A Shining Star - [ Closed for Sweet and Myself ]

It's just a job, like any other. A service performed to those who've stuffed the holes in their souls with great wads of stinking green cash, trying to make up for all the insecurities. They always try to push me down, but that's alright. That's alright. I don't need to feel vindicated or justified. I just need to be paid. What is it to me if some pot-bellied pig of a CEO lifts his nose at me. It's a cold cruel world, and we're all just trying to cut out a living for ourselves. Besides, just yesterday he embezzelled close to three million dollars out of the 401k account for the people that worked the gears of his Fortune 100 enterprise. That was a few thousand families destroyed, he was worse a person than I was. And honestly, if I wanted to fence cocks with the man I would have put a bullet in his brain a long time ago.



The briefcase felt like it weighed as much as a dead body in my hand, and I carried it with that solemn, steely look a Casket-Bearer has on his way down the church steps. Half a life now neatly bundled and counted out in stacks of a thousand, welcome to modern America. Hello, Captain Capitalism.


I've really hit rock bottom.



Los Vegas is a perfect place to be if you've hit rock bottom. It's where the demons are. Just about every vice here is celebrated. You can toss back shots of absinthe in the 'Lucky Cowboy' if you know the right people, and then skip across the strip to 'Diamond Dolls' and get your cock sucked by a eighteen year old runaway after she's done on stage.

It's the only city in the world where the darkness doesn't lift in the morning. It hangs across the cityscape until the sun rises, then drops down like a wet blanket, smothering everything in that same old scent.


Money.



The neon is speaking to me in jive, dancing streamers across my eyes as the concrete rolls on beneath my feet. My cigarette clutched so tight, like it is my anchor to the real world. There is laughter and cheering all around, bouncing off me like a tennis ball off Roddick's raquet.


And there she is. Five feet seven inches of beauty, chin lifted high. Ignoring the sheep bahhing at her for an autograph.


I think I loved her.



Maybe I hated her.



But I certainly knew her.




------------------------------------
A week ago...

And this is the first day of sixty that I am paid for. She is not unlike other jobs in the past. The cherry on her lips as she lounges in her hotel room bursting, teeth sinking into it. It looks like blood as it drips onto her chin.


When you are hired on a mark you don't ever leave it. You become it. I was like the dimple on her cheek, with her everywhere. Watching her. Devouring her.


I knew what highschool she went to, and where she had lived and when. I could tell you who she is, who she was, and who she wanted to be.


The files lay strewn across the floor. His empty whiskey glass on the end table.


His body in the bathtub, staring at me. Blood splashed on the tiled floor like fingerpaint.





----------------------------


The fans scream like she is their savior, and i move quickly. Beneath me the limo's driver seat creaks, cheap leather scented heavily of the half-dozen shitbags who had driven it before.


She never shares a word. And it's better, considering that the man lying bound in gagged in the trunk is still alive.


And on the passenger seat is that briefcase, and I can smell the stench of the money. But everyone has to cut out a living. Even if they have to do so by cutting out the living.

Alexandria Moore

Vegas.. How I loathed Vegas. Even at this hour the heat was sweltering, almost opressive. It beat at you day in and night out... It was also Home. Roots here went deep, but it held no love in my heart. I hated this place, I hated returning to it time and time again.

But you go where the money is, as far Greece to Antarctica, you went or you dwindled to nothingness. As an actress, nothingness was a death sentence. A bad role would be a death sentence, and if they only knew my past...

The fans fawned and cheered, some cried and some pushed little scraps of paper in my direction, all seeking something I wouldn't give. I was so used to it that now I rarely stopped to grace their bits of paper with the sprawl of ink. It was just too draining to meet all their demands, tonight anyway.

Home. I was finally home again, after a tiring three year shoot in the wilds of scotland and numerous set backs, I was home. Already the longing to return to the lush greens was tugging at me, but I turned and smiled into the cameras. I waved to fans and thanked them for their attention and loyalty. I plastered a fake smile on my face and pretended to be thrilled .... A stage, all the world was a stage.. And I knew that better than anyone else.

"Miss Moore!" A security guard held open the limosine door for me, graciously as always I muttered a "Thank you." and climbed within. With the smooth push the door was shut and the outside world was receeded to a safe distance.

It is there I finally let myself relax, with no cameras watching and no directors hunting for flaws. With no fans gawking and no personal assistants pushing schedules in my face. It was finally here I was able to kick off my shoes, let that fake smile I so loathed to carry vanish and my eyes drift closed.

As the car pulled away from the bright lights and calling voices I knew that I would not stay here long. I did not like Vegas, the lights and the crowds. I did not like sitting idle and not working. If my face wasn't seen, I wouldn't be rolling in the dough.. And I had become accustomed to the cash and prestige that came with being a Leading Actress.

She's so damn arrogant, I almost empathise with my client. Almost. The rain beats a harsh cadence against the car's hood as it comes, the sky opening up on us as though it was doing so on purpose. Sudden darkness. Foreboding. It stunk heavy in the air like the perfume she was wearing. I hated how abnoxiously sweet it was. There was something clean about sweat and the salt of it in the air.


Fuck, she was certainly beautiful. I could tell she knew it, though. And that angered me. These kind of women were never hard to whack. They were so blinded by wealth that they lost sight of themselves. They didn't know what strength was. They couldn't understand what it was to do things you hated to do, just to survive. Just to make it. They didn't know what it was like to wrap themselves around a survivor and feel that primal connection.


I've been working to hard. I can tell by the pounding in my head. I'm too wrapped up in this job. Need to get it over with so I can take a few days off. Maybe go to Costa Rica. Relax.


She is questioning me now, snapping angrily.


"Where the fuck are you going?" She says, somehow sounding dignified when the ugly curse leaves her lips. Powerful. Confident.


Stupid bitch.



I ignore her and reach down, flicking a switch on the console killing the electronics in the cabin. Without it, the phone won't work. Her cell losing reception as I guide the car into the Tyner Tunnel. It couldn't be going better.


Outside I can still hear the thunder, trembling through the tunnel. Something about this still doesn't sit right. Neither does the briefcase as I turn, sending it sliding to the floor. I hear the blood money strike the carpet with a dull thud, and suddenly can't help but lose myself to a chill. In the back she is shouting again, and pounding on the transparent divider between us with a heel.


The rhythmic snap of her stilletto striking the plexi-glass is enough to snap me from my thoughts and focus once again on the road.

Alexandria Moore

The silence and smooth ride had me nodding in and out for quite awhile, by my watch time. I should have been home by now! What the fuck was this driver doing?

Peering out the windows I could see nothing more than a car now and then and tunnel lights. Since when were there tunnel lights in Vegas.. Or tunnels for that matter?

"Rich?" The intercom button held firmly in place, I waited for an answer. "Where the hell are we?" The silence seemed to linger too long. "This is Rich isn't it?" My brain was too scrambled to even attempt to ask that in spanish tonight. I remembered asking specificly for my driver, had my assistant completely ignored me?

Another useless jackass to fire. I could feel a headache coming on and still I waited for a voice at the other end to confirm at least he or she heard me.

Still no answer, still the same scenary...

This is not the way home, you fucking idiot! I could feel my blood boiling with annoyance and if I had any say so, this fucktard would be fired tomorrow.

Depressing the button again and harder, ""Where the fuck are you going?"

The lights cut out, and much to my annoyance, so did the intercom buttons power light.

"This isn't even remotely fucking funny!" I rapped on the divider window sharply until my knuckles stung. "Open this fucking window! You've missed my house by a god-damned county!"

I could feel my face flushing with heat, this driver was pissing me off!

Sitting back, my hand shielded my eyes as I again peered out the window looking for some sign. It would help if I knew where the hell I was...

"Oh, Duh Alex!" Taking to myself didn't help to lighten the mood, but I remembered my cell phone.

No signal

"Can't I get a break here!?" Throwing the cell without even thinking, it hit the safety glass and landed some where on the dark floor.

"OPEN UP!" Hitting the window yet again, it merely stared back as if mocking me. Not a single crack in the glass or in the frame.. It was obvious though that this driver was being a complete dick and ignoring me.

Folding my arms, I sat staring at it for the longest time, that window. There had to be a way to open that window? I sure as hell wasn't going to play stunt woman and jump from a fucking moving limosine!

What I needed was something harder than my hand.

"harder... " my eyes scanned the interior and fell on a bottle of champagne. That would just shatter and mess up my outfit.."Harder.. something harder.." The ice bucket was empty but a tin pail...

"It'll do.." Picking it up I rapped that against the window twice and only succeeded in denting the pail. "GOD! DAMN! YOU! OPEN! THIS! WINDOW! YOU'RE! GOING! THE! WRONG FUCKING WAY!" My hand hurt, the vibrations from the pail hitting the window did nothing more than crush it down to useless and make my hand throb painfully.

"If I sprained my wrist, I am going to suit this fucking company for every god damned car they own!" shaking the offended hand, there really wasn't much in this car to use as a weapon.

The next best thing was a friggen pair of designer shoes worth about a grand a pair. Not that I cared about that, I had two of this color at home... "I hate you." Growling I slipped off the shoe and hit the glass with the heel, putting all my strength into the swing.

"FUCK!" Again it just bounced off as if I hadn't even hit it! Exhausted, sweating and swearing rather foully I knew I'd have to give up that route and try something else.

I peered outside again but could see nothing with the rain pelting the windows.. Hell I couldn't even see another set of headlights to signal for help..."God.." groaning with self-pity, "The windows are fucking blacked out!" No one could see me if I was being strangled three feet away from them!

Fingering the windows button, I hadn't realized I had been pushing on them for awhile now..... So why wasn't the windows rolling down?

"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON!?" I could feel hysteria bubbling inside me and didn't like it. I never lost control! How the hell did I get myself into this shit!?! ...... But I didn't get myself into this! Someone else was doing this and he or she was behind that wheel! And if I ever get my hands on them, they're going to wish that they were never fucking born!

Being kidnapped scares the shit out of people. There's something about being taken from the world that you've known and forced into one that's entirely different that just cracks inside the human heart. I don't usually touch this kind of job, the implications are a little too personal for me. The methods requiring a focus and skill that even killing does not demand.


This bitch would take a lot of work, a lot of focus, and every ounce of skill I had.


She screamed and pounded until realization set in, she had no fucking clue what I was doing. Part one of the entire event had just started, I knew right away when someone started to get scared. And this one, finally, was getting scared. It amazed me how long it took. Talk about spoiled. Even the most haughty of women I had handled often realized fairly quick that their tantrums were no good.

This bitch, after tearing nearly everything solid off the cabin and attempting to break the glass, tantrumed for nearly half an hour straight before she went quiet. I could only imagine what being on a set with this woman must be like. I could almost taste these tantrums as they were thrown, her water not cold enough, her M&M's not the right color.


The tunnel ended and the rain began, darkness opening up to allow God's tears to fall upon the car, the road, and the grey lines of downtown Los Angeles. Hours of road yielded this little hole, a warehouse district so old that even the city had forgotten to tear them down. They were awash with grit-covered, broken windows and grungy debris strewn everywhere. The streets where lined with the homeless, taking shelter in nearly every building down the line. All but one.


I knew about it even though I had never been there. The horrors that had occured in its depths as notorious as the man that owned it. The man I was working for.


She was silent, and I imagine it was out of shock. She probably forgot that places like this existed, that not everything was carved out of Gold or labelled Gucci.


I found my cigarettes and thumbed one from the pack, lighting it.


I was going to hell after this, of that I was most definitely sure.

Alexandria

I wasn't going to cry, grown women do not cry over silly misunderstandings..

This isn't a mistake you idiot! You've been kidnapped!

"Oh shut up!" I couldn't speak above a whisper, my voice was gone. I should've known better than to scream and rant as long as I had, but hind sight is always twenty-twenty.

They kill kidnapped women.. They never live.

My eyes misted, tears determined to fall, to reveal my weakness and fear. Angry at that, the realization and acceptance some where inside myself, I was not going to cry!

The darkness gave way to reveal street signs, city lights and rain falling heavily all around the car. Why are we in LA?

Had we been driving that long? I could see the mess in the cabin, the money in damages was nothing compared to what I wanted to do with this car if given the chance...

I could feel the cold chills creeping over me, the temperature seemed to drop almost drasticly between Vegas's heat and this coastal city.

At least I'm not arguing with myself again.. a little bubble of laughter escaped, I knew some where along the line the age old female weakness called SHOCK would set in. It's not like I could have a break for once and avoid all these lables..

Was I ever going to get a fucking break?!

Brief glances through the downpour and darkness revealed we were in a rather shitty party of the city..

This is it. It's either go down fighting or on my knees.. I've spent enough time on my knees, kissing asses and sucking 'up'.. Chewing your nails is a nasty habit, one I broke myself of long ago.. So why was I doing it now?!

Nervous yes.. Afraid, even though I wish I wasn't, I knew that I was. I didn't know what to expect, typical scenes ran through my mind. Rape, murder.. usually that order.

The extended version.. demands, randsome drops, rape, slapped around, raped again, something goes wrong with drop, dead Alex..

But this one... This one was different. I hadn't been bound and gagged, hadn't been drugged nor taken from home..

Some where in my musings, I hadn't paid enough attention to finer details.. We were sitting inside something, a build perhaps, but it was pitch black and no rain could be heard as I sat listening.

This kind of work was the most difficult for me. I preferred rifle work, empty work. It almost seems unreal when viewed through the lense of a rifle's scope. It's almost like you aren't there. She'd gone quiet a few minutes ago, or perhaps she was sobbing so softly I couldn't hear her. Her comfort really didn't mean shit to me at this point. Instead, I was worried about what she had back there. Inside the cabin there was very little that could actually present a threat to me. Projectiles, thrown from her hand, couldn't really manage well if I was cautious. But her purse? Her purse was an unknown, but I was ready for pepper spray. The false glasses on my face would serve well enough. I'd taken mace before, back when training required it. Tear Gas, too. That wouldn't bother me too much.


If she had a taser? There wasn't any kind of training that overcame 10,000 volts pulsing through your body. I'd gotten it once in Panama. Panama...


Back when I needed to believe in something, someone, a man had told me that nightmares are the memories we wish we didn't have making themselves known. Well, Panama certainly was a memory I didn't want to have. I wouldn't deal with it now, though.


When 10,000 volts goes through your body, everything tightens up. It's like getting kicked in the very balls of your soul, muscles contracting so fiercely that they ache for hours after. I wasn't going to take any chances.


The uniform of the Limo driver was a simple black suit, black tie, white shirt. It was the type some Oxford Psycho would wear the day he went into the office with his son's baseball bat with the intention of beating his boss to death.


It served me well for two purposes. First, the jacket was loose fitting and easy to take off. Two, it hid the Glock pistol holstered under my arm extremely well. The weapon's silencer wasn't attached yet, but I began to fix that as I worked over my equipment. A 9mm round coming out of a cannister sound supressor was absolutely quiet, the only sound that of the air being pushed through, and the soft click of the hammer striking. The warehouse was pretty remote, but...


I wasn't going to take any chances.

Nope, no chances. That's kind of a mantra.


She wouldn't see this pistol tonight, though, if all went well. The briefcase next to me opened easily, and inside was the phone I was to use, as well as a video camera, tripod, and a massive Ruger Redhawk .44 Magnum pistol. That was my bread and butter for the entire event. The weapon looked like it could take out an elephant, heavy and fierce. Scary shit to a Hollywood Priss that had just been abducted from one of her flash and prance events.


It was loaded with empty shells, not even capable of the noise a blank would make. A prop. A wiseman once told me that any weapon your mark sees should be useless to them, because while you sit on your ass and babysit them until instructions come, they spend their time trying to come up with an escape plan.

Taking the pistol, I slipped from the car, unlocking the solitary door to the limo's cabin. With the Ruger raised, looking like some ungodly execution device in my hand, I levelled it on the actress inside and spoke a low, flat warning. Did it matter she was seeing my face? No, not particularly. Not at all.

"Toss your purse out of the limo, with your cellphone inside. Now, yes, you have been kidnapped. And yes, clearly you're worth something in trade. But I will -not- hesitate to shoot you if you become a problem."

There was a kind of informality about these talks that I've found calms things. Not to mention letting them know I'm a hired killer, not their actual captor, tends to wake them up to their situation. Hope is the devil.


"Because, I've already been paid. I was paid upfront to ensure that if you became too much a problem I could -afford- to shoot you. Do you understand? You are worth nothing to me, and I -will- kill you. So, throw your purse with your phone inside, and stay perfectly still."


She opened her mouth, and there was indignation in her eyes. But I'm pretty sure that when my thumb drew the Ruger's hammer back with the resounding, and ominous click, she changed her mind. I could only imagine what she was thinking, me with this massive pistol levelled on her. The barrel thicker around than most cocks she's ever seen. My eyes, dead, trained that way by years of bloodshed and fatigue. Whatever she saw, it convinced her, and she tossed the purse out with a slender hand. Inside, makeup and other female bullshit I had no use for. The cellphone, however, was the main thing.

Lifting the purse I tossed it hard, watching the contents spill through the air and bounce well away from the Limo. The cellphone? I spiked it against the concrete under my feet fiercely, and the plastic box exploded when it struck and fragmented into various directions. Wordlessly, then, I slammed the door shut. Why move her? The inside of the Limo served as a perfect prison as I locked the door. Perhaps she felt safer in there, leather and liquor. Perhaps she felt better with it between me and her.

I knew she couldn't hear me as I lifted my own phone, dialing the only number stored in its memory.


"All things are going to plan."

My own voice, but I never really feel like I'm talking at this point. It's so mechanical and practiced. Beside, it wasn't pleasant to hear me talking like this, even after all these years.


"I will wait for your call."


The card table I had left here was drawn up and set facing the door, and I set the Ruger ontop of it. Sitting in the chair, facing the door, I placed the phone beside the pistol and released a faint sigh. I -hated- this type of work. But at least she was behaving well, even if she had managed to force one of the windows down with a strip of metal she'd somehow pried off the minibar. Even if I was going to be forced to look in on her curvaceous form, and stunning beauty all night.


There was a glint in her eyes that betrayed a kind of toughness I didn't often see, and liked even less. Hope? She was -convinced- she'd find a way out of this. It was going to be a long day.

Alex

It seemed like hours ago that he had opened the door and shoved that hand-cannon in my face. The demands were stupid, but at the time, was too scared to do anything but cooperate.

But now, having sat here all this time in complete silence, I was feeling again. Hungry, tired and needing to use a bathroom! Surely he wasn't going to keep me locked up in this fucking car all night?

I managed to get a gap in the window not long ago, the air was not so stifling as it was before, but still limited with only small bursts of cool air. There wasn't much to take off to stay cool, but knowing I had bullet proof materials between us was good enough to remove the jacket.

I didn't know why exactly I was here, it was obvious it was for monitary gains, why else capture a multi-million dollar star? That meant they needed me alive, whomever 'they' were..

I had dealt with finatics before, but never this insane! I was pissed to put it mildly and wished for one brief moment he wasn't armed. I would do my best to kick the ever-loving shit outta that asshole!

So here I sit, stewing over everything, hungry and needing a bathroom with the 'great wall of china' seated out there some where, ignoring me.

"Just fucking lovely! ... you prick!" I hoped he heard that, but it was unlikely as I didn't raise my voice. Not that I wanted him coming back in with that gun.. I had already searched, there really was nothing any self respecting woman could use as a bathroom..

It was painful almost sitting here another hour, or was it half hour? Who knew, he had everything of mine on him and I had no light to see by.

"HEY!" I called out, trying not to put too much pressure on my bladder, "I really need a bathroom!.."

Silence..

"Can you hear me?"

Again silence.

This asshole was really pissing me off, didn't he think about this shit?! Of course not! Guy's can piss anywhere at any time.. "I NEED A BATHROOM!" I felt the heat in my face, flaming red from anger, embarassment.. But god damn it! They fucking took me, they damned well better see to my needs!

I had expected as much, but I hadn't done as much as I could have to make this a non-issue. The bathroom had only one exit, the door, and I could manage that well enough. What was inside? I was suddenly toying with the nightmare of having to drag her out of there, and a rather unflattering headline.


Pipe-Wielding Super Bitch Starlet Stuns Attacker!


I jerked the door open and stepped aside, allowing her room to move. As she passed, I could smell the perfume. The fame. That quality some special people have that makes them stand out, she had it in abundance. I'd never been close to anyone with that kind of draw to them. Well. Not in many years.


Back then I was still the same, quiet guy, and her name was Emily. I met her in a nightclub while she rested on the arm of a friend, and I'd never had the courage to talk to her. Those stunning eyes, shapely figure, and the way her dress flattered every curve....


If love existed, I could have had it for her. Thankfully, I understood the situation even then.


As she moved to open her mouth, I just tossed a roll of toilet paper at her, squared chin jerking toward the door about ten feet behind me. "Try not to turn this into an event." I said, knowing full well she would. I was already waiting to react to whatever she attempted.

Alex

Snatching the roll out of the air, I stared hard right back at his royal cockiness. A brow quirked up, "With such a winning personality I can see how this is the only job you could get." A snide remark but he asked for it.

"Dick head." I muttered, knowing damned well the prick could hear me. Walking to the closet of a bathroom, I hoped he enjoyed the bed he made with this mess.

To bad too, He was what many would call 'play girl' material. Very good looking, built well. I could easily see him without clothing, having seen many stars nude before. Yeah, he could've been making far more money honestly than resorting to such a cheap tactic as this.

Why did I always end up in this sort of situation? Was life always going to be fucked up? I thought I had a break finally with this 'stardom', boy was I wrong about that.. and many other things.

Now here I was, trapped in some slummy shit hole in the middle of no where with a gun toting prick with limited dialog. Studying the door to the bathroom, I knew it would not provide a barrier between the baboon back there and myself.

He watched me, I could feel his eyes burning holes in my back. Was he checking out my ass or where to put a bullet? Fear was still there, lingering in the back of my mind but I refused to give it life. I was worth far more alive than dead, even to this asshole.

Sad thought was, who would bother to pay it? I had no family, having disowned those losers long ago. No real close friends and I didn't count the cock's I'd blown to get here as friends. Everyone always wanted something from me, a picture.. a signature.. A flash of tit, a blow job in the production trailer.. Women hated me, men loved to use me.

"Self pity party in the bathroom.." I locked the door, however weak the lock was, it gave me a little more confidence. Sitting down, I let nature take it's course and even sighed in relief as the pain lessened.

This bathroom was smaller than most home pantries! Hell even in the trashy trailor I lived in as a kid had a larger bathroom than this! No windows, bare walls. I could see that he'd removed the mirror, or some one had recently.

"Smart." There wasn't shit in this bathroom I could've used as a weapon. Well nothing I could think of anyway. The toilet tank cover? I didn't stand a chance at hitting him over the head with that.. I had a few skills in training, but from the looks of him, he had much more than I did. So kicking his ass just might not be possible..

"Shit! Of course!" Why didn't I think about it sooner?! Other than the idea left a bad taste in my mouth already, I knew what men wanted from me. And this one would be no different than the others before. Surely if I just got on his 'sweet' side.. providing he had one?

Forehead in hand, I stared at the tiled floor between my knees. It isn't the money, I could care less about that... hell I can make more of it. It's the sheer fact this asshole is waving a gun at me! The floors really need mopped in here and the stench is a bit unpleasant. Someone cleaned with bleach recently.

Taking care of business, adjusting the tiny panties back into place I discovered this 'hovel' had warm water. It felt nice to wash my hands, I never really noticed it until then how much I have always washed my hands. A habit? My shrink would say it had a hidden meaning, but who the fuck cares? I paid her so I could bitch about things then go about my business without worrying about someone spreading around the shit I said.

Funny what your mind turns to at odd moments, this being one of them. Or the fact I am mentally having a conversation with myself.

....

Ok so back to square one. How to make this guy relax around me? Fighting him wouldn't do me any good, and I was not going to cower and kiss his ass.. But maybe there was something else I could do in trade? Offering him money above the ransome? Would he even take it? Surely that base must have been covered, knowing he was taking a very wealthy star... No money couldn't buy this guy.

I wished for a brief moment I had a mirror, it would be nice to see how I looked after this long ass ride and worry. Granted if I looked too badly, I could spa for a week to recouperate.. Then fry this guy in court..

How long had I been in here? He hadn't even bothered trying the door handle, nor had he said anything.. Was he waiting for me to do something? If I was him.. I would be.

Dismissing thoughts of escape attempts and kicking butt, I opened the door. Coming face to.. well his neck, with him. "What?" Smiling sweetly, I knew this innocent routine wouldn't fool him, but he'd find nothing on me either.
"Got anything to eat? I'm really hungry." Sultry voice or not, I loved to use it on men. I used it all on men.. The ass, the legs, hell the smile was paid for as well. Not a fake part on my body, that I was proud of. So why not use the smile, the sultry voice, the breasts, the sway of my hips to woo him?

Every woman had a weapon and it rested right between her thighs.. A weapon I was very familiar with using.

I had grown up in Brooklyn, and the killing started there. The first time I pulled the trigger on someone I was sixteen years old, I didn't sleep for weeks after that. Everytime I heard of a purse snatching I immediately thought back on that night. I hadn't thought the pistol was chambered, I didn't mean to put that much pressure on the trigger. That was my introduction to the world of professional killing, that was my foot in the door.


After that I worked for local gangs, and then eventually organized stuff of a bit more repute. Soldiering for the streets for Mafia types while they rake in the dough, knowing all the while you're more or less expendable. It serves when you're young, desperate. But after awhile, after you learn how good you are, you start to make moves of your own.


Professional hits were a thrill to me at first, sneaking into someone's room and debraining them with a balpine hammer, leaving without a trace of you left. When I first got into the business I was killing criminals for criminals, mistakes I made went unpunished by cops that didn't care. I wasn't the villian, and they knew it. I was just a poor pidgeon working for the villian. That kind of breathing room leaves you a lot of space for your education, and I hit the books of hitting harder than any Harvard wizkid or rich jew bitch from the Upper East Side.


I made a pretty good flow back in those days, but when I got into the private contracting, that's when shit got real sweet.


Now I'm sitting here looking down at a woman that most would swear was the most beautiful on earth, her body a temple of soft curves and smooth skin. Already my cock was hardening in my pants, but I'd seen this game before. It was a bit disturbing, or maybe arousing, how quick the change went for her though. If only I knew.


See, the psychology of a prisoner is an interesting thing. Resisting is always the first thing that comes to mind, cooperation and coercion is way low on the list. Females normally hold onto pride, sex and semen the worst thing that could happen to them. This woman had gone from trauma-induced rage to sexual predatory in about six hours, surely a new record.


There was something so deviant about it, I couldn't help but want her more than I should have. Those soft lips, the glint in her eyes. I wasn't an ugly man, and I was in better shape than most athletes... She's probably enjoy a good fuck, especially if she thought she was going to get herself out of some shit with it. Power turns people on, I don't care who you are. It certainly was that case with me.


I turned a brief glance to the unloaded revolver in my hand, and fought to contain my smile.



I started my act almost immediately, glancing briefly down into the sloping curves of her cleavage, sincerely enjoying the way the fabric seemed to be just resting upon her, making it clear the rise of those ample mounds was natural. And then I gestured out with my freehand, being sure to turn my eyes aside, pale blue gaze fixed on the wall, regarding her only in the periphery.

"Go sit down." Came the reply, more firm than I'd been all night. I wanted her to think I was flustered. She was clever, but she didn't understand. In her life she'd never met a man like me, someone so turned to indifference. Disconnected.


I'd no idea that by the end of the night she'd surprise me more than once. No idea that I'd end up surprising myself.


That Ruger felt seventy pounds in my hand, my cock felt like twice that in my pants, and every movement of her body was sending dirty flashes through my mind. Oh, I'd truly love to fuck this slut.


But where the fuck was that phone call?

Alex

Go sit down? God! He had as much social skill as a plumber! A little smirk and a very cheeky air I did as instructed, knowing the little pervert was watching every single step I took.

Pervert might have been unfair to call him, as I did not know him all that well. But one thing was certain, unless they were gay, all men were perverts. True, a gay male could be a pervert, but I had yet to sit down and discuss such things with one.

Why I was thinking about gay men and Mr. Ego behind me, No idea. What I needed was something to eat and a comfortable place to sit while I contemplate the next move I could make. I knew he was interested, he'd have to be dead or gay not to be. Missing was the satisfaction I usually felt when I knew I turned someone's eyes my way, instead I felt even more frustrated.

He just bit too easily!

He had removed all weapons, all forms of communication. He had abducted me right infront of the press, the mayor and my publicist! He was not a stupid man. So.. Only one thing makes sense to me and I'm fairly certain he's aware of my change in attitude.

Fuck! FUCK! sighing, I didn't bother to even dust off the hard cold chair, just parked my firm ass and sat staring right at him. Legs crossed, I twirled my toes idly as if I didn't have a care in the world.

"Did you bring something to eat? Or something to drink?" My voice was soft, but lofty, as I knew he was beneath me and always would be. Criminals were the scum of the earth, rich or poor. I was tempted to ask him how many he had killed so far this month but knew I wouldn't really like the answer.

It was definitely wise to play ignorant to his possible intentions, pretend they would not arise and stink up my rosey little world. "You spoke english, so I know you understand me." I taunted a little, my smile slowly curving, my eyes hard on his.

Where did he put those car keys? I couldn't really tell if anything was in his pockets, I hadn't seen any keys resting on this cheap card table...Would he possibly leave them in the limo? His gun was rather large.. compensating for something else? Or just a large toy to scare the 'helpless female'? Toying with a curl of hair resting over my chest, I knew eventually he would get tired of my 'snooty airs' and stop watching me... especially the purposefull positioning into the chair, the childish guesture of toying with my hair, while the skimpy skirt was riding up my thighs from the toe twirling.. a scene I had practiced many times for a movie that never made it to the big screen.. but definitely affected curious watchful men.

I couldn't help but admire her, she was stunning, and every inch of her shapely thighs were worthy of my attentions. There was still that arrogance, that haughtiness. The soft flirting was filled with the almost abnoxious self-awareness. My cock was beginning to stiffen in my slacks, but she would have to work harder. I could still see the gears turning behind her eyes, while in mine she would find nothing.



Lifeless. Without Concience. Empty.



"In the limosuine." Came my reply, and it was loaded with enough bullshit to keep her occupied. But she was brazen, and I couldn't help but draw in a breath as she spun round in that chair and crawled inside the black Lincoln. Her skirt road way up, revealing the rounded halves of her ass and that thong drawn between her cheeks, smooth flesh with soft, inviting curves.



I was planning on aborting the seduction, deciding the discomfort of my cock straining against my pants was better than allowing this ruthless bitch an opening. No woman with any kind of shame allowed her captor to see her so, but she knew damn well the power it had on me. She had, quite simply, the most beautiful female figure I had ever known.


But the sound of the phone ringing stopped me in my tracks, and forced me to put the entire matter on hold.


"You have her?" Came the words, clipped.

"Yes." My attention drifted back onto her, but she was seated casually then, her gaze burning sharply onto my lips and the phone in my hand.

"Is she harmed?"


"Not yet." I replied, because torture wasn't out of the question. Money would simply be an issue.


"Well done."


I wanted to dispense with the pleasantries. "How long am I holding her?"


"It may be upwards of a week." The voice on the other end sounded hesitant, and rightfully so. The words nearly broke my stern features, but I held that practiced visage flawlessly, knowing full well she was staring at me.


"You remember what I said?" This would cost him double every day past the second. I was going to make a killing.


"Yes."


"If the cops get close I will kill her, that is a promise. I will check in twelve hours if four and a half million dollars is in the account I specified, if not.. she dies and I am gone. And after I am gone, I will find you."


"It will be there."


I closed the phone, hanging it up with a hand while the other tugged the tie from around my neck and began to work at the buttons of the dress shirt. As it fell open, revealing the muscle shirt beneath, I was already working on rolling the sleeves up.


"Ever been to Puerto Rico?" I asked smoothly, only to turn that hard, predatory eye over her.

Alex

He stared, as all men do, as I knew he would. It disgusted me how predictable men were and at the same time, the game.. the chase was exhillerating. He would fuck me if I let him.. Odd that word 'let'. How many men in my life had pushed the issue, groped without asking? How many couldn't help but touch? Even from an early age I knew I was different than other girls, and as I aged.. Well god certainly was kind to me in the looks department.

Cursed is more like it Alex..

I watched his every move, listened to every word spoken. I could hear the voice on the other end somewhat, but only bits and pieces of the things said. I could feel the fury build up again inside, that boiling rage I was always careful not to let go of. I couldn't place the voice on the other end, I couldn't hear him well enough to know. And that really just pissed me off more!

Calm and cool, picking lint from my skirt as if I had no cares in the world. My eyes devouring my captor's features, the breadth of his shoulders, the way he held his cell phone. Calculating in my mind, watching with my eyes for identifying traits and listening with my ears to my fate.. MY FUCKING FATE that those pricks were deciding!

Vile little cocksuckers!

How I hated men. Their 'god' syndromes and their fragile egos. Their belief that everything with a slit between their legs owed them something. Hated their pawing and weak minds, and loved that weakness with a sick fascination. For all thier blustering, posing and cockish strutting about, they were so fucking easy to control... all you needed was a nice body and give them all the 'ass' they could handle.

We let them believe they are superior... If only they knew the truth.

He glanced up at my face, my smile quick in coming as I held his gaze.

"If the cops get close I will kill her, that is a promise. I will check in twelve hours if four and a half million dollars is in the account I specified, if not.. she dies and I am gone. And after I am gone, I will find you."

So.. I was worth that amount? I should feel flattered really.. Considering I grew up dirt poor and 'white trash', that certainly was some sum.. definitely surprised that I am not falling apart right this moment, given he just claimed he'd kill me.. But some how, I already knew this information. I amazed myself with how calm I could be. How relaxed, my heart didn't even excellerate with that threat.. Death did not frighten me... ?

Ice Princess. Always that hissing voice in the back of my mind.. I knew what they called me and why.

"wow.." Whispered soft, I had to be in shock. It just sank in, so thuroughly. I would probably die before this was all over..... and I didn't care?! Something to think about, it'll pass the time as I await execution...

Why do I not fear death? I have it all.. fame, fortune, a name! A god damned name everyone knew! A face and body men made asses of themselves over.. And I did not care if I died tonight or next week...

A little burst of giggles came from the limo before I caught myself and went silent once more. He had shut off his phone, was staring at me as he unbuttoned a few buttons on his shirt. Fascinated, for some unknown reason, I watched his fingers roll up each sleeve, felt a tingle inside as his forearms were bared..

That was laughable.. What would he think if he knew the truth? Would he even care or comment? How many women in this day and age have not had an orgasm?.. ever! So why would forearms get me tingling? I could conclude that I was slowly going mental.. but I was far too rational to do that.

Who cares Alex.. I do hope when they bury me I am not put into some virgin white number, I really do not like white clothes.. Such a mockery to wear white.

His question caught me off guard but I nodded slowly, "Yes." Who hadn't been to Puerto Rico?

He approached, his gaze still almost feral. He did frighten me, some what. He was not a typical 'nut case' you see and hear about abducting people. His calmness.. There was something there.. My experience with men was not limited nor sheltered, if I had to guess this one's past I would say some sort of training kept him this way.. and the need to survive.

He didn't reak of Military training, this was something far darker, more threatening.. Only fact now was, I wasn't afraid of him killing me.. At least it wouldn't be some lover gone postal or some crazed fan who thought they 'loved' me. A stranger with no ties or connections...

He was far too tall when I was seated, I could feel the kink in my neck forming from staring up at him. "Filmed a movie there.. Stranded. So.. drink? food?" My smile returned, not inviting but definitely mischievious.

Twelve hours before my fate was decided.. put on hold? What were they going to do? I could see his face, his cold eyes.. He couldn't afford to let me go.. He played an interesting game, milking someone for money...

"So does this person who ordered me abducted know you're going to kill me when he's done paying all this money? Or was that the plan? I would just love to know why I was abducted when it would've been so much easier to just dispose of me outside Vegas.." The words were past my lips without a conscious thought, the questing hung in the air between us. My voice was husky, but it wasn't from fear.. It was that unconscious thing.. that habit again, inviting him to listen to me, for him to get closer and want to hear more. Chewing on my fingertip, my thoughts turned inward again.. Was I programmed?

Swinging my legs, I slid almost out of the limo but kept my ass on the seat. Giving my long legs room to move, I once again took my time crossing them for him. If he wished to stare, let him.

That is all you're ever going to get buddy. Hot or not, he was after all, my killer.

Talking business was alright with me, because it kept the conversations from going elsewhere. There was a frightening amount of determination in her eyes, and perhaps the cold truth of it all would sober her a bit. Some of movements she made her purposeful, sexy, but it was the more natural, nervous gestures that attracted me most. I took notice how immediately after brushing through her hair, flipping it lightly, she drew her fingers to her lips and offered the cuticals a passing bite. There was something human there.


I didn't deal with human much. Most of my work came from three-hundred yards away and through a scope.


"If in twelve hours four and a half million dollars is not in a specified account, a third of what I have coming to me for this job, you die. If at the end of our time together the rest is not there, I find the person who contracted me and kill them. I doubt it will come to that."


And I watched the realization of just how much money was being thrown around sink in. Perhaps that would cue her into the conclusion this wasn't a game.


"They know I am serious."



I turned my back on her, purposefully, utterly casual as I spoke over my broad shoulder and toward her, the suspenders were tight to the dress shirt, defining muscle trained with meticulous care. Military? No, not exactly. My dedication to my craft extended well beyond a soldier's. I had honed skills for silent, clean and cold-blooded murder with almost a fanatical amount of focus. "Because if in twelve hours the money is in my account, that is where we are going. The FBI will be assigned to your case twenty-four hours after your dissappearance. We will be out of the country six hours before they catch wind of it. The jet we will take is small, but constantly makes trips there. The alias I use it under is one of several I own legitimate businesses with. My employer does not know I am taking you there either, which gives me another advantage."


I paused a moment, hearing her shift her weight. She was attempting to take advantage of my back being turned, but whatever she had tried I hadn't seen. All the materials that were critical, phone, firearm, were still where I wanted them to be, and so when I turned around I acted as though I hadn't noticed. "If you check the refridgerator in the limo you will find water, and some of your favorite cold cuts. Look, I don't want to kill you. If I kill you my business becomes complicated, and I do -not- like complication. My job is to hold you until alerted, and then release you. So that is what I am going to do, hold you and then release you."


Perhaps it was the fact I had finally talked, and talked plenty, or merely the tone of my voice, but she seemed to actually trust in that. Then again, she was an actress. Every single time her eye drifted I found myself searching nearby her for what was different. It would come to me in time, the devil was in the details.


And almost on cue at that the rain started again, droning steadily against the warehouse roof, lightning flashing a stark alabaster across the ebon sky.

Alex

It isn't every day you hear that you're worth thirteen million to someone. It was more than flattering and had me wondering just whom I had pissed off? There were so many people who came and went in my life, nameless faces, asshole directors.. It had to have been within the last five years, until then I was jumping to everyone else's tune.. Now I only had my tune to waltz to. Which meant some slimey little fucktard was pulling this stunt for some sleezy reason.

With his back turned to me I had taken a moment to look around but the partitian window was still firmly up in it's place. So who knew where those keys were. The limo was a mess, trashed beyond what was normal. I really did need to control my temper but for some reason I was smiling as I scanned the damage.

He was a bright enough man to know that, yes the FBI will eventually be looking for me. Taking me out of the country wouldn't be too hard if what he said were true. A private jet and enough money, you can go most anywhere and not worry about passports and ID. "Bastard.." Had to admire him, he thought things through to the finest little detail.

Giving up on seeing the actual sparkle of silver keys, I adjusted myself more comfortably as he finally shifted around. Had he known what I was up to? Did he even care, as I was obviously not a threat to him.

"If you check the refridgerator in the limo you will find water, and some of your favorite cold cuts. Look, I don't want to kill you. If I kill you my business becomes complicated, and I do -not- like complication. My job is to hold you until alerted, and then release you. So that is what I am going to do, hold you and then release you."

Water and cold cuts? My mouth watered, but not because of hunger, I had to clench my teeth together not to make a snide comment about his choice selections. I didn't even bother to thank him, nor move to the tiny refridgerator, a drink would be nice but some how water didn't seem strong enough.

As for releasing me.. I still doubted that comment. After all he made no attempt to hide his face from me. What else was I supposed to think when he blatantly paraded around without a care in the world? If I could figure out where exactly he had taken me.. Maybe the FBI later could get his fingerprints off of something in here.. Hell even the car! It wasn't that small of a country..

His hand had rested upon the table.. the steering wheel. Surely there were other things he'd touched as well. I scanned the room, what I could see from the backseat anyways. I couldn't really see much else. Pitty

What seemed like an hour was merely minutes and yet again we were back at a silent stand-still. He stood looking at me, I sat tempting him to look further without out-right invitation. "I do hope you at least let them put my luggage into the car, I might actually have a bikini in there some where." Flashing a sultry little smile his way I finally turned my attention to that little fridge and the shitty selection inside for no other reason but to give him a better show.

"Were they out of Avian or was this limo company just cheap?" Grumbling loud enough for him to 'over-hear' me I pulled a no-named brand of bottled water out of the pristine white fridge while shifting enough to nearly lay across the back seat. The rain started again and with it the cold breeze, which was finding it's way up my skirt and teasing my bare skin into tiny little goose-bumps. Calculating from head to toe, I knew from my position and his, he'd see a little more in my 'thirsty as hell' adventure.

Slowly drive this prick insane, and see where it goes.

Popping the lid and drinking as soon as I sat up was the only thing that kept my little knowing smile from appearing across my face as I met his stone cold eyes not too far from my person.

The hours came, and the hours passed. Outside the night broke, dawn began to light the sky, splashes of vermillion etching away the darkness that had permiated the battered warehouse. The rain, a steady sentinel, continued inundate the area with sheets of cold, driving water. Of it all I became oblivious, my usual pleasure in such things shattered by the stategic folding of her shapely legs, or the round outline of her flawless ass in that skirt as she bent over along the seat. Three hours, three long hours of my cock aching against my trousers, outlined clearly. Several times I watched her eyes drift, her lips fight off that triumphant smirk.

My cool was beginning to break, frustration taking in. I had women make these kinds of attempts before, but never with this much patience and skill. She looked so damned smug, so fucking sexy, it was difficult to fight down the urges. Rape her? Had this job really corrupted my sensibilities to that point?

Perhaps a savior, the phone went off beside me. Immediately her attention flicked toward it, only to return to me. Her legs scissored, crossing again, right over left in a flawless immitation of a lady. Well, flawless save how high that skirt had lifted, how much of her toned thigh was bared, and how pleased the bob of her sandelled foot was as she looked onto me. I could almost hear her taunting me to stand and get my call, stand and reveal to her my hard on.

But it was my turn to smirk as I rose, the full length of my cock outlined deeply in the linen of my pants. My pale gaze burned holes into her own as her eyes widened, and that smile faltered. That's right darling, the words a silent statement spoken only in my broad and abrupt grin. I could have her screaming on the end of my dick if I really wanted it.

I really wanted it.


I...


Fuck the phone.


Features hardening, I shifted, forcing my muscular torso to bend as I took that stride toward the phone. Lifting it to my ear I glanced back at her, suddenly struck by how well a blush served on her cheeks and down the top of her cleavage. "This is an automated notification that account number 40014A4940 has recieved a deposit of," a pause as the machine's automated voice totalled the information, and perhaps to allow the tension to finally pull my mind from the woman seated in the Limo's seat. "Twenty-Six Million Dollars and Zero-Zero Cents American. Please -" I hung up the phone and frowned deeply. Double. I had to hold onto her.

"What's going on?!" She demanded then, standing at my side with her hands on her hips.

Turning, I regarded her with a faint smile, hand idly dropping to my pocket to retrieve a small capsule from within. "We have a plane to catch." She opened her mouth, perhaps to protest, perhaps to taunt me again with some subtly seductive comment, but I didn't give her the chance. My hand lifted, large and strong, slapping over her mouth with that pill being driven inside. Twisting her, against her struggles, I drove her body against my own, ass crushed against my aching cock for a moment.

As she fought, my senses reeled, pleasure arcing through my frame as her perfectly shaped bottom ground along the ferociously thick prick, the shaft momentarily trapped through the fabric of her skirt and my pants and between the globes of her tight cheeks. Then, abruptly, I felt her slump a bit, before finally her head lulled.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The flight was swift, and the island all but abandoned. Costa Rica was much further out of the way then Peurto Rico, and a much smaller presence there. A little deception would never hurt her, though, and she would not know the difference. I only had to hold her here for who knows how long, and if she became too much a hassle I could dump her.

Our luggage tossed into one corner of the room for now, I paused as one of her cases struck the floor and bounced open, revealing rather casual clothes save for the strings of a bikini. "Shit." Already my cock was straining again, pressing at my attire. That's alright, I thought, bending to brush my fingers along the sheer fabric and lift it. The top was a pair of triangles that seemed incapable of covering her pert, ample bust... the bottom tapered into a thong.

For a moment, running the pieces between my fingers as I set the empty revolver down on the table I planned to sit, I considered once again what was making me forsake my protocols so badly. But then, as she shifted slightly on the bed in her slumber, my eyes fell on her slightly parted legs and their shapely lengths.

I deserved to indulge every once and awhile.

Besides, I could get rid of her now that we were in my backyard. This island was nearly uninhabited, isolated, and I'd dumped countless others here before.

Shifting, I loomed over her, breath already ragged with anticipation as my powerful frame struggled to remain disciplined against the desire arcing through me. I could feel every sculpted muscle bristle as my hands descended, fingers working down the zipper of her skirt, revealing that softly curved hip as I jerked the fabric down.

Leaning, I ignored her soft stirring and bent to survey her pantiless pussy, breath brushing briefly along the soft petals as I regarded her hairless slit with a hint of reverence. This woman was magnificent, lord, what was I doing to myself. Deft fingers gathered up her petite feet, tips running down over her turned ankles and shapely calves as I dragged the bikini bottoms up onto her. My touch was rough in comparison to the silk of her flesh beneath it, my cock pulsed so hard I thought I was going to lose conciousness. Finally, with a faint tug, I secured the bottoms on her flawless hips.

She stirred again, and this time I thought I heard her murmur something. My senses were frightfully dulled, the sound of the blood pulsing in my ears making it difficult to hear much of anything save the beat of my heart. I was vaguely aware of how ragged my breath was, even as I drew the rest of that dress up and off her, revealing her ample breasts and their tight, strapless lace confines. A flick of my finger let them sway free, prominent and proud, drawing a faint gasp from me. Why bother with a bra when you're this stunning? God, after this, she better not push the issue too much.

It was then, as my hands drew up the bikini with a careful touch and pressed it into place, that I finally realized how dangerous this situation was. If she forced my hand, if she taunted too much, there was a very sincere chance that my cock would end up jammed deeply into that freshly shaven pussy.


I hadn't fucked a woman like this since before I took up this line of work. The most I'd found since were cheap whores, lacking the sophisticated, sultry hint of a creature like this. Her breasts were firm beneath my hands as I secured them beneath the triangles of sheer fabric, struggling briefly with the tie about her throat as her body shifted, waking.

Drawing back, my breath caressed her throat a final time, and that seemed to be what stirred her. Those eyes fluttering open to take me in, shirtless and in red and yellow patterned swim trunks, and for a moment her smile seemed more womanly, more private, as though she didn't know where she was... and then abruptly she was snapping to her knees, jerking her attention around the 'bedroom' of my villa.

"What the fuck is going on?!" she replied, her tone doing well to hide how startled she was.

I settled back in my seat, and sighed unneccessarily, trying to appear casual as my cock raged angrily against my trunks. "We made the flight to Peurto Rico, and you're right, you did have a bikini. I hope you don't mind, I took the liberties, but I was very professional." And for the most part I had been, it was merely my mind that had betrayed my manner.

Secretely, as she soaked up that information, I contemplated just how long it would be until I really made a mess of this.

Alex

I couldn't actually recall exactly how I got where I was, nor how I ended up in the bikini, but I had a damned good idea regardless. I had no headache or funky taste in my mouth, obviously whatever he used to drug me had no horrible side effects.. At least they didn't right now.

I can't say what went through my mind when I woke up to see a well built man hovering over me. As much as I hated this entire situation, I couldn't help feeling a certain little tingle pulsating through me... Until I woke enough to realize who it was hovering over my person.

I tried to find footing, a little hard when you know someone's just seen everything you have to offer and could have done anything to you while knocked out senseless. Haunty would've been nice, and rightfully acted out if I could clear my fucking head!

I studied him seated there, staring as usual. I didn't want to see more than his face, In fact mentally I was scolding myself the entire time my eyes rested on him to look no where else but his face! However, I was never one for rules and the bastard had already taken liberties with viewing my body.. Why the fuck not give him a dish of his own medicine?

It wasn't hard to look at him, "Prick!". Aren't killers supposed to look disgustingly ugly, slovenly, piggish? There he sat looking smug, a little uncomfortable in that chair, but smug none the less. A casual with-out-a-care kinda slouch.. His whole "excuse" was pathetic as well, but damned if I could do no more than respond with "Not a problem at all."

I will blame his drugs on this, and the poor excuse of a comment. I am not in my right mind.. a little fuzzy still, but hey it's enough.

"And I don't want to know if you enjoyed the show." My glare was meant, felt and seen. Settling myself, I glanced down long enough to situate my bikini top into place, then stood to fix the bottoms. "How much longer am I going to be stuck here anyway?" I was tired, irritated with the situation, him and myself and the reaction my body had to this asshat and it showed.

I could feel his eyes slide over my body, every subtle move I made, and with every twist and turn, there were his eyes burning holes into my skin. It wasn't ego talkin' there, it was intuition. I willed myself to feel disgusted at his attention, as all men made me feel whenever they stared at me like this, but instead there was a feminine satisfaction buried down deep.. gloating over the stiff prick in the asshole's shorts.

I gave my attention then to the little hut we were camped in, looking anywhere but at him would give me pleasure right now..... Or so I thought! "God this place is..." I fell quiet not wishing to start this off with a fight... a one sided fight at that, Why did he never respond to me? Interesting.. but not worth worrying about.

"One room?" My eyes shot to his for confirmation. "Or is there more somewhere I don't see? A bathroom? Perhaps another bed some where?" My hands were on my hips, shifted in that stance all women were born with and did automaticly.

The smirk upon her full lips made my cock twitch, but already I was tired of her attempts to establish herself as a dominant figure. Stunning, challenging, I appreciated all of those things, but sometimes you just can't bite back the urge to put her in her place. "What?" I commented, my voice low and flat as I regarded her, our eyes meeting across the short distance between us. "We're practically friends. Can't share a room. I have seen you naked."


The little shot lit sparks behind her eyes, and as skilled as I am her movements impressed me. She was up like a cat, and lounging, her palm arcing out to connect solidly with my cheek. For a moment she loomed over me, and then abruptly I decided to end the situation, and standing with a piston of my legs I nearly floored her simply by rising beneath her flailing arms.

She recovered after a momentary stumble, but already my strong hands lashed out to curl unyielding fingers about her thin wrists, trapping her arms to her side. She attempted to lift a knee, and I twisted her sharply then, spinning her until she faced outward and then wrapping her up in my arms. For a moment the feel of her was lost, the soft line of her spine against my chest ignored as I positioned my feet inside her heels, constantly denying her the chance to swing a foot up between my legs.


And then she stiffened, hard, almost shuddering. My cock was still rampant, raging ferociously from before, and now with her rounded ass once again pressed against it, flexing and writhing in an attempt to get away, she had trapped the thick shaft between her bikini clad cheeks and crushed it there.


The heat pulsing from me clearly had affected her, because now more than ever I felt her own. It was like a fire between us, flesh on flesh, raw and primal. She hated me, hated me with a passion for what I was doing to her, and I hated her. I hated that I was about to make this job much more complicated than it should have been.

Pressing forward then I gathered her wrists behind her back and lifted, the pressure on her shoulders forcing her to bend before me. Her ass lifted, and I forced her to remain that way, her forehead on the bed and her body uncomfortably arched. She fought, trying to resist, but as I lifted her wrists further a whimper rolled from her, she shuddered, trapped against the soft sheets and yielding.

I could hear her curses drain off into soft pleas, but we both knew they had no affect. Strangely, somewhere, I had expected to feel some kind of guilt. Instead there was a rejoicing, my primal nature congratulating me as my fingers pushed the trunks down my corded thighs, thick and masculine in contrast to her sleek ones.

She fought again as she felt my bare cock slap against the round of her ass, impressive and thick, the velvet flesh smooth and the thick crown pliant in comparison to the steel-hard shaft. I let her twist, her heels stomp down on my feet until sparks of pain shot through me, unyielding and patient as she desperately attempted to drive me off her.

When my patience weigned, I lifted her wrists, again forcing her arms to drive pressure into the back of her shoulders, her gasp sounding and her body stiffening in response, yielding, complacent.

One hand left her wrist then, trailing down, smooth fingers walking over the arch of her spine and around her rounded ass. As she struggled, the other lifted to find her hair, wrapping it up in my grasp and yanking sharply. Her head lifted, her spine arced, and her gasp of pain shot through the room as her fingers found the sheets and she once again went still. I could only imagine the white-hot sensations running through her scalp while I fingered the cloth covering her pussy to the side, leaving it bunched on one cheek.


Was she crying? I couldn't tell, but I doubted it. Even as I pressed the massive crown of my cock to her pussy I felt her struggle again, fighting me, but her soaked petals were pouted and pliant, yielding to the pressure and beginning to accept my thick length inside her, the crown slowly beginning to stretch her wet sheath open. Wet, tight, clenching down on me in protest or in pleasure, I wasn't quite sure.


The sensations were supreme, arcing through me, my cock pulsing inside her with a heated want. I'd never wanted a woman this bad, not enough to just shatter my own personal convictions and have her. There was a rush to it, a freedom, an erotic thrill as I looked down to see this stunning woman begin to writhe and twist as my cock ever so slowly began to sink inside her. What stunned me was how wet she was, and how slick we both were as her honey ran down my shaft and soaked my cock, leaving it shining even before I sheathed myself fully inside her. And when finally, half of me was buried inside her soaked slit, I could feel the contrast between the hot depths of her where she held me and the air against the rest of my cock. She whimpered, in pain, discomfort, or humiliation I wasn't sure... but I felt my carnal desires boil over.

And like some great animal claiming its bitch I thrust forward, powerful hips driving with unforgiving force. I felt her rock, her body lift onto her toes and her back sharply arch against the sheer force of it, heard the bed shift on its legs as the impact slammed her rounded ass tight to my muscled hips...and almost immediately my entire cock was sheathed to the hilt inside her. I had plowed my massive shaft through her wet depths and left myself embedded inside her, and my toes curled, the pleasure so distinct I nearly wavered.


But as she stirred, perhaps to fight or otherwise struggle, I began to draw back and thrust forward again, ferociously slow and strong thrusts claiming the starlet's flawless body with a vengeance.

Alex

It was impossible to struggle, every muscle in my body was screaming in pain. I had fought so hard to gain freedom that I had worn myself out in record time. The energy pumped through me, I could feel it tingling every inch of my skin but it was not enough. Somewhere in the slur of insults and threats, I had lost track of what I said or threatened and knew only one thing. This cocksucker was raping me!

Some where down deep I wanted to cry and plea, but dignity was now a fault. I would not beg and plead with a heathen like this, I would fight back until there was nothing left.. No ounce of strength, No means to escape.. And of course in a few short seconds, I was pinned. The thoughts I had, the anger was beyond that, it was even beyond rage.

Some sadistic part of me responded to him, to this situation. However that thought was pushed into that little closet in the back of one's mind and firmly locked away. Again a stream of curses, and a moment of gloating when my foot stomped down upon his.

"FUCKING ASSHOLE!" Muffled against the sheets, my arms bent at an angle that really fucking hurt, he ignored everything I said and did. I switched tones once, lowered myself to actually beg him not to do this.. But it got me no where.

Not that I thought it would! "Bastard!" It suited him, a fitting title. I had no idea what to do, how to respond. So many warring emotions tore through me I felt confused by it all.. As if this was a dream and not really happening..

The moment passed, the denial that this was reality wouldn't linger, not when I could feel the heat of his cock pressing against my buttock. Tears did blur my vision from pain, anger, and humiliation.

Weakness! Fucking god damned weakness!

I refused to be weak, always had. And so I stopped fighting him, stopped begging, biding my time. Indignation was enough, the anger allowed me to break away from this, detach myself almost. Again I tried to break free of his hold, wiggle out of this uncomfortable position, only to have my arms nearly broken in response.

And so here I am, forced into this stupid fucking position and no real way to stop him. You'll get yours you prick! Trembling with pent-up rage, I waited and wondered what he was doing? I felt the release of one wrist and almost cried in relief but the cry of relief turned into a gasp of pain slash anger as he about tore my fucking hair out! Both hands were free but bound by duty to support my weight, as being held by my hair was down right fucking painful. It felt like my scalp was on fire, every single hair on my head was now an enemy as his fist clenched even tighter. My back nearly popped with the sudden yanking, and again a string of curses echoed in the tiny room.

I felt him then, his fingers pushing aside my bikini bottoms. Teeth clenched tightly, It was impossible to speak the slur of insults I had waiting to land on his head. Tensed from head to toe, my fingers curled into the sheets beneath. Again that sadistic demon reared her ugly head as tingles shot from my exposed sex across my back in tiny little ripples of pleasure.

"Oh.. I fucking hate you!" growling at him was my only defensive move left. My breath stilled, hardly daring to breathe, hoping he'd stop there but knowing he wouldn't. He shifted behind me, my eyes clenched tightly shut as the rage boiled even hotter. And then the vague memory came back to me, the sheer size of this man and just what he was going to do to me! I felt him then, felt the thick hard heat of him pressing against me. Instinctively I fought, my body tensed to ward the intrusion off but it did little good as he seemed to have no trouble pressing the head of his prick inside my body.

I would have liked to chew his ass out, to sling curses and throw punches but I could do no more than gasp for air as my eyes were forced open, wide as the shock came over my system. Oh my fucking god!

I tried to move away from him, away from the pressure of his penetration. He was thick, thicker than any male I had ever been with, or seen. A sharp gasp came from me, my body tensed even further. I could feel him pressing in, forcing my hips and legs wider and it still wasn't wide enough!

Every nerve linking us together went on high-alert status, ever single millimeter of him slowly sinking into my pussy was sending signals throughout my body. My mind warred with them and clashed head on. I needed to mentally shut down, I knew it some where inside the chaos. I couldn't fight off the hatred, I couldn't contain the warped pleasure that came from that hatred. I was quaking with pent-up fury that had no outlet unless I gave into what he was doing.. Unless I gave back the rape he was dishing out on me. Muscles tightened around him, heightened the sensations I did not want to feel. Lubricated his means to press further.

I screeched like a banshee, cursing the day he was born and despairing slurs upon his mother. Shame ate at me, saying aloud what shouldn't have been said. Tears of inner frustration rolled down my cheeks to drip off my jaw, but still I fought.

He cut short any other thoughts I had, words I could've uttered as he gripped my hips and thrust himself fully inside. I lurched away, my hands clawing at the sheets to pull myself forward and off, my body twisting in defiance and retreat. I could feel the world slipping away as I was about to pass out, until my lungs automatically took over and a wet raspy gasp of air was yanked into my lungs. I saw stars and my head was spinning as if drunk.

He held tight to my hair, and the hand resting at my hip. He began to with-drawl from me and again thrust forward. A whimper escaped from my lips, the room still swam around wildly and my lungs burned for much needed air. I was pinned now by the massive cock sawing it's way in and out of my body. I wanted to scream, voice the pain but there was little to none in existence to bring merit to my cries. The whimpers were discomfort, outrage and as much as it sickened me.. pleasure!