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The Hitman

By: WhenInRomulus



No sex in this one. Far more sex in the next.

The man checks his weapons before stepping out of the low-slung black sedan. During the day he would normally use a white Corolla, The Toyota Corolla being the most widely used car, and white being the most common shade. It was Unobtrusive, and therefore invisible. Just another middle class worker trying to get home. Throw on a shirt and tie and you could kill someone in cold blood and walk straight out of the cubicle in which they'd been working. His preferred method, for his chosen career.

This latest job however, was difficult. It was specific, it was frankly strange, and to top it off he'd charged far less than for a standard job, even though he should have asked for far more, considering the visibility. The man gave a small shrug. He'd given a quote, and as a businessman it was his obligation to follow through. His equipment reflected this perfectly. A black car, normally suspicious, but in a specific alley with the clock approaching midnight, virtually invisible. California plates, obviously not his. He was wearing all black- not for stealth, as black may be a concealing color, but a man in black rings all sorts of alarm bells, but for intimidation alone. For this task he'd picked a black turtleneck, a balaclava with a Kevlar faceguard, black Kevlar jeans and large black combat boots. Normally he would wear shoes slightly more appropriate, however unobtrusive was not his goal tonight, fear was. Hence his weapon, A Sig-Sauer P220, silenced. Normally chambered for nine-millimetre Parabellums, currently holding none. Zero in the chamber, Zero in the magazine. Intimidating and virtually harmless, unless he was crazy enough to use it as a blunt instrument.

He takes another look around the alley before pushing away from the door, a small black briefcase dangling from his left hand, balaclava and faceguard balled in his right. Suspicious, but no reason to start calling phones. He steps up to the rear fire-exit of his target's apartment. Like all small places with terrible security, the staircase was external, a metal skeleton clinging to the side of the brick complex. Like most, the security was held in the ladder, normally kept far out of reach, which would slide down when a panicking resident used it to escape from the namesake fire it was designed for, and the incredibly loud noise it made when attempting to climb it. The first issue was dealt with by a rope the man had tied to it that afternoon- the second was rendered moot only by a decade of experience using them for his grisly profession.

A swift tug on the rope was all that was needed for the ladder to begin obeying the laws of gravity, rolling downwards towards him before he cleanly fields it with his left, briefcase leaning against his leg. He slowly continues pulling the ladder downwards before trapping it with a raised leg, swiftly puts on the rest of his costume, picks up the briefcase and starts upwards.

He only needs to climb two stories on the rickety stairs before arriving at his destination. However, a stroke of luck hits. The window, normally one of the toughest parts of his job is sitting ajar, letting a stiff breeze wend its way through the house. Taking a quick look at the hinges, he places the briefcase upon the ground and removes a small bottle of lubricant. No need to take chances, even though he'd usually take a spray-can for jobs like this. A few drops into the hinges and the window acquiesces silently to his gentle pressure, easing open further and allowing him to drop into the room, the bottle back with his other tools in the briefcase.

A quick look around tells him he's in the dining and lounge room. Through an open doorway he can see a kitchen, with a pass-through in the wall next to it. Anywhere else, he'd consider a student or shift-worker would live here. In a town this cramped it was just as likely they were a full-time worker, or even a teacher. Three doors headed outwards from the room. One was instantly ruled out because of the peep-hole in the centre, normally a godsend to a man in the profession of killing, but this time all it served to tell him was that the only thing on the other side of the door was the hallway. So, two doors. One bathroom, one bedroom. He wanted to slow down and check them over thoroughly, but this wasn't the time for taking small steps. He was in another person's house while they slept, with a gun. Loaded or un-loaded, it wouldn't do for the target to alert the building to his presence. Suddenly he spies it. A small grey shape underneath one of the doors. He looks across the the kitchen to confirm it, and there it is. A small grey slider which both hides and heralds the shift in flooring from the carpeted lounge to the tiled kitchen -- and hopefully the tiled bathroom. Process of elimination. Stepping to the last available door, he crouches down, creating a lower profile, quietly turns the knob and steps in.

There's a shape on the bed, single sheet rising and falling to the pace of quiet, oblivious breathing. He gathers his courage. This is the single action with the highest chance of failure.

In a fluid motion he stands, his pistol drawn and pointing, the other hand in front of his mouth, one finger up. "Stay quiet or die". Universal sign-language. He calls out:

"Jennifer".

The figure on the bed stirs. Shifts slightly as she slowly begins to wake up. He sees her turn towards the foot of the bed, see his shape and slowly start to reach for the light. Then a startled gasp. She's seen the gun. A long half-second. Her eyes agonizingly glide to her right. She sees his hand. Stay Quiet. She sits, still. Good.

A cursory inspection shows that she wears a bra to bed, and nothing else. Enjoys her freedom, but still is wary of gravity. And well she should be, as the dark lace is containing what appears to be at least D cups. Outside he stands calm and collected, inside he is thinking to himself, "Clinical. Calm. Steady". A mantra, one he had adopted when he very first began his job, and hadn't needed to use in years. "Clinical. Calm. Steady. Keep your eyes off her tits. Get your mind on the job."  He forces his eyes up. She stares at his gun with her own large dark orbs. Her hair is a mousy brown- somewhere between dirty blonde and brunette.

"If you make a single peep, you will die. Nod if you understand."

A bluff. His client was very specific. Not a hair on her head harmed, other than what has been specified. But she nods, and his shoulders relax slightly, almost imperceptibly.

"Jennifer, kneel on the floor."

She starts slightly at the mention of her name, now that she's awake enough to hear it. His voice sounds muffled from behind the mask. Good. Less easily recognized. Staring at the barrel of his gun as though it was a horrific entity, she slowly slides off the bed, and kneels on the floor. He watches the fluid motions, feeling the first stirrings of blood shifting towards his cock.

"Keep your eyes on the wall in front of you."

Rigidly, like a robot, she turns to face the wall. But her eyes keep shifting back towards him. It was enough. At least it meant the intimidation works.

"Place your arms behind your back."

Again, a small hesitation, then she does what she's told. Better than being shot, and so far all he was doing was talking. He moves behind her. Slowly, like trying not to startle a gazelle. He crouches behind her, removing two cable ties from his pocket, both already with the tip caught in the teeth, and linked together. Plastic handcuffs. Slipping one over each of her wrists, he pulls them tight. She flinches at his touch as he catches the first whiffs of her scent. He likes it. Another twitch hits his loins, a clock slowly ticking off the strokes until his impending erection. "Clinical. Calm. Steady"  With care, he lifts each of her feet, slipping another pair of cable ties over each of them and tightening them in turn. A third one goes between her wrist restraints and ankle restraints, and as he pulls the slack out, it in turn pulls her downwards, until she is sitting on her heels, back arched, breasts rising high on her chest as she breathes in and out. Not the slow breathing of the untroubled anymore -- panicked breathing, fuelled by adrenaline.

Meanwhile, the man has placed the briefcase behind her, out of view. He opens it and again looks at the array of tools for this job. Insane tools, for a completely crazy contract. All sorts of sex implements lay inside the briefcase, from a fat black dildo and matching plug, which from the looks of the neighbouring lube he could only assume was for her ass, a dainty chain with some delicate clamps on either end, some short loops of an itchy-looking hemp rope, and lastly, a large red ball-gag. Silently, the man retrieves the last item and quietly loops it over her head. He hears her inhale, as though about to say something, and waits for her first uttered syllable, a soft "Ah", before he uses that opening to push the gag firmly into her mouth. Looping her hair through, he pulls it tight and slowly pushes her over onto her side, supporting her weight with his arm.

He then stands, pulling an envelope from his pocket. All of the tense moments were over now, so he was free to once again re-read the crazy orders which had led him here. Opening the flap, he slides the sheet of paper outwards, revealing a blank piece of paper with a single line on one side, and a page full of specific instructions on the reverse. He reads the line, and re-reads it again, just in case he'd gone insane. But it was there, staring him in the face, while he sat behind a sexy, bound woman.

The Hitman & Dawn



This story had originally been inspired by a comedy show called ‘Phoenix Nights’ which in one episode shows a woman called ‘fanny tickler’ asking a Bouncer to help kill her husband. Being a comedy, the whole plan goes wrong. Like I said it inspired me because I quite fancied the woman, and if I had written the show I think this is how it would have turned out. 

Remember, Rape is a crime. Don’t do it!

This is pure fiction, that is ALL!

Dawn had been liasing on the internet for a couple of months, trying to find someone to take care of her husband. She was so fucked off with him. He was worth more dead than alive and would be just as much fun. She had been chatting with an un-named individual for a couple of weeks; she had forgotten the idea of blatantly advertising for a killer, and decided to instead create her own. She had sent pictures of herself, her turn-offs and turn-ons, she had teased him and got him so wound up that she was now ready. 

She made a suggestion to him, a simple remark about her husband, his fortune and what it would mean to her with his accidental death. He had not replied for over 2 days and she was preparing to venture out on the net and find another subject when he replied back.

His email was plain and to the point. £3000 in cash, he would take care of her husband’s death and burial, but they would need to meet.

She had met him in a restaurant a week later and struck the final part of the deal. 

His name was Daniel.



Dawn pulled the car over and looked at her husband. If Daniel wasn’t going to be here tonight she would have to let her husband fuck her. She hoped he would be. 

She had dressed for the occasion, even taking hints from Daniel as what to wear to make herself seem un-deniably sexy. At 38 Dawn had kept a nice figure, no children to stretch her, firm breasts, well kept legs and a firm ass to crown it all. Tonight she had wore a black dress that rose just above the knee. Her husband’s hand had kept on straying to it all through the meal. She hated the way his fat fingers fumbled around her inner thighs. He was soon to be dead, let him have his fun.

“Lets get out!” she smiled coyly at him and got out of the drivers seat and opened the boot of her car, grabbing a travel rug. Michael got out beaming, he was as happy as a pig in shit. She lay on the blanket and beckoned him over. His drunk digging began immediately. His mouth found hers, she could taste the whiskey on his breath as his hand went straight to her skirt and slipped under the taut fabric. 

A snap of twig made them both stop an look round. Standing a few feet away was a man in a ski mask. He held a gun at them both. “Well, what have we got going on here?” They remained motionless. “Michael, stand up!” 

He stood “Do I, know you?” 

“We’re going to have a little conversation” 

Michael stood, his stare on the gun in front of him. He looked pathetic, with his trousers undone, and his penis flaccid from shock just poking out.

The gun turned towards Dawn “You. Up!”

Dawn backed up against the car. She had to play along. If anything went wrong she could deny all involvement. 

“Open the windows of your car.” He instructed Michael.

He slowly obeyed, worried afraid. Michael stood waiting for the next order. 

“You!” He shouted at Dawn “Stand against the door!”

Dawn obeyed. Daniel passed her a pair of metal cuffs.

“Stick your hands through the windows and cuff yourself.”

Dawn stuck her hands through and limply placed the cuffs over her wrists. 

“Don’t want her driving off without us do we?” Still holding the gun on Michael he threw a roll of duct tape to him. “Gag her, no point in screaming for help either.”

Michael tore off a few strips and placed them gently over her mouth, before turning back to Daniel.

“Now wrap the roll around her head a few times. Don’t want it falling off do we?”

He obeyed. Michael tried to make sure his wife might be able to shout for help, but the tautness of the roll stopped him from helping her. Her mouth fully mummified he turned to face him.

“Now, move away from the car.” He motioned with the gun to the dark woods. “We have some bargaining to do.” 

Michael moved slowly towards the wood, keeping an eye on his wife and the menacing man.

“Wait!” 

Michael stopped walking as if remote controlled.

Daniel reached into the car and squeezed the cuffs tight

Dawn looked at Daniel, her eyes wide. This wasn’t the plan, she was supposed to be given plenty of time to get out of here before Daniel shot him.

“Don’t want you running anywhere just yet do we?” Daniel whispered.

She tried to protest, the cuffs cutting into her. He winked at her before turning and he and Michael walked into the woods

For a few minutes, there was silence. 2 gun cracks echoed through the night and the silence returned as if it had never left.

She heard him walking back. 

“Didn’t think I’d forgotten about you Dawn did you?”

Dawn mumbled behind her gag. 

Slowly and carefully Daniel tore the material of the gag off her mouth.

“Is he…” Dawn asked, afraid to use the word.

“As the lady asked. Now where’s my money?”

“Glove compartment. Hurry up and undo these cuffs!”

Daniel moved to the passenger seat and opened the box. Inside, the money was waiting in a brown envelope. 

“Will you get these fucking cuffs off me, and lets get out of here!” She shouted.

Daniel quickly checked the money and put it in his little bag. 

Getting out he moved behind her and reached over to unlock her wrists.

“I’ve got a better idea Dawn.” He leaned against her and licked her ear. 

Dawn froze.

“How about I get a little extra payment?” She felt his hand move to the back of her nylon thigh.

“No, not here!” she spoke quickly “We said later, on the way back!”

“Well I was thinking about that” His hand slid up to the hem of her skirt.

“The way I see it, after your crazed gunman kills the husband, then he rapes the wife.” 

Dawn struggled against her bonds. 

“What? Get me the fuck out of here!” She screamed.

Dan didn’t bother. He reached into his bag and pulled out some bungee cords instead. 

Gripping her leg amidst a barrage of protests and insults, he quickly looped a length around her ankle and hooked it onto the front wheel. 

”Get the fuck off me you bastard!” She shouted trying to pull her leg free.

He quickly did the same with the other leg before hooking that onto the rear wheel.

The cables kept her legs slightly parted, and the insistent pulling would make them open further.

“Well Dawn.” He said standing behind her. “You’re in a bit of a position aren’t you?”

“When I get out of this, you are in so much trouble!” She snarled.

He laughed gently and let his hands move to the backs of her thighs.

“Dawn, sweetheart, remember when you were telling me all about what your turn-ons were, and what turned you off?”

She remained silent.

Daniel continued. “Well I remember that you said that anal was the thing you would let no man do.” He let his hands wander slowly up the backs of her legs, pushing up the tight material of her black short skirt.

“No, don’t you dare!” She hissed

He pushed the fabric up higher. His mouth moved to the back of her neck and kissed it.

Dawn started to panic. This was not how she had planned it.

“I’m going to be a bit rough with it, otherwise the police will be suspicious wont they?” He had pushed the last of her skirt up exposing her nylon covered backside, showing the small run of fabric underneath where her thong rode up.

“Please, don’t do this! I’ll give you more money!”

She could hear his heavy breathing and the heat from him as he unhurriedly caressed her arse. 

Dawn started to yell for help. 

With that Daniel reached into his bag and re-brought out the gaffer tape and silenced her again with it. The protests were reduced to an insistent mumbling. He returned to his work.

He unzipped himself and took out his manhood. He made sure she heard him pulling it out, she defiantly felt it when he rubbed it against her arse.

She protested through her gag at him, but instead of stopping he pushed the head against the fabric and between her buttocks making her squeal behind the gag.

He held himself against her, grinding his cock against the fine mesh of her pantyhosed ass. Dawn mumbled and protested against the gag. 

He gripped her firm buttocks with his fingers and ripped open the back of her pantyhose. She screamed out behind the gag as she felt his fingers and cold air against her naked skin. He continued.

She felt his hands grip the slim thong she was wearing with both hands and heard his grunt as he snapped the fabric.

His fingers moved first to her ass, before pushing further down and between her struggling thighs. Dawn shut her eyes as he toyed with her pussy. She could feel his fingers, stroking and teasing. The mixture of fear and excitement was coursing through her body, culminating in her vagina, and he could feel how wet she was. 

His strong fingers easily pushed into her, first one then another. They started to slowly fuck in and out. She hadn’t realised that she had stopped protesting and struggling. 

Dan felt how fiery and wet she was, she must know how he had wanted to fuck her, and he also knew that she would of tried getting out of this situation without so much as a peck on the cheek if she could. He withdrew his fingers from her vagina, her head craned round trying to see what he was up to, when she felt his fingers, soaked with her juices pushing between her buttocks. She started protesting again and renewed her struggling, but the slippery fingers easily penetrated her anus, and just like her vagina, it was one then two. He deliberately and purposely rubbed the juices around the entrance, knowing that this was a big ‘no-no’ to her. With her discomfort literally in his hand, he guided his engorged cock to her still moist cunt. 

Dawn was still struggling against the invasion in her back passage, when Daniel thrust hard and fast upwards, impaling her on his manhood. She held still, the breath momentarily knocked from her.

With his fingers still in her ass, Daniel started to fuck her cunt. She was still shouting out behind her gag, but it was with each firm plunge into her that they turned from protests.

Dawn’s cunt was truly sodden as he raped her. He could feel some of the wetness soaking his trousers as he repeatedly took her from behind. He took his fingers from her ass and gripped her hips. With the invasion of her backside over, Dawn pushed back onto her rapist, crying through the gag with pleasure as she was fabulously filled. She could feel her knees begin to weaken as being fucked by a good solid dick and a slight shortness of breath took hold. She was so near.

Daniel pulled out “Lets not forget what I’m here for!”

He slammed brutally forward, spearing her lubricated ass. She cried out behind the gag, but in this position and her legs feeling so drained, she could only hold onto the car and let him ride her. 

The pain in her backside was shocking, but he had at least lubricated them both before taking her. Clinging to the car to stay upright she felt his hand stray around her front and begin to toy with her clitoris. She shook her head as she felt the familiar warm sensations begin to run through her again. The pounding against her ass was still sore, but the sensations it created from his rippled cock were sending her to a new height. Her head began to swim as she felt her clitoris stimulated with rough, firm fingers and her poor arse being soddomised.

As Dawn screamed out from behind the gag, her body began to spasm from the orgasm ripping through her being. Too much for her, she collapsed, still holding onto the car and still being held by the waist by Daniel. 

Daniel felt her body still quivering around his cock, and with a final, solid drive he sank into her as far he could and came.

She felt his hot cum, pouring into her bowels, his painfully strong grip, holding her waist as he pumped the last of himself into her. The strongest sensation was still the orgasm she’d had, still giving off small tremors as it slowly receded.

He pulled out of her and sank back and watched her body slump, half down, still bound to the car. He sat back and admired his handy work. He looked at the way her skirt was hitched high, the exposure of her lightly tanned skin, showing beneath the ripped black pantyhose. He looked at how the tops of her exposed thighs glistened with her juices. He listened to her panting behind her gag, the air being sucked hungrily through her nostrils. 

Daniel decided that he hadn’t finished with her quite yet, and stood up.

Dawn was so exhausted. She felt her body was never going to be truly hers again. There was a sound behind her, it was him standing. She felt his hands playing with her legs, fondling the insides, slowly having their way. She felt them quickly slide along her skin and to her still tender pussy. Her legs still obscenely spread, could not prevent the invasion from his fingers. They began to slowly move in and out. Her head shook from side to side and she grunted out ‘no’ from behind the gag, but it was useless. She felt a new sensation on her inner thigh. She felt his semi-hard dick, rubbing against the nylon. The dirty bastard was getting off on her pantyhose.

Dan felt the fabric of her nylons pulling slightly against his dick, very pleasurable. The dry material against his skin really felt good. With one hand still buried in her cunt he moved his hand down and caressed her encased leg. He could feel her trembling slightly, from fear and exhaustion, or maybe she like what he was doing. At this point he didn’t care.

Dawn closed her eyes against the invasion of her pussy by his fingers, it was difficult to try and shut out the sensations they were creating, but she tried to fight the losing battle still. She could feel on her inner thigh, his dick hardening. He had pushed it down the ripped pantyhose, the heat of it rubbing against her bare skin, the pull on her pantyhose as he slid it in and out. She still couldn’t bring herself to stand up.

Dan pulled his dick out of her leg, and aimed upwards. Holding her cunt-lips apart, he thrust hungrily forward and stabbed her with his hard on. She groaned behind the gag, her fight lost. 

Daniel started to fuck her hard, her body now so pliant. The only sounds coming from Dawn now were content moans, as he rose and sank inside her. He practically lifted her onto him as he took her. God, she was boiling inside. 

Dawn wished she hadn’t the gag on. She wanted to scream out, asking him to fuck deeper, harder, use her! The best she could manage was to moan noisily behind the gag. He seemed to understand and fucked her with a passion. She began to feel the warm, tingle grow inside. 

Daniel lunged into her body. He could feel her trying to widen her legs, getting him to go in further. He pushed slightly down on her back and sank in, twisting himself as he drove in. A large moan erupted from her and he lunged again. In this position neither could last for long. Her body started to shudder around his cock as the waves of pleasure crashed inside her. Daniel drove in cruelly and with a short gasp, came. 

Dawn’s body hung limply from the car. She was completely sated. She’d had no intention of letting Daniel have her tonight, but this was definitely a better outcome.

She heard him stand and move behind. She felt his hands on her behind. Stroking the nylon covered globes. “Please” she thought “not again! I’m exhausted!”

He moved his mouth to her ear, and his tongue gently snaked out and tasted her ear lobe.

He placed on top of the car a mobile phone. She looked at it puzzled.

“Your husband is on the other end.” He said, his hand still playing with her backside.

Dawn’s eyes focused sharply on the phone.

“He’s tied to a tree, with an ear piece in” 

Dawn’s eyes didn’t leave the phone. She hardly felt his fingers moving down between her legs again.

“I’m not a killer Dawn, I never was.”

She felt on the edge of thought his fingers, sliding along her slit. Her eyes remained fixed on the phone and the flashing green light on the corner.

“The only thing I wanted was a fuck, and you was good, very good!”

His hand came away from her wet opening and she heard him walk away, but she kept looking at the phone. She couldn’t think.

Daniel walked back into the woods and untied her husband. He went to move towards him, but he waved the gun menacingly in his face. Having second thoughts, her husband walked out of the woods.

A few minutes later she heard someone walking towards her, but her eyes couldn’t tear away from the phone. 

“You fucking bitch Dawn!” Said her husband.

Dawn closed her eyes and hung her head in defeat.



The Hitman Set Me Free



It was a hot night in Rochester but I shivered all the same. There were no cars in the driveway on a sprawling cream colored new-money manse the bordered the Clearey Woods, so I pulled up the parking brake and on battered gray Camry. The thick pine and birch that skirted the side and back of the property kept drawing my eye. If I wasn't very careful, I could die tonight. But if I'd refused, I'd be dead for certain.

I'm Vina Desai. A vice cop born and raised in Rochester, New York, a city whose chief exports are white flour and crime families. Since last winter, I've been closing in on one in particular. The Valenti family, Rochester's very own cosa nostra. At first it was nothing but two-bit crooks. I brought in Mikey Valachi and Nico "the Cheese man" Massina for assault with a deadly weapon, but the D.A. couldn't make the racketeering charges stick. I attended every hearing though. This is what I'd always dreamed of doing.

Four months back I was on the witness stand. I was being cross-examined. I had interrogated Larry Bianco, who had capped Grady Morrison in the bathroom at the Finger Lake racetrack on Saint Patrick's Day. I nailed it. Bianco's lawyer had nothing. I was about to step down when I saw him.

Even sitting he was half a head taller than the men on either side of him. His skin was dark but was the wrong shade for Sicilian. His rust colored eyes bored into me from the opposite end of the courtroom. His dark hair was cut very short, making his strong profile even sharper. He let me catch him staring. He neither smiled, nor looked away.

I'd been expecting one of Valenti's crew to try something but this was unusual. He wasn't a Valenti. He didn't even look Italian. Worse, he didn't care he'd been made.

He had been there too when I testified against Jimmy "the Ref" Valenti and Little Sal. I booked them both and now I wanted them off the streets. Each time he watched me, not them. I tried to have him tailed, or at least identified but he seemed to vanish into thin air when he stepped onto city pavement. I told Detective Hamil, my partner in Vice, but all he could tell me was that the Valentis never hired outside the family.

Fast forward to this Monday. I threw myself behind the wheel and tossed my encrypted laptop down on the passenger seat. I exhaled for what felt like the first time all day. I was this close to closing in on Frank Valenti.

Every cop in my unit knew Valenti's nephew Moogi "The Mouth" could be bought, but right now he had money. What he needed was distance. He had just called me to say he had knocked up Valenti's goddaughter and wanted to move upstate, and he'd exchange evidence for a couple hundred miles and a different last name. I hung up and tried Hamil's phone and left a few messages. I was lucky though. The other guys in my unit were dicks, and maybe even on the take, but Hamil was solid. Bet he'd even give me the lion's share of the credit when I closed in on Frank Valenti himself. I grinned and buckled my seatbelt.

"Drop the keys."

I didn't scream but it was a close thing. My eyes flew to the rearview mirror. Unblinking rust colored eyes flashed back at me. He was holding something against my headrest. I knew what it was.

"Drop the keys, Vina, and you might appreciate my offer."

I didn't get this close to Valenti by being stupid. I dropped them. The man's voice was smooth and deep. Vaguely latinate. Maybe Spanish. I stared back at him in the rearview, intent on memorizing his features on the off chance I lived through this.

"Good," said the man. "As you probably know by now, I've been offered a job."

I tried to keep my voice steady. "Am I the job?"

The man's eyes narrowed but the corners of his mouth twitched. "That's for you to decide."

I waited, but he didn't elaborate. "Who are you?" I asked him.

"My business name is Gunn."

I couldn't stifle the giddy snicker that bubbled up in my throat. Of course I'd get taken down by a hitman called Gunn. Of course.

"Few people appreciate the joke," said Gunn mildly. I caught a glint of light coming off the gun pressed against the back of the headrest.

"I've never shown the best judgment," I said wryly. His cheeks were chiseled and his chin was prominent.

"That could save your life," Gunn replied.

That brought me to my senses. "Okay. Gunn." I took a deep breath. "I decide if I'm the job? What do I have to do?" Valenti would be wanted leverage against me. Something to discredit me. I imagined crossing the Canadian border with cocaine in my hubcaps.

Gunn smiled and twisted his gloved hand into my wavy black hair. "You will come to a house. The address is in your glove compartment. You will wear a dress. You will not tell anyone. You will not inform the police and you will not wear a wire."

That did not sound good. I winced as he pulled my head against the headrest. 

I coughed. "Does that sound like a good deal to you, if you were me?" 

"I wouldn't make it, no," Gunn admitted. "But then, I don't have fifty large on my head."

"Fifty? That's twice what Phil the Shill got."

Gunn eyed me in the mirror. "Well, he was a shill and you're a screw. You need to decide now, Vina, if you're going to be my job."

"And show up to some unknown location in my burial gown and keep my trap shut about it?" I glared back at Gunn's reflection. Then I heard the click of the safety release and bit down hard on my tongue.

"You decide. You die today or tomorrow or in a week. Maybe even a month, but probably not. Or take my deal. You need to decide right now."

"Okay!" My voice was unpleasantly shrill with panic. I was going for exasperated but the semiautomatic was fucking up my performance. "Since I have no choice."

Gunn ran his thick gloved fingers down the back of my neck and something inside me rose up in response to his touch. Creepy. 

"Everyone has a choice. And I like you, Vina, so let me say it again. Don't run, don't talk, and dress to impress."

The car door was open and he was gone before I could dig the .38 out of my purse.

Three days passed. And now I was sitting in the same car in the driveway from the note in my glovebox. Worse still, I'd done what I was told. No one knew I was here.I dithered about telling Hamil, but in the end decided it wasn't worth not getting another chance to dodge my death sentence. I figured I should tell someone, but no one came to mind. My parents would worry. My best friend Jas would have me committed. I didn't wear a wire either. The Sopranos was right, there's no quicker way to get dead.

I'd plotted just one act of defiance which was to forgo the dress code, but even then I'd lost my nerve. I went back into the house to put on the blue bridesmaid dress I wore to my sister's wedding last year.

I checked my handbag and gave myself a mirror pep talk. My black-brown eyes, dark skin and long curved nose stared back at me. I'd overdone the eye shadow in lieu bravado. Gunn's note said to arrive promptly at nine, but I never do anything promptly. The clock on the dash read 9:10pm. I was probably pushing it. I stifled the urge to be sick and got out of the car.

I was out of practice at walking in heels. Being a cop will do that. I also figured I might have to run for my life, so I'd forgone the matching pumps for a pair of plain black flats. The dress was good though. Tight and low cut in the tits and waist, flaired out and loose at the hips. The better to sprint in. I tried not to think about how short it was. I knocked twice.

I waited for what felt like hours before the latch slid and Gunn opened the door and beckoned me inside.

"I'm glad you came, Vina," said Gunn. He was dressed deliciously in charcoal slacks and a mauve cashmere sweater that made his skin look darker and his eyes look brighter. He looked casual and in control. Suddenly I felt like an overdressed teenager.

"Now what?" I was proud to hear my cop voice again as Gunn threw the deadbolt.

"We can talk about that in a minute." Gunn turned to me and held out a small pink cylinder. I examined it a moment and then almost dropped it in shock. "Wear that before we continue."

I held it back to him, eyes narrowed. "I'm not wearing sex toys for you. That's not what this is."

Gunn folded his arms. "What is this, then?"

"This is me trying to negotiate with you about the terms of your contract."

Gunn grinned, his eyes drilling into me again. "A police detective shows up alone to mob house wearing a party dress to make demands?"

Oh that was it. I unsnapped my pocketbook but before I could reach my gun, Gunn yanked the strap from my shoulder and set in down on the hutch behind him.

"You get it back when you make a decision, Vina," said Gunn. "Either way you walk out of here tonight. Nothing happens that you don't consent to."

I tried not to punch him. "Consent under duress doesn't count."

Gunn shrugged. "Then I can't help you. I guess you better leave now and get a head start, because I work for a living."

I'm no good at gambling. I had only a minute to decide if I thought Gunn was better at lying or delivering just what he promised. Any other hired gun and I'd probably have gone straight to Hamil. Or the fucking FBI, god forbid. But everything about Gunn, from the way he moved to the sound of his voice promised a supernatural skill. My money was on marksmanship and dogged determination over bluffing.Which meant I had just one choice.

"Where's the bathroom?" I muttered.

Gunn pointed down the long arched hall and I saw it. The floor in the bathroom was white marble just like the entryway. A huge vanity mirror glowed coldly across from the toilet and shower stall. Nothing on the counters, no pictures on the wall, no oxy prescriptions in the medicine chest. This was some kind of shell house, which didn't give me much confidence. I locked the door.

It was a small thing, the vibe. Almost cute. Smaller than the one I owned. I caught my own rich brown reflection as I pulled up my dress and slid the still vibe between my legs and into my pussy. It was too small.I arranged my black thong tight between my pussy lips to hold it inside me. If I took small steps I could avoid the embarrassment of dropping it. I smoothed my dress down and felt an unexpected, illicit thrill. No one could tell by just looking at me.

I took modest steps back to the entryway where Gunn was waiting. He didn't quiz me about the vibe.

"Come to the living room with me. I called a meeting to discuss your situation and there's someone I want you to meet." He grabbed my left wrist and snapped a pair of handcuffs over it and then the other while I twisted.

"What the fuck!" I elbowed Gunn in the gut, but he didn't flinch from the blow, instead grabbing a fistful of my hair and pressing his lips to my ear. "It's just while we talk, to put him at ease. And because I like you cuffed. You wanted negotiation. This is it. Now follow me."He released my hair and my curiosity narrowly won out over my survival instinct.

I followed him down two marble steps and around the corner into a thinly furnished fitting area. There was a cherrywood bar on the far side of the room, and two white leather loveseats with a glass coffee table between them. There was no overhead light and the twilight had dimmed the otherwise empty space, but for a pair jade lamps that bathed the room in a frosty glow. There was a man sitting in one of the loveseats. He was slight and his tan face was heavily lined. His dark hair was patchy and held in place by BP's finest. He wore a crisp navy pinstripe suit and polished brown wingtip shoes. He was checking his iphone. There was a glass of dark liquor on a coaster in front of him, and two more besides.

"Detective Desai, allow me to introduce Frank Valenti. You know his work."

I steeled my poker face and nodded to Valenti as Gunn offered me the seat across from him. Here he was, the biggest crime lord outside Queens and I was dressed to the nines with my hands cuffed, though at least they were cuffed in front of me. I'd only ever seen Valenti in pictures. He'd aged ten years in the last two.

"Good evening, Detective," he said. His voice was soft, with the slightest trace of an accent. The fucking godfather indeed. "You've had me busy as a dyke in a hardware store for a few months now. I don't like busy, Detective. I prefer retired life."

I snorted. "Then retire. That could have saved us both a lot of trouble." Suddenly the vibrator inside me sprung to life. I turned a squawk of surprise into a convincing cough. I don't know what I'd been expecting, but it wasn't that. Gunn glanced at me and then back to Valenti. I squirmed slightly.

"Frankly, Detective, my sons are idiots and the chauvinist numbnuts that fill out my family tree refuse to take my daughter seriously." Valenti swirled the liquor in his glass and took a sip. It smelled like whiskey. "I had hoped it wouldn't come to this. That someone might have taken you in hand. Told you maybe why no one in my city goes after me."

The vibrations increased and I uncrossed and recrossed my legs. My thong was already soaked from the stimulation, and the erotic wrongness of it all. The hitman was teasing me in front of the man I'd sworn to bring to justice. My brain was foggy, clogged up with sexy thoughts. I tried to focus. What did he mean 'taken in hand?' 

"So who's on the take?" I asked shrewdly. "Mancuso? Gregson? Kwan?"

"Chrissakes, Detective, have a drink. Loosen up." Valenti paused to follow his own advice. "The fucking Commissioner doesn't want me taken in. Bad for the city. My line of work's recession proof. Fuck, look at you. I hate a fidgeter."

I managed to stop moving despite the maddening vibrations radiating through me. Gunn handed me the whiskey glass in front of me. "So I quit." I said. " I'll resign tomorrow, first thing."

Valenti shrugged. "Like I know you from Eve. Maybe you do, maybe you don't. Maybe you tell the media. I lost control of the way the world works about a decade ago. I can't predict the news. It's the fucking internet. People take the least little thing and make it a headline."

"You want my evidence. I'll give you passwords and encryption keys. Four cabinets worth of files on the Valenti's alone." I swallowed hard. Every cop thinks they'll never crack under pressure. Usually I was a cool customer and now here I was offering to break my oath for Frank fucking Valenti, Rochester's most wanted. 

"Gunn didn't like that, did he? No, you didn't." Valenti didn't wait for an answer. "Too many holes. Might make you reckless to try again somewhere else, or get in front of a typewriter or a computer or whatever. Maybe sell a book. Inform the wrong folks. Isn't that what you said?" He didn't wait for Gunn to nod. "Plus he doesn't get paid. Gunn had another idea."

I clenched my legs closed, suddenly scared the sopping vibe would escape and end up on the marble floor in front of Valenti. I turned to Gunn who stared at Valenti rather than me.

Valenti drained his glass. "My man here thinks the best thing you can do with cops is discredit them. Fuck up their rep. The best thing to do with ladycops is show everyone what whores they are. No one who isn't fucking one likes a whore. Sad but true. That's what's wrong with this fucking country if you ask me," he added, but I wasn't following. I stared at him, open mouthed.

Gunn cleared his throat. "One night. Some footage. We keep it under lock and key. We're done and you go about your life. Stay on the Force. Open up a tikibar in Cabo under an assumed name. The Family doesn't care. They have insurance."

I eyed the stiffening bulge in Valenti's trousers. "I'm not letting anyone fuck me and film it. Not Valentis, not anyone."

Frank Valenti pursed his lips. "You flatter yourself. Two of my idiot sons are queer as a three dollar bill. The other one likes 'em real young. My daughter wouldn't piss on you to put a fire out. And I don't do cameras, even if I wanted to take a whack at you, which I don't." He was a surprisingly bad liar. "It's my gunman here who thinks with his dick."

My head spun to look at Gunn so fast I gave myself a crick. "This is your idea?"

Gunn sipped his whiskey. "You wanted a compromise. This is it. Valenti here wants insurance that you won't talk. You want to live. The way I see it, this is the most elegant arrangement."

I felt my face flush and my eyes darken - danger signs. "You think you can extort and blackmail me into fucking you? That my body is for sale? Fuck you both!"

Valenti shrugged and pocketed his phone. "Told you it wouldn't work, son. Cops are more trouble than they're worth bout half the time. I don't like to ice a lady, even if she is a fuckin' cop, but she's got too much on me. Give me an hour or so to put some distance between you an' me, son, and then be my guest."

"If she changes her mind?" Gunn stood up with Valenti. All I could do was wiggle and simmer with rage.

Valenti rolled his eyes. "Send us two copies and the contract is down to thirty large, and that's just because it's you and you're helping me solve a very tedious problem. If she squeals down the line, there's another thirty waitin' for you, kid."

Gunn nodded. He was staring a hole through me. I refused to meet his eyes. Valenti buttoned his jacket and called from the hallway, "I'm parked out back. I guess I'll just see myself out. Seems you've got your hands full."

Suddenly it was so quiet that all I could hear was the frantic hum of the vibrator. Gunn poured another shot of whisky into my untouched glass and took Valenti's vacated seat.

The problem was that a small but very insistent part of me really wanted to do it. That part was oversensitized and beyond sense. The last thing I needed, actually. Well, second-to-last. The very last thing I needed was Gunn. Tall, dark, with broad shoulders and wide hands, a strong chest and sensuous lips. Wait, that was the vibrator talking. Had Valenti known what Gunn had been doing to me?

I took a few deep breaths. Time to review. Valenti wanted me dead. Gunn would rather fuck me than kill me. Commissioner Rossi didn't want to tackle the Valentis but couldn't tell me to stop without arousing suspicion. So I had no support and a contract and not much time for a quick and stealthy disappearance.

Gunn, meanwhile, wanted me to do things on camera that would ensure I couldn't look any of my fellow cops - to say nothing of my parents - in the eyes ever again. Maybe gross things. And Valenti wanted a backup copy. I wouldn't put it past Valenti to share the tape around.

"How do I know they won't just give it to my department anyway?"

Gunn sipped his drink. "They won't. They've got no leverage then. If it goes public they're begging for an inquest."

I took a sip of the whiskey. It was sharp and warm, like the buzzing deep inside me.

"So what do you want to do to me that's going to cost you thirty grand?"

Gunn's laugh was like a starting pistol and I jumped but managed to keep the booze off my dress. "At ease, Detective. One of the things I'd like to do is make you come. Any fantasies of yours come to mind?"

I raised an eyebrow. "What exactly makes you think you're capable of making me come or trying to act out my fantasies?"

But Gunn wasn't laughing anymore. "Do you believe I can know a lot of specific, very personal things about someone from a distance?"

I hesitated. "Yes."

Gunn caught my chin in his hands and stared into my dark brown eyes with his bright copper ones. "You work harder than anyone in your department, because you're the only woman. And because you're an attractive woman and you need to look tough and sound tough, you hide your femininity. But it comes out in other ways. You're the first to say thank you and sorry. You lower your eyes when a dominant person walks into the room. You've done what I've told you twice now, with little direction."




The Hitman Set Me Free



I scowled and tried to interrupt but Gunn cut across me.

"You think about handcuffs often. Some officers have switched to zapstaps, but not you. You like their heft. The feel of the metal. That's why you keep them in your pocketbook. You didn't pack them just to meet me. But you hoped I'd find them."

"Hey, no, fuck you!" I stood up. My face was hot again and I would have run if I hadn't wanted to kick his ass. "Don't act like you know anything about me!"

Gunn smiled. "Why? You're used to taking a mile of shit. Lawyers talk to you differently, don't they? They treat you like a little girl playing police. They don't talk to your colleagues like that."

I felt dizzy, overwhelmed. Stripped bare. Was I obvious? Just some stupid cliche?

"You like most of the suspects better than D.A., better than most other cops," Gunn continued slowly, still holding my gaze." You know they think you're sexy, even if they hate you for it. To them, you're beautiful and powerful and to other men in your life, you're nearly invisible."

Suddenly Gunn was an inch from me and taking the whisky glass from my trembling hands. He raised the rim of the tumbler to my parted lips and tipped the last shot down my throat. The last sip was hot and amber, and made my lips and throat sting slightly.

"You've been picturing me naked since you first noticed me," he whispered. "You came here hoping something sexual would happen."

"I didn't, I came because--" but Gunn's lips were on mine, soft and sweet, his tongue tasting the sweetness of the whiskey on my lips.

"You're naturally submissive," he said softly, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear.

"I'm really not."

"To a naturally dominant person you are," Gunn corrected. "You wore that dress. You placed the vibrator. And even now you're playing by my rules. You kept it from falling out. You've been thinking about sucking my cock since you first laid eyes on me."

I lost the staring contest at once. I studied the floor. Between the thundering of my heart and the buzzing of the vibrator, I felt naked. Utterly exposed.

Gunn tilted my chin again to hold my gaze. I felt too ashamed to fight him. "If you do whatever I tell you tonight, you won't regret it."

"What if there's something I don't want to do?" I mumbled.

"You don't have to. But the more you submit, the happier you'll be. My job is to film you looking like you're having the time of your life, or the tape is worthless."

I blinked. "But you won't hurt me? If I want it to stop, I can leave?"

"I won't hurt you. And if we've got enough on tape, then yes, you can go. But if you don't cooperate, I'll have to report to Valenti that you didn't fully accept my offer. You need to get as much on film as I want to give you."

He kissed me again, this time deepening the kiss and exploring my mouth with his tongue.The tiny vibrator inside me begin to slip and I squeezed my legs closed but I felt it slip from my slick entrance.

And then Gunn's hand flew between my legs and his thick fingers brushed me through my thin black thong. He smiled as I gasped at his touch and slowly withdrew his hand from beneath my skirt. Gunn sniffed the wet pink vibrator slowly, watching me as he did.

"You smell sweet, Vina," he said, reaching for a paper shopping bag by the other loveseat. "You should get ready. The washroom's down the hall. The door just past that is a bedroom. Please put on everything in the bag and meet me inside." He uncuffed me and I felt oddly deflated.

I shook like a leaf as I emptied the bag in the bathroom. A tiny navy top that covered my shoulders and upper back and about a third of my tits. It snapped closed and was decorated with fake epaulets and breast pockets. Then a pair of navy leather hotpants two sizes too small. They covered only slightly more than my thong, giving me a wicked cameltoe and making my round ass hang out obscenely. There were a pair of black heels to match, four inches high and and plain but for thick straps at the ankles. I put them on and then I saw the little steel padlocks open on the buckle. High, locking stilettos. Never in a million years. I was bound to end up on my face. Still, I watched myself snap the padlocks closed. They forced me to balance on my tiptoes and thrust my ass out in an odd, bimbo-ish stance. Finally, there was a hat, an imitation of a police cap, complete with a star on the front. I turned to the mirror to see a stripper in cop drag. My heart shaped face and overdone makeup, long tumbling black hair and brown skin set off my hourglass figure. My already heavy tits could barely be contained and little crescents of brown skin popped out of the bottoms as well as the sides and tops of the bustier. My waist looked much tinier than it was and the soft plain of my tummy seemed to disappear next to the cartoonish swell of my already broad hips and ass.

I managed a few wobbly steps in my sky-high pumps without breaking my neck and left my blue dress and lingerie in a heap on the bathroom floor. The tightness of the costume added to the unsteadiness I felt on my feet, and I took delicate, cautious steps out of the bathroom and down the hall to the plain, white closed door.

The room was large and spare, with carpets the same empty off-white as the walls. Neither the walls nor the ceilings were adorned. The room was dominated by a vast king-sized bed with plain white sheets, and a heavy dining chair upholstered in black leather. There was a small wooden hutch to the left of the bed, next to a door to a closet or a bathroom. The room was lit not by an overhead bulb, but half a dozen lamps that cast a warm glow over the otherwise spartan surroundings.

"Come in Vina." Gunn emerged from the corner I had missed and my gaze caught and held on the camcorder and tripod that faced the bed. I swallowed again and took a very bashful step forward.

"Look at you, all dressed up," Gunn smiled and wrapped his long arms around me and traced his palms lightly over my ass. I bristled. He was still fully dressed - did he think this was going to be a one woman show? "Before we start, I need you to show off your new outfit to the camera."

I pulled away from his touch and glared up at him. "Why?"

"Because," said Gunn, rolling up the sleeves of his sweater "we want your identity to be obvious even if we film from a distance. And because you're sexy and someone should film your mostly naked body up close. And lastly," Then he spanked my ass hard enough to make me stifle a yelp and leave a sting. "Because we both know you want to be told what to do and made to do it. Now when I tell you to do something, obey. I want you to dance and shake your ass and show your face to the camera."

My feet began moving while the rest of me seethed. I didn't sign up to be treated like a little girl or a whore either, but as I drew level with the camcorder lense, my rage fled and I felt my shyness return. I let the camera take in my dark complexion and my exaggerated curves, my long wavy black hair and my humiliating costume.

"Dance. Smile," said Gunn, but he felt a thousand miles away. Who would see this video? My first thought was Valenti, accompanied by a surge of horror that transformed instantly into arousal. I grinned at the thought of Valenti watching and rewatching me as I turned on the spot and wiggled my hips and ass to an imaginary pornogroove that played in my mind. His dick would get hard and he'd want me but know he couldn't have me, so he'd fuck his mistresses or maybe even his wife, but he'd be thinking of my ass and my tits while he fucked them. It would probably drive him crazy that he didn't try to fuck me while he had the chance and now he never would.

"Well done, Vina. You're much sluttier than anyone realized," Gunn's voice was wonderfully hoarse and I was elated. "Now come here, I've got something else for you."

Empowered by my little dance, I found the heels easier to walk in and the tightness of the hotpants positively erotic, and I swayed my hips like I was strutting down the catwalk. Gunn stood with his hands in his pockets, his eyes locked on mine rather than my hips as I joined him beside the bed. I grinned up at him slyly as I waited for what was next.

Then he had my wrist behind my back and then the other and before I my cop brain engaged. "What the hell!" I growled but the hardness of his expression had softened and he looked on the verge of laughter. "You think it's funny?"

Gunn tucked my hair behind my ear and said "I think you're cute when someone who isn't scared of you busts you down a peg. And yeah, I think it's pretty funny to act like you don't want the cuffs."

I started to splutter, but Gunn scooped me over his shoulder and carried me back to the camera and set me down on the ground in front of it. He pulled the snaps of my tiny top open and my large, caramel breasts spilled out in front of the lense.

"We both know you're a slut, Vina, but are you an exhibitionist?" Gunn said, his strong hands squeezing my breasts and fondling my pebble-hard nipples. "There's only one way to find out for sure what to do with you."

He pinched my nipples hard, almost painfully and then turned me away from the camera. For a moment I thought he was done, but then Gunn opened the closures at the sides on my hotpants and my thick ass spilled out of the thin strips of fabric. Gunn held me still, but leaned past me to adjust the angle of the camera. He grabbed my ass hard and shook it so that it jiggled. The breath caught in my throat.

"Look at all this, Vina. You hide all this ass in men's jeans and uniform pants. An ass this thick should be on display." He spanked me again and my ass jiggled harder. The thrill of being handled and objectified and groped by someone like Gunn, who could really have anyone just made me wet as hell. Then he said "bend over, Vina" and my blood froze.

Gunn didn't give me any time to respond or fight back. He pushed my head down firmly. I tried to clench my legs together and arch my back to keep myself hidden, but Gunn wrapped an arm under my hips and I felt my nakedness gape in front of the camcorder lense.

"Excellent, Vina. Look at your tight little pussy, it's already ready for me."

He spread my pussy lips for the camera and dipped a finger just inside me. I shuddered, both in excitement and horror, but there was no fighting him in front of the camera unless I wanted to call off the whole deal. Actually what I really wanted was to fucked like a wild woman.

"Totally on display, just like you need. You're so wet, Vina. Even the camera can see how wet you are. You're such a slut. I'll bet you got waxed just for tonight, didn't you?"

In that one awful moment I was glad the camera wasn't capturing my face. Yes, I had gotten a bikini wax for tonight, just in case. Maybe I was a complete slut.

"And look, Vina, your little virgin asshole," purred Gunn, poking his pinkie inside it. I clenched up around his digit and grimaced and he swatted my ass gently. "Don't worry, Vina. I know just what to do with horny sluts."

He let me straighten up and walked me to the huge white bed and pushed me down onto the sheets. My arms were cuffed behind me, but I barely registered the discomfort. I was about to get fucked into oblivion. I watched Gunn walk to the side of the room and I expected him to strip down but instead he opened a drawer and took out a wooden case and set it on the bed next to me.

"Inside there are three things you need to please me tonight, Vina," he said quietly, but the serious Gunn from the living room and even the courtroom was gone, replaced by this grinning, sadistic, playful man I would have done anything to fuck in that moment. "Guess what they are?"

I couldn't say anything. A thousand wicked and wonderful ideas popped into my head and I shook my head dumbly.

"If I owned you after tonight, Vina, I would punish you for not speaking when spoken to. Maybe I'd spank you until you guessed right, and only then would you be any closer to making me come, but we only have a short time together, so I'm going to show you."

He opened the box and my mouth went dry. Inside were three objects that immediately got my attention. The first was a leather collar and a chain leash. The second was another vibrating dildo, much larger than the first toy, veined and purple. The last was a little steel buttplug with a pink jewel on its handle. I looked at the contents of the box and then at Gunn. His rusty eyes burned bright into mine and I knew there was no protest in the world he would believe. These toys made me want to beg him to come, but I knew Gunn was going to make me work for it.

He reached for the collar first, and fastened it tightly around my neck. Its buckle contained a matching padlock and Gunn slid it closed without pausing, and reached back into the box for the lead, which he snapped onto the collar. He tugged it gently a couple times and seemed satisfied by the way my eyes widened.

He reached back into the box and pulled out the dildo and held it close to my face for inspection. It was large for a man, but I wasn't a total novice.. He positioned it near my mouth and whispered "open wide."

I did and he pushed it slowly but firmly to the back of my throat. I near gagged and he withdrew slightly, before plunging in again, fucking my throat a half dozen more times before withdrawing the dildo and replacing it with his tongue. I lapsed into blissful kissing for several happy minutes when I felt him glide the dildo into my pussy. I groaned as he fucked me gently with it a moment before pushing it inside me as far as it would go, so that the base of it was just barely visible between my legs.

"I'm surprised you took all of that," said Gunn, adjusting the rabbit ears of the dildo so they brushed my clit. I winced at the fleeting intensity of the touch.

"Why does it surprise you if you think I'm a slut?" I asked as he reached back into his box for a clear plastic tube.

"Sluts aren't sluts because they fuck a lot of men." I could see that he was lubing up the buttplug and I squirmed. The only time a man had ever tried anal with me, it had been too painful to continue. "A slut is a woman who can't stop thinking about getting fucked. She's so hot for it that she'll do anything. When you turn her on, it doesn't matter if you spank her or call her names or humiliate her, she can't stop thinking about your dick. That's a slut. So I'm surprised you could take it all because you're the kind of slut who never gets a dick to suck. But it won't be long now."

He pushed me onto my stomach and pulled me over his knee so my ass was in the air again. Gunn's fingers circled my asshole, massaging cold, slippery lube around it and inside and I writhed but didn't squeal or cry out. "Ready, Vina?"

The little steel plug pressed hard against my ass and I couldn't hold back a shrill yelp as the pain blossomed through me, but then I heard a 'pop' and felt dramatic and instant relief. Gunn spun it around and nudged it with his hands a few time to tease me, and then told me to lie still and wait for him.

He left the room and I heard taps running. The camera wasn't twenty feet away, and trained right on me. And then Gunn entered the room again and picked up the camera off its tripod. He stood over me.

"How do you feel?"

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

He moved the camera down over my naked body, lingering on the collar and the handcuffs, and eventually the protruding dildo and buttplug. I experienced such a keen and erotic thrill from the exposure that I nearly came right there on the bed, but Gunn replaced the camera and moved the tripod just beside the dining chair on the other side of the room. He returned to me and slid something thin and black and familiar over my hips.

"You'll need them when I put you to work," said Gunn, and I realized he'd dressed me in the thong I wore when I arrived.

He helped me to my feet and waited while I steadied myself, with only towering heels to walk in and no arms to balance myself, to say nothing on the dildo and the plug. I took two careful steps forward and Gunn lengthed the leash, taking a seat in the black leather chair and forcing me to tiptoe to him in the painfully high heels. He was still fully clothed.

"Are you even going to fuck me tonight?" I blurted out in a moment of panic. Gunn grinned.

"If you're good. Are you mad?" His smile was playful.

"I look like a fucking Christmas tree and you haven't even lost the shirt," I snapped.

Gunn laughed. "I love my sluts to be naked when I'm not. Reminds them what they're for. Unless you'd rather be done. I...I do have enough, you know. You can leave now if you want."

There was a plug in my ass. I was definitely not leaving until he fucked me tonight. He already knew the answer, because he tugged the leash gently until I drew level with his spread legs. I could see the thick bulge in his pants now. The camera was right beside me.

"Down," he said, and I lowered myself to me knees, very slowly and carefully, determined not to need help balancing.

He tightened the leash again and I moaned at the warmth and enclosure of being of between his thighs, about to see his cock for the first time. He unzipped his trousers and there it was. It was long and thick and dark like Gunn, veined and ever so slightly larger than the toy inside me. 

"You're going to suck me until I tell you to stop. If you're good, I will turn on the vibrator. If you're bad, I'll pull out of your mouth and come on your face and then we're done for the night." He grabbed a fistful of my thick, dark hair in one hand and my leash in the other, and pulled my mouth down on his dick.

His skin tasted warm and clean, with traces of some kind of body wash with sandalwood. He was thicker than any man I'd gone down on and I worried about knicking him with my teeth. I started slow, rolling my tongue up and down his shaft, sucking hard closer to the base and darting my tongue over his tip.

Gunn groaned and tightened his grip on the leash, pulling me down farther. "That's right, Vina. Good girl. You're just a natural cocksucker, aren't you?"

I flickered my eyes up to him and saw his facial muscles taut and his lips parted in ecstasy. He pulled my leash and forced me down another inch. I gasped for breath around the girth of his dick and Gunn stroked my hair.

"That's right, Vina. I'll train that sweet throat of yours to take the whole thing before I let you come tonight. Look up at the camera, little slut."

He slid his foot between my legs and nudged the buttplug and I cried out in shock but the sound was muffled by Gunn's cock.

"Tell the camera how much you love me fucking your mouth."

I looked up at the lense and tried to say how bad I needed him, but Gunn yanked the leash again and all I could do is take a shallow breath before he filled my throat.

"Of course you need it, Vina. Look at you. You're a cumslut masquerading as a cop. You've got a badge and a gun and you still need someone to master you." He stroked my hair and allowed me to grab a short breath before impaling me further on his cock. My throat was so full I couldn't do anything more than suck him and moan at the truth of his words. My nose was buried in the rich charcoal linen of his slacks.

"But you've been a very good girl, Vina, and I told you that good girls get rewarded."

He switched on the dildo and I nearly fainted. The rabbit ears fluttered around my swollen clit and made me see stars, while the dildo hummed inside me and I could feel the steel buttplug echo the vibrations through my body. Gunn pointed the camera to my face to capture my expression.

"This is what it looks like when you train a slut to take it in every hole," Gunn narrated to the camera and I moaned around him and sucked hard, desperate to push him to the edge. Instead he turned up the vibrations and I stared up at him now, unable to stop from writhing and bucking between his legs.




The Hitman Set Me Free



"Are you ready, Vina?" I was gratified to hear Gunn's voice waver for the first time. His control was slipping. He set the camera back on the tripod and held my head in both hands. "You're going to take my whole cock in your throat and then stay down there until I let you up."

I pulled back enough to draw a breath. The vibrator had me on the brink. I needed to swallow him whole, to be completely owned by him.

He pulled my head down onto him until my lips wrapped around the base of his cock and my face was buried in a tangle of linen and sandalwood skin. I almost choked but managed to swallow in time to relax my throat. Gunn pulled my leash hard and stroked my head as I shook my ass uncontrollably while the vibrations rocked me.

"You're beautiful when you're where you belong," Gunn whispered and I exploded around him like a firework in the night. Every muscle in my body locked at once and I lost track of where I was, nearly even who I was, but Gunn's thick cock in my throat and hands in my hair anchored me.

He pulled me off him and stood. I gasped for air and tried to stand too, but my legs were cramped and I couldn't get purchase with my arms behind my back.

"You didn't come," I muttered dumbly, but it was true. His dick was harder than ever and slick from my throat. Had I done something wrong? Had I been too slutty? Too unpolished at sucking cock?

Gunn didn't answer but he stood me up on my wobbly heels and led me on the leash to the bed. He tossed me face down on the sheets. There was a blow to my ass that made me howl into the mattress and then another. Two more. His hand was on my ass again, this time tenderly stroking the aching red marks he'd put there.

"I can't help it, love. Your ass was made to be spanked. Thick and round, it's purely pornographic."

I struggled to regain my breath, afraid of more shock and pain, but he flicked the plug in my ass.

"You have no idea what I would do to your ass if I could keep you like this all night." Gunn ran his hands over the narrow of my waist and over the swell of my hips and ass. He laid his clothed body on top of my naked one, careful not the crush my cuffed arms as he sat on me. He leaned down and whispered to me, so the camera couldn't hear.

"I wish I could bring you with me. Locked in those heels and nearly naked, leashed and teased and ready to serve me. If I could find a way, you'd probably even let me, wouldn't you Vina?"

Of course I wouldn't. Never, I thought. I have an adult life with serious goals and responsibilities. But for Gunn, I could imagine it and feel the vibe begin to hum deep inside me again, making my spine soft and my muscles taut. The idea of being whisked away from the mess I'd made, relieved of every responsibility except to obey, was not without appeal. A fevered fantasy of life tarted up like a stripper and kept constantly aroused so I could suck Gunn's dick or get fucked every time he got hard. A sextoy. His slave....my mouth went instantly dry.

"Y-you didn't let me taste you," I croaked.

Gunn brushed the hair from my face. "I know, love. In a perfect world I'd start by making you suck me dry and finish buried in your ass, but we don't have much longer to break you in."

He climbed off me a moment and my whole body physically yearned for his heat again. A moment later, he lifted my hips and slid pillows under me so that my ass was on display. He set the camera at the top of the bed, pointed again at my face.

"Don't move," instructed Gunn, "you're perfect just like that."

He grabbed the leash and pushed my thong aside. The vibrator slapped and gurgled between my parted thighs.

"Look at you," Gunn purred, grabbing the dildo by its thick base and pumping it in and out of me a couple times. I moaned and clenched my body around the heavenly buzz before he withdrew it. I felt the head of his thick, hard cock press against my swollen pussy lips and I braced for penetration but it didn't come.

"You taste marvelous, Vina. Warm and spicy. Why don't you try?"

Something purple that smelt of silicone and musk pressed against my lips. I tried to twist away but Gunn succeeded in pushing the tip of the vibrator past my teeth, to rest on my tongue. It was slick with my own juices. I glared up at the camera and felt the now familiar wave of humiliation tinged with arousal. Made to taste myself, to be fucked and filmed with a dildo in my mouth, I could have screamed. Gunn's steel hard erection twitched at my entrance and what had moments ago been his alien pleasure instantly became my own. 

"Suck it like it's me, Vee. Show me how good you can be. My slut needs to be stuffed and fucked, don't you?"

I moaned around the dildo and Gunn pushed the velvety head of his cock inside me, holding me maddeningly still as he gripped my leash and my hips. "I can't hear you, Vee. Do you need to be stuffed and fucked?"

"Please Gunn," I slurred badly around the thick phallus in my mouth.

He pinned me to the bed in a single powerful thrust and I screamed into the dildo, more stars bursting in my vision. Between Gunn's throbbing dick and the plug in my ass, I was too full. Overwhelmed and overheated, I struggled under him, squirming to try to earn a moment's reprieve from the intense fullness.

"Shh, Vee. You're not going anywhere. Just let yourself adjust. I know it's a lot to take, but you can do it." He stroked my jaw and cheek but kept his grip on the leash, which perversely got me hotter. "That's it. Relax. Now a little more."

He slid out and thrust inside me deeper than before, but my body gave way this time instead of fighting. Gunn quickened his pace and twisted the plug and I moaned so loudly he chuckled.

"After tonight, I order you to wear that plug every time you masturbate," Gunn grunted between thrusts. "So you remember who you belong to."

I thrust my hips back against him hungrily, feeling that dark and delicious nearness of my next climax begin crest. I wanted to tell him that I would crawl on my knees for him, gladly suck him for hours, and let him fill my ass with cum until it ran in torrents down my thighs, but I knew he wouldn't permit me, so I sucked the last of my juices off the dildo. Anyway, he probably already knew.

He bottomed out inside me then and then grabbed a fistful of my hair and pushed my head into the sheets. "See, sweet girl? I told you you could take it all. So obedient."

My cinnamon skin was slick with both our sweat and I was twitching madly beneath his smooth, deliberate thrusts deep inside me. Electric currents of pleasure pulsed through my frayed nerves and sore muscles and all I could feel was him. The pull of his grip on my hair and the leash; the pistoning push of his hips against my ass that ground me into the mattress and closer to ecstasy.

Gunn pulled the dildo from my mouth and replaced it with two of his fingers. He didn't have to tell me what to do. I sucked them like I sucked him earlier, lavishing them with my tongue and sliding my lips up and down their length slowly.

Gunn's rhythm changed to match the speed of my sucks and I moaned again, but this time around his fingers and a nearly identical moan escaped his lips too. The muscles in his arms and legs hardened and shook and I knew he was close. The thought of him coming inside me made my heart palpitate and thrust my ass against him, determined to drive him to the brink.

He grunted and grabbed the discarded vibrator and slid it between my clit and the mattress. He flicked it on and I couldn't hold on any longer.

"You're mine, Vee!" He cried triumphantly and he shuddered inside me. I felt his thick, perfect cock stiffen and then the heat of his seed coursed through my core and filled me till I overflowed and lost all semblance of my body.

I was floating, gleeful and serene, both a thousand miles away and so completely saturated with Gunn's fluids and fantasy that for one brief moment, I couldn't parse where he ended and I began.

Minutes or hours passed. Gunn softened inside me and withdrew but was replaced yet again with the slick purple vibrator. I tried to ask him what he was doing but I couldn't form the words, so I remained still while he uncuffed my wrists and unbuckled the collar. He disappeared and returned with my blue dress.

I didn't want to leave yet. My brain felt spongy and exhusted, but my body was already ready to go again.. I wanted to be held until Gunn's dick hardened again so we could repeat the process. Instead, Gunn sat me up and pulled the dress over my head and zipped up the back. I vaguely reached for the dildo Gunn had reinserted inside me, but Gunn caught my wrist.

"Leave it. Your partner will be here soon, probably with backup, and you can't leave any evidence."

"My what? Hamil?" Rage washed over my lusty daydreams and I was on my feet. "Why the fuck would Hamil come here? Unless you told him--"

"--an anonymous source heard shouts coming from a Valenti property," Gunn replied. He wasn't even looking at me; he was packing up the camera.

"And what am I supposed to tell them when they show up?" I growled.

Gunn shrugged and closed the camcorder case and set it next to a steel briefcase of his I hadn't seen before. "Whatever you do, don't tell them you just begged Valenti's hired gun to come in your throat." He grinned and I dove at him, slapping and punching at his chest and face, but he sidestepped me and the phallus inside me whirred to life and I stopped mid-swing.

Gunn held my shoulders. His sienna eyes stared straight through my nearly black ones. "It was a fail-safe, Vina. I didn't trust myself to let you go once I had you." His tone was tender, even sad, though his grip on my shoulders and his gaze were equally painful and intense. "So hide the evidence, get in your car and go back to your life. And leave Valenti the fuck alone."

I nodded, then crushed my mouth against his, tasting his lips and breath one last time. He returned the kiss, running his palms over the swell of my beasts and the small of my back.

"You're always mine, Vina," he murmured to me and I groaned in agreement. "That won't wash away."

And then he was gone, cases in hand and I was left to round up my shoes and purse. Gunn had either forgotten or decided not to unlock my towering heels, and I wobbled to the door, accessories in hand, the vibe and buttplug still inside me. I threw my shoes and purse in the trunk and sat down gingerly in the driver's seat and unrolled the windows when Hamil and his backup arrived.

"Desai?" Hamil frowned, getting out of the car. The vibrations inside me ceased - Gunn must be out of range now. I sighed and mourned the loss before looking up at Hamil.

"Yeah?" I said.

"What the hell are you doing here? Looking like that?" Hamil stared at me and I caught my own reflection in the mirror. My hair was tangled and standing on end and my lipstick was smeared, but otherwise I looked like I'd just had the night of my life. My eyes sparkled and my skin glowed.

"Same thing you are, Hamil," I answered smoothly. "Got a tip. I was in the middle of a date but first things first."

Hamil didn't want to probe further. He scratched his head. "That's fucking dedication, Desai. Was he pissed? Probably bought you dinner and everything."

I flashed my smarmy false grin. "No, he wasn't much for courtship. We were fucking and I didn't have time to clean up before duty called. Not that you'd understand that problem, Hamil. Anyway, you're here so I don't have to be. Goodnight." I shifted into reverse and pounded the gas pedal.

*** 

A week later I got a package on my front stoop. "From Henry, to Vee". It was an attaché case like the one Gunn brought with him. It was lined with stacks of hundreds. Twenty to a stack. Fifteen stacks. Thirty grande in cash. My mouth hung open and I saw a corner of orange paper sticking out from between the stacks. It read:

"You're the porn star, you earned the cash. Enjoy it, I sent you a copy. Missing your mouth, etc.

Yours (even though you're mine), HGunn.

Ps. are you wearing it?"

I blushed even though there was no one around to see, and I fished out the datastick that I imagined contained the video. I was instantly wet, and suddenly wealthier. My fingers fluttered back to discretely dart behind me and across the pink jewelled handle of my plug.



The Hitman Wore Heels



The well dressed man looked with disgust and loathing at the bum rummaging in the dumpster in the dark alley. Tony 'Tough Tony' Provalono had just left Scalini's, one of the best restaurants in New Jersey, where he had tipped the waiter more money than the hobo was likely to see in his lifetime. Tony was dressed in Armani; the gorgeous woman beside him in Prada; her Jimmy Choo high heels echoed off the brick walls of the quiet streets.

"Why do we always have to leave by the back door Tony?" she whined.

"Because I said so!" Tony growled.

"Jeeze Angie; how many times have I gotta tell ya, ever since the indictments have come down; no one is one hundred percent safe," he went on, exasperated with the stupidity of his goomah.

Tony needed to worry; he had turned rat six months ago, after the FBI had shown him evidence of RICO predicates that would effectively put him in prison for twenty years. He now took very few chances with his safety, he figured that the other members of his crew would eventually figure out who was ratting them out and would one day come after him.

He was counting the days when he could disappear into the witness protection program and slip away somewhere where warm with sandy beaches and palm trees. Until then lived the dangerous life as a CW, working with his crew and informing on them until the Feds gave him the ok to vanish into the wind.

"I don't like the way that smelly bum stares at me," Angie whined.

"Well honey; I guess he don't get to date many girls with your class," Tony quipped sarcastically.

Angie had a great ass and even better tits and she could suck a tennis ball through a garden hose but she was dumb as a stump. Tony would miss her when he eventually went on the lam; but there was plenty of great T and A out there and she would be easily replaced.

These thoughts played through his mind as he lugged Angie down the dark alley towards where he had discreetly parked his Crown Vic. He paid no attention to the bum. The bum had been in the alley for the last few weeks, and Tony saw him every time he left Scalini's. The bum turned away from the dumpster and approached Tony and his goomah with his hand out begging for a handout.

The bum was dressed in reeking torn rags and his face was filthy with ingrained grime. A ripe stench of cheap liquor, rotting garbage and faeces wafted from him. His hair was matted and filthy and hung in a lank mane from under a moldy watch-cap.

"Can you spare a dime?" the bum asked through rotten teeth; his foul breath evident even from a few feet away.

"Take a hike you facia bruta!" Tony spat at the hobo.

At the last second, when it was all too late, Tony realized he was dead. The disheveled stinking bum looked harmless enough but his icy blue eyes gave his intentions away. As Tony pushed his goomah away and reached for his gun the bum pulled a silenced twenty two from under his coat and shot Tony twice in the head.

Before Angie could scream the bum spun on his heels and put three rounds between her eyes. He split the remaining slugs in the fifteen round magazine between Tony and Angie; emptying the pistol into their heads at point blank range. He checked Tony and Angie's pulse and determining that they were dead then he pocketed his weapon. Quickly checking that the alley was still deserted he calmly walked away.

Every Wednesday for the past month, which was when Tony took his goomah to dinner eat at Scalini's, the Hitman had dressed as the bum and waited in the alley. He's allowed his hair to grow out and kept it ungroomed. He kept the filthy rags he wore unwashed and even had a stash of filth and grime in which he covered himself before taking up his post in the alley. He didn't just impersonate a bum; he BECAME a bum.

The Hitman was a perfectionist and had successfully carried out over twenty hits for various organizations and even private citizens since he took up his profession. He didn't ask questions regarding morality or even ask why a mark had to be taken out. If a client met his price then he took the contract. Contracts were sent to him through a mailing service that could never be traced to him; he had the mail delivered to dead drops and never met his clients face to face.

If he accepted a contract he would learn everything he could about the mark. He'd follow the mark for weeks and then find an appropriate disguise that would allow get him close enough to make the hit. He'd been a doorman, a mailman, a construction worker, even a priest. There was always a way to get close to someone, no matter how tight their security might be. A mark's secrets usually led to their downfall. They go to confession? The priest hit's them in the confessional. They have a mistress? The doorman hit's them on the way out of her apartment. They like to take their goomah to dinner on Wednesday nights? The bum in the alley hit's them on the way to the car.

Yes the Hitman particularly liked it when his intended mark had secrets.

The next morning the Hitman was on a plane heading west; he sat in business class, the seat beside him was vacant and this allowed him to go through the dossier containing the information about his next contract that had picked up from a dead drop.

His next hit was to be a prominent member of San Francisco's underworld, Salvatore – 'Big Sally' – Catelli. The Hitman looked at the photographs and read the write up on Sally. Sally Catelli was a large man in his early fifties; he was married to a woman who looked to be as large as Sally, but he appeared to be one of the few made guys who didn't have a goomah. Sally and his wife were childless but Sally was apparently a devoted husband.

In fact, from what he read about Sally in the report in front of him, Sally didn't do anything other than work and tend to his family (both blood relatives and LCN). More importantly Sally never went anywhere without his two bodyguards. Even when Sally visited his relations he was accompanied by his two minders, who masqueraded as his driver and his personal assistant, they were at his side from the moment he left his home until he returned. If he went out for dinner, the two goons sat at the next table. The Hitman joked to himself that they probably lay side by side with him on his bed while Sal was fucking his wife.

This could be his toughest hit yet; but he bet Sally had at least one secret. Everybody did!

The Hitman leased a small apartment in Alameda and spent a month shadowing Sally Catelli. The report rang true; during the week Big Sally went to work at his tow truck company, which fronted for his mob activities, occasionally had dinner with his wife at a restaurant, and on the weekends he ate with his family at his mother's house. Most weekday nights Sally stayed at home. Through the lens of a high powered scope the Hitman watched Sally sitting at his computer in his den until the early hours of the morning. 

The Hitman could try and take him out with a long shot using a rifle and scope but that would not be a certain hit and if he missed he wouldn't get another chance. Besides which he would start to lose credibility and that meant losing business. No; he would stick with his tradecraft; a close-up hit with a small caliber pistol.

Everybody had secrets, even Sally; all he had to do was find them.

Two days later Sal left home for dinner with his wife; his two bodyguards in tow. The Hitman broke into Sal's house. He rang Sal's home number and let the phone keep ringing just in case there was somebody inside that he didn't know about. He bypassed the alarm system and opened the door.

"Hallo, hallo?" he called out; his silenced pistol ready in case Sal had a guard dog in the house.

The Hitman walked over to the phone and picked up and dropped the receiver in its cradle; silencing the phone. The house was silent.

"Hallo, hallo?" he called again.

Nobody home! He searched the house room by room looking through every drawer, cupboard and closet, taking photographs with a small digital camera. 'These Mustachio Pete's sat on a pile of money but lived in pokey little houses with cheap furniture' the Hitman thought to himself, 'they probably clip coupons to use at the stores'. He went to the den and went through all of Sal's documents and mail. Nothing! He booted up the computer and took a zip drive out of his carry bag. Attached to the zip drive was a device that had been made for him by a computer whiz studying at Rutgers University. It had cost him five thousand dollars but the device bypassed passwords and all known encryption. He plugged it into the USB slot on Sal's computer and ripped every bit of data from Sal's PC onto the zip drive in a little less than three minutes.

He checked to make sure everything was as he found it and left; resetting the locks and the alarm system.

Back in his apartment the Hitman worked his way through the stolen files from Sal's computer. He had to find something soon; he'd been shadowing Sal for over a month now and his client would soon want know why he hadn't carried out the hit. There was nothing in any of the document files that helped him; they were mainly business and personal documents and of no consequence. He opened up Outlook and went through Sally's emails; the same; nothing he could use.

Then he found a hidden file that was password protected. He plugged his device into his laptop, bypassing the password and encryption. As he perused the contents of the hidden file a smile spread across the Hitman's face. He'd found Sally's secret; and it was a beauty.

The first thing he found was hundreds of images of heavily made-up, sexy dressed women, fondling, fellating and fucking men or sometimes each other. The pictures were obviously amateur and ranged from poor quality to almost professional quality. Pictures of the men and women having sex would not be particularly interesting to the Hitman; but there was one thing that made these pictures fascinating. The women in the pictures weren't women; they were men.

Some of them were very attractive and except for their appendages, you wouldn't know they were men. Some of them were obviously just men wearing women's clothes and makeup; their hairy heavy bodies were a dead giveaway. What really piqued the Hitman's interest was series of images where Salvatore – 'Big Sally' – Catelli was having sex with an attractive mature transvestite. So Sally did have a secret!

Next he found a found a folder that contained the details of a Hotmail and msn Messenger account. Sally's 'Window's Live' ID was 'lovesstockinggurls' and his pseudonym was 'TV Lover' and as the Hitman waded through the emails the outline of a plan began to form in his mind.

Sally had been conversing online with a number of transvestites and occasionally set up clandestine meetings with them. He didn't meet them very often; but obviously he had an obsession that had to be sated every now and then; a big risk for crime boss.

Sal's MO was to enter into an online relationship with a transvestite that took his fancy. He would exchange online correspondence and pictures. It also appeared that he would persuade the transvestite to perform on webcam for him. Once Sal was happy that he could trust the trannie to be discrete, he would set up a meeting. It was obvious from the images in the secret file what went on at these secret rendezvous. The Hitman bet his life that Salvatore – 'Big Sally' – Catelli did not take his bodyguards along to these meetings. 

The Hitman now had his hook! He now knew Sally's secret and he could use it to set up the hit.

He worked late into the night thinking about how he could use Sally's penchant for transvestites to lure him to a place where he could make the hit. By the time the Hitman went to bed in the early hours of the morning he thought he had a plan that would work. 

Using files and links from the stolen computer files the Hitman spent all of the next day online visiting transvestite websites, chatrooms and resource sites. He took extensive notes and joined a number of of the websites to gain access to email addresses, blogs and chats.

A master of disguise, the Hitman often masqueraded in order to get close enough to a mark carry out a hit; this would be no different. What was different though was that the Hitman had never disguised himself as a woman before! Actually, he reminded himself, he was disguising himself as a transvestite.

The following day the Hitman went shopping with an extensive shopping list. Amongst the reams of data he had downloaded from the internet was a conversion table of men's clothing sizes to women's sizes. The Hitman at age forty five had kept himself fit and was reasonably slim. He took Route 4 out to Martinez to a business called Leah's Closet; a second-hand women's clothing retail store.

He figured that he was a woman's size 14 and shoe size 10; that would be a good start. He had looked at the pictures of Sal's favorite 'girls' and had a good idea of how Sal liked his girls to dress. Inside Leah's Closet he worked his way through the racks of skirts and blouses and selected a couple of skirts in navy and black and three satin blouses; in mauve, red and white. He went to the fitting room and tried them on. All of the blouses fitted him but he struggled with the buttons as they were on the opposite side to what he was used to. The cuffs were tight at his wrist but he would be able to move the buttons so that they fit ok. One of the skirts was a perfect fit but he had to exchange the black skirt for a size 16. Both skirts came to mid thigh; a navy blue pencil skirt with a kick pleat in the rear and a black A-line skirt with a split pleat in the side.

He made his way over to the shoe section and selected a pair of red pumps and a pair of black sandals; both had five inch heels. He tried on both pairs and was pleased that they both fitted him. He wandered around the store and bought some accessories to match his purchases; a nice handbag and some jewellery. He paid for his purchases with cash; the cashier didn't even raise an eyebrow at his purchases.

He got back into his car and drove back down route 4 to the K-Mart Super-centre in Concord, not far from his rented apartment. He bought a beard trimmer and good quality safety razor and ten packages of replacement razor blades and then went to the electronics section and bought a good quality webcam. He went into the lingerie department and bought two pairs of satin full-cut panties and a pair of nylon boy-leg panties. He bought two Playtex brassieres and half dozen packets of George, sheer-to-the-waist pantyhose in various colors. Most of the girls in Sal's photo collection wore stockings and suspenders but the Hitman didn't think that Sal was ever going to close enough to notice. He also bought two nylon half-slips, one black and one white.

The Hitman thought to himself that he probably didn't need to actually wear the lingerie for the purposes of the hit but he was a perfectionist and once he decided on his ruse he got totally into character; he didn't just act, he actually BECAME the character.

He went to the cosmetics department and bought a cosmetics case fully stocked with makeup, then two tubes of hair removal cream, moisturizer and nailpolish remover and a bottle of 'Poison' perfume. After paying for purchases he hit the road for his last stop and drove to business called Peggy Knight Solutions on the Bridgeway at Sausalito. He explained frankly to one of the assistants that he was a crossdresser and asked for assistance in selecting a wig. She helped him select a shoulder-length brunette bob with dark red highlights. She took him to a private room and showed him how to fit the wig and advised him how to care for it. He paid for the wig in cash and drove back to his apartment.

The Hitman opened up his packages and put away his purchases and started preparing himself to learn how to become a transvestite. He had reams of printouts that he had downloaded from various websites that provided advice for beginner transvestites. He read through them again and then got to work.

He used the beard trimmer to shave his legs, chest, belly and arms down to fine stubble. He trimmed away most of his pubic hair and was able to get to the small of his back and remove the small patch of back hair there. The Hitman was lucky that he wasn't particularly hirsute. He then painstakingly shaved his feet, legs, chest and belly with the safety razor. This took quite some time and he had to change the blades quite regularly. He shaved the fine hairs off the back of his fingers and hands, shaving up past his wrists.

Then he opened the hair removal cream and after reading the instructions he applied a thick coat of the smelly cream over the hairs in his crotch and buttocks making sure that he got into all of the crevasses. The cream smelt quite vile and he was glad when he finally got into the shower and rinsed it all off. He watched with amusement as small clumps of his body hair disappeared down the drain. He was amazed at how smooth his body felt as he washed himself under the shower. It felt quite sensual having no body and leg hair and he thought seriously of keeping his body hairless permanently from now on.

He shaved his face carefully and toweled it off. Now would come the difficult part; learning how to apply makeup. He sat down at the dresser where he had arranged the contents of the cosmetics case. He had never noticed before how fascinating and attractive cosmetics containers would be. Long tubes of mascara, eyeliner and lipstick, bottles and pots of foundation and nailpolish, palettes of bright colored eyeshadow and blush and compacts and jars of finishing powder.

He looked at a printout that he had downloaded from a TG resource site that was titled 'Makeup for First-Timers and Closet Crossdressers.' He read it over and over quite carefully and then made his first attempt applying makeup. The foundation, finishing powder, blush and lipstick were not too hard to get right but the eye makeup was a pisser. It took hours before he mastered the skill of getting his eyeliner right and then about the same amount of time experimenting with different shades of eyeshadow. Appling mascara was not quite as difficult, but it still took time to master.

The Hitman had to clean off the makeup a number of times during his apprenticeship in makeup 101. He went to bed in the early hours, with his face stinging slightly from the constant cleansing, but happy that he could use the cosmetics effectively. Tomorrow he would dress as a woman for the first time.

The Hitman arose late the next day and showered and shaved his face closely. He reread one of TG resource tips about how to make home-made breastforms. He opened a package of pantyhose and cut the legs from the gusset of the hosiery. He filled the feet of the pantyhose with rice until he had the desired size and then doubled the legs over and tied them off, cutting the nylon at the knot. He smiled to himself; he'd just made his first pair of false tits.

He sat at the dresser and applied foundation and finishing powder. He worked on the eyeliner next, concentrating on getting it just right from the inner corner of his eyes to the outer corners, gradually thickening the line. He went to work on the eyeshadow using a combination of light blue and pink that had worked well when he was practicing last night. He rouged his cheeks and applied a coat of 'skin glow' finishing powder. He painstakingly mascaraed his eyelashes and reached for the two coat lipstick.

He painted his toe and fingernails with plum red nailpolish; painting his toenails and the fingernails of his left hand was relatively easy, but it was awkward using his left hand to paint the nails on the fingers of right hand. When he was happy with that he had his makeup right he reached for the wig. The shoulder-length brunette bob with dark red highlights sat perfectly on his head, the fringe level with his eyebrows. 




The Hitman Wore Heels



He was amazed at the transformation; he looked quite attractive. He looked similar to many of the transvestites in Sal's illicit picture collection. It was important that he be attractive to Sal but he admitted to himself that he liked the feminine way he looked and that the taste and smell of the makeup was quite appealing. 

The Hitman took his homemade breast forms and fitted them inside the cups of a bright red brassiere. It took him a little while fiddling with the straps to get the bra to sit right on his chest. Then he opened a packet of the George sheer to the waist pantyhose and reviewed the printed instructions describing how to put the pantyhose on.

The Hitman was taken aback at the sheer sensuality of the feel of the silken nylons on his shaved legs. He liked to stroke the stockinged legs of the women that he fucked, but actually wearing the luxurious hosiery was far more exciting. He carefully arranged the toes of the pantyhose around his painted toes and admired the sheen of the nylon on his legs and the silhouettes of his painted toenails through the reinforced stocking toe.

The translucent pantyhose gusset caressed his buttocks and genitals with stark sensuality, and caused him, dare he think it, to become aroused sexually. He smoothed the nylons up his legs and then stepped into a pair of red full cut satin panties. The panties hissed as they slid up his nylon sheathed thighs and as he adjusted them to sit snugly on his buttocks, he was entranced at the sumptuous feel of the satin and nylon on his body. He tucked his penis under his crotch where it was held in place by the pantyhose gusset and the tight satin panties. He was further enraptured with the sumptuous feel of the satin half-slip against his legs and ass when he stepped into it and adjusted the hem high up his thighs. 

Next he stepped into the blue pencil skirt and then he buttoned himself into the mauve, long-sleeved, satin blouse and tucked it into the waistband of the skirt and closed the zipper. He adjusted the waistband of the skirt, and adjusted the hem so it covered the hem of the slip. The skirt was tight around his buttocks and thighs; the hem sat high on his thighs.

He looked at himself in the mirror and saw exactly what he had hoped for; a mature, slutty looking, transvestite. He stepped into the red pumps, and struggled initially with the difficulty of walking in the high heels. He sat at the dresser and accessorized himself with the jewellery. Although it was not essential to the task at hand, he sprayed himself liberally with perfume and then stood in front of the mirror.

He was now fully in character. He was quite happy this was the character that he had chosen to lure Sal to his fate; it was going to be a lot more appealing than the month he had spent dressed in the reeking rags of the bum. 

The Hitman thought that he looked like the type of transvestite that would be attractive to Sal. The heavy makeup, the subtly-streaked shoulder-length hair, the tight skirt, long sexy legs and high heels were the trademark looks of the transvestites in Sal's picture collection.

The Hitman stripped out of the female attire and removed his makeup and went through the same procedure three more times, getting better at it each time he dressed. He enjoyed the feel of the lingerie on his body and found his female persona quite attractive but he remained focused and professional. He was dressing like this because he had an important job to do; it was just an ends to a means; although he was honest enough to admit to himself that dressing this way was quite thrilling.

After he dressed for the forth time he set up his digital camera and using the timer he took a series of photographs of himself in provocative poses; each picture progressively raunchy. He downloaded them onto his laptop and Photoshopped until he had a series of images suitable for posting online and resized one of them so that it could be used for his online profile picture.

During his research online he discovered that transvestites liked to give themselves risqué feminine non de plumes. Some where downright silly such as 'Sally Sucks' and 'Wendy Wantsit'; he wanted something that would be tantalizing but not overtly sexual. He played with a few different variations and settled on Michele Nylons.

It took him about three hours online to set up a hotmail account and join a number of transvestite resource and meeting sites; he also joined a number of personal and 'friend finder' sites. He posted his picture and wrote in his profiles that he was relatively new to crossdressing but was extremely discrete and trustworthy and keen to meet an admirer for very discrete meetings.

Using his Windows Messenger tools menu he added 'lovesstockinggurls', Sal's hotmail handle, to his online contacts and then sent him an email. It read:

'Dear TV Lover, I saw your profile at TVChix and thought that we may share a common interest. I am a mature TV who lives in the Bay area who is interested in having a very discrete meeting with someone who I can trust. I have taken the liberty of adding you to my Messenger contacts and will be online after 9:00pm each evening this week

xxx Michele'

Sal took the bait that evening. After retiring to the privacy of his den, his wife in bed snoring over the drone of TV soaps, he fired up his PC and logged into his encrypted files. As soon as he went online he got a pop up on Messenger asking if he wanted to add Michele Nylons to his contact list. This was intriguing as he seldom gave out his email address. He didn't click yes or no just yet; instead he opened his Hotmail account. Sure enough there was an email from Michele Nylons.

He read the email and his interest piqued; he looked up Michele Nylons' Windows Live ID profile. He was impressed by what he saw. Her profile picture was quite provocative; mature, attractive, heavily made up, holding up the hem of her pencil skirt displaying silky nyloned thighs. Yummy!

He went back to the Messenger window and clicked yes. When he opened his Messenger window she was listed in his contact list as online. He double-clicked on her name and entered into a Messenger conversation. Sal was careful not to reveal too much about himself and was very direct in his questioning of where she had got his Live Messenger ID.

Michele played it equally coy and managed to convince Sal that she was legit and not some online loony or scam-artist. They chatted about common interests regarding the secretive world of closet transvestites and admirers. Michele soon picked up on the vernacular peculiar to the world of crossdressers and was able to convince Sal that she was who she presented herself as. Sal asked if she would set up her webcam for their next online meeting and Michele agreed. They set up a Messenger meeting for the next evening; at 11:00pm. Sal had taken the bait!

The next evening the Hitman dressed as Michele and set up his webcam so that it showed a video stream of her sitting at the laptop but did not show too much background detail. At 11:00pm Michele logged into Live Messenger and was immediately rewarded with a Messenger window from Sal.

Sal wasted no time and an IM popped up on Michele's computer screen.

TV Lover: 'let me c' Michele: 'ok'

Michele activated her webcam and Sally accepted the video stream. Michele was sitting at her PC dressed in her pencil skirt, mauve satin blouse, sheer hose, high heels and heavy makeup. She waved at the camera and blew Sal a kiss.

TV Lover: 'lovely, wanna c more'

Michele turned so that she was facing directly at the camera and hiked up her skirt to the top of her thighs.

TV Lover: 'nice.....no stockings?' Michele: 'u don't like my pantyhose?' TV Lover: 'sure but prefer stockings' Michele: 'what about if i do this?'

Michele stood up and let the hem of her skirt drop back down her thighs; then she turned her back to the camera and slowly hiked the back of her skirt up until her red satin panties were exposed. She wiggled her buttocks.

TV Lover: 'nice ass......show me the front'

Michele complied and spun on her heels and slowly raised her skirt until the front panel of her panties was exposed. She pouted and made air-kisses at the camera.

Despite the fact that Michele was doing Sal's bidding only so that she could entice him into a lethal trap she still found herself getting aroused. She felt feminine and sexy, but most of all she felt empowered; Sal was giving the orders but she was in control. She allowed the hem of her slip to fall back down her thighs and then began to stroke the satin material up and down her legs and over the front of her panties.

In his darkened den; with the door locked and his wife fast asleep, Sal unzipped his flies and freed his thickening erection; his eyes glistening in the glow of his computer screen.

TV Lover: 'sit'

Michele complied and sat back down, adjusting the hem of her skirt.

TV Lover: 'open legs'

Michele opened her legs and let Sal look up her skirt to see her panties. A few minutes later:

TV Lover: 'take off skirt'

Michele stood and unbuttoned the waistband of her skirt, unzipped it and let it fall to her feet. She kicked it away.

TV Lover: 'lose the slip'

Michele slid her slip slowly and sensuously down her legs until it pooled around her high heels. She stepped out of it and sat back down.

Sal was salivating with lust in his study; slowly stroking his erect penis.

TV Lover: 'open legs'

Michele opened her legs again and made a show of fluttering her fingers up and down her nylon encased thighs; occasionally letting her fingers stroke the front of her panties.

Sal orgasmed; shooting his spend into a silk handkerchief. He groaned and sweated and lusted after the sexy transvestite performing before him on his computer screen.

TV Lover: 'just came' Michele: 'hope u like what u saw?' TV Lover: 'very much.....same time 2morrow?' Michele: 'u bet.....maybe i get 2 c u?' TV Lover: 'maybe'

Michele's Messenger window indicated that Sal had signed out. She looked down and saw that her penis was stiff, the gusset of her hose was stretched tight around her erection and a small patch of pre-seminal fluid stained the front of her panties. She didn't realize how aroused she had become during the webcam show. She freed her erection and masturbated, soaking up the semen with her slip. She didn't need this distraction. She couldn't control her own body's pleasure centers but she could remained focused on the job.

The Hitman undressed and dropped the pantyhose, panties and slip into the washing machine and put it on the delicate cycle. He wondered how long he would have to play these online games with Sal before he could entice him into a meeting. He would have to be careful not to appear too eager.

Michele and Sal met online every night for the next week except for the night that Sally took his wife to dinner. Michele was becoming more absorbed in her role as a transvestite whore. She found herself increasingly enjoying the role-play and had to remind herself that it was only a means to an end. Sal's requests got bolder and bolder. The last time that Michele was on her webcam Sal asked her to masturbate for him and she came over her thighs. Then he asked:

TV Lover: '2morrow can u use a dildo?' Michele: 'maybe? but if i do i want 2 c u 2' TV Lover: 'ok'

TV Lover signed off and as the Hitman took off his semen soaked hosiery he wondered how long he was going to have to play online with Sal before he could set up the hit. Time was running out.

The next evening Michele sat in front of the webcam her skirt and slip around her ankles, her lipsticked lips sucking on an eight inch fake rubber cock. The Messenger window flashed:

TV Lover: 'i wanna 2 c u put it in u' Michele: 'not unless i c u 2' TV Lover: 'tease' Michele: 'yep'

Michele ran her tongue along the pink rubber cock and then slowly encircled it with her plum red lipsticked lips.

Michele: 'wish this was u' TV Lover: 'you r hot.......sending webcam vid now'

Sal had double locked the door to his den and firmly closed the curtains before going online. He dropped his pants and improved his erection. He clicked on the send button and his own webcam video began to stream across the internet into Michele's computer.

Michele: 'nice cock' TV Lover: 'ty, now put it in please' Michele: 'not until i c ur face......wanna watch u while I fuck myself'

Sal debated with himself for only a few seconds; he was infatuated with Michele and wanted her so much. He panned back with his webcam until his whole body came into view. Michele looked at her monitor and smiled; there he was; TV Lover was definitely Sal Catelli. She would have to play along now to spring the trap.

Michele: 'imagine this is u'

Michele took the dildo from her lips and reached for the tube of K-Y jelly next to the computer keyboard and liberally coated the rubber cock with the clear viscous lubricant. She stood up and kicked away her skirt and slip and knelt on the chair with her back to the webcam. She eased down her panties and pantyhose, bunching them around the top of her thighs. She looked at the screen and saw that Sal was sweating and stroking himself.

TV Lover: 'put it in u slut' Michele: 'ok'

Michele put the tip of the dildo against her tight anal bud and slowly pushed it inside her. She had never done this before and was quite surprised that the well greased dildo didn't cause as much discomfort as she thought it would. As she slid it further inside herself she forced her sphincter to relax. When it was fully imbedded inside her anus she stopped and rested, allowing her back passage to accommodate the rubber cock.

TV Lover: 'fuck yourself' Michele: 'ok honey....wish this was your cock'

Michele slowly eased the dildo in and out of her anus and was quite astounded at how pleasurable it felt. The dildo stimulated the sensitive nerves around her sphincter but the most intense sensations came when the cock rubbed against her prostate. She had heard about this form of stimulation before but she never dreamed it would be so gratifying.

She rammed the rubber phallus in and out, faster and faster, whilst watching the computer screen. Sal was wanking his engorged prick ferociously, his fat face puffed up and red with exertion. Michele felt a delightful sensation pulse through her anus and realized that she was about to orgasm. She couldn't believe that she could climax without touching her penis; but her cock hardened only slightly before spewing forth stream after stream of hot semen. On the screen Sal was shooting his load all over his fat belly.

Michele gasped and leaned over the back of the chair ramming the dildo deep inside her back passage as her orgasm shook her. Sal's eyes were locked on the screen watching her intently as his own orgasm racked his body. He had to have her! He really wanted to get his hands on this hot bitch. They both panted as they came down from their respective climaxes. Michele pulled up her pantyhose and panties and sat back at the keyboard.

Michele: 'u like?' TV Lover: 'u bet!....u?' Michele: 'mmmm wish it was a real cock tho' TV Lover: 'maybe i can arrange that' Michele: '???????????' TV Lover: 'wanna meet IRL' Michele: 'would luv 2......where? have 2 b discrete' TV Lover: 'can we use your place?'

Michele smiled at Sally and nodded at the webcam; the trap was sprung.

Michele: 'ok honey......but must b very discrete' Michele: 'call 555 2865 after 8pm 2morrow ok?' TV Lover: 'ok where r u?' Michele: 'Alameda' TV Lover: 'not 2 far then' Michele: '2morrow then......look forward to it' TV Lover: 'can't wait'

Michele closed the Messenger window and turned off the webcam. The Hitman had planned on taking out Sal as soon as he entered his apartment but after that little performance he decided that he might let Sal at least go away with a smile on his face; no reason he couldn't mix a little pleasure with business.

At precisely 8:05pm the next evening the Hitman's cell phone rang.

"Michele," she said into the phone.

"Hello; where are you?" Sally's gruff voice barked out of the earpiece.

This was the dangerous part; the Hitman was ninety nine percent sure that Sal would lose his bodyguards for his secret assignation with the transvestite but there was always that one percent. Michele gave Sal her address and apartment number and told him to ring her cell when he arrived and she would buzz him in.

Michele went to the mirror and checked herself out and made some final touches to her makeup. She wore the white satin blouse; a gold necklace glimmered at her throat; matching clip-on earrings glistened through the hair of her shoulder-length brunette bob. Michele had selected her black A-line skirt with the side pleat which exposed a lot of leg; the hem came to mid-thigh and she decided that a half slip would spoil the effect of the split skirt so she didn't wear one. Sheer taupe nylons shimmered on her legs; black patent leather high-heel sandals completed the outfit, a glimmer of red toenail polish visible through the reinforced toes of her nylons. 

She looked at her heavily mascaraed eyes framed by the black eyeliner and pink and green eyeshadow. She dabbed on a little more eyeshadow and dabbed a little more blush on her cheeks and then gave her face a quick all over dusting with her 'skin glow' finishing powder. She put on another coat of the plum red lipstick and smacked her lips. She gave herself a liberal spray of Poison perfume, finishing with a quick spray under her skirt.

Her cell phone buzzed and she went to the wall mounted call box and buzzed open the building's entrance door. She opened the front door to her apartment and left it ajar and then stood in the center of the room striking a sexy pose. She was trembling with anticipation and excitement. 

Sally burst through the front door, panting and wheezing at the exertion of climbing the three flights of stairs. He slammed the door shut and threw his topcoat on the sofa.

"Fuck doll; you great," Sal growled as he looked Michele up and down.

Sally Catelli was an alpha male and never let manners or etiquette get in the way of taking what he wanted; and he wanted Michele right now. He unbuttoned his coat and tore off his shirt and trousers. He stood there in his boxers and sox, his fat gut hanging over a growing erection.

He stepped forward and pulled Michele roughly into his arms. His mouth fell on hers with ravenous hunger; his tongue thrusting into her mouth. Michele could taste the pasta that Sal had eaten at dinner but she still became aroused knowing that she was turning Sal on. She was crushed against his fat body and she could feel his cock pushing against her belly. She knew what he wanted and she encircled his thick cock in her fingers and slowly squeezed.

Sal shuddered and kissed her passionately and groaning with lust he slid his hand under her skirt and pawed at her nyloned thighs. He squeezed her buttocks through her panties and pushed himself harder against her. Michele began to stroke his ever hardening cock as Sal squished her ass and stroked her thighs. He pushed her away, gasping for breath.

"Gotta stop or I'm gonna come," he panted.

"Get your ass over here," he ordered and he sat down on the couch.

Michele walked seductively over to the couch and stood before him. He reached out and lifted the hem of her skirt and stroked the front of her satin panties.

"You're wet you slut," Sal mumbled.

He put his hands on her hips and pushed down. Michele bent her knees and then realized what he wanted and dropped to her knees in front of him. Sal pulled her toward him and kissed her, driving his tongue deep into her mouth, tasting her lipstick and enraptured by her perfume.

Michele felt Sal place his hands on her head and push down again. She complied and lowered her face to his groin. His crotch smelt musty with arousal; she looked at his thick penis and then tentatively licked at it. A clear globule of pre seminal fluid glistened on the tip and she licked it off. It was almost tasteless but her first taste of cock was very stimulating.




The Hitman Wore Heels



Sal pushed impatiently at her head and she took Sal's erection between her lips and sucked on it. Michele opened her mouth and swallowed the fat throbbing cock and bobbed up and down, licking and slavering at the purple glans and thick trunk. Sal was moaning with ecstasy as he held Michele's head in his hands and began to face fuck her.

Michele struggled for breath as Sal thrust his cock in and out of her mouth but she soon developed a rhythm and was able to time her breathing between his thrusts. Sal was grunting like a pig in a trough as he fucked Michele's face; he loved the view he was getting of her kneeling before him on the floor with her head bobbing up and down in his lap and her ass pushed high in the air.

He felt his orgasm approaching but he didn't want to come yet so he pulled Michele's face from his groin.

"You give good head girl; you take a guy's cop like a pro," Sally chuckled.

"But now let's see how you fuck!" he stood up and looked questioningly at Michele.

Michele realized what he wanted.

"In the bedroom; let's fuck on the bed," she smiled.

Michele took hold of Sally's cock and gently pulled him behind her towards the bedroom. Sal admired Michele's ass and long nylon encased legs; he couldn't wait to fuck this bitch. She sat Sally down on her bed and stood in front of him and bent down and kissed him passionately and then drew her face away from his and looked down at him.

"So you like what you see?" she giggled; amazed at the control she had over this powerful man.

"Lift your skirt up!" he asked.

"You do it," she whispered.

Sal took Michele's skirt in his hands and slowly raised it up her thighs. His stroked her legs and then leaned forward and licked her gossamer nylons. His rough face rasped against Michele's pantyhose and satin panties as he snuffled at her thighs and crotch, then his mouth encircled her hardening cock through the layers of satin and nylon. Michele gasped and stroked Sal's leonine head as he nuzzled her crotch. Sal pulled his face out of Michele's crotch, breathing in her perfume.

"Time to take your cherry," Sal grinned.

"Be gentle hun," Michele winked down at Sal.

"Yeah right," Sal laughed, "now get yer ass on the bed!"

Michele climbed up on the bed and knelt down with her head near the pillows; she felt the bed shift as Sal moved behind her. Sal rucked Michele's skirt up and pushed it up over her back so that her pantied ass was thrust up at him.  He growled and pulled Michele's ankles apart and positioned himself between her legs. Michele felt his hard cock push against her ass as he rubbed it against her satin panties. The he slid his erect penis inside Michele's panties and placed in between her buttocks.

Sal thrust his hard cock against the gossamer pantyhose and pushed the silky material into the crevice of Michele's sphincter; the thin layer of pantyhose the only protection between her anus and Sal's throbbing cock. Sally pulled the gusset of Michele's panties to one side and took hold of the diaphanous nylon pantyhose encasing Michele's ass and tore a hole in the gusset, exposing her puckered anus.

Michele felt a pang of trepidation as she reached out to the nightstand and took hold of the tube of K-Y jelly.

"Ok, let's get me lubed," Sal wheezed, impatient to fuck the soft white ass offered up before him.

Michele squeezed a big dollop of the cool slippery liquid into her hand and reached awkwardly behind her and liberally coated Sal's cock with the lubricant. Sal took the tube out of her hand and squeezed another generous blob onto Michele's anal bud.

Sal tightly gripped Michele by the hips and pressed his lubricated glans against Michele's sphincter. He thrust forward slowly and his greased cock slowly slid into Michele's tight ass. Michele felt a dull pain as Sal's cock invaded her virgin ass. 

"Easy please," Michele begged.

Sal's huge gut hung over Michele's ass as he forced his way further and further inside her until his crotch came to rest against her soft buttocks. Michele felt Sal's flabby thighs against hers and her nylons whispered as he ground into her. His fat gut now rested on Michele's ass as he squirmed and wriggled his cock in her rear passage. Michele relaxed her sphincter to accommodate the invading member. She was starting to experience the same pleasure that she had got from fucking herself with the dildo and she pushed back against Sal.

Sal took hold of Michele's silken thighs and thrust slowly in and out of her, his hands stroking her legs and ass. One of his hands snaked around to the front of her panties as he slowly fucked her. Sal began to fuck her harder and faster, and Michele pushed back against him and fell into the rhythm.

She felt the spongy hard mass of Sal's glans push against her prostate; and ripples of sexual pleasure flowed up and down her anus. She pushed back against Sal with her buttocks and swiveled her hips from side to side rubbing her ass cheeks against him.  

Sal pounded himself in and out of Michele, fucking her harder and harder, grunting and panting. He gripped her hips and pulled her back, hard against him, as he thrust forward pushing his cock into her and grinding his balls against Michele's nylon encased buttocks. His cock began to convulse deep inside her, pulsing and spiting as it spewed out streams of hot semen. Sal shot torrents of come deep inside Michele and ground himself harder against her soft buttocks.

Michele pushed back hard forcing her ass back against him and wriggled her hips as her own orgasm ripped through her. She flooded her panties and hose and moaned in ecstasy; her cock spasming as her climax shook her. She wriggled her hips again and reached around and grabbed Sal's thighs and pulled him hard up against her, forcing the last of his seed to wash over her prostate. A puddle of come oozed from the front of Michele's panties; the garment unable to absorb the flood of semen spewing from her cock.

Eventually both Sal and Michele were sated and Sal pulled his cock out of Michele's ass with an audible plop. Viscous white semen leaked from her puckered anus and soaked into her torn nylons.

"Thanks for the fuck Michele," Sal chuckled, and smacked her playfully on the ass.

"You're welcome Sal," Michele replied and reached under the pillow and pulled out a silenced twenty two pistol.

She rolled over and shot Sally twice in the right eye.

The Hitman relaxed in his business class seat on the fight back to Newark Liberty and ordered a drink from the airline hostess admiring her long legs encased in sheer hose. He smiled to himself as he thought about his own hosiery, lingerie, cosmetics, wig and other female attire packed away in his checked luggage. He decided that he liked being Michele too much to dispose of her. He would keep Michele's identity and set up discrete meetings with other transvestites and admirers and have hot sexy fun.

The fascination, power and out-and-out sexiness of crossdressing was quite addictive; he was no fanook but when he was dressed as Michele he loved to be admired, caressed, fondled, used...............he shivered in anticipation as his thoughts drifted away and he dreamt of clandestine encounters with Michele being kissed and caressed by anonymous handsome admirers.

Three months after Salvatore – 'Big Sally' – Catelli was given his Moe Green Special, the west coast crime bosses awarded a contract to the Specialist to find the man who had taken out Sally Catelli. They didn't much care that Sally had been put to rest; but it was a matter of pride that they send a message to their compatriots on the east coast that they would take care of their own dirty laundry.

It took the Specialist only a few days to find the secret files in Sal's computer and then to get them decrypted. Once he had access to the files he was very surprised at their content but impressed with the ingenuity that the Hitman had used to lure Sal to his death. But the Specialist was also no amateur when it came to disguises and role play.

A week later the Specialist looked at the screen of his PC and read the email that he'd drafted. It read:

'Michele, After reading your Messenger profile and seeing your picture I find myself immensely attracted to you. I am a forty something admirer who is very interested in getting to know you better. Perhaps, once we get acquainted online we might even consider a discrete rendezvous?

I'll be online at 9:00pm everyday this week.

Yours in anticipation, xxx

Mike

The Specialist clicked the 'send' button and smiled to himself.

The End