shoulders to twist, her heels knocking into each other as her waist and legs followed a split second later. She stumbled and found her balance by pressing her right cheek against the bricked wall.

"Hike up your dress. You were carrying a gun the last time. Where is it?"

"I am unarmed this time." She had to bend her knees so her fingers were low enough to tug at the helm. He went down on one knee to look between her legs. He slappeded the insides of her thighs outward to indicate she should spread her legs farther apart. She complied. When her ankles were three feet apart, he inserted two fingers into her vagina, circling around and scraping the walls. Satisfied that there were no hidden electronics or weapons, he removed the fingers and stood up.

"Turn around and suck my fingers clean. I am sure you enjoy the taste of your own cunt." He pronounced the last word slowly, sticking his tongue out at her. Again, she meekly obeyed. When she parted her lips to accept the fingers, he pushed them hard to the back of her throat. She choked and fought back the gag reflex. She had to use every measure of her will power to suppress the urge to bite and dig out his eyes.

"Yummy." She purred as he removed his fingers and wiped them on her hair.

"Turn around and let's do the same for your butt hole. You should know the drill this time." She had turned quickly to avoid being manhandled. Still, he yanked her by the hair and pushed her face against the wall.

"Spread those legs, whore." He continued as he inserted a finger, than another. "You seem to have a tight ass." This time, she wanted to rip out his dick and shove it down his throat.

>>>>>

The "search" took an hour to complete. By the time she was taken to the basement, her thigh muscles were shaking visibly. She was marched to the middle of the basement, where Chuck had been waiting.

"Kneel," Chuck was seated on a large comfortable sofa filled with micro-fiber materials, his legs crossed and fingers interlocked behind his head.

She should not have hesitated. Rocky gave her only a split second to respond before kicking the back of both her knees in rapid succession. Her knees made a thumping sound as they hit the hardwood floor. Rocky had moved out of her view, but she could still smell him behind her.

"I am sorry Rocky took so long to do his job of searching you. Sometimes, my men enjoyed their job too much."

"No need to apologize. I hope I made his day."

"Let's cut to the chase," Chuck removed his belt. "The more information you want, the more you have to pay on your knees and on your back."

"What's the matter with you? Can't you handle a woman on top?"

"I can handle any woman in any position. But you have a dangerous reputation. Your hands are going to be handcuffed or tied or chained in some fashion." Chuck had removed his shirt and pants. He handed them to Rocky, who took them and headed up the steps, probably to the laundry. She was now alone with Chuck.

"Give me a name?"

"Not so fast. You have not done any work with your mouth yet."

"Come on. Just a name. I saved your life. You owe me that much."

"I owe you enough to let you see me. Do you know how risky it is for me to be associated with you? There are people looking for you all over?

"Who?"

"Powerful people with international connections. People out of your league. It is best for you not to know."

Somehow, as he spoke, his cock grew larger and nearer to her. She parted her lips to receive it. It was one of the few levers she had with him, perhaps the only one. They were quiet for almost five minutes, closing their eyes and moving slowly, savoring the moment. Finally, he broke the silence.

"Motherfucker!" he yelled as his thrusted deep into her, his organ expanding in her mouth. He pushed it as deep as it would go, filling every square inch in her mouth, his balls bouncing on her chin, his pubic hair obstructing her eyes, letting her breathe only through her nose, partially obstructed by his thick curly hair. Without warning, he withdrew completely from her mouth.

"I need to know and I'll take my chances. I am a big girl. Tell me a name and you will have the best sex of your life tonight." She spoke as quickly as possible, not knowing if her mouth would soon be fully occupied again.

"Let me give you the name of the less dangerous man. His first name is Alan." Chuck zipped up his pants and nodded to his bodyguard. "If your want more information, you would have to come to join me at my yacht."

She was mad that he was making it difficult. But she had no choice. She needed a last name to go with Alan. Or at least a country or affiliation. Alan was not exactly a rare name.

"Are you coming?" He repeated. "Rocky will bring you if you are interested."

"I will come. But how long is this going to take?"

"You can leave any time you want. Any time you decided you have any information. Although there will be a professional crew on my yacht, only Rocky and I will enjoy your services." Chuck winked at Rocky.

Rocky yanked her up by her elbows, took the keys from his pocket, and unlocked the handcuffs. She rubbed her wrists to return the circulation to her numbed fingers.

"See you at the yacht." Chuck knew she had no choice but to follow. Handcuffs were unnecessary because he knew she cared about Fabian.

As Chuck drove the short distance across the bridge to the intracostal to where his 60-foot yacht was, he thought about how weak Megan had allowed herself to be. Although she could kill him with her bare hands, she was powerless and had to follow him because of she wanted to avenge Fabian's death. Chuck could not understand why she would make herself vulnerable this way. He chalked it up to the weakness of being a woman.

Megan drove a black BMW 328, with Rocky riding shotgun. Rocky did not bring a gun and was totally unarmed. She was free to go anywhere. But she followed Rocky's instructions to the T. In fifteen minutes, they were parked in an exclusive country club in Palm Beach.

"Welcome," Chuck held out his hand to help Megan balance herself on her four-inch heels. The two men stood on both sides of her, holding her elbows gently and leading her into the bowels of the yacht, down the steps where they would not be visible to anyone on land.

Chuck tossed her a set of stringed bikinis. "Put this on."

She unzipped herself in front and stepped out of the black dress. With her eyes fixed on the floor, she nonchalantly put on the red bikini top and black bottom. When she looked up, she saw that only Chuck was with her. She felt movement. Rocky was taking the cruiser out at a steady pace. A half hour later, they had left the calm waters of the intracostal and were out in the ocean. She would be taken to international waters before the entertainment would begin.

>>>>>

Continued in the next chapter ...



Assassin Ch. 09



The story so far... 

Megan, a contract killer, had been kidnapped by an unknown group of international criminals. Brutally tortured and interrogated, she had no choice but to give up the password for the laptop she had taken from a money launderer she killed in a seedy Hong Kong nightclub. Fabian Long, her professional partner, had helped her crack the password protection of the laptop the night before she was kidnapped.

The torture and interrogation ceased when she cooperated and told them the password. But things got worse. With her hands cruelly bound behind and tied to the ceiling, she was gang raped by four hardened men. They filled her mouth, cunt, ass at the same time, forcing her to swallow. Covered with semen, sweat, and blood, she was taken to a farm to be shot like an animal and buried in a nameless grave. To add insult to injury, they had planned to force her to dig her own grave.

But she foiled the plan. Her wrists were cuffed behind and she was trapped between two men in the backseat. Both men continued to abuse her bruised and naked body, fingers pinching and twisting her bloody nipples, fingers in her cunt and ass, fingers twisted around her hair and yanking her head in awkward directions. When the car hit a bump, she snatched a gun from the distracted man beside her and shot him. The other two men jumped out, allowing her to escape.

When she found out that her long-time partner Fabian was dead, she vowed revenge. But she had no idea who her enemies were. To find out, she turned to Chuck, who owed her his life. But Chuck drove a hard bargain. He would only trade information if she offered her body. Megan did not hesitate to drive to Florida for the trade. She was taken out on a yacht in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, where the fun would begin.

>>>>>

It was a typical hot and humid day in South Florida. The yacht was anchored some twenty miles east of Miami, Florida. Cloudless, the sun was directly overhead, its rays burning into the bones of anything that stood in the way. As far as the eye could see, there were no signs of any other human activity. 

On the open deck, two men sat on opposite sides of the large circular hot tub. One of them was relaxed and held a Mojito in his hand. The other man was visibly nervous and held a gun.

The tub was shaped like a donut, with a raised platform and a shiny pole in the middle. Four Bose speakers surrounded the tub, blasting Kanye West rap music directly at the pole and platform, which shook twice every second from the heavy beats, spreading concentric waves out to the hot water and steam covering both men.

On top of the platform stood a tanned and athletic woman in a bikini, dancing to the thumping beat of Kanye's Gold Digger. She balanced herself on six inches of spiked heels, her hands mostly above her head, occasionally holding the pole for support when ocean waves rock the yacht.

Chuck operated a strip club and had visited world class performances in Las Vegas and around the world. But he had never experienced the gyrations of a woman who could kill with her bare hands, or even her legs. Chuck had heard that Megan once killed someone with her hands cuffed behind, using only her powerful thighs to squeeze the man's neck like a python. Although his bodyguard had his gun aimed squarely at her, Chuck did not doubt that she could knock it off in a moment of distraction, perhaps when the vessel hit a wave. Somehow, that element of danger aroused him more than ever.

Rocky, his bodyguard, had counseled against letting Megan dance freely on the deck. He reminded his boss of how dangerous she could be. She should be handcuffed to the pole, he urged. With her hands cuffed in front to the pole, she could still dance and entertain them.

But the boss ignored his advice. Chuck knew that Megan was weak and helpless as long as he had the information she wanted. Still, he wanted Rocky to hold his gun firmly and watch her as if he was watching a tiger.

An hour and four mojitos later, Chuck ordered Rocky to bring her inside his cabin. Her neck chained, she was made to crawl on the marble floor on her knees and elbows.

Rocky opened a can of spam, emptied its contents to a dog bowl, and spit on it. He placed it in the corner of the bathroom next to cabin. "Crawl in there and lick it clean."

She crawled on her hands and knees, swallowed the odd-tasting spam, and licked it a couple of times. Rocky extended his index fingers and motioned for her to return. She did so promptly. In her mind, she was plotting what she would do to Rocky's balls when the tables were turned one day.

Chuck was amused at Rocky's creativity. Not only was the muscled bodyguard rough and brutal, he could also be funny. Chuck sat back on his bed and enjoyed the scene, nodding his head to signal his approval.

"Are you going to tell me more about Alan after I finish the food this clown placed here?" Megan said to Chuck and looked at him, as if Rocky did not exist.

"You will be fucked until you pass out, and then dumped hands and legs tied. Deal?"

"Will I be shot, stabbed, or otherwise injured?"

"Tired, starved, and perhaps dehydrated. But you will be in good health."

One thing good about dealing with Chuck was that he was straight shooter and a linear thinker. In that sense, he was trustworthy. But he was also a very selfish man. Megan pondered only for a few seconds before she continued the negotiation.

"So you tell me Alan's last known address and I submit to your rape fantasies."

Chuck stroked his chin and replied. "Not my fantasies, but Rocky's. I have no desire for such things." Chuck did not let her know that since his injury, he was no longer capable of an erection, even with the assistance of chemicals. Watching Rocky was how Chuck got his kicks these days.

"You will give me Alan's zip code?"

"I will give you the city and you can figure it out. Anyway, he is unlikely to be still in the same city. But I am sure you have the resources to track him down once you know where he had been." Chuck paused and smiled, well aware of his high ground. "Take it or leave it. I ain't have all day."

Rocky jerked the chain holding her neck, forcing her to crawl toward him. When she was within slapping range, he grabbed her hair and yanked her to a kneeling position.

She nodded her head.

"Okay, whore. You are going to have to learn some manners. Put your slutty hands behind."

She obeyed, crossing her wrists just above her butt. Rocky twisted the wrists until the palms face together, then handcuffed them. For good measure, he duct taped the fingers together, making doubly sure she could not try anything.

"Get down and crawl on your belly to the opposite side of the room."

She knew that if she hesitated, Rocky would elbow or kick her. So she let her torso hit the ground, twisting sideways to avoid a direct impact to the face, landing instead on her shoulders.

"Crawl to the wall, kiss it and crawl back here."

With her hands behind, she wiggled like a snake on her chest, shoulders, and stomach. When she got back, Rocky threw a dog treat on the ground. "Good cunt. Here's your reward. Eat it."

She crawled to the crumb and position herself to eat it. But Rocky kicked it away. The treat was now on the far side of the room. "Too slow. Get over there and eat it."

When she was halfway across the room, Rocky walked to the crumb and stepped on it, grinding it to fine powder. She glared at him and suppressed the urge to kick him in the balls.

"What's the matter, bitch? Want to give up?"

She kept silent and continued to the far side.

"You have to hurry up. This is too slow." Rocky kicked her butt to make her speed up. She had to push her chest harder against the floor and spread her legs wider to satisfy Rocky. Her bikini top slid up and exposed a nipple by the time she got to the powdered crumbs. She exhaled deeply and vacuumed up the crumbs with her lips, licking the floor clean with her tongue.

An hour later, Rocky was no longer interested in humiliation. He tied her legs to the ceiling and lifted the ropes until her legs were in the air, her ass slightly off the ground, her weight supported by the bound hands trapped behind her back.

Rocky was unable to hold back for long when he penetrated her, exploding his load in less than a second. Once spent, he inserted a dildo to her stretched vagina and put his fingers around her neck. He sat on her chest and squeezed her neck until she passed out.

When she woke up, she was inside the trunk of a car, heading west along I-75, known locally as the Alligator Alley. Rocky pulled off the highway when it got dark. The bumpy ride let Megan know it was a dirt road. She started tracking the time. 45 minutes of dirt road later, the trunk was open. It was a dark, cloudless, and moonless. But the stars were out in force. There seemed to be thousands of them. Megan was carried out of the trunk and dumped in the muddy bushes.

"Good luck," Rocky rolled down the window and waved at her as he took off.

Megan took a minute to adjust her eyes to the darkness. They had dressed her in bra and panties when she was passed out. But one strap of her bra was broken. The other was off her shoulder. Her panties were torn and muddy. She sat up with some difficulty, her hands tied behind her. Her knees were also secured together with a thick rope.

The first thing she did was to wiggle her bound hands to the front, sliding over her butt and toes. When she had her hands in front, she adjusted the good bra strap to hook it over her shoulder. Only then did she notice a small card taped into the inside of her bra. She bent forward, slid off the strap, reversed the bra cup, and tore out the card. It was too dark to see the writing on one side of the card. At the first hint sunrise, she looked at the card again. Only two words were on the card: "Hong Kong."

She flagged down a surprised orange farmer, gave him a blowjob, and elbowed him hard in the nose. Knocking him out, she drove until she came to a strip mall. She wore his shirt and jeans, then bought a pair of jeans and t-shirt for herself from Family Dollar. When he awoke in his car, she was nowhere to be found.

Continued in the next chapter ... 



Assassin Ch. 10



Megan drove down I-95, holding to the speed limit. She was deep in thought. Everyone else was passing her, going at least 10-20 miles faster. 18-wheelers, SUVs, sedans, imports and domestics. Even senior citizens were passing her. Heads turned to look at the blonde woman driving with one hand on the steering wheel, the other hand hanging lazily out the window.

Alan Wong and Hong Kong. Those were the only clues she had. She had paid a steep price to get those two pieces of jigsaw. Chuck had driven a hard bargain. If the tables were turned, she would not let him off easily. Rocky was the worst. She summoned every ounce of willpower to put the two of them out of her mind. Let bygones be bygones.

She had to concentrate on the puzzle. It was in Hong Kong that she took the laptop from the dead money launderer. Was Alan Wong linked to the money launderer? Did the laptop contain information of all his financial dealings? Why was the laptop worth killing for?

Hong Kong, formerly under British administration and now under Chinese control, had always been a freewheeling banking center. It made sense that Alan Wong was last seen in the same city as the money launderer she killed. But there were seven million residents in Hong Kong. And Alan Wong was a common name in Hong Kong. She could not simply fly there and check out the phone book.

The drive from Boca Raton to Key Biscayne, even keeping to the speed limit, would take at most an hour. How to narrow down the search? Megan kept tossing the name Alan Wong over and over in her mind, trying to come up with search terms that she could give to Ron.

Ron Peterson was not his original name, but he had learned to like it. He could hack into any server on the internet backbone, even highly classified ones like the NSA, CIA, or FBI. Even overseas internet servers were no barrier to him. His skills were so useful the government regularly contracted with him to hack into foreign government websites.

Unlike Chuck, Ron would do anything Megan asked without asking for anything back. A man of honor, he remembered that if not for Megan, he would not be alive. Although he found Megan drop-dead attractive, he would never ask for any sexual favors.

Ron could have lived anywhere in the world. But he loved being near a major metropolitan and diverse area. Fluent in four languages, he especially enjoyed the vibrant mix of cultures in the South Florida region.

During the day, Ron worked quietly as a lifeguard on the southern end of Miami Beach, more famously known as South Beach. But it was his night time activities that were most lucrative. After 10:00 PM Eastern Time, the quiet alleys of the internet superhighways became his playground. Downloading files containing the hidden activities of the Chinese military networks, especially the email accounts of senior officers of the People's Liberation Army, had lately been his bread and butter. Working as a Pentagon contractor, he had recently received a wire transfer in the mid six figures.

Megan was aware that Ron was grateful she saved his life. Although he would not demand it, what she was asking him to do this time was so big that she wanted to give herself generously to him. She saw the sign that told her she had to exit 41 if she wanted to use I-75 to Naples. She filtered one lane to the left to stay on I-95 to Miami.

Megan knew that Ron would be waiting for her holed up in his darkened apartment, all his computers fired up and ready to go, shades and curtains drawn. She had told him over the phone that she had only a name and a city. She did not want to tell him the name Alan Wong and the city of Hong Kong over the phone. Otherwise, he would be working hard on it before she arrived. Besides, she was not using a secure phone. She had already put him as some risk by calling him.

With only two variables, Alan Wong and Hong Kong, it was almost impossible to proceed. But Megan realized there must be other variables. She had been kidnapped and interrogated in Mexico. Mexican gangs were known for the trafficking of drugs, especially cocaine. So now she had two more variables. She set up a spreadsheet in her mind, with 4 rows and 2 columns. The first column contained the four variables V1, V2, V3 and V4. The second column was populated with Alan Wong, Hong Kong, Mexico and Cocaine.

Realizing she was making progress, she smiled as she passed Fort Lauderdale-Hollywood International Airport on her left. A Jet Blue plane was taking off and passed her overhead as she tapped on the gas pedal, bringing the car a tad over the speed limit. The freeway had expanded to five lanes. She was now in the middle lane.

What else could she put in the second column of her spreadsheet? What were the Mexican gangs also known for? Out of ideas, she twisted the rental car's knob randomly to find a radio station. The DJ was congratulating the Senate for the achievement of passing the Immigration Reform Bill. Megan looked at the drivers around her. Florida was full of immigrants, both legal and illegal. The politically correct term for illegals was undocumented workers.

Megan saw an F-150 with half a dozen men riding behind. She imagined they were either on the way to a construction zone or on the way back. Perhaps they were undocumented workers who had crossed the border in Texas or New Mexico or Arizona or California. Maybe they had utilized the services of Mexican gangs to cross the border.

If the men had used Mexican gangs to cross the border, they had likely paid for the trip in Mexico. Supposed there were some who were too poor to pay for the trip. They would have to pay after they arrive in the United States. But supposed there were some who were forced to cross the border. Hadn't she read about the kidnapping of young girls to work in the brothels in the border towns? She inserted Human Trafficking into her fifth row of her mental spreadsheet.

Five variables would be a good start for word associations among the humongous databases that Ron would be able to hack into. Megan turned off the radio and floored the gas pedal. She glanced at the side mirror, saw a small gap, and squeezed between a Mercedes and BMW to get to the HOV lane. The engine of her Ford Focus struggled until it reached the speed of 90 miles per hour. The skyline of Miami downtown flew past. She could not wait to get started.

Her excitement was dampened when 95 ended and she was forced to stop at the toll booth in front of Rickenbacker Causeway. She handed over the twenty dollar bill, which she kept between her breasts in her bra, to the wide-eyed retired man, who asked if she was having a good day. Of course, she said, avoiding eye contact. The man was not exactly skillful at conversations. He counted eighteen dollars and handed it over. She sped off without waiting for the change.

While crossing the bridge, with the gorgeous skyline of Miami on her left, her subconscious imagination gave her a few more ideas. Alan Wong was last seen in Hong Kong, which was now part of China. And China was a major trading partner of the United States. From Wall Street Journal, she had learned that China had a major trade surplus with the U.S. on products like toys and electronics. She added electronics, toys and China to the mental spreadsheet. Ron would have eight variables to start the search.

>>>>>

Ron left work early, as soon as he received the phone call from Megan. It had been four years since he had heard her husky voice. He told her Brazilian lifeguard girlfriend to cover for him as he rushed home from South Beach.

Ron drove at top speed across the MacArthur Causeway, which was unusual for him. Under normal circumstances, Ron was a meticulous and habit driven man. Every day, five times a week, he started his morning with a bowl of cornflakes with 1% skim milk and two slices of toast with peanut butter. Nothing fancy, but the same thing every weekday at seven in the morning.

From the short phone call, Ron knew that Megan was in trouble. Ron wasn't exactly clear who she worked for. But he knew enough to know what she did for a living. Not the details, but enough to know it was dangerous. In all the years he had known her, she would call only when she had ran out of options.

Before he left for work in South Beach, he had fired up all five of his powerful computers. Ron put together all his computers with parts he bought on the internet. He had soldered each chip to the printed circuit boards, dipped them in home-made chemicals in his apartment, and exposed them to the ultra violet light in a machine he bought from a bankrupt electronic assembly plant in Bloomington, Indiana.

She was already in her apartment when he got home.

"How did you get in?" he asked and immediately regretted asking. Of course she had her ways. It was not as if he had just met her in a club last night.

"How's your Brazilian girlfriend Gisele?"

"Did you mean was the sex as hot as rumored? And did she know I am with you now? Yes and no." Ron closed the heavy iron door and double locked it. He noticed the name 'Alan Wong' blinking in the screen of one of his computers, the one with the largest screen in the middle of the pack.

"Would she be jealous if she knew?" she asked as she rolled her five legged computer chair to the right, opening up a space in front of the giant screen for Ron.

Ron sat on a computer chair with a high back and slid in, close to her, their elbows almost touching. "Would you be jealous if it is the other way round?"

"You know I am not your typical lifeguard in the next beach."

He was surprised she knew so much. Still, she did not know enough and needed his help. He felt his pants warm up at the idea of superior knowledge, or at least access to superior knowledge.

"What are you looking for?" he made it sound like it was a natural transition.

She told him the variables in her head.

He typed each variable into a separate computer, rolling around the room without looking, the room lit only by the dim light from the computer screens. She pushed back her chair to get out of the way.

The center computer whirled and returned 256 hits on Alan Wong in Hong Kong. "I'm pulling up banking records to narrow it down. Is Alan Wong a high net worth individual?"

"He runs at least one factory in China. My guess is he is at least a multi-millionaire."

Several quick keystrokes later, the list had been narrowed down to just six. Ron hacked into their cell phone records, tracking their locations in real time. Five of them were in various parts of Hong Kong, one of them in Singapore. He hit the print button, got out of his chair and walked to the printer in the corner of the room.

"Let's see," Ron pointed to the first of six pages in his hand. "AW1 amassed his fortunes from real estate, so this is not our man if your intel is accurate." Ron had a habit of shortening names.

She moved close to him to squint at the printouts.

"AW2 made his money in finance. Possibly not the guy you want. AW3 is into gaming, especially casinos in Macau. AW4 is a car dealer, specializing in the imports of luxury cars BMW, Audi, Mercedes."

He glanced at her for the first time. Even in the dim light, he could see her see-through white sleeveless blouse, with a black bra inside. She buttoned only the middle of the five buttons in front, exposing generous cleavage and a rock-hard core. One of the bra straps had fallen off her shoulder.

Her head was down, her eyes reading every line of the printout. But she felt his gaze. She stood up and positioned herself between the giant screen and Ron, his eyes level with her bare stomach. 

"Do you like it?"

He could now see that below the waist, she wore only a black bikini bottom, tied on both sides below her hip bones. He wondered if she stopped for gasoline along the way.

She was obviously dressed to tease. He could play the game as well. "What do you mean by it?" he asked.

She unbuttoned his shirt, one button at a time, letting it fall to the floor. Holding both his ears, she pulled him in until his nose was an inch away and he could smell her vagina.

"AW5 is a subcontractor for Nike shoes. His factories are in Malaysia and Indonesia. AW6, who is in Singapore, owns two factories in China, one in Shenzhen, the other in Shanghai." He was not reading, but was recalling from memory. His short-term memory was in the top 0.1% of the population.

"Find out more about AW6," she inched forward in her bare feet, spreading them slightly to lower her height. She gyrated her hips and rubbed her groin in his eyes.

With closed eyes, Ron stretched his hands around her and typed on the keyboard. The computer beeped. She turned around to look at the screen, releasing her grip on his ears. She bent over to be closer to the screen, a few strands of her hair sticking to his perspiring face, their faces so close she could feel his stubble.

Alan Wong's cell phone was located in a hotel in downtown Singapore.

"Get me on a flight to Singapore first thing tomorrow," she winked at him. He wondered why she did not want to fly out immediately.

The sound of clicking keyboard strokes. Then the soft purr of the printer as it printed out the boarding pass for flight from Miami to Singapore via Los Angeles.

"Do you have plans for tonight?" He asked as he handed her boarding pass to her. A simple question, but she paused before answering.

"I want to meet Gisele."

He heard her, but went to the kitchen, pouring Jack Daniels into two cubes of ice, then emptying the entire packet of white powder into the drink. He stirred and held it up, making sure she could see.

"Was that for me?" the tone was seductive.

"Yes, it would knock you out and then I can bring you to see Gisele."

She took the glass from him and drank, finishing it without breathing, crunching the ice cubes and swallowing, and then turning the glass upside down on top of his head.

"Are we all gonna have sex, like a threesome?" she asked as she swayed on her feet.

"I don't know, it's up to her."

"What's her favorite fanta-sea?" slurring badly.

"She likes to be the dominatrix."

>>>>>

"Wake up, bitch. Know who I am?"

A kick to the stomach landed on Megan, who was lying sideways. She opened her eyes lazily and saw a woman with long dark hair in a leather halter bra top and leather miniskirt. "You must be Gisele," she said in a matter of fact way. "I can see why Ron is deeply in love."

"Wrong answer," Megan was kicked again, this time from behind. "When you are asked a question, depending on who is asking, you start your sentence with 'Yes sir' or 'Yes ma'am.' Gisele's accent was an exotic mix of Portuguese, Spanish, and French. "Got it, cunt?"

"Yes, ma'am. Where is Ron?"

"He had gone back to work."

Megan tried to sit up, which was not an easy task with her hands behind. Her elbows and wrists had been professionally tied with a single loop of nylon rope. Her legs were free. She was still dressed in her bra and bikini bottom, the blouse held together by a single button.

"Want some help?" It was a rhetorical question.

Megan noticed for the first time there were two men standing behind her, both in black T-shirts, jeans, and military-style boots. They grabbed her blouse and hoisted her to her bare feet, breaking the button and opening her blouse. The two scantily clad women stood eye to eye.

"I heard you wanted to meet me," Gisele broke the silence.

"Yes, ma'am. Nice to meet you."

"Were you trying to fuck my man?"

"No ma'am. Of course not."

"Then why the provocative outfit?"

"No ma'am. The weather is hot. I did not dress to seduce Ron."

"Then why did you rub your slutty cunt in his eyes?"

"Did he tell you that? Or did you use a hidden camera? Is that how you get your kicks? If it helps you get wet, we could repeat the performance in front of you."

Gisele struck first, slapping her across the mouth. Megan had time to kick her shin and knee her between the legs before she was pulled back. Man Number One held her hair and neck. Man Number Two her tied elbows and waist. She was kicked and forced to go down on her knees.

"We're done talking with this whore."

Man Number One reached inside her bra to twist and pinch her nipple hard. When she cried out, Man Number Two forced a large ball gag into her mouth, securing the leather straps behind her neck. She was half carried and half dragged to the center of the room, where there was a billiard table.

"Bend her over," Gisele ordered in Spanish.

Her head was pushed down, nose flattened, waist pressed against the edge, legs spread. Gisele stood behind her and slowly untied the knot on both sides of her bikini bottom.

"Wiggle your ass and shake loose the bikini." She reached under her chest and located a nipple, raking in her nails until Megan complied. A rope was looped around her neck and tied to the opposite side of the billiard table. She was trapped and vulnerable.

Gisele produced a half inch bamboo cane, testing it on her own palm. 

"You will be whipped until you beg to be fucked."

Two dozen whips later, her butt crisscrossed with welts, her gag was removed.

"Nod if you want these men to fill your cunt and mouth with hot semen."

She nodded. Although she could take more pain, she wanted to end quickly so she could catch the plane to Singapore.

A shopping bag was placed over her head, restricting her breath and cutting off her vision completely. She was released from the table, led to a bed, and tied spreadeagled face up. After receiving what was promised, a needle was stuck between her breasts, knocking her out.

>>>>>

When she woke up, Ron was driving her to the airport. He had a knowing smile on his lips.

To be continued next chapter ...



Assassin Ch. 11



Republic of Singapore

Every year, on Christmas day, she marked her birthday alone. Orchard Road in Singapore was as good a place as any other to celebrate yet another lonely birthday.

"Are you ready to order?" The waiter asked.

"Give me another minute," she was deep in thought and had forgotten to look at the menu.

Two hours ago, she had arrived at the ultra-modern Changi airport on the Eastern part of land-scarce Singapore. Sitting entirely on reclaimed land, the world-class airport was crowded with people all over the world. The taxi took only twenty minutes to get to Orchard, the shopping belt of the tiny island-nation.

As soon as checked in, she placed a call to her old contact, a man with the nickname Pork Ribs. Ribs was out of town and his right hand man gave her another name and number. Said he was reliable and could help her.

"I am a friend of Pork Ribs," she used her most feminine voice.

"Okay. I can meet you tomorrow morning at the beach in Marine Parade. Do you know where it is?"

"I can tell the taxi driver."

"Okay. Tell the driver to drop you off next to the tennis courts."

"What time?"

"Be there around nine to nine-thirty."

"Anything else?"

"What do you look like?"

"I have medium length blonde hair, green eyes, five nine without heels."

"Wow, very tall. Okay, wear a bikini with white top and black bottom to make it easier for me to identify you. Walk along the edge of the beach until I show up."

"What do you look like?"

"Don't worry about me. When it is safe, I will approach you. I will ask whether you know Spare Ribs."

"What should I say?"

"Say you are not yet hungry."

"What should I bring?"

"Nothing. Just wear a bikini and nothing else. It will save me the trouble of searching you."

She liked it that this man was careful. With Alan Wong and possibly other unknown enemies lurking nearby, it was reassuring to work with a professional. To remain inconspicuous and blend in with the conservative culture of Singapore, she could hardly walk into a taxi wearing only a bikini. She planned to wear her bikini inside her tank top and shorts.

>>>>>

Her hotel phone rang at seven the next morning.

"This is a wakeup call. I am the man going to meet you in two hours."

"How did you know where I was staying? I called you with a disposable cell phone."

"I spoke to Spare Ribs. He spoke to your friend in Miami."

"You have been doing some work on me. I am impressed."

"I have my orders to treat you like a VIP. Marine Parade is only fifteen minutes by taxi. But please arrive early. I need to observe you for at least ten minutes to make sure."

"Is that really necessary? I am a helpless woman here alone, with no idea of how the city works."

"You have powerful enemies. I've my orders to ensure you are not being followed."

"I hope they have good breakfast downstairs."

"Please do not eat at the hotel restaurant. It might not be safe for you. I will bring you breakfast when we meet."

"So why wake me up so early?"

"I thought you need all that time to toss around your hair and mess with makeup."

"Your research is lacking. I am not that kind of girl."

"If I'm wrong, I apologize. Take a long shower and hot bath. Drink the vodka or Jack or Johnny Walker or whatever else they have. I am paying the hotel bills and driving you to the airport when you get out."

He said it as if she did not have a choice. She usually did not like men who told her what to do. But she made an exception for him. He seemed to genuinely want to help.

>>>>>

She followed his instructions to the T. From the hotel, she wore jogging shorts, sneakers, and a tank top. Her black and white bikini was hidden beneath. She carried an untraceable mobile phone.

She arrived thirty minutes early. The beach was already packed with joggers, walkers, couples, inline skaters, skateboarders. She removed her outer wear and tossed them into the trash bin next to the tennis courts. When she stepped on sand, she removed her sneakers and trashed them as well. She was wearing only her bikini and her phone.

Her phone rang.

"Toss the phone as well," the same voice as last night spoke with some urgency.

"You are really paranoid," she looked around the crowd to see who was on the phone. It was hopeless because a dozen people were glued to their phones.

"Walk into the ocean with the phone and it'll stop transmitting your location. Do it and I'll meet you waist high in the water."

Ribs was ex-CIA and very careful. It served him well in his career. More importantly, it allowed him to survive in the post-Cold War environment where friends and foes were almost impossible to distinguish. Megan relaxed in the knowledge that her old-school pal had not lost his touch.

She shoved the phone inside her bikini bottom and walked in. There was a slight electrical buzz as the phone was submerged. She enjoyed the tingling spark around her pubic area before the phone went dead.

She was half swimming and half walking, parallel to the beach, going east then west. The beach was packed, with dozens of men, women, and children around her. No longer able to tell the time without her phone, she waited what appeared to be a long time before a man in green trunks bumped into her.

"I am sorry. Do you eat ribs?"

"I would love to, but I am not yet hungry."

He moved away from her and signaled for her to follow. He stepped out of the water and on the sand, his sneakers still on him. She followed barefoot, as quickly as she could. He picked up the pace to a full running speed, zig zagging around the multitudes of human flesh on the sand. Handicapped by her lack of footwear, she kept up, but the distance between them was widening. She was mad he was trying to flee. It made no sense. In her mind, they had gone beyond professional caution to paranoia overdrive. 

He sprinted to where the sunbathers thin out, hopping over them as if he was the running back determined to score a touchdown. She closed the distance, mad as hell and determined to slap him when she caught up. He was heading toward a pair of police officers sitting on the sand, slowing down. She sped up, focused on jumping him when he was within spitting distance. In her rage, she did not register the odd sight of two fully dressed officers sitting on a public beach on a hot and muggy day.

Time seemed to slow down when he hopped like a kangaroo and whistled to the officers. She followed the same route intending to go pass the men. In perfect timing, the officer nearer to her stuck out both of his long legs when she was close enough he could see the color of her eyes. Too late, she noticed his crooked smile. She tripped and rolled several times on the sand.

Both officers had their guns out when she stopped spinning.

"Police officers. Stay on your knees and put your hands where we can see them."

She knelt facing them, hands raised with empty palms facing them. The man running away from her had circled back. The crowd was gathering to watch.

"You are suspected of being a member of a terrorist organization. Under Singapore law, you are not entitled to an attorney. However, you have the right to remain silent. If you give up the right to remain silent, anything you say can be used against you in a court of law." The officer recited from memory, still gripping his gun with both hands. The other officer covered her from a ninety degree angle, aiming away from the crowd. Both followed standard operating procedures for handling suspected terrorists, although she was the first female they had to apprehend.

The man in green trunks pushed back the crowd, which had formed a semi-circle. "Police business, please step back." He flashed his credentials.

Megan felt a black hood over her face at the same time that her arms were shackled by handcuffs at the wrists and at the elbows. Her ankles were hobbled by leg irons eighteen inches apart.

"No pictures. You are breaking the law and interfering with police work if you take pictures with your mobile phones." She could no longer see, but recognized the voice of the man with green trunks. She guessed he was the detective sent to take her down.

With her blinded and chained, the officers relaxed and kept their guns. She felt their bony fingers on her elbows.

"Sir, where do you want to take her to?"

"Let me take over from here. Both of you can proceed for routine business."

He took her to a full sized van with blacked out windows. A man and a woman in civilian clothes emerged and led her inside. Megan was made to sit between them. She had no idea where she would be taken to. But she felt relaxed and oddly delighted to be taken this way. Ribs could not be too careful. Anyone watching her would report to their superiors she had been arrested and brought to a black site, probably handed to the CIA or other American agencies to be interrogated. Only Ribs had the ability and connections to stage something as elaborate as this. But she was still mad at how she was manipulated. Ribs could have warned her. That bastard. She would make him pay and give him unspeakable pleasure, all at the same time.

A minute after the van started rolling, Megan felt a needle pricked her chest.

>>>>>

Pork Ribs took the boat out at a steady pace, both hands on the steering wheel at the front of the boat. After more than ten years in Singapore, he had built a solid relationship with the Singapore PD. The relationship was mutually beneficial. Ribs was in the import/export business and knew a lot of the players the PD wanted to keep track of. Ribs himself did not get involved in illegal activities, except for smuggling of goods from low-tax Singapore to the surrounding countries. Law enforcement overlooked that in return for critical intel associated with suspected terrorist activities in the surrounding countries of Malaysia and Indonesia, both with significant extremist Islamic cells.

Through his considerable resources, Ribs knew that Megan was in grave danger. Her enemies had eyes and ears everywhere. Ribs could not risk meeting her openly. He had to do it in a roundabout way. Captain James Lim of the Singapore PD was a good friend and agreed to set up the phony arrest of a suspected terrorist so that Megan could be taken out of Singapore to an island in the South China Sea.

The numerous small islands off the coast were owned by tycoons from around the world. From Indonesian timber kings to Chinese government officials to Middle Eastern oil money, no questions were asked as long as money was wired into the Swiss accounts of the appropriate officials.

Megan and Ribs were alone in the small open boat when she woke, face up on a thin sofa at the back. Ribs wore a pair of shorts and a sleeveless shirt with a Glock tucked in his back waistband. The onboard engine hummed at a low tone. Moonlight lit up enough for Megan to recognize him from the back.

After checking her bikini was still intact and untouched, she tip toed to his location and pressed her body against his back, her arms wrapped around his hairy chest. He lifted one hand to draw her head in, then turned to kiss her on the lips. Their tongues found each other.

He slowed and then cut the engine. They were floating aimlessly in the middle of the South China Sea.

No satellites were zooming in to the action. But if one had been set up, it would see, with the help of infra-red technology, two bodies with rapidly rising temperatures, tightly coiled and wrapped around each other like two poisonous snakes. Both were deadly and could kill with their bare hands. Each had hands on the other's throats, restricting breathing through the noses, with lips still tightly locked and cutting off air flow.

After a minute, she bit his upper lip, drawing blood. At the same time, she hooked his ankle and pulled him in. He would have landed dangerously on his face and broke his neck if not for his quick reflexes, remarkable for a man in his fifties. He twisted his body and landed on his side before crashing against the steel floor of the boat. The gun fell loose, bounced, and tipped overboard, sinking rapidly.

"What the fuck was that?" He rolled to face her, his back against the cold steel. He pondered for a second before deciding not it was impossible to find the gun. The ocean here was deep enough for a supertanker.

"This is for not letting me in on your kidnapping plan," she spit out the words like bullets.

Before he could reply, she dropped one knee on his six-pack stomach and let the rest of her body land on top of him, followed by a bare-knuckled punch on his nose, drawing blood.

"Stop or I'll hit back," he cried as he wiped the blood off both his nose and upper lip with the back of his hand.

"Pain and pleasure," she continued as she slid the straps of her top from her shoulders, wet from the perspiration of the passionate tongue action and the subsequent wrestling struggle. "That's how you used to like it." 

"And still do," he said as he helped her removed her top and tossed it into the ocean. They both sat up and watched as it floated away from the boat. She was straddling him, sitting open legged on his lap, both turned sideways with the white bra top bobbing up and down until it could no longer be seen when the full moon was covered by a large low-hanging cloud.

A few drops of rain came from behind her, hitting her back. He turned to look at her eyes a second, then hid his entire face in her chest, closing his eyes, hands cupping her butt. She wrapped her elbows around the back of his head, burying his face against her breasts and squeezed, again stopping his air flow. He was no longer sure whether the up and down feeling came from the boat or his oxygen-starved brain cells. He let her push him on his back, her full weight now on him, bouncing on his joystick with the rhythm of the boat. They removed the rest of the clothing clumsily, tossing them overboard. He screamed with pleasure at the top of his lungs when she arched her back and allowed him to fully enter her.

Her bikini and his trunks floated past a man with oxygen tanks behind his back. On his shoulders was an infra-red equipped camera, capturing the sights and sounds from the boat. The water-resistant camera had only one hour of battery life and was transmitting the images via cell phone towers to two men in two parts of the world.

One of them was monitoring the steamy scene from thirty thousand feet above. He shook his head with disapproval when he saw her bopping up and down on the man. "What a whore this bitch is," he mumbled to himself with Chinese accented English. "Definitely not my type," he said as he quietly watched it on his cell phone, chewing on the cashew nuts served in the first-class cabin of Cathay Pacific. He was on a three-hour flight from Hong Kong to Kuala Lumpur, the capital of Malaysia. A helicopter was on standby in Kuala Lumpur, ready to take Mr. Wong from Kuala Lumpur to the private island as soon as he arrived.

Ten years ago, Ribs would have lasted ten minutes when she worked her magic. but age came with wisdom and control. He held back for half an hour until she felt the first hint of exhaustion after she climaxed twice. Feeling her weakened state, he flipped her over, letting her feel the hard floor, no longer cold from the fiction of their bodies.

A few drops of rain were followed by a heavy downpour. It was welcomed by both heated bodies. He lifted her by the back of her knees and pumped her hard, holding back again and again just before ejaculation. The rain had filled up the open boat so there was an inch of water sloshing around. He lifted her back a few inches, then spun her around like wheel of fortune, ready for some sixty-nine action. She laughed out, loud enough to be heard under him and above the roar of the heavy rain.

As suddenly as it began, the rain ceased, as if on cue from the movie director. The blurry images sharpen again, allowing the man with the camera to zoom in.

Unlike Alan Wong, who felt disgusted by the images he was receiving, the man in Dubai enjoyed every frame of the video feed. Abdul-Alim Hashim was watching it on his eighty inch LED screen he recently installed in his office on the thirty-second floor, overlooking the Persian Gulf. He looked at the sunset and saw several boats he imagined to be the same size as the dark images on his screen. He could not see her face from the live video feed, but had a picture of her opened on his laptop. He tried to imagine her wet hair spread out on the boat's floor, the rain and wind tossing and rolling her body under him. The man in the image was too gentle with her. If it were Abdul, he would slap her around and twist her nipple until she submitted to his manhood. He would use heavy clamps on the bitch's nipples and slutty cunt. She would be hogtied on her knees and his penis would choke her. He would have her hair ponytailed and tied to a fishing hook in her ass.

Abdul closed his eyes and stroked himself to maintain keep the blood flow from leaving. When he opened his eyes again, he saw the man fingering her G-spot, trying to pleasure her. Abdul was perplexed on why Western men insisted on mutual pleasure. Then Abdul saw something even more disgusting. He saw the man on the boat licking her like a dog drinking water. At the same time, she cupped her fingers and guided him into her mouth. He was irritated the man was so gentle with her, even though she was clearly submissive below him.

Abdul continued to enlarge himself with his right hand, not daring to close his eyes. He saw her roll his organ around her mouth, sticking out her left cheek, then right, below her tongue, and naughtily biting it. He increased the rhythm when the rain started again. Abdul cursed as the images blurred. But he could still see the bodies humping and the boat bobbing violently, the ripples spreading in circles until it reached the cameraman.

Thankfully, the rain stopped and the zoom worked again. He had finally let himself go. She let him pull out and spread his sticky seed all over her lips, cheeks, nose, eyes, eyebrows, forehead, and hair. She even played with it and tossed it all over her hair as if she was spreading peanut butter on bread.

Alan and Abdul were both repelled by the last images before the camera ran out of juice. They did not speak to each other that night but were in agreement. This slutty bitch had to be punished like an unfaithful whore. The only questions were when and where. And whether to torture her before or after the interrogation. After all, she knew more than she should have known. Security had been compromised and they need to punish everyone involved.

Abdul decided she would be forced to watch all who cooperated with her die, after they were forced to watch her submit to the most creative sexual assaults his men could devise. Alan would simply be told of his plans at the right time. After all, he was financing Alan's plans against the Great Satan.

>>>>>

The rain stopped. Ribs dug up dry towers and clothing from zip locks hidden in compartments under the sofa. They towered off and dressed before enjoying the sunrise together. Megan wore his oversized shirt without using the buttons, knotting it just below her ribcage. She wrapped a tower below her waist, exposing her midriff and showing off her navel ring.

Dressed only in a pair of white trunks, Ribs fried eggs and bacon on a portable grill. He had small 50 ml sample sizes of Jack Daniels to go with the greasy breakfast. They finished the food and alcohol before Ribs restarted the engine. He drove the boat northeast, past Tioman Island off the coast of Malaysia. She stopped tracking where they were, safe in the hands of one of her closest mentors. She knew that Ribs knew far more about her enemies, but that can wait until they had fully enjoyed each other, perhaps on one of the islands he had access to.




Assassin Ch. 11



She knew Ribs probably did not own any Asian island, but had friends in powerful places that did. They would be met on an island and then left alone for their intimate moments, interrupted only by food cooked with fresh seafood ingredients in spicy ways that only islanders could concoct. The best alcohol and drugs would add to the ecstasy of being with a sophisticated man who knew her to the core, a man who knew how to satisfy her deepest desires while fulfilling his own lust.

As she freed her hair to the winds of a speeding boat, sad thoughts about the death of Fabian still clung to her heart. She planned to enjoy one more day of uninterrupted union with Ribs before seriously pumping him for information.

The irregular shape of a lush island filled with thick vegetation emerged over the rays of the rising sun. She wished she had sunglasses with her. Shading her eyes with her palm, she could make out a dozen men waiting for them on the U-shaped beach with a fishing pier. Ribs had done very well in the years she worked as a professional hit woman, she reckoned. If not for the sad death of Fabian, she would never have the opportunity to reunite with her old flame.

The men stood in attention as the boat neared, all in military gear and AR-15s slung casually around shoulders. The captain smiled and waved as Ribs brought the boat in. Two men tied the boat to the wooden pier, struggling against the powerful winds. None of the other men moved to help.

Megan was curious about why they were armed to the teeth. She noticed the assault rifles had thirty-round magazines in their chambers rather than the standard twenty-round magazines. Were they expecting trouble? Perhaps they had to protect the island from pirates, known to be present in this part of the world. She made a mental note to confirm the theory with Ribs.

Ribs was welcomed like a VIP. The captain hugged and congratulated him in British accented English, then switch to Bahasa Malay, a language she could not comprehend. They slapped each other's backs and chatted like brothers, looking her way occasionally. Megan was uncomfortable Ribs continued conversing with a language he knew she could not understand.

The captain gave an order. The man next to him moved instantly and extended his hand to Megan. She accepted with one hand, holding the tower around her waist with the other hand. The wind found her shirt and blew through as she pulled with one hand to the pier. Without a free hand, she turned her body against the wind but could not prevent a nipple from showing. Ribs saw the entire episode but did nothing except smile. The motherfucker must be enjoying this. She planned to knee him in the balls for that.

Almost all the men looked at her chest. But the captain hardened his eyes and gave a one-word order. The two men nearest to her clicked the rifle's safety gauge and swung their barrels to aim at her chest, fingers on the trigger.

She looked at Ribs, puzzled.

The captained looked at her for the first time. He yelled a full sentence in Bahasa Malay. The two soldiers moved inches closer, their eyes alert as if looking at a wild tigress.

Ribs stepped forward and broke down in laughter. He was laughing so hard you could barely get the words out. "Translation: Bitch, I know you are dangerous. So get down on your knees with hands on top of head."

She held her tower tightly and started to button up the shirt.

The captain shouted harshly again.

"Obey the order or the soldiers will hit you with their rifle butts."

She removed the knot and closed all five buttons in front, knelt down carefully so her tower would stay on her waist. Slowly, she raised her hands and placed them on her head.

The two soldiers shifted their angles so they could still cover her. Two more soldiers stepped forward with plastic cuffs. While one of them held her hands, the other secured her wrists.

"Why did you romance me when you were going to throw me to the lions?"

"I thought the sex would be good after all these years," Ribs choked back the laughter as he spoke. The captain and all his soldiers remained stern and did not join his laughter. For them, it was strictly a job they had been paid handsomely to execute. It was not personal. "But frankly, it was boring. I prefer girls half your age with twice your skills."

Megan remained calm, looking at each of the soldiers and the captain. She would kill them all as part of her vengeance. For Ribs though, a quick death would be too nice to him.

"Since you had tricked me into believing you were on my side, why didn't you ask how much I knew while seducing me?" She had to get as much background information as possible. It could help her understand the relationship between Ribs and his employer, or figure out who was behind all this. It would also help her escape and definitely help her quest for revenge.

"It's not my problem. It's up to my employer to apply the screws on you and pump you for all he wants to know."

He used the masculine pronoun. Ribs had been employed by a man. Hopefully he was not using "he" as a universal pronoun that represents either genders. With substantial portions of whiskey in his system, Megan was willing to bet he was not that clear minded. In contrast, her mind was clear as crystal, even though she could still feel the effects of alcohol coursing through her veins. What they said about the clear mind of a person expecting to be hanged the next day was true.

"Why not continue the charade on the island? I had thought these men were friendly."

Her wrists had been tightly secured by plastic biting into her bones. Blood flow was beginning to be restricted. Her fingers felt the tingling feeling of a lack of oxygen. They would soon be numb. Depending on what they do to her, she could soon be unconscious. She had to continue the conversation while she was still mentally sharp.

"That's what we were discussing a while ago. We had to do it in Bahasa Malay. I bet you were too busy or too lazy to learn the rare language. But I did not expect you to be so stupid as to not suspect that something was amiss." His speech was slurring as the alcohol took effect. Ribs would soon be unconscious. He was bigger than her but did not have a bigger tolerance for alcohol. "Any man in our position would smell something and know he was about to be betrayed. Only a woman in love with me would not see through my eyes. For all the men who fell to your charms, you are a blonde and dumb whore who deserved to be fucked by every man on this island. Fucked until your tits crumble and every hole twice enlarged."

A rough and thick rope normally used for securing boats was forcing her elbows together. She relaxed her arm muscles and lean back so they would touch without more force that would cause rope burns. The elbows were squeezed together until the bones cut into each other. The free end of the rope was twisted around her neck loosely so she would not choke to death. They needed her alive but unable to escape.

She glanced at the captain. "Did the captain disagree with you? That's why the long discussion?"

After her arms had been cruelly trapped behind her, she was yanked by the hair to her feet. Her tower fell loose, exposing her to the wind below the waist.

Ribs spoke to the captain. "Order your men to bring her in front of me. We have unfinished business." Ribs was no longer interested in answering her questions.

A long command, probably two sentences, cracked from the captain's mouth. She was marched to the cracked wooden plank in front of Ribs. He had carefully placed two sharp rocks on the plank, using the cracks to hold them, with the sharp edges pointing up.

"Kneel on the rocks. I want you to apologize for landing those punches. My nose is still bleeding." He licked off a single stream of blood on his upper lip, extending his long tongue to almost touch his nose.

She looked away behind him, staring at the distance. There were more uniformed men on the island. In her mind, she calculated the odds of escape, dropping it to a single digit percentage.

An awkward silence. The Filipino captain shifted his weight, not understanding the personal nature of the hatred between the two. All the soldiers had turned to watch. Ribs could not afford to do nothing in the face of her disobedience.

"Kneel on the rocks, open your mouth, and worship my cock," he lowered his voice an entire octave, pulling on her navel ring to emphasize he meant business. "Good. Just stand there and do nothing. I am going to enjoy pulling slowly until the ring breaks from your skin. Let's see if your abs is stronger than my biceps."

He hooked his index finger in her ring and pulled her forward and down. She would have lost her balance and kneel in front of him if she did not tighten her abdomen muscles. She pulled back, her bare feet shifting one at a time, sliding inches against the rough wood. She felt her skin beginning to rip. She gave in and her upper body moved forward. But instead of kneeling, she used her momentum to raise her stronger right leg and planted her pointed toes deep in his crotch. He doubled over and she planted a knee on his nose. Fresh blood flowed. He was still on the ground when the soldiers caught her and forced her to kneel. The rocks had been kicked to the water in the struggle.

Ribs was furious, not from the pain or blood, but from the humiliation suffered from a woman in front of the soldiers. He yelled in the foreign tongue to the captain, who said okay okay, and continued in the foreign lingo.

They realized it was a grave mistake to leave her legs free. Still on her knees, she was forced back until the back of her head touched the ground, her knees and ankles kicked apart her roped elbows and cuffed wrists were trapped by her own weight. A booted foot was placed on her neck, another boot on her stomach as they shouted foreign words to her. She froze and did not move, not needing a translator.

They had seen her in action. The captain felt disgraced, having failed to protect his VIP. He shouted another command. A soldier brushed the tip of the rifle barrel on her lips. She understood, parting her lips. The barrel was inserted deep in her mouth, pressed against her tongue and evoking the gag instinct.

She thought she would be shot. But the captain simply wanted her not to move as two soldiers tied her ankles to her cuffed wrists. She was hogtied in the most painful and humiliating position possible, her knees spread by the muscles of her own arms and legs, coiled like a spring unable to unwind. 

The boot on her stomach was removed when she was quivering in her hogtie. The barrel was also removed from her mouth. But the boot on her neck stayed. Ribs knelt on one knee and spat on her. Then he inserted his middle finger in her stomach ring and ripped it out. Pain shot through her and her navel burned as if she had been set on fire by gasoline. Her body jumped involuntarily but was held back by the boot on her neck and rope holding her neck to the elbows. Her face turned purple from the lack of oxygen. Ribs licked the mixture of blood and skin from the ring. He held it high like a trophy from the academy awards. The captain shook his head but shouted another order.

She was lifted by her armpits and placed face up on the bed of an F-150 truck. Four soldiers sat cross legged next to her. The driver started the engine but waited for Ribs and the captain to approach.

"Good luck," Ribs jumped on the truck and dropped his knees on her thighs. "You are going to meet Mr Wong." The sight of her defenseless under him pumped new blood into his penis. "Something tells me you were about to ask me where to find him. Well, he's coming to you. So theirs is no need for you to find him." He parked his body directly on top of her and whispered in her ear, licking the ear lobes as he sat up and placed his full two hundred and fifty pounds on her bound body.

"You fatherfucking gay prick, able to handle a chick only when she is hogtied." Megan spat out the words, unafraid of the consequences.

Ribs was shocked and took a moment to react. "I want my shirt back," he said as he tore off buttons and ripped it out of her.

He took one more look at the bleeding and bruised naked body and jumped down from the truck.

"Enjoy your meeting with Alan Wong. You will not have daddy there to protect you. On second thoughts, I don't think you will get to suck his cock. Alan does not enjoy stupid white trash."

Although she was naked and her legs were spread, and was attractive even though bruised and bloodied, the men did not dare to look at her. She was brought to a helicopter pad to wait for the arrival of Mr Wong, who would pay generous cash to everyone involved for their troubles.

Ribs left on the same boat. His money would be wired to him separately. Although he appreciated the money, he would have done it even without. Megan was trouble and Ribs could not let their friendship affect the healthy multimillion dollar business he had painstakingly built in the last decade. His major clients were in the Middle East and there was no way he could be seen helping Megan track them down. It would have meant not only the end of his lucrative business, but possibly his life as well.

Ribs had no doubt what was about to happen to Megan. But better her than him, he thought as the boat sped toward his base in Singapore.

*

To be continued ...



Assassin Ch. 12



Malaysia

Alan Wong did not enjoy the flight from Hong Kong to Kuala Lumpur, the capital of Malaysia. In fact, Alan Wong never enjoyed flying. The longer the flight, the more he felt dead inside. He thought that flying was the worst torture invented since Biblical crucifixion. Well, perhaps waterboarding was a close second.

Alan had never read the Bible, whether the Chinese or English translation. He knew the original version was in Greek and Hebrew, so he did not trust translations. His lack of faith in translations was rooted in his own bilingual experience. Whenever he read the English version of events in China reported in the New York Times, after he had read about the same incident in Hong Kong's newspapers, it was as if they were two different incidents.

His distrust of the New York Times, which he read religiously, and American media in general, grew stronger after September 11. In Alan's mind, American reports simply were too different from what he read in Hong Kong and what he heard on the BBC. He chalked in up to the complacent self-sufficient attitudes of the Americans he dealt with in business.

But until recently, Alan Wong could not have imagined he would play a major role in terrorism. He used to be a rich man but his fortune had been wiped out in a single decision made by a single buyer in Bentonville Arkansas, the small city that hosted the biggest retailer in the world. That decision led to a cascade of events that explained why he was speeding at 500 miles per hour to the biggest city in Malaysia.

Alan looked out from Seat 1A of Cathay Pacific, cutting through the clouds that surrounded the city, a metro area of more than five million souls. He could make out the twin towers of the Petronas Tower, the tallest twin buildings in the world.

He was not looking forward to the next twenty-four hours. When he first heard that an American woman had been captured, and that she somehow knew about his involvement in the conspiracy, he had assumed that his sponsor would send someone to interrogate her. After all, this was not really his war.

But his sponsor had insisted that he personally see to the interrogation.

Alan thought silently that he was not a terrorist or a gangster. "I am a businessman, not equipped with the skills necessary for successful extraction of information from a captive," Alan had pleaded on the phone with the Sponsor. 

"I have several highly skilled men who can do the dirty work," the Sponsor spoke in a calm business-like voice. "But I need you to be the leader of the interrogation."

"If you already have experienced men who can do it, is there a need for me to be in Malaysia?"

"I want your negotiation skills, which I am sure you have accumulated throughout your highly successful business career. My men are brute animals that could physically break her down. But they don't have the same background as you to play the mind game."

"What kind of mind game do you have in mind?"

"Good cop bad cop."

"Oh," Alan thought that could not possibly work. The good cop bad cop routine had been portrayed a million times on TV and in the movies. It worked only with naïve civilians with no prior training. Everything he heard about the female captive told him she must have had some kind of resistance training.

"Don't worry, Alan. You get to play good cop."

"Who says I am worried?"

"I can tell from your voice." One reason the Sponsor was so successful and had outlasted his peers, who were mostly dead from drone strikes, was his ability to read minds, even from thousands of miles away merely from the digital signals that bounced off satellites and cell phone towers. "I am sending you an expert who used to be the top interrogator of female suspects captured by the former KGB. He will direct the muscles who will do the dirty work of racks and ropes. All you have to do is get her to trust you."

"You want me to make her believe I will spare her life if she talks."

"Not necessarily. There are many things that can happen to a woman that are worse than death."

"How much authority do I have in this thing?" Alan could not bear to call it interrogation. He knew the Russian method is merciless and she would probably be tortured and gang raped if he could not persuade her to work with the good cop.

"The bottom line is I am interested in how she knew about our jihad, how much she knew, and who told her. If you could get all that information, I am not interested in torture for torture sake. The Russian has command of all our brothers in Malaysia. But he will report to you. And you will report to me."

"If I am successful with my negotiations with this woman, what happens to her?" In his business dealings, Alan had always looked the other party in the eye and never lied about his promises. It was this core value that made him so reliable as a business partner and supplier to American retailers.

"I want her flown to my location after you are done with her. Hopefully you can do a great job and keep her alive for my personal use."

*

Megan's legs were in the air. Each ankle had been tied to separate pulleys hanging from opposite corners of a small concrete cube. The rest of her nude body was resting on the concrete ground, her arms box tied behind her, wrists to elbows. There were two stools in the crammed ten-by-ten room. The Russian sat on one, leaning against the wall. His booted feet were on top of the other stool.

Every fifteen minutes, the Russian stood up and stepped over her tortured body to the far wall. The red button on the wall activated a hydraulic system that pulled the ropes up and out. He would push the button until her entire body and head was lifted off the ground, her hair the only part of her body still touching the floor.

Inverted and with blood rushing down to cloud her thoughts, Megan concentrated on breathing through her nose. Her mouth was useless for breathing because it was blocked by a large ball gag. The sight of her struggling for air, her chest expanding and contracting, her legs spread six feet apart, pumped Russian blood into his erection.

He pressed his hardness into her inverted stomach, inserting three fingers into her cunt. With the free hand, he slapped her across the breasts. "You liked that?" The accent was thick.

With her mouth gagged, she was unable to articulate a proper response. He laughed at the muffled response.

"I don't hear the word no. You know, I respect a tough slut like you. If you were to say no, I would stop right away." He stooped down and cupped his right ear. "I don't hear anything. Silence is consent, you know."

He stood upright again and slapped her between the spread legs. Rapid hits starting from her right thigh, moving down to her most sensitive region, then up her left thigh. The upside-down room spun like a roulette wheel in her head, clockwise, then counter-clockwise.

"You want me to stop?" he stooped and cupped his right hand to his ear again. "I can't hear you," his raised voice echoed in the small room. "Seems you like it and want me to continue. Okay, I will grant your wish." He hit her with an open palm from her knees down, her pubic area, stomach, chest, carefully avoiding the nipples and saving them for later. He ended the session by sitting on the floor and slapping her backhanded across the face. She was lowered to the floor after fifteen minutes. Most of her body was no longer stretched by gravity, but her legs were still in the air.

The Russian had some training in breaking tough subjects. By keeping each session to fifteen minutes, he ensured they stay fully conscious to absorb the full horror of what was happening to them. The anticipation between the sessions made it impossible to sleep or rest. 

In the next session, he inserted his entire fist into her cunt, thrusting in an out. "Bitch, do you want me to continue or stop?" He kept asking as he fisted her. When muffled sounds emerged from her gagged mouth, he cupped his ears and pretended to listen. "What, I don't understand." He continued fisting. "Oh! You want me to fuck your ass as well?" He inserted two fingers of his other hand into her anus. Double penetrated, her muffled struggles excited him more and more, accelerating his thrusts until he was panting and exhausted. When he judged that she was on the verge of losing consciousness, he pulled out both hands abruptly and hit the green button to lower her body.

Each torture session became harsher. She realized his objective was pure torture and to make her suffer, not to interrogate because her gag was never removed. Perhaps the interrogation would be done later by a different person, a daddy type personality that would play good cop.

He miscalculated the last session. Whipping her with a cane, he crisscrossed her breasts and added to the marks already on her body. After a dozen whippings, her body already bloodied and weakened, he decided to hang jumper wires with alligator clips on her nipples. When he slowly pulled off the alligator clips, first from one nipple, then the other, her muffled cries were louder than any he had heard. After pulling them out and attaching them to her sensitized nipples three times, he got bored and decided to attach one end to the soft folds of skin between her legs. When he pulled up from her invested body, he saw her eyes flicker, the eyeballs rolled backwards, and her body shut down. The muffled screams cease suddenly and he realized he had pushed too far. He hurriedly pressed the green button and lowered her completely, not just her head and body, but also her legs were flat on the ground.

It was at that moment that Alan Wong stepped into the room. "What the fuck are you doing? Cut her loose and get her some medication attention. Now!"

"Yes sir." The Russian saluted Wong and obeyed.

*

To be continued ...



Assassin Ch. 13



Chapter 13

The Good Cop

Alan Wong swallowed as he approached the makeshift medical facility in the basement of a warehouse building. Acting under his orders, the American woman had been treated and cleaned. The thick humid atmosphere made the short walk from the car tiring. Alan was sweating and panting when the guards saluted him at the entrance.

Bandages were all over her body. One eye was swollen. The Russian had left his mark. Her wrists were chained to the sides of the bed. Otherwise, she was naked.

Alan pulled a chair and sat next to her, careful not to wake her. He studied her from head to toe. She had obviously been tortured and her body not in the best condition. Alan had never been with a white woman in his entire life. He wondered if it was possible to fall for someone under such strange circumstances. An hour later, his eyes heavy, he was snoring.

" Hello, Mr. Wong." It was Megan that woke him.

Alan rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"How do you know who I am?"

"I have my sources."

"You are one resourceful lady. I respect that."

"How did you end up hating America so much?"

Alan suddenly realized that he should be asking all the questions. He paused and collected himself, trying to maintain control.

"I am sorry for the uncivilized behavior of the Russian." He put his palms together as if he was apologizing. "Can I get you something to drink?"

She licked her cracked lips and nodded.

When the bottled water arrived, Alan asked for the keys so he could unchain her left wrist. Only her stronger right wrist remained restrained. Alan ordered the guards to leave. He closed the door.

Half a bottle later, her thirst quenched, she asked, "Is it possible to get me some clothing?"

"Of course." Alan left the room and left her alone for almost a minute.

She decided not to attempt anything.

He came back with a pair of black bikini. She let him pull up the bottom through her free legs, resisting the urge to kick him. When he put on the top, he was careful to avoid touching her nipples. He tied the strings behind her neck without incident. But he fumbled when knotting them behind her back. The bikini, two sizes too big, did not fit her well. But it provided a measure of comfort.

"Everything okay now?"

"Thanks. You are a kind man."

Megan could tell from his eyes that he was an empathetic man. Clearly uncomfortable, he was not trained for this type of situation. She would have to figure out a way to quickly leverage the situation to her advantage. There was no telling when the Russian would return. She knew what the bad cop was capable of.

"I am sure you know what is going here."

"Yes, you are the good cop."

"I am not just playing a role. If we met somewhere else, you will find that I am an honest competent businessman."

"I have no doubts about that."

"Oh? So what do you know about me."

"I know enough to know you are not the terrorist the US government is branding you to be."

"You work for law enforcement?"

Megan considered whether it was an advantage to be associated with law enforcement. On the one hand, Alan might react to law enforcement positively, having been a law abiding citizen most of his life. On the other hand, if the really evil people thought she was law enforcement, they might make a statement by killing her slowly in front of a YouTube audience. She took her chance.

"Let's just say I know people in the security industry."

Alan moved his chair forward and gazed into her eyes. "Okay. Let's assume you are working for the CIA, or some shadowy part of Homeland Security. What do you know about me?"

"What do you think I know?"

"With the power of all the electronic spying at your disposal, you would know I was a legitimate businessman selling products to Wal-Mart for more than ten years."

"Yes, I do know that." Megan wanted to keep the conversation going. "I also know you are not like the goons outside this door."

"You are right again. What else do you know? How did you end up with a laptop computer that resulted in your capture?"

"Did you mean the laptop I took from a dead man in Hong Kong?"

"A man you killed. Did you kill him just to get his computer?"

"Of course not. I was ordered to kill him. I took his computer accidentally." Megan knew she had to tell as much of the truth as possible. They could quickly verify that she was lying if she denied killing the money launderer Ian in Hong Kong. But they could not and would not be able to verify why she took the computer. Besides, it was true that she took it without knowing the real value of what was inside.

"So your story was you took a dead man's computer without knowing what was inside?" He was skeptical.

"Yes. I regretted it because it got me into all sorts of trouble."

"You brought the computer into the United States and handed it to a hacker. You must know its content."

"I brought it stateside because that was where I lived. It was the end of my mission and I simply brought it home."

Alan stood up and cuffed her free wrist back to the bed. The interrogation was not going well for Megan.

"Please help me understand."

"I am trying my best."

"You brought the computer home accidentally, without knowing what is inside."

"Correct."

"However, on the same day that you came back from China, you immediately passed it to a notorious hacker by the name of Fabian. Our sources indicated you even arrange for him to meet you at the airport. You expect us to believe that you pass it to a well-known hacker without knowing what is inside?"

"I was curious."

"Curious enough to spend the night in a gay man's condo?

"Like they say in ancient China: The truth is sometimes strange." Megan was grasping at straws. It was clear to Megan that he did not believe she did not intentionally take the laptop. He also did not believe she had no idea what was in the computer. The good news for her was that he did not seem to know that Fabian was not just another hacker. Fabian was the only person she trusted and the only reason she was seeking revenge.

Disgusted that he was not getting results, Alan shook his head and left the room.

The Russian reappeared, two burly men at his side. "Secure the parcel and take to the farm." The two men moved quickly. She was tied by plastic restraints on her knees, ankles, elbows, and wrists. Her eyes and lips were black taped. She did not struggle. The men dragged her by the hair and marched her to a full sized van. Inside, she was forced to balance herself on her knees while the three men toyed with her. By the time she arrived at the farm, her bikini had been torn off her body. She was tossed to the mud and a rope connected her wrists to her ankles. The Russian carried the hogtied, naked, and blinded victim by the rope. She was taken to a windowless building.

Inside the building, the rope was cut and the plastic cuffs on her knees and ankles were removed. The tape on her mouth was ripped off. But she was still blinded and her elbows and wrists still behind her.

The three men pushed and kicked her, forcing her to move left, then right, front, then back. When she began to feel dizzy, they started to slap her on the face, breasts, and buttocks. Whenever she lost her balance and fell, the men would laugh and order her to stand up on her own. When she did so, they would start slapping again.

"This is what happens when you lie to Alan, understand?"

"You cock-sucking cowards, free my hands and eyes and fight me like a man." They wanted to play bad cop. She wanted to know how far they would go. She knew they wanted her alive and in good enough condition to be interrogated. From the last session with Alan, she knew they were not well informed and needed information.

"I love it when a woman is feisty and plays hard to negotiate."

The men dragged her by the hair to a corner of the room, with hooks protruding from the walls, ceiling, and floor. The Russian ripped the tape off her eyes. She looked around and made a fresh effort to burn their faces into her memory.

"Kill me if you have the balls." She wanted to push them until they hurt her. She knew Alan would return soon and marks on her body would only increase his empathetic tendencies.

The Russian ignore her and brought another rope. He wrapped the rope around her elbows before passing the free end over the ceiling hook and down to the floor hook. When he secured the rope, her elbows were trapped and lifted up, her face lowered and her hair down. Her breasts and nipples pointed hopelessly to the cement floor.

While the Russian was forcing her into a painful strappado position, the other two men were roping her ankles to separate hooks on the floor. They pulled her legs apart until she was standing three feet apart. Her weight was distributed almost equally between her legs and elbows.

"You can end this simply by stopping your lies and telling us why you took the laptop. What did you think was in there?"

"I told you I had no idea." It was the truth. So no matter how much torture, she would not be able to tell them what was inside the computer.

"Wrong answer." The Russian walked behind her and inserted two fingers without warning. His other hand rubbed her nipples gently. Involuntarily, the nipples harden and her juices started to flow. "Looks like this whore wants to be fucked before she would tell the truth."

"Fuck me if you want. But I have already told you the truth."

The Russian thrust his bony fingers in and out her cunt. His thumb stroked her sensitive tissue, gradually increasing her wetness. He added another finger, then another. She was so wet she could not tell how many fingers were inside. Her breathing gave away her excitement and she started to groan. Just when she was on the edge, he withdrew his fingers and put them in front of her lips. "Suck it and clean it."

She hesitated.

One of the men pressed the tip of a knife on her pointed nipple. "Do a good job or you lose a nipple. If I feel teeth, you lose a nipple."

She did as she was told.

"Go ahead." With a slight flick of his wrist, the Russian ordered the men to mount her. One of them entered her from the back, holding her hips to balance himself. The other held her hair with one hand and penetrated her mouth. His other hand still held the knife.

The two men coordinated their movements so that she was alternately fucked in the mouth and cunt, but not at the same time. The Russian circled her with a video camera, recording it so it could be electronically sent to Hashim later. Hashim would love to watch it live, but he was in an important business meeting in Dubai.

"Show some enthusiasm," the Russian yelled as he produced a switchblade and pressed the blunt edge against her other nipple.

Obeying the new command, she wiggled her ass and produced a slurping sound as she swallowed and sucked. It was all it took for both men to come. They both pulled out at the same time and deposited their loads on her hair and small of her back.

"Good timing," the men high fived as if they were in a sporting event.

"Ready to talk?" The Russian asked, camera still pointed at her.

"I will only talk to Alan."

"Very well."

The men proceeded to whip her with their belts until she passed out. The whipping left ugly marks on her breasts, stomach, thighs, shoulders, back, and butt. When she was finally cut down, she had been so weakened her legs folded and she collapsed on the floor.

To be continued... 



Assassin Ch. 14



Megan

Her body was folded in half, her knees tied to her shoulders, her ankles tied to the ceiling. Her wrists were still trapped beneath her, pushed up between her shoulder blades and tied to her neck. Back on the ground and legs in the air, she had never felt more vulnerable. The Russian could do anything to her and there was not a damn thing she could do about it. At least not right away.

The only good thing was she was alone now. Time to think. Time to prepare for the next session. Would the Russian come back to continue the bad cop act? Or would Alan come back to play good cop?

They had abused her physically and sexually. They had withdrawn their junks at the last second and unloaded outside her vagina. Did they not want to have the ultimate union with an infidel? Did it meant she would not be at risk of pregnancy? It was a ridiculous thought. Worrying about pregnancy when that was the least of her problems.

Focus, she yelled aloud. Focus, focus, focus. She hollered as loudly as she could. Her energy spent yelling, she was panting in her half upside down position. If anyone was standing outside the door, they would have heard her. She waited for a response. None. Nobody was near enough. No guard posted outside. Or perhaps he was asleep. Perhaps he was told to ignore her.

She stayed silent for an entire minute. No sound of life at all. No engine sounds. She could feel swaying sensations. Tell tale signs of being in the open ocean. She was in a boat in the middle of the South China Sea.

They obviously wanted her alive. Or she would be dead by now. They wanted her because she had held back information. She had not told them everything she knew, so they thought. She actually knew nothing about why the laptop was so important. They had assumed that American intelligence would not send her to kill somebody for a laptop unless they knew it was really important. They did not know she did not work for a government agency. They did not know that she did not know. And she knew that they did not know that she did not know. It was mighty confusing. But this critical nugget of fact could save her life, she kept reminding herself.

Ten minutes of consciousness. No matter how hard she tried, that was all she could managed. The lack of sleep and blood loss had taken its toll. The sexual violations did not help. Her sugar level was low. They had let her drink but did not give her food for almost two days. She was feeling drowsy again.

The colors faded in black and white as she felt something throbbing behind her back, the mild pain emanating midpoint between her shoulder blades. She adjusted her body slightly, as much as she could, before she was swallowed up in darkness. It was as if a laptop unplugged from the power source had been running on batteries for too long.

>>>>>

Paula

She had dark brown hair that was straight until her shoulders, then curly from her shoulders to her waist. A quarter of her disheveled hair was in front. The rest was behind her shoulders. Her wrists were shackled behind her back by standard police department handcuffs. Her elbows were brought together by her own bikini top.

She was on her knees.

A kick landed on her lower left rib. "Ready to talk?" The Russian drew out the words slowly, as if she did not understand English well.

It was in her interest to pretend. He had no idea she attended an American-run private high school in Hong Kong. In reality, her command of the English language was ten times better than the Russian.

"Talk what? I no not understand." She stayed in character.

The Russian backhanded her across the breasts. They swayed from side to side. His eyes looked down on her as he gathered a bunch of her hair and forced her head to look up.

"Open your mouth."

She obeyed.

He balled his other hand into a fist and forced it into her mouth, holding firm her head with the other hand wrapped around her hair. Her head was tilted up as he continued shoving his fist down, slowly, an inch at a time, until her gag instinct kicked in and she choked.

He removed his fist. "Who sent you to spy on us?"

Paula Jiang blamed herself for getting caught. The night before, she had checked into a luxury hotel in Hong Kong. Her instructions were simply to hang out in the hotel swimming pool night and day. Two Arabic looking men waded into the pool around noon the next day. She was reclining on her back, a modified iPhone in hand, snapping pictures of the two men and transmitting it to the Chinese Intelligence. There were dozens of guests relaxing around the pool and she felt safe.

She returned to her room, filled up the bathtub with an inch of water, and tossed the phone in. A hissing sound and a couple of beeps accompanied the death of the phone. She did not know who the two men were, what they were doing in Hong Kong, and why she needed to snap scores of pictures. All she knew was to do so and fly back to Beijing soonest. Chinese intelligence operated on a strict need-to-know basis.

Her mission done, she checked out.

"Would you like a taxi to the airport?" The bell boy asked in the sing-song version of Cantonese common in Hong Kong.

"Yes, please. I would like a taxi." She imitated the local Hong Kong accent.

He made a phone call and asked for a taxi to Hong Kong International Airport in Lantau Island.

A bunch of taxis were at the side of the hotel entrance fifty feet away. But none except one pulled forward. It was driven by a cheerful man with his head wrapped in a turban. Indian taxi drivers were a common sight in Hong Kong and Paula did not give a second thought to it.

"Where to Miss?" The turbaned man asked cheerfully, his smile broader than any taxi driver she had encountered in Hong Kong. She missed the first sign.

"Airport." She had no luggage.

"No problem." He said as he closed the door behind her.

She thought the bell boy had already told the taxi driver she was going to the airport. At the time, she thought he was probably too busy smiling to remember what came over the radio. She missed the second sign.

The driver was chatty. He told her stories about how he moved from India and how he had to work very hard to get the right to drive a taxi in Hong Kong. According to him, the Chinese government was the most racist people on the planet. Not like India, a multiethnic, multicultural, and multilingual country. Did she know India spoke more than a thousand languages, he asked. She said no, hoping he would stop talking. Yet India was the biggest democracy on earth, not like China. She tuned him out for the rest of the thirty minute ride. He was trying to distract her and had succeeded. She missed the third sign.

It was hot and humid, the AC in the taxi hardly keeping up with the rising temperature. She had forgotten to direct him to use the shortest route to the airport. Finally, he fought through the traffic and they were cruising along on a paid highway. She exhaled and relaxed, shifted her position at the back of the taxi, and looked out the window to the high mountains that blocked the airport from the city.

The taxi exited the North Lantau Highway to the Tung Chung Waterfront Road. There was no good reason to do that, except the toll charge could be slightly lower. Paula rolled her eyes. Indian people were so stingy, she thought. She missed the fourth sign.

The taxi stopped at a red light, parked in the middle lane of a three-lane road. Another taxi was on the right lane. Paula could see the airport a block away. She looked into her purse for the taxi fare. A big mistake.

She did not notice that both taxis had rolled down all four windows. She looked at her driver's face off the rear view mirror. He looked straight ahead, avoiding eye contact. She turned to look at the taxi to her right. The man sitting at the back of the other taxi held a stun gun, aimed directly at her chest between her breasts.

She tried to duck but felt the cold metal probes on her chest, one of them hooked into her right nipple. Her muscles froze as she was handcuffed and dumped in the trunk of the other taxi.

>>>>>

Megan opened her eyes and was glad to see Alan sitting next to her. She had been dressed in a long flowing skirt and a sports bra. Her wrists were cuffed to the bed, which was raised to a sitting position. There was a flat screen television mounted on the wall facing her.

"Please do not scream. You are in a foreign country and no SEAL teams are nearby." Alan thought it was funny and laughed to himself.

"Can I have some water?" The room was stuffy. She was perspiring.

Alan picked up a phone and a bottle of mineral water appeared shortly.

"Listen to me carefully. This is your last opportunity to cooperate. I pleaded with Hashim to give you one more chance." The good cop at work.

"Or else?"

Alan picked up a remote control and pointed at the television. A beep later, the red light on the side of the screen turned green. A frozen picture of a naked woman appeared on the LCD screen. She was tied to the ceiling by her elbows.

"If not for my intervention, Hashim wanted to do this to you."

He clicked a button on the remote and she saw the moving image of an attractive Chinese woman hanging from the hook of the ceiling by her elbows. Her legs were spread apart by a spreader bar. Her face was down and her butt up. She was slowly being lifted up until she was forced to stand on her toes, the bulk of her weight painfully rotating her shoulder joints inward.

The single handheld camera moved. An image of the Russian appeared on the background. The same Russian who played bad cop. She realized what they were attempting to do to her. The anticipation of what could be done was often worst than the actual torture.

The Russian folded his thick belt in half. He moved in front of the Chinese woman and lifted up her head by her long hair. He made sure she saw the belt and knew what he was about to do.

"Why were you spying in the hotel swimming pool?" The slow pronunciation with a thick Russian accent was comical. It made him even harder to understand.

"What say you?"

A crack of the whip on her stomach. "Why you spy, bitch?"

"Sorry. No understand question."

Another whip. This time on upwards and aimed at her breasts. She cried out. Encouraged, he quickly landed a half dozen on her chest, none of them as precised as the first. She twisted and turned to ride them. He was furious she did not cry out after the initial hit.

His reaction was to pull the rope to lift her totally off the ground. Suspended by the elbows, her toes a couple of inches from the floor, she groaned and hung down her head.

The Russian whipped her between her legs. She howled. Another crack. Then another. Her hair hung upside down from her scalp. Her face was away from the camera. But her animal screams piercing through the TV speakers left no doubt of the intense pain cutting through her nerves.

Megan tried not to hide her anger. These men were animals. When she got her hands on them, she would have to skin them alive. Especially the Russian. She would have to string him up and whip him to death the same way he was doing to the poor Chinese woman.

"She is a Chinese agent sent to spy on us," Alan explained as he walked the room in a half circle around her bed. "The Russian will torture her to death if she does not talk."

"And the same will happen to me?"

He nodded.

"I do not know everything, but I can tell you what I do know."

Alan sat down and leaned in.

>>>>>

to be continued ...



Assassin Ch. 15



The two pilots were in the cockpit, the door closed and locked from the small passenger area. There were no seats in the small passenger area. Instead, four steel cages were stacked on top of each other.

The two top cages were empty. The lower two cages were secured with big heavy locks. A blonde American was locked in the lowest cage. Directly on top of her, separated by closely placed steel bars, was a Chinese woman. Both were kept completely naked.

The propellor plane was noisy but conversation was possible.

"Hey, are you an American spy?" Paula, on her stomach facing down, said to Megan as soon as the plane reached cruising altitude.

Megan wondered if she could trust her. Perhaps it was Alan who planted her to find out more. She had spent the last few days telling Alan everything she knew. In return, she asked that Paula be released and given medical attention. Alan agreed a little too quickly.

"You are half correct. I am American. But not a spy."

"I am a spy," she volunteered. Either she was very green or she was trying too hard to fake it.

"I know. Alan told me you had been spying on them."

"When I was captured, I thought I would be dead soon. Amazingly, I am still alive."

"Maybe not for very long."

"I wonder why they are keeping us alive?"

"Better get out of these cages before they land. I have a strange feeling this is our last flight."

Both women quickly moved around the cages, testing each steel bar and pulling the locks. There were no weak points. They had been strip searched and all items had been removed from every possible hiding place. With no tools on hand, it was impossible to escape.

"Where do you think they are taking us?"

"Judging from the angle of the sun," Megan pointed at the small sliver of light that escaped from the drawn windows, "we are flying west."

"Are we going to India?" Under the circumstances, Paula's voice was disturbingly upbeat.

"I guess." Like most Americans, Megan was not exactly a Jeopardy champion in geography.

"Have you been to India?"

"No."

"Me too. I wish I had the chance to travel more before I die." The implication that she was going to die soon saturated the stale air in the trapped space.

"Perhaps they will show us all the sights in India before they shoot us." Megan laughed at her own dark humor.

Paula did not participate. "Do you think they will shoot us? I guess two bullets are less painful than using a knife."

"You are assuming that it will be two bullets at the back of the head, Chinese execution style. But if it is two bullets, one for each knee cap, and then slowly bleeding to death, then I prefer a quick knife cut across the neck, ear to ear."

The mental imagery was too much for Paula. She turned to her back and faced the empty cages on top of her.

Hours passed before she was ready to talk again. Megan was grateful for the silence. Time to reflect on what happened and plan for the near future.

The first question on her mind was why they were keeping both of them alive. Her working theory was that Alan did not fully believe she had told them everything she knew. She had made up stories that she was indeed working for a classified department deep inside Homeland Security. She told them it was newly formed in case they tried to verify its existence.

As for what was so valuable inside the laptop, she said her agency suspected it contained plans for terrorist activities. It was not difficult to make up that story because Alan had mentioned a man by the name of Hashim. Megan knew very little about the Arab world, but knew enough to know that Hashim was a name with Middle Eastern roots.

She must have hit pretty near the mark. Alan left the room immediately when she mentioned terrorism. It was another hour before he came back and brought her coffee and scrambled eggs. Rewarding the captive for divulging relevant information was standard practice for interrogators playing the good cop role.

When Alan had completed the first day of interrogation, the Russian came back the next day and asked her pretty much the same questions. While Alan had let her sit on a comfortable chair with her wrists locked in front of her to a steel hook on the table, the Russian chose to interrogate her on her knees, wrists handcuffed over her head and chained to the ceiling. He did not touch her, but stood with an erection an inch from her face as he read the questions from thick folder. All the interrogations were videotaped by a wiry man with tattoos completely covering both arms.

On the third and final day, Alan asked the same questions and she gave him the same answers. The details of her flight to Hong Kong, what she was told when she arrived, how she picked out the targeted man to kill. She stuck as close to the truth as possible, changing only the small details to make it consistent with her new story of working for the government rather than an assassin for hire.

Although she had done everything she could to make them believe that was all she knew, Alan's eyes told her he probably did not fully believe her story was the complete truth. Although not trained in interrogation techniques, Alan was an experienced business negotiator operating in the highly competitive arena of supplying to the world's largest retailer.

So if the reason for keeping her alive was to pump more information out of her, it would be very bad news because she had no more information for them. In fact, she had already gone beyond what she could feasibly lie about. Anything more and they could easily counter check her stories and find her to be lying. She knew what would happen when they find out her stories were all a pack of lies. Well, not all lies, but enough to make them mad. And she knew, or at least could guess what kind of painful death they would design for her when that happened. It would be better to die trying to escape than to let them find out she had been lying.

And if they kept her alive, why did they keep Paula alive. And why transport them in the same plane and leave them alone to communicate. Why were there no guards in the plane?

She knew that she had asked for Paula's safety as a condition for spilling the beans. Perhaps a businessman like Alan, familiar with the concept of honoring one's part of the deal in business, might be protecting Paula because of his promise. But Megan knew Alan was not the top man in this operation. Why would Hashim keep Paula alive?

Again, her theory was not a pleasant one. If she were correct that she was being taken to a remote location to be further interrogated, then perhaps they were planning to use Paula against her. They knew she had a soft heart and could not stand to see Paula whipped to death. They knew she was willing to talk to save Paula's life. Were they planning to use Paula as leverage to dig deeper into what she knew?

They drifted in and out of consciousness and made small talk. Both of them lost track of time as the hours passed. It was eight hours later when the plane landed on a small runway in the United Arab Emirates, about 50 miles south of Abu Dhabi.

>>>>>

From his 100 inch LED monitor, Billionaire Hashim smiled as he saw the women led into one of the twelve compounds he owned in the UAE. Three of the twelve were specially built for holding women trafficked into the country for distribution to the entire region. With the help of his cousin, a high ranking military officer, he had a near monopoly in the highly profitable business of supplying women to pleasure the numerous rich oil tycoons living in the two dozen countries of the Middle East.

Like all the other women led into his strongholds, both the American whore and the Chinese slut were totally naked, except for dark hoods covering their entire heads and part of the necks, and six inch stilettos on their feet. The stilettos were deliberately chosen to be one size smaller so that each step on the sand was odd and painful. Each woman, wobbly because of the heels and lack of sight, was forcibly pulled forward by automotive jumper cables with the metal jaws clamping down on both nipples.

Like for all his captive women, Hashim wanted to make sure that the humiliation started as soon as they entered his property. There must be no doubt in the minds of all bitches that they no longer own their bodies. Each woman must know in their soul that their breasts, cunts, and butts belonged to Hashim. He owned them and could do whatever he wanted with them. He could sell them, use them, or simply kill them.

About ten yards from the concrete building, the hoods would be removed and the camera would zoom in. Half a dozen men would surround each woman and push her from one goon to another. Regardless of where they were kidnapped from - mostly from Asia, Europe, or Latin America - the woman would often be in tears as she lost her balance and fall repeatedly on the hot sand.

After just ten minutes of being pulled by the nipples and pushed down to the sand, the woman would become submissive. It was amazing how applying pressure on the nipples, a small part of an adult woman, could turn them from respectable ladies to sluts ready to obey every command.

Hashim loved to watch the part where the bitch would be commanded to kneel on her knees on the hot sand. Surrounded by strange men, all the women would eventually submit or be forced to. Although each woman would have her hands and legs free, none of them tried to remove the painful alligator jaws biting into the nerves around her nipples. None of them would fight back when pushed and shoved around.

If she obeyed the command to kneel instantly, the jaws of the cable clamps would be removed. After kneeling for five minutes, she would have to perform oral sex on two guards before being taken into the cool air of the building.

If she did not kneel immediately, and Hashim had only seen a dozen or so stubborn women disobey, they would be kicked down to the stand and forced to kneel, two men stepping on the backs of her kneel. The jumper wires would be torturously pulled off the nipples, one at a time. The howls and screams would delight his men, who would laugh and high five each other. A minute later, she would be yanked by the hair to a standing position, the clamps applied again to the nipples, and then ordered to kneel again. Of the thousands of women Hashim had personally witnessed, only two women had to be asked three times before they submitted.

Hashim rubbed himself between the legs and leaned forward with anticipation. He had been informed that both of these women were trained fighters and could kill with their bare hands. So he ordered that their wrists and elbows were to be tied behind, forcing the breasts outwards and stretching the skin around the nipples. When the alligator jaws bit on the nipples, the look was more entertaining than when the hands were free. Hashim liked the look so much he mentally filed away a reminder to his men later to do the same for all new incoming whores. In addition to restraining both the women's hands, their legs were hobbled by three inch chains.

Paula was led in front. Her hood was removed and she was subjected to the humiliation. She resisted once, then was kicked to the ground and the nipples abused when the jaws were pulled from them.

Megan was still hooded and stood unsteadily on the six inch heels supporting all of her 140 pounds on a six nine frame. Her hands and legs roped and chained, all her muscles tensed as she heard the horrifying screams from Paula. She could not see, but knew that they were purposely humiliating Paula in front of her in order to soften her resolve.

Finally, after what seemed to her like an hour but was only fifteen minutes, Megan's hood was removed. She saw Paula on her hands and knees. A cock was in her mouth and another one in her ass. A third man sat on her waist, one hand on her hair and the other slapping her breasts. She had apparently satisfied them that she was so submissive her wrists and elbows were no longer tied behind her, although her legs remained hobbled by ankle chains.

They let her watch until the men deposited their cum on her face, hair, neck, breasts, stomach, and thighs. She was then taken into the air conditioned building.

Megan was pulled forward by her nipples.

"Kneel and worship me." She was ordered by a man shorter than her. "I want to see your knees and forehead touching the sand, your butt facing the sky."

Megan took a second to process what she had just heard. 

>>>>>

To be continued in the next chapter . . .



Assassin Ch. 16



Megan and Paula were both on their knees.

"Suck my cock," ordered the tall Arabic man who stood between them. "Both of you."

Megan's left ankle was tied to her left wrist. Right ankle to the right wrist. Her knees scraped the hot sand as she was dragged by her hair, sliding and slipping toward the tall man.

Paula found it easier to crawl on the sand toward the middle. Her hands and legs were untied. She had a rope around her neck and was led to the middle like an animal.

"Lick it," he buried his fingers in both women's hair and pushed their faces toward each other. Their noses almost touched each other. Paula stuck out her tongue to lick the left side of the circumcised cock. Megan's lips touched the right side but remained closed.

Hashim was furious and slapped her hard. Hard enough to leave his fingerprints on her cheek. Wrists and ankles shackled, Megan fell sideways on the sand. With both hands, the Russian held her by the neck and dragged her up and onto her knees.

"Paula," Hashim rotated so Megan had a full view of the action. "Show this American cunt how it's done. Apparently, she's not even a good whore."

Paula started by licking the tip of his cock. She cupped his balls at the same time with one both palms, massaging them. Slowly, as his cock grew, she widened her mouth and allowed it to fully enter. In and out, her lips wiggling, her tongue teasing. One palm still cupping the balls, the other hand wandered to his butt, slapping it.

Hashim closed his eyes and curled his toes. When he opened his eyes again, he nodded to the Russian.

The Russian dragged Megan by the hair and forced her to kneel down facing Hashim. Paula crawled on all fours until she was behind Hashim.

"It's your turn to pleasure your master." Hashim's cock had become soft. He swung it side to side and moved until it brushed against Megan's nose.

Megan shook her head.

The Russian took out nipple clamps. He twisted and pulled her nipples until they became pointed, then applied the clamps. A heavy lock was inserted between the chains holding the nipples together. Megan's gasped as her nipples were dragged down.

Still, Megan was defiant.

The Russian took out another pair of clamps. These were smaller, but had adjustable springs. He adjusted them to the maximum position.

"Spread your knees," he ordered Megan.

Megan looked to the ground and did not move. The Russian forcibly kicked her knees wide apart. Then he kicked her on the chest so she fell backward, trapping her shackled wrists and ankles under her own weight.

"The thing I like about you Chinese is that you yield and submit when necessary, especially when you are in no position to be stubborn." He pumped his manhood into and out of Paula's mouth. Paula matched his tempo. "The ying and yang working beautifully together."

"But this stupid American cunt wants to be treated like cheap slut," he pointed angrily at Megan. "Make her suffer," he thundered.

The Russian applied the jaws of the clamps on her clit, both at the same time. She bit her tongue and refused to scream. But the pain caused her body to tremble.

"Make her crawl like a crab on the sand," Hashim said to the Russian without looking at him. Both his hands were on Paula's neck, pumping his cock deep into her, scratching her throat and pulling it out smoothly.

The Russian pulled on the short chain connecting the clamps. The steel jaws bit into the sensitive folds of skin surrounding her most sensitive area. She was forced to crawl on her back, hands and legs still folded and trapped behind her, knees scrapping the sand and slowly inching forward. The reverse crawl made the circle of men gathered around her break out in catcalls and laughter.

A minute later, tired of bending down to pull the chain, the Russian hooked one boot over the chain and dragged her by the cunt. She sped up to mitigate the pain. Humored, the Russian walked even faster. She sped up her back crawl as quickly as she could.

Hashim took out his cock from Paula's mouth. He walked to where the Russian was tormenting Megan.

"Stop right there," Hashim ordered.

The Russian stopped and removed his boot from between Megan's knees.

The group of men followed Hashim as he walked to join the Russian.

"Are you ready to pleasure me?" Hashim went down on one knee and placed his knee on top of Megan's chest, between her clamps nipples. Their eyes met. Neither of them blinked.

He continued to lower his weight on her chest, pressing her back and increasing the pressure on her trapped knees, ankles, and wrists. She waited until he was close enough. When he was just six inches away, she aimed a bob of spittle directly at his eyes. He saw it coming and tried to evade. The spittle landed on his upper lip.

Hashim slapped her so hard she flipped to her stomach, her wrists and ankles twisted and hogtied behind her. The clamps pinching her nipples came loose. But the tighter clamps on her clit held fast.

The Russian sat on her waist and pushed her head into the sand. Then he grabbed a bunch of her blond hair, wrapped his fist around it, and held up her head, lifting her up, exposing her chest. Hashim kicked her breasts, then went down on one knee in front of her. The nipple clamps were further tightened and attached to her tits.

"Pull on her cunt," Hashim said to the Russian. The Russian shifted his weight until he could pull on the chain holding the clamps on her vagina skin. He pulled slowly on the clamps. At the same time, Hashim pulled on the chain of the clamps trapping her nipples. The men surrounding her clapped.

Without warning Hashim jerked on the chain and pulled out the nipple clamps. Her chest twitched uncontrollably as she lost control and screamed.

"Your turn," Hashim said to the Russian.

When the Russian kicked on the chain, the clamps broke free and her cunt was on fire. Her entire body trembled as if electricity was passing through her.

"This cunt needs to be gang raped before she will submit," the Russian said to Hashim. "I have seen much tougher Russian women beg to be a sex slave after my men worked them over."

"Go ahead," Hashim nodded.

The Russian dragged the weakened Megan by the hair and led her inside the building.

>>>>>

"Special Agent Jiang had not reported for the last 48 hours," Captain Deng said to the high-level group of twelve intelligence officers gathered around the long table. "When did we receive the last electronic ping from her hidden device?"

"Sir, the last ping came from Hong Kong," the lone woman in the room replied. She had thick glasses and jet black hair that wrapped around her face. "That was almost 40 hours ago."

The man who sat to the right of the captain leaned forward to indicate he wanted to speak. "Sir, can we assume her cover had been blown and she had been captured?"

"According to standard operating procedure," said the man who sat to the left of the captain, "we are not to assume anything until an agent fails to report for 60 hours."

"But Paula Jiang was operating in a very dangerous situation," the right-hand man said.

The left-hand man leaned forward to meet the eyes of the right-hand man. "Does that mean we are free to ignore SOP?"

Captain Deng sat back to enjoy the usual bantering between the two men. They were young, bright, and ambitious. One was from Beijing and the other from Shanghai.

"SOPs are written as guidelines to help us do our jobs, not to slow us down."

"Do you mean SOPs are for everyone else except smart people like you?"

"I did not say that, comrade."

"Comrade, you implied so strongly nobody could miss your meaning."

Both men looked to the captain to break the deadlock.

"Both of you made good and valid points. I will take both your opinions into consideration."

It was Captain Deng's custom not to make a major decision in front of his entire team of senior officers. Especially if the decision would be potentially controversial. Especially if his team had strongly disagreed among themselves. Lately, the disagreements had become more frequent and heated. And the ringleaders would invariably be the Beijing man and the Shanghai man. On almost every issue, Deng could count on his two best lieutenants to disagree.

"This meeting is adjourned," Deng said to all without asking if anyone else had an opinion. "Chen and Lin, you two follow me to my office."

>>>>>

For her model behavior, Paula was allowed to seat on comfortable sofa. Her arms were cuffed together in front of her. She was drinking from a can.

Hashim sat next to her, with an arm stretched behind her head. "You want another Bud?"

She shook her head and handed the empty can to Hashim. He formed a fist and crushed the aluminum can. Looking up at the ceiling, he threw the can at Megan, and missed. The can bounced off the ceiling and came speeding back. Hashim ducked and narrowly escaped a nasty facial cut.

Megan hung directly on top of Hashim, unconscious.

Earlier, the Russian had watched as four men shackled her wrists, elbows, knees, and ankles to hooks on the low ceiling. When they had fully secured her, he pressed a button for the hydraulics to slowly hoist her naked body off the cold cement floor. He stopped only when her body was three feet off the floor, face up and hair down, arms and legs dangling from ceiling chains.

"Wake up, cunt." He poured an entire bucket of cold water filled with ice on her face and chest. Ice cubes bounced off and her body shivered uncontrollably.

More than the freezing cold, the squeaky rattling noise of the rusty chains shocked Megan into the conscious world.

"What do you want, motherfucking cock sucker?" She turned her head and opened one eye to glare at the Russian.

>>>>>

To be continued next chapter ...



Assassin Ch. 17



Deng, Chen, and Lin met again the next day in a secure room one mile west of Tiananmen Square.

"Did you say there was an American agent captured with ours?"

"Yes, sir." Both men answered at the same time.

"And this is from a reliable source?"

"He's our best informant in the Middle East," Chen replied.

"How long has he been our informant?"

"Almost two years, and he has never been wrong." Lin said before Deng could finish.

Deng was impressed with both men. He still could not decide if Chen or Lin would be his successor. Both were very qualified. They were very intelligent, well-traveled, and smart enough to kowtow to the traditional dogma of the communist party while effectively working with the capitalistic world. Chen was technically more senior than Lin, having joined the communist party six months earlier than Lin. 

"Sir, what would you like to do?" Chen said a minute later, after proper deference was shown.

"I could easily go ahead with the decision for the rescue mission if Comrade Paula had been captured alone," Deng shook his head. "But now that there is an American involved, I have to seek the guidance of my superior."

"How could the presence of the American chick delay our rescue of one of our own? What happened to no man and no woman left behind?" Lin could hardly masked his impatience and the red tape. He was showing off his knowledge of America by playing with the US military's slogan. 

Chen rolled his eyes, secretly glad that his competitor was showing a lack of patience, a character flaw that could easily torpedo his chance of succeeding Deng as commander of the highly covert counter-terrorism team, code named the Phoenix. Deng had been the commander of the Phoenix team since it was formed in the wake of the September 11 attack on American soil.

Deng hesitated before deciding to explain the reason for his decision to seek the guidance of higher leadership. "Our relationship with the Americans is at a turning point. The Americans did not like our recent efforts to clarify the status of our historical and geographical ownership of the islands in the South China Sea. As you know, they were islands that had been forcibly and illegally taken away from China while we were weak." He spoke slowly, careful to use the politically correct words for the emotionally charged issue.

Chen continued, as if he could read the mind of his superior officer. "If anything unexpected happens during our rescue mission, we could endanger the life of the American agent and therefore put the geo-political situation of fragile Sino-American relationship on the line."

Lin interrupted. "You mean we could screw up the so-called diplomatic BS between the Chinese government and the American government? So we are going to delay the mission because of the fear of failure? Has it ever occurred to anyone that the delay itself could diminish the chance of success?"

Deng paused for several seconds and decided to ignore his subordinate's irrational question.

"Lin, you will one day understand more fully the weight of responsibility of a captain." Deng stood up, indicating the conversation is over. "I have no choice but to consult my boss on this matter."

>>>>>

At first, she was hung from the ceiling by her limbs to soften her. She was beaten with a bamboo pole, on the sole of the feet, legs, thighs, and arms. When she was asked what she knew, she could only repeat when she had already told them. That was all she could do because that was all she knew. She had no idea what was in the laptop and she had no idea what the grand conspiracy was. She did try to find out what was in the laptop, but was captured before she found out anything.

To make sure she was not hiding anything, the order was given to hit her on the more sensitive parts. Her chest, breasts, nipples, and stomach. Still no new information. Another order. She was beaten between the legs. Softly at first, then harder, and harder until she could no longer hold back. Her howling screams pierced through the group laughter among the torturers.

A new order. The order was given in Russian. A button was pressed. The chains holding her legs creaked into motion. Her ankles were forced further apart. She saw, from the corner of her only good eye, a guard removing his pants. He stood in front of her crotch and motioned to another man across the room. The other man adjusted the pulleys and chains until she hung just at the right position. Her vagina was just an inch away from his hardened cock.

She heard the other man moved across the room. Rotating her upside-down head, she tracked his movement across the room. He was not wearing any pants. She felt his breath as he stood with his cock, still soft, next to her face, across from the first guard. 

The first guard grabbed her hips with both his hands, using his thumb and index finger to balance himself on her butt. Without warning, he entered her. In and out. It was dry and painful for both of them. He broke into an evil laugh as he continued pumping her.

A minute later, the second guard clenched a bunch of her hair in one fist to steady himself and pushed his cock at her face. When she refused to open her mouth, he used his other hand to twist her right nipple. Still, she refused to open up.

The first guard continued pumping her cunt, where she could not fight back. The second guard, frustrated he was not given entrance into her mouth, clamped her nose so she cannot breathe. She continued to resist. The Russian had to step forward and twist both her nipples before she gave up.

The two guards pumped her cunt and mouth in a coordinated manner. Sometimes, they were in her at the same time. Sometimes, one of them was in and the other out. The Russian was so tickled he ordered a boom box to be brought in. He ordered the guards to fuck her mouth and cunt to the tempo of his favorite hip hop music.

The two guards were experts at fucking female victims. They had worked together so often they were able to hold back. They timed it so they achieved their orgasms at the same time. Both of them withdrew at the last minute and sprayed their juice in her face, squeezing the last drops on her hair.

Before she could shake off the sticky mess from her eyes, nose, lips, chin, and neck, a hood was placed over her face, trapping the disgusting smell of their liquids inside. She was made to stand, her arms forced together behind and lifted up.

Her arms were bound in a brutally cruel way. First, the elbows were forced together and bound by thick rough ropes. Next, the wrists were tied together by thin ropes that cut deeply in the small bones of the wrist joints. Then a pair of standard-issue police handcuffs were tightened around the tortured wrists. When the chains from the ceiling were attached to the handcuffs and she was suspended by the wrists, drops of bloods trickled down, pooling on the floor inches away from her ankles.

Electric shocks were administered to her, alligator clips attached to her breasts and vagina. Her screams pierced the room until she lost her voice and could no longer scream.

When the Russian asked her one more time what else she knew, she shook her head.

The Russian was finally satisfied that Megan was telling the truth.

>>>>>

Paula had been forced to watch everything they did to Megan. She knew they wanted her to believe that she was next. She remembered what the instructor told her during the interrogation training in the inner province of Sichuan. The anticipation was often worse than the actual pain and suffering that came with the torture.

Both captives were taken from the interrogation building and locked inside a steel cage bolted to the cement ground. The cage was outdoors and unprotected from elements. As the sun went down, and the thunderstorm rolled in, their naked bodies would be exposed to the elements, and the insects.

In the comfort of his thickly carpeted office, Hashim listened carefully to the Russian's report.

"You are very sure there is nothing more we can squeeze out of the American cunt?"

"Yes, sir. I am very experienced in such things."

"I have no doubt," Hashim ignored the arrogant tone of the answer. "When are to starting with the Chinese slut?"

"Tomorrow. She had been properly warned."

"How much more time do you need?"

"I believe we'll be done tomorrow. Aside from having to watch the American bitch, the Chinese whore would have to tolerate her nighttime stories of how it felt to be raped by the huge cocks of our men."

"You are promising?"

"I am staking my honor on my ability to break the Chinese cunt tomorrow."

>>>>>

To be continued...