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1
Forced Sex Stories / Re: Unwelcome Guests
« Last post by DirtySerenity on January 22, 2019, 06:40:26 PM »
Nice cliffhanger. I'm on the edge of my seating waiting to see what's happening to Heather.
2
Forced Sex Stories / Re: Unwelcome Guests
« Last post by archon on January 22, 2019, 02:15:39 PM »
Rebecca shook and wept. 
   “Hear O Israel…” she began reciting the most Holy prayer in Judaism.  Khassam kept his gun to the back of her head, but now removed his knife, placing it under Rebecca’s throat. 
   “Shut up you Jewish whore,” he said.  He looked over at Kelley hanging from her wrists. “Maybe we’ll start with your cub,” he growled into her ear. 
   “No please, don’t hurt her,” Rebecca begged to save Kelley from more pain.  “What about your niece?  Should I hurt your daughter, or Heather first?”  Rebecca couldn’t condemn her daughter to torture by those men, but she loved her niece as well. 
   “Don’t make me choose.  I can’t choose,” she sobbed.  Khassam rose and made his way over to the girls hanging from their wrists from chains, their toes, barely brushing the floor.  He picked up a heavy rope, he tied a knot tugging on it to ensure it would work.  He started flicking his wrist getting it moving in an underhand momentum.  He circled the two girls.  He wound up his arm and brought it up and thrashed Kelley’s ass.  She gasped.  The sadist circled them again, before using it on Heather.  Heather didn’t know, that it was harder than Kelley’s had been.  He turned to face Kelley’s mom. 
   “Which bitch?  I’d prefer your daughter.  D’you know what I ‘m gonna do to her?”  Rebecca broke down into sobs. 
   “Hurt me, leave them alone, they’re just kids for God’s sake,” Rebecca yelled at him, equal parts anger and fear.
   “How should I hurt you, my dear?”  He asked, seeming to forget about killing her.  Whether or not, he was actually going to kill her or not, she didn’t want to find out. 
   “How do you want me to hurt you?”  Khassam repeated.  Rebecca didn’t know what to say.  She didn’t want him to hurt her, and she certainly didn’t want to decide how she got hurt.  Khassam shrugged and whipped Kelley again, as he circled around preparing to thrash Heather, Dan lifted his head up. 
   “Me, hurt me,” he pleaded.  Khassam ignored him for a moment.  He thrashed Heather’s ass. 
   “When it’s time to hurt you, Mr. Big Shot Lawyer, you’re loosing your balls.  It’s either gonna be someone here, or Keith.  Don’t worry, you’ll get castrated,” Khassam said as he hit Kelley again.          ”Please just let my family go, and I’ll…” Dan began.  Khassam fired a shot past them. 
   “The next time someone speaks, other than Rebecca telling me how she wants me to be hurt, their little girl is dead.  Understand?”  The three grown ups all nodded. He reached up and placed the gun against the crack at Kelley’s ass.  “You got ten seconds bitch, before I shove this up your little girls ass,” he said.  The 21 year old and her cousin both screamed. 
   “Rape me, whip me, use me as a cheap whore, a cum dump.  Please stop hurting Kelley.  Don’t hurt my daughter,” she finished in tears.  Khassam smiled. 
   “Not yet my eager little slut.”  He laughed.  He left the captives as he walked away as Rebecca hung her head in humiliation. 

It was getting toward nightfall, when Keith emerged from the house.  He was carrying a large plate.  The prisoners hadn’t been fed all day.  He stood between Dan and Dena and overturned the plate.  Seven pieces of bacon landed on the dirty floor between them.  The three Jews, turned away and refused to look at it.  Their hunger wasn’t so bad that they would compromise and eat bacon.  The girls weren’t even offered food.  Heather would eat the bacon if it were offered.  Keith shrugged. 
   “Suit yourselves.  You’re not getting anything else.”  He turned his attention to the cousins hanging from the rafters from their wrists.  He lowered the chain, took the double ended penis gag, unhooked Heather and raised it again, so Kelley was again, hanging. The cousins both starting begging and crying. 
   “Don’t worry my little bitch,  you’ll get your turn.”
   “Hey, where you taking my daughter?”  Dan yelled.  Despite being chained down between his wife and her sister, he tried to stand, his rage surging.  Keith kicked him the ribs a few time, finishing off with a savage kick to the head.  His head snapped to the side, out cold. 
   “You animal, you could have killed him,” Dena shrieked. 
   “The best kind of Jew is a dead one,” Keith said pointing his gun at the back of Dan’s head. 
   “Keith, what’s the holdup?  Get the bitch quickly.  We’re going to start soon,” Khassam called.  Keith roughly forced Heather ahead of him, toward the house.  The whole family feared what was going to start soon and who would have to suffer next.  They soon heard the sound of laughter and Dena cried as she heard her little girl screaming in pain, all the way from the house. 

3
Introduce Yourself Here / Re: Old dog, new pound
« Last post by gscmar64 on January 21, 2019, 04:36:22 PM »
Welcome to our little piece of the net, hope you enjoy your time here!
4
Black Puma — Cat’s Claw
Chapter Four — Better off Without Me
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Life used to be beautiful and so filled with love when he was young. Now that his childhood had passed, his youth faded, and middle age loomed close at hand, he wondered where all the love had gone. Remembering his sweet Daiyu, the love they exchanged, and the life they had lived, Shui felt the loss deeply. Where had all the love gone?

When this mess was over, he would have to find love again. Yes, start over anew. Only he couldn’t with her. She had died at his hand, by order of his master. Why hadn’t he fled with her, rather than kill her? He could never return to Taiwan. You don’t kill the head of the triad and return to China, unless you are powerful enough to take his place. Perhaps he could take over in Taiwan. If he became the big boss here, he might be able to return. He had hidden for years, but Griggs found him and brought him over to America. If Griggs mind descended into madness; he could supplant him. He might be able to spread his control past Tinsel-town, before returning to Taiwan as a conquering hero.

He had to keep it all in the correct order though and must not get ahead of himself. First business at hand was the cat. His spy gave him the information. The small app he had planted on the phone of an informant then spread to the phone of her inventor. The man who kept tabs on things. He still didn’t know the man’s name, but he saw every text that the man sent.

“Meeting, tonight. Corner one block north of previous event. Meet Andersen 10pm,” the text read.

“What’s the meeting about?” came the reply from the cat.

“411,” it read.

****

Conner Andersen stood on the brink. He’d sell out Griggs that night. He’d be dead my morning if it didn’t work, even if it did work, he might be already dead and not just know it yet. He wouldn’t do this, if he hadn’t already done so. Across the street, Shui stood in his own protective suit, waiting in the shadows.

Andersen stood beside the darkened door of a dilapidated building with its red-light glowing. The bright red light letting any passersby know the whorehouse was open for business. Anderson sucked on a big cigar waiting, puffing out thick plumes of white smoke. He’d have to leave town one way or the other, that was just the way it was.

When the whine of the motorcycle interrupted the clam, the sound alerted them both. They knew her arrival was imminent, Andersen entered the establishment. Conner Andersen would never be seen again in Tinsel Town.

What’s this, Shui wondered, why does he leave? The roar of the cycle quieted right behind Shui. Turning he saw her standing beside her bike holding up a cell phone. She dropped the phone, grinding it under her boot. He looked at his own which showed she wasn’t where she was. Damn, he thought.

“My man is smarter than you, Mr. Shui,” she said. “Shall we dispense with the toys?” She unbuckled her gun belt, then laid it over the seat of the cycle, calmly facing the man. “Mono e mono?”

“Hand to hand it is then,” he said, a smirk on his face. Pulling his gun from its holster, he dropped it to the ground. Shui turned to Black Puma, taking a fighting stance, and motioned for her to come and get it. She closed the distance between them in a slow stride, her face, what he could see of it, was placid, devoid of expression. Only her eyes betrayed her defiance, with their hardened quality still visible even behind the mask.

In a blur, Puma’s body twisted, Shui pushed an arm up, but the booted foot flashed by his useless block, clobbering his left temple. He plummeted to the ground under her onslaught. Shui’s temple throbbed as jagged fingers of fire shot from his temple down to his neck. Blood trickled down the side of his face, over his cheek and splattered on the ground.

Black Puma moved away; her feet spread apart, hands out, waiting for his counter attack. Placing a hand on the rough, brick wall, he willed himself to his feet. Standing, Shui attempted to gain his senses, blinking his eyes, unable to focus fully.

“You…hurt me,” he said, incredulous. Letting his hand fall from the wall, Shui again took a fighting stance. Rushing at Puma, he swung a fist, but Shawanda effortlessly swiveled to one side and struck the back of his neck with an open hand. Shui crashed to the ground for a second time, cursing inwardly.

Jumping up, he rushed at her with head bowed, thrusting his head to her mid-section. Puma grabbed his shoulders with both hands, pulled him upward, jerked his feet off the ground and spun him. Puma let go, watching as Shui Ki crashed to the cobblestoned alley. His back exploded in pain, and looking up at her, his anger flared. No one had done this to him. No one before had hurt him. Despite the pain, he leapt up, rotated, and kicked hard, landing a foot on her chest.

Shawanda staggered back a step, then two. He saw his advantage and rushed her again, hitting her with a flurry of punches that belted her face, chest, and belly. Shawanda took a wobbly step back, before regaining her footing. Taking the offensive once more, Black Puma shook off his blows, letting loose with a barrage of punches of her own. Futilely, he tried to block the blows, but his arms were too slow. He was not as young as he once was. The wind hammered from his lungs as she pummeled his chest, causing Shui to slump to his knees, attempting to catch his breath. He tried to stand but failed. Hacking in air, trying to re-inflate his lungs, he croaked out the only words he could form.

“You…hurt…me.” He couldn’t contain his astonishment.

Puma stood behind him taking his head in her hands. She touched his cheeks for a moment, tenderly, all but loving, then the Cat twisted his head sharp and hard. The snap echoed in the alley.

“I thought you would be more of a challenge,” the Cat said.

Where does mercy go? He wondered, seeing his dead lover waiting for him. He knew Daiyu held no mercy for him. So, this is my end.

****

“Fucking ghost,” Griggs said, marching around the office. “That’s what she is—a fucking ghost. She walks through walls or something.”

“Boss, Shui didn’t take her serious,” the bodyguard said.

“Well, believe you me,” Griggs said, “I take her fucking serious. She’s killing everybody, and those she doesn’t kill, she makes me kill.” Moving to the door, he opened it and stepped into the outer office, yelling out at the staff. “Where the fuck is a hitman that can kill her?” He stared at the men and women. They stood there hunching their shoulders. A young girl snapped her gum, then looked at him and mumbled something.

“What?” he said. The hooker repeated her words.

“I thought you was the most dangerous person alive. Shouldn’t you be the person what kills her?”

Reaching inside his coat, Jason pulled out his gun, aimed and pulled the trigger. A deafening bark from the gun filled the room, white smoke hung in the air. The back of the girl’s head exploded all over the man beside her and wall behind them. A jagged half inch circle marked the final resting place of the bullet. The whore slumped to ground. Griggs ambled over to her, stumbling twice, gawked down at the girl, then spat on her.

“Anyone else got a stupid comment?” he asked, turning his attention to the crowd of employees. No one did.

“Hey, you,” he said, pointing in the general direction of a group of workers bundling money on a covered library table. “You,” he repeated as everyone stared at him, begging not to be the one he indicating. “You, in the fucking pinstriped dress.”

“Me, sir?” she asked.

“Yeah, what do you do for me? Are you a whore? A grafter? What?”

“I’m an accountant. I do the laundering, and I…”

“I don’t care about that,” he said, ogling her as he moved toward her, grabbing a handful of breast. “Yeah, you’ll do,” he said.

“What?” She felt dirty from his touch.

“I need to poke something. You’ll do.”

Two hours later she emerged from his inner office, bruised, and torn, feeling dirtier than she had ever felt in her life, yet still defiantly hating him in her silent walk away from him.

****

“I think, in the beginning, your father hired me because I was white. I believe having a white servant…” Collins stopped, changing his mind about sharing those feelings from so long ago. He rubbed on Shawanda’s muscles, kneading them, working out the soreness from her brief battle.

“Richard, I know,” Shawanda Jones rolled her head toward him. “He treated you like his white nigger for a few years. You became…” she smiled at him, “a member of the family though.” She returned her head back into the hole of the massage table. “You’re my last family member.”

“Ma’am, I think Lacey Barton would like to join our little family,” he told her. “I like her ma’am. She’s good for you.”

“I shouldn’t have people close to me,” she said, her voice distant.

“Nonsense. Life without love isn’t worth living,” Richard Collins said, pausing in his massaging as a memory overtook him. “If not for you, well, I wouldn’t have had a reason to go on with life.”

“I’m sorry. She was very special to me also.” She remembered all too well the slow, agonizing death that cancer brought to Richard Collins’s wife, Elizabeth.

“I remember,” Collins said, with a small, sad smile, “Elizabeth teaching this precious five-year-old to hit a tennis ball. She was so proud of you when you turned pro. We all were,” he said, finishing with her muscles and stepping back, looking aside as she rose from the table. Once her robe was on, Shawanda turned to him, pulled the old man to her and hugged him close.

“I love you, Richard,” she said. She held him, wanting his pain to end.

“It’s alright,” he told her, patting her on the back. “It’s all better now.” It’s all better now. He had told her that since she was three years old. After she skinned her knee, Collins would clean it and then kiss it say, “see, it’s all better now.”

When she was eliminated from her first professional tournament, he’d hugged her holding on to her while telling her how proud they were of her, “see, it’s all better now. You’ll get them next time.”

On that terrible day, her father and mother died, she vowed she had played her last tournament. Her last American Open, before the final match, Collins had hugged her. “Win or lose, this is just the end of act one, not the end. See, it’s all better now.”

But it wouldn’t be ‘all better’ until she cleaned up that rat hole, Shabby Heights. Until they all paid for what happened to her father and mother, nothing would be all better.

“Young Miss Lacey waits for you in the study,” Collins said. “I think it has been such a long time that she is…all lathered up,” he said, giving her a knowing smile. “Go see her, relax tonight, and return to the battle tomorrow.”

****

“A woman,” Griggs said, moving to the digital window. He looked out at the video of the Rocky Mountains. “Yeah, that’s what we need. A woman. A skilled female assassin. It takes a bitch to kill a bitch.” Jason Griggs couldn’t stand still. Pacing around the room, he kept muttering the words over and over, “Got to get a woman. Female assassin.”

Griggs picked up the telephone and dialed the last number he ever wanted to call, then waited for her to answer.

“Privet?” The woman answered in Russian.

“Tatyana,” he said.

“Da, what is it?” Tatyana snapped at him.

“I need a woman to kill the Cat.”

“Nyet,” she said.

“Oh, come on, you haven’t heard my proposition.”

“Nyet, but maybe if you meet my conditions then I kill her for you. So, this is my terms. I torture you to death, take over your operation and then kill Cat,” Tatyana told him, then poured a double shot of fridge vodka, lifted the glass to her lips and drank it down in one swift gulp.

“I won’t agree to that,” he said.

“Then I wait till Puma kills you. Then I take over and kill her.” Slamming down the phone, Tatyana smiled, sipping on the vodka.

Griggs talked to himself again, moving around the room in a hyped-up caffeine and coke powered rage, repeating, “Need a bitch to kill the Cat.”

“What about Raeann Blackthorn?” the bodyguard asked.

“Who?”

“Raeann Blackthorn, hitter out of Rock Bottom, also known as Ice or Cold as Ice. I heard she’s hanging out at South Beach, just soaking up the sun. She did a big job for…”

“Raeann, yeah, sure, sure. A boxer, martial artist, hitter, yeah, she’s lethal as hell. Sure, that’s an idea,” he agreed, turning to his bodyguard, “Sam, pull this off and you can have South Central. Would you like that? Can you get her?”

“You don’t want to do that,” Sam hesitated, “I ain’t got the brains to run a crew, boss. But … I can get the bitch, that can kill the Cat for you. Yeah, and sure as shit, she can kill the Black Puma. If this pans out, would you send the wife and me to the islands on vacation?”

“Hell, Sammy boy, you make this happen I’ll buy you an island,” he said. “If Blackthorn manages to kill Black Puma.”

“Square deal? I mean you’ll have to let her pimp know so she can go for a while.”

“Yes, square deal Sam. I won’t just let him know she can take off, Sammy boy. If there’s no more Puma, hell son, I’ll free your wife. She won’t have to hook anymore,” he said.

Yet even before Sam had left the room to call Raeann Blackthorn, the doubt crept back into Griggs’s brain. He knew it was futile. No one can kill the Puma, she was a ghost not a person.

****

Emotion swept over the two women. Like waves crashing on a rocky beach, they ebbed and flowed from euphoria to ecstasy and back again. Physical pleasure brought an inner warmth, a bonding driving them in a harmony of purpose. Fingers touched, prodded and explored. Lips met lips, necks, breasts, bellies and further down, the fire growing until they tumbled down, like skydivers plummeting toward earth.

In a tangle of arms and legs, the lovers held onto one another after the play ended until Morpheus embraced the pair. When dawn’s early light flooded the room, Lacey got out of bed and pulled the shades, then she sat on the edge of the bed watching Shawanda sleep. Pulling the sheet aside Lacey studied Shawanda’s body, surveying every curve, the bulge of every muscle, the dark, ebony beauty of her flesh. The scars and the small stitches falling from the repaired incisions. Reaching out, she grabbed the remnant of a dissolving stitch and tugged free of the skin.

Why, she wondered, why take the risk, to free people that don’t deserve your efforts? She ran her hand over the sleeping woman’s face. She was a good person; Lacey Barnes knew that. She returned to her position in bed, her back to the woman, and with care she lifted the woman’s arm and put it around her. Clutching Shawanda’s strong, muscled arm to her body, taking comfort from her touch.

She could rest like this, forever. Secure in the powerful embrace of the gentlest person she had ever known. That other person, Black Puma, that person she knew but didn’t know. Where did the rage come from, that driving force that drove Puma? What caused it? She needed to know, to understand.

Shawanda Jones needed her rest, but Lacey Barnes needed answers. Rising again, Lacey dressed and made her way to the kitchen where Collins sat reading the paper. Looking up over his glasses, he smiled at the young woman.

“Coffee?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, “but I can get it myself.”

“No, I don’t mind,” he said, putting down his cup.

“But I mind,” she said, moving past him, and pouring herself a cup. “Want me to top you off, Mr. Collins?”

“No need to use the Mr.—just Collins is fine. ‘Tisn’t proper for a servant to be served,” he told her.

“I don’t care about all that crap,” she said pouring the coffee into his cup.

“Well, young minds have fresh ideas, even if they are revolutionary,” he said, cocking an eye, smiling his friendly warm smile. “Thank you. Now what is it you want to know?”

“How…”

“Years of practice in reading minds. What is it you want to know?” he told her.

“Why is Shawanda so…Obsessed?” she asked.

“Obsessed? Is that the right word for it? You make it sound as if she isn’t in full possession of her faculties.”

“I don’t know that she is. Something drives her do what she does, and I want to know what it is.”

“Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord,” Collins said. “Only God did nothing to right the wrong.”

“What wrong?”

“Her mother and father’s deaths,” Collins said. “We were at the American Open, which turned out to be her last match. Just before the final set, she received word of their death. She played anyway. As much out of anger as anything,” he told her.

“Yeah, I heard about them dying in a car accident,” Lacey said.

“No, child, it was no accident. They were gunned down in their car. Her father had announced the impending creation of a special police force to combat crime…”

“I heard about that, but I didn’t hear about any shooting,” Lacey broke in on him.

“Well, he had found five men to be on that force. He would find more, and they would form a private police force. Regulators … authorized by a special act of the state legislature to clean up The City. But Griggs ended the idea in a hail of gunfire.  ‘The villainy you teach me, I will execute, and it shall go hard but I will better the instruction.’ The Merchant of Venice,” he explained. “It’s in act 3, but the scene and line escape me.”

“What do you mean?” Lacey struggled to understand.

“She returns wrongs for wrongs,” Collins told her, “with the best of intentions, to teach them a lesson. Prick us do we not bleed, wrong us do we not take revenge?”

“You approve of this,” Lacey asked.

“You don’t? You want to trust a law that abandons three square miles to its own fate? I worry about her, but I support her actions. If I were younger, I would be right there fighting alongside her.” Drinking his coffee, he returned to his reading.

“I’m afraid she will get herself killed,” Lacey said.

“Don’t be,” the voice came from behind Lacey, and turning she saw Shawanda standing in the door of the kitchen.

“I am. I can’t help it. At first, I was excited to have discovered your identity. But then that explosion and the fear…”

“You don’t have to stay. I understand.” Shawanda Jones walked past her and poured herself a cup of coffee.

“Shawanda, ma’am that is my job,” Collins said. She moved to him and rubbed her hand over his thinning hair.

“It’s Sunday, take it easy. No one could replace the irreplaceable Robert Collins,” she smiled at him. “Just take it easy today, old man.”

“I didn’t say I wanted to leave,” Lacey replied.

“Then there are some aspects of this you will just have accept,” Shawanda told her.

“Yeah, I guess so. Who trained you?” she asked.

“I’m afraid,” Collins said, raising his hand, “I’m the guilty party. I’m a Marine. And Shawanda has been learning since she was, what, three?”

“Yeah, I think. He sent me to the best self-defense schools. I learned offence as well,” Shawanda said.

“So,” Lacey turned from Shawanda to Collins, “Can you train me?”

“No, he can’t.”

****

Her hips rolled and the man under her lurched then fell back, before repeating the motion as he moved through his orgasm. His heavy breathing was accompanied by profuse sweating, and grabbing her hips, he held her tight as his pecker spit its last discharge into the condom. She lay on top of him, turning her head sideways on his chest. Pressing her ear to the left pec, she listened to the thump of his heart beating at a furious rate. Then it began to beat harder, faster and uneven, rushing and stopping only resume its rush.

“Does it hurt yet?” she asked, the question coming from nowhere.

“What?” he asked, as she raised herself, gazing down at him.

“Does your heart hurt yet?” she asked in a level monotone.

He looked at her, unsure what she asked and unable to read her expression. At that moment, that precise second in time, the first twinge of pain hit him, and inside his chest, his heart fluttered. A slight ache spread across in his chest, a pressure at first, before it felt like a stream of electricity racing around his heart.

“It’s the nicotine,” she said.

“I don’t smoke,” he said, not understanding.

“Yeah, but still, you know … it is the nicotine.”

“What nicotine?” he asked her, confused as the twitching and pain intensified.

“The nicotine I coated on the inside of your rubber. The nicotine that entered your blood system when your engorged cock went flaccid.” She put her hand on his chest. “It raced to your heart, elevated your heart rate, causing it to beat wildly out of control. It’s thumping away right now.” Below her hand, his chest hammered, as though it would burst. “You’re going to die, and no one will know shit about why. They’ll figure a fat old fart got too excited while fucking and keeled over from the effort.

“What the…?” His heart raced out of control, as throbbing pain radiating down his left arm. His neck and head hurt like hell.

Jumping up off him, she began to taunt him. “Get up and strike me down before you die. Come on big boy, try and kill me. We can die together,” she said.

With all his strength, he managed to stand, but when he tried to move toward her, he failed, collapsed to the floor clutching his left arm with his right hand.

“You that much of wimp you can’t even land a single blow?” she called out to him.

Pushing up, he tried to stand, watching the drool fall from his mouth to the floor, making it slippery under his hands. His heart beat like a hammer, and he was sure it would explode. He managed to get on his knees, then turned a hateful stare to her as thick slobber ran down his chin.

“Bitch,” he said, spewing spit from his mouth before falling to the carpet. His heart no longer hammered in his chest. His heart no longer beat at all.

Removing her cleaning kit, she set about sanitizing the room. At last, she removed the condom from his cock, washed his pecker clean with a baby wipe, then sterilized his belly, legs, hands and even his tongue, destroying every trace of her.

Walking out of the room, Raeann pulled her cell out and dialed the number.

“Tell Mr. Griggs it’s one million or nothing,” she said. “All in advance. If it goes wrong, well, if it goes wrong, I want to be certain my daughter will have the money.”

“It won’t go wrong, Ice,” Sam told her.

“Yeah, I’m betting that Hildegard and Shui thought the same thing.” She switched the phone off and stuffed it back in her bag. She would have to visit Teddy and see if he had something special for her. She would need every trick she could muster to beat this bitch.

Getting in her car she started the motor, listening to the satisfying roar of the engine. She wanted to rush down the highway and drive the thrill of the kill out of her system. She didn’t. She drove the speed limit minus three miles per hour. Pulling up to the dock, she stopped the car. She stared at her daughter’s picture for an hour. She missed her ten-year-old girl, who by all accounts, was treated well by her father and his wife.

Once she finished with her self-inflicted mental abuse, she got on her boat. Moving out of Biscayne Bay, she guided the craft expertly and raced out to sea. Happy with the distance from shore, she brought the boat to a stop, then dumped the condom, the wipes, and all the little tale-tale pieces of evidence into the ocean.

She dialed the number on the burner satellite phone she retrieved from her pocket. “This is Ice. It’s done.” Not waiting for her employer’s reply, she disconnected and tossed the phone into the water, and watched it sink beneath the waves. Then unwilling to head back to shore, she sped around in the boat to release the pent-up energy from her system.

She would change her rate of $300,000 a hit to half a million or more if she survived the next job. Shutting off the engine, she let the boat drift in the current. Stripping naked, she sunbathed on the padded bench seat at the rear of the boat. The early morning rays felt good on her skin. She would be hot soon, well hotter, as her body temperature was three-quarters of a degree above what most people’s normal was.

Rubbing the sunblock over her body, the sun made hot, passionate love to her tight, curvy body. Her fingers dance over her flesh, touching, pinching, her breast her belly, her sweet wet pussy. She pushed her fingers inside herself as her breath quickened. Soon she rocked and bucked as she pleasured herself far more than a mere man could. Satisfied at last, she lay in the sun’s warm embrace in the afterglow, before she turned her thoughts to the Black Puma.

She wanted to fight hand to hand with this bitch, either break her neck or better still, just kick her body until she broke every bone. She let an agitated yelp at the thought of destroying the woman.

****

“A million bucks. It’s going to cost me a million bucks. In advance! Well so be it, but if she doesn’t kill the bitch, I’ll kill Raeann Blackthorn myself,” Griggs said.

“Boss, if she doesn’t kill her, the Puma will have already killed Ice and save you the trouble,” Sam told him.

“Hellfire, there is that, yeah. Damn, this bitch drives up the cost big time. She kills or damages everyone. Damn, in the end, she’ll kill you and me,” he told Sam, sitting down in his chair before laying his head on his desk and promptly falling asleep. He never slept long, he’d see his sisters face, and wake up screaming.

Outside the office in the outer room, the staff brought in the last nights take. Laying out the money, the count began as they justified all the books. Sheila Wells calculated the best businesses to use that day to launder the twelve million from yesterday’s take. At last, it was all wrapped and divided between fifteen bundles, then wrapped in plastic to be delivered to the fifteen businesses for deposit over the next few days.

“Hey, you. What’s your name?” Sheila’s blood ran cold at her boss’s voice.

“Sheila, sir,” she said. Turning to her boss, she continued, “I’m the accountant in charge…”

“You’re not paid to bore me. Get your cute ass over here and suck my dick,” he said.

“Sir, I’m not employed for that purpose,” she protested. Perhaps Sheila didn’t grasp the concept that her boss had lost his mind.

“Okay, you’re not employed to suck dick,” he said aiming his automatic .45 caliber handgun at her. “Want to suck this instead?” Sheila crept over to him, descending to her knees.

“I’m married,” she said, hoping he would respect that.

“Don’t care,” he snapped. “Now get to work.”

That night Sheila’s husband was murdered in cold blood. They found him lying in a Watt’s alley, near where he sold Griggs’s special candy to the kids, soaked in his own blood. It was obvious why he’d been killed, and by whom. Sheila moved into the complex the next morning, becoming the personal property of Jason Griggs.

****

The young girl looked at the woman visitor. She had never seen this woman before, and the girl couldn’t get over how beautiful the woman was. She also knew, in some way, she looked somewhat like the woman, with their similar noses and lips. Her mother and father left the room. Pausing at the door, her father gazed at the woman, and smiled awkwardly.

“Sweetie, visit with the nice lady,” he told the girl, before turning to the woman, “Don’t confuse her, okay?”

“I understand,” she said, drawn to the girl. “Wait,” she remembered, standing, and hurrying after the man, her high heels clicking on the hardwood floors. “For her fund.” Raeann held out a fat envelope to the man. He took it and smiled.

“I,” he couldn’t say what he wanted, “Thanks.” He turned, feeling the hefty envelope, and wondered how much was in it. There was also the curiosity of how many people died for her to earn it.

“Raeann,” he said, “you don’t have to do this.” He held the envelope back toward her.

“Yes, I do,” she insisted. “There’s no point or purpose to my life if I don’t…” nodding her head in the direction of the girl, “provide.” David left the room, leaving them alone.

“Hi,” she said to the girl, “I’m Raeann, what’s your name?”

“Lynn,” the ten-year-old said. “Well, Carolynn, but I like Lynn better. Don’t you?”

“I do. My mommy’s name was Carolynn. I bet you didn’t know that, did you?”

“No, I didn’t,” she answered the woman, “my mommy’s name is Betty, well my step mom. My real mommy is dead. Hey, her name was Raeann too.” Something inside the girl’s head clicked. “They lied to me, didn’t they?”

“What lie did they tell you?” she asked.

“They said you were dead and you’re not dead. You’re my mommy,” she said, tears streaming down her face. “Why did they tell me that?”

“I wanted them to, because I’m an awful person,” she told the girl. “I didn’t want you to know that.”

“Why?”

“Because you are an extremely good girl,” she said. “Mommy didn’t want her good girl to know how bad her mommy was.”

“I don’t care if you’re bad, I want to be with you.”

“You can’t,” she said.

The girl ran to her mother and held her tight. “Why did you come?” she asked.

“Because I’m going away, and I wanted to see you and hold you one last time,” she said.

“Don’t go,” she begged her.

“I have to go now. I won’t be back Lynn, but I love you,” she said.

“Why?” she asked.

“You don’t need me in your life,” she said.

“I want you to come back,” the girl said, crying harder every moment.

“We’ll see,” she said, then added, “if I can, I will. Don’t tell daddy you know who I am, because he wouldn’t like that.” Eight years previously Raeann had walked away from her family. Just shucked it all and ran. She never intended to see her daughter again. But David always sent her pictures, every few months they came to her, after she let him know where she was.

She helped the girl dry her eyes and kissed her. Then took her to her bedroom and tucked her in for the night, kissing her. The girl smiled at her mother.

“Remember mums the word about me being your mommy,” Raeann said, as the girl nodded to her.

At the door, she again smiled and then exited before making her way to the front door.

“It would best if you didn’t return,” Betty told her.

“Betty,” David snapped, “Lynn’s her daughter. You’re welcome here anytime. It really is good to see you.”

“I won’t be back,” she held out a slip of paper to him. “That’s an account in the Caymans. It’s for you and Carolynn. Don’t worry Betty, I won’t be back. David, I’m sorry for…oh, so, much. Most of all, I’m sorry you found out what I did for a living.”

Raeann Blackthorn walked out the door, not waiting for David’s response. He followed her out the door asking her to stop so he could talk to her. She ignored him, getting in her car, and driving away, crying for the life she never had. David watched her car taillights until he could see them no more.

“What’s wrong with you?” Betty asked. “What the hell was that about?” she asked, angry and worried.

“Shut up Betty, just shut the fuck up, please. Everything will be back to normal soon enough.”

“Are you still in love with her?” she asked grabbing his arm.

Turning he looked at her, a flash of hate in his eyes before it returned to his usual bland expression. He shook his head. Walked to the front door and laid his head against it and patted the door.

“No, I’m still in love with the woman I thought she was,” he told her. “That person never existed, so, how do I put her behind me? Doesn’t mean I don’t love you.” Turning to her, he smiled as his old self reemerged. “Whereas you are exactly the girl I fell in love with,” he said.

The difference between him referring to Raeann as a woman and her as the girl didn’t get past Betty. He viewed her as a girl and his ex as a woman. Even so, they were in love, or at least she was.

Raeann Blackthorn glanced in the rearview, then thought, Don’t look back—she’s better off without me.
[/size]
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Movie Discussions / Re: Movies with rape scenes
« Last post by vile8r on January 20, 2019, 03:50:03 PM »
Yes the 1970s and early 80s were good times for rape scene material, some more graphic than others, but even some of the not-so-graphic stuff was pretty good, as it put your imagination to work as to what really happened that didn't get shown.

I seem to remember in the mid-1980s, there was a pilot for a TV cop show. I can't remember the name of the show and it didn't run for that long. Didn't make a full season anyway. But in the pilot, the cops were trying to track down a serial rapist who was terrorizing young college women. There was one really good scene where a woman is tied up and raped in the backseat of a car. It showed him slicing her clothes off with a knife. Even though, of course, it showed no nudity, after all it WAS primetime TV, it was still one of the most graphic scenes I'd ever seen on a TV show.
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Movie Discussions / Re: Movies with rape scenes
« Last post by Inner Darkness on January 20, 2019, 06:58:00 AM »
Some of the older movies out there have some of the best material.

One really oddball movie with plenty of rape is "Roller Blade" (You are not allowed to view links. Register or Login)
It's a post-apocalypse setting with everyone on roller skates.

Not as graphic but with a nice, prolonged bondage sequence is "Terror Among Us" (You are not allowed to view links. Register or Login).
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Movie Discussions / Re: Anyone into horror movies?
« Last post by Inner Darkness on January 20, 2019, 06:39:08 AM »
Horror movies were part of where I could indulge my dark side growing up.

1980's "Mothers Day" (You are not allowed to view links. Register or Login) was a classic for me.

Another great 1980 movie was "Don't Answer The Phone!" (You are not allowed to view links. Register or Login)

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Introduce Yourself Here / Old dog, new pound
« Last post by Inner Darkness on January 20, 2019, 06:23:27 AM »
Hello, everyone.

The first few lyrics of "Sympathy For The Devil" run through my head, but by this point are probably trite. Also, while I do have taste my 'wealth' is modest. Mostly it is experience.

I soon to be 57 years old. Male, dominant sadist with a love for forced fantasies. While I have been doing BDSM for years I still am drawn to the fantasy of power stripped away from a woman by force. Bondage, fear, or conditioning. I am particularly drawn to fantasies where the woman is made to orgasm against her will and is further humiliated by her rapist for cumming from rape.

My nickname is part of how I see myself. Like the fictional Dexter (both print and video) I wear a mask to hide the dark evil that is always just beneath the surface.

In signing on here I read through the rules and like the parts that are firm. The single account rule helps to cut down on behaviors that can quickly snowball and ruin a forum. Some people like to stir shit up and don't care that they are ruining a needed outlet for others.

I hope to get to know you all in the near future.
ID
9
Play Room / Re: Vile8r's Humour
« Last post by vile8r on January 19, 2019, 10:00:52 PM »
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Forced Sex Stories / Re: Take Me Grl stories
« Last post by MillieDynamite on January 19, 2019, 05:45:37 PM »
Jed what was her pen name, maybe she has a new site!!!
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