Author Topic: Black Puma – Cat’s Claw Chapter Five — Darkness is My Bride by Millie Dynamite  (Read 649 times)

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January 29, 2019, 12:48:18 PM

Offline MillieDynamite

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Black Puma – Cat’s Claw
Chapter Five — Darkness is My Bride

Jason Griggs rose early that morning. His empire crumbled around him, and he had to oversee the destruction. His mind teetered between sanity and psychosis as his guilt consumed him. By killing his twin, Jason had in effect, murdered a part of himself. The most terrible part of it all, Jason Griggs was fully aware his world was crashing down around him, yet nothing he could do would stop it from happening. That bitch. That Black Puma bitch had brought this on him.

Griggs stopped at the door, staring blankly at the woman in his bed. It took a minute as the recollection of having her husband killed and taking her as his own crept back into his fevered brain. Why the hell had he done that? Her curvaceous body did nothing to tell him why he had wanted her so badly that he would kill her husband. She was just a woman; he could have two hundred women by just snapping his fingers. Why this one?

Sheila lay on the bed rolled into a tight ball. Her world had been blown apart, exploding into a million pieces. Her…lover…master, whatever he was, grew more unstable each day. Every blow to his organization by Black Puma sent him reeling in new directions. Every twist and turn he made affected her. His anger burst forth in blinding flashes, and Sheila caught the brunt of each outburst. To add insult to injury, she wasn’t allowed to claim her husband’s body. The City planted him like garbage in a landfill. He rested in Potters Field with a number and no name on an insignificant flat stone marker.

Jason Griggs hovered on the edge of sanity—most often on the wrong side. His last hope arrived from Florida, and a new plot hatched. Griggs refused to leave his hideout. He no longer left the lower levels of the underground structure.

Much of the day, Griggs sat at his desk, drinking bourbon straight from the bottle and whispering to himself. When he had flashes of anger, he would seek out Sheila and…use her. Her own mind had begun to unravel. She wanted Griggs dead but lacked the courage to kill him herself.

For Jason Griggs and Sheila Wells day and night merged. Darkness and light became inseparable, or at least indistinguishable. The darkness inside each of them ate at their souls, threatening to consume them whole.

Around ten in the morning, the darkness consumed Jason. Guilt and anger built until he could contain it no longer. He needed an outlet, something he could use to release his rage. He walked out of his office, watching the people bundling all that money, placing the packs in neat stacks for distribution to the legit businesses. All the while, Sheila Wells worked on her computer, taking a tally, and entering the numbers into spreadsheets. She would then name the business and dollar amount that was to be taken to it to be cleaned. Every time she said the name of a laundry or cleaners, the group broke into laughter.

The business suit she wore fit her like a hand in a glove, with the fabric clinging to her appealing curves. Griggs watched the woman while his inner demon grew more displeased every minute. His cock twitched, and swelled, it tented up in his pants. Standing up, Sheila moved to a pile of money and with her back to Griggs, she bent over the stack, checking, and recounting the stacks of 50’s and 100’s. Her ass stuck out in Griggs direction. He could wait no longer.

In a quick stride, he moved to her, lifting Sheila’s skirt over her hips with one hand, and shoving her face down into the pile of money with the other. With angry quick tears, he shredded her pantyhose, then ripped her thong and twisted the remnants out of his way.

“Keep your face down there,” he barked at her. Opening his fly, he pulled his stiff prick out and rubbed her pussy lips. Dry as a parched desert, but he didn’t care. Didn’t care if she wanted it, didn’t care if she would enjoy it. It had nothing to do with her, apart from his control of her. To prove the point, he jabbed inside her unwilling opening in one, massive hard thrust.

“Damn dry whore,” he hissed as he jabbed inside her with a vicious, hostile gusto. “You’re so fucking tight, your husband must have had a pencil dick,” he snarled.

Why did he have to insult her husband? Wasn’t it enough he’d had him killed? “No…please not in front of them…” she begged. Against her will, she began to react to his aggression. The moisture grew, and she pushed back as he thrust inside her. A moan, long, low and from deep inside her escaped her lips.

Pulling her arms behind her, he clutched them with one hand. He plunged his cock, deep inside her, interring her balls deep. He watched her pert ass moving as he fucked her, squeezing, and pinching her ass with his free hand.

“Ah,” she let out this little gasp and another deep moan. “Make them leave,” Sheila pleaded. Letting go of Sheila’s hands, he pulled her to him by her hair. Tucking the suite coat from her shoulders he tossed on the table in front of her, covering a bundle of 800,000 dollars of neatly wrapped money.

“No.” His hands opened her silk blouse and pushed her bra up above her breasts. He fondled them, pinching the nipples, and twisting them. Her ragged breathing rasped from her as the moans and groans increased. She hated this … but loved how it made her feel. Both were true and it shamed her.

He rammed her with heated aggression, abandoning any concern for the onlookers. Harder and rougher Griggs stuck his cock deep inside Sheila Wells’ wet pussy. The sensations stunned Sheila as she whimpered and cooed. Her shame tearing her apart far more than his onslaught.

“Oh, sweet Lord, oh God,” she screamed. He pushed her down over the table once again, forced her feet further apart, and taking her hips in his hand he picked up his pace even more. Sheila’s body quivered from the pleasure.

The shame boiled inside her, but her pain couldn’t compare to the humiliation of enjoying being fucked like a dog in front of the people she supervised. The gawking continued from the horrified onlookers, unable to look away from the hard, violent attack. The pained looks of empathy, and the uncomfortable gazes of women that thanked the powers that be it was her and not them. Some of the men tried to hide their own arousal, crossing legs, dropping hands in front of their own tented pants. Then there were those few who felt the need to help, their own shame revealed in their fearful countenance. But they stood their ground, knowing Griggs would kill them if they interfered.

He couldn’t hold back any longer. He moaned and for Sheila what had seemed like an eternity of terror, shame and ecstasy concluded as he spurted the warm cum deep inside her. Jason’s cock belched out the sticky seed, coating her insides. His dick grew limp, then plopped from her, a few thick globs clinging to it. He turned and walked away, letting it hang between his legs. Thin contrails of semen dangled, danced, and dribbled to his trousers, his shoes, and the carpeted floor. He slammed the door behind him, feeling the flames from her eyes, burning into his back.

Pulling her skirt back over her hips, without missing a beat, Sheila turned to her employees. Her expression of quiet calm returned, belying the anger and shame, boiling inside her. She smoothed her suit, trying to straighten wrinkles that weren’t there, she felt the nasty discharge, oozing out of her crotch. It trickled down her legs, and clumps of disgusting semen splashed between her feet. Her body still trembled from her orgasm.

“Wipe those stupid looks off your faces and get back to work,” she ordered. Her own thoughts turned to Jake, her husband. She wanted to cry for him. She wanted to mourn ... she wanted to die with him ... wanted to escape. Her eyes landed her on coat and that one pile of $800,000 not yet allocated covered so neatly by it. Just sitting there, no one noticing it amid the chaos that had just ensued, and all eyes averted from her. No one would miss that bundle. She would wait until everyone left and pack that away in a suitcase.

And so, her plan was born. He could take her body, but not her soul. Over the next few days, she accumulated four million dollars. All Sheila Wells needed now was to take the money and run. That, and stay alive to have a new life.

****

Meanwhile, Raeann Blackthorn watched every piece of footage on Puma, every photograph. Read every news report, digested every eye witness account. She devoured, dissected, and analyzed everything available on the Black Puma. At long last, she thought she knew the woman and understood her well enough to defeat her. After all, Rae had a secret plan. Her own baby blue, protective suit was equal to Pumas.

To keep in shape, Raeann worked out with Griggs’s enforcers. It was no test of her ability. She made short work of the men, if men they be. She beat the goons in short, furious flurries. She didn’t even bother donning her armor for the fights with these fellows. They weren’t enough of a challenge to require any protection.

This job caused her consternation. The boss who hired her, Jason Griggs, was a loose cannon. She almost regretted taking the job, with Jason Griggs standing at the mouth of madness. She didn’t like working for nut jobs. No telling what he would do from one moment to the next. Even so, once you accept a hit, you can’t back out, no matter what.

****

“It’s all unraveling,” Steven said, as Shawanda strode around his lab. “The insanity of Griggs rips apart his organization at the seams. The reports from our informants indicate Griggs is slipping deeper into paranoia, depression, and insanity.”

“Is this it?” Puma asked, ignoring him while observing the black catsuit. “Is this my new…what do you call them…costume?”

“I call them protective suits,” Steven Denton said, “and yes that is it. I designed it to spread out the impact in a greater radius. Listen to me. This funk that Griggs has fallen into makes your job harder, not easier. He isn’t leaving that damn bunker.”

“Sixty days ago, my timetable had me killing him in thirty days. Shit happens. We adapt. I’ll find him and kill him, or turn him over to the cops,” Shawanda said to him.

“How do you feel, Ms. Puma?” he asked.

“I’m ready for Wimbledon,” she said. Shawanda took the suit down, feeling the material. “Not much heavier,” she said as she pulled costume from the rack, comparing the leather like material to her previous garb.

“You’ll be able to move in it the same as the last two. It’s more resistant to impacts, and like I said, it will disperse the blows out better,” Steven weighed his next words. “There’s a new hitter in town. A woman from back east.”

“I wish,” Puma let out hiss, “I wish he hadn’t hired a woman. Tell me, Steven, can you make the suit where it concentrates more energy at the point of impact? You know magnify the effect of a blow or kick?”

“I can, but it’s the reverse of the technology I used on the suit. You’d feel every blow, and every bullet impact. Sure, it would still stop bullets, but offer no protection from the impact. After all, you can only put three pounds off coffee into a three-pound coffee can.”

“Why did he have to hire a woman?” Puma asked again, her mind pondering the fact she would be fighting a woman. “What’s her name?”

“My informant said she’s Cold as Ice. I don’t know if that’s her nom de plume or just an expression for her cruelty,” Steven said.

“Cold as Ice,” the computer announced, “professional name used to identify one Raeann Blackthorn, aka, Cold as Ice or merely Ice. Credited for over one-hundred-fifty hits covering five states. Never arrested or questioned. Source, FBI Organized Crime Taskforce files. She is considered a walking lethal weapon.”

“A kindred spirt,” Puma said in hushed tone.

****

“I started tennis at eighteen. I got good but nowhere near enough to go pro,” Lacey told the old man, turning to him. “Well?” she asked, her voice ripe with anticipation.

“It’s good, though a bit hot for my taste,” Collins smiled at her. “Shawanda will love it, though. Where did you learn to cook chili?”

“I’m a Texican. All Texican’s can make Tex-Mex,” Lacey Barnes told him, lifting a spoonful to her mouth, tasting the concoction. “Not bad. So, what was it like to be a marine?”

“Vietnam wasn’t much fun,” he said. “But I was proud to serve. The CIA,” he paused thinking how to phrase it, “borrowed me, for a few years, then I left the service. Unsure what to do with my life, I followed in my father’s footsteps. My family has been service oriented for generations. Enough about me. So, you’re a Texas girl. Do you ride?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Now, that I’ll have to see,” Shawanda Jones said, walking into the kitchen.

“You will,” Lacey smiled, turning toward her, holding the big pot of chili, beaming. “Dinner is served.”

“Oh, you cook too? Look out Collins, I have your replacement lined up.”

****

If she could pull this off, it wouldn’t take Raeann long and she could retire. Find a respectable profession and start a new life. A life minus death, an absence of killing, and she could be free of doing the dirty work of others. If she could pull it off, of course. The mountain lion wouldn’t go down easy. She didn’t like the idea of killing her either. Watching the footage of her fight, there was much to admire in her form and perhaps her purpose. After all, like her, the people she worked for were bad people.

Then there was her body, for there was no denying the Puma had a physical beauty. Blackthorn loved the powerful form of her adversary. If things were different, they might have been friends, perhaps more. If Black Puma were on her side of the line, they might have been partners. Unquestionably her kills were efficient. Beyond efficient. The taking of the man’s testicles, that was both callous and novel. This cat showed no mercy. In that, they were also the same.

Still, the proficiency of the bitch was a worry. Killing Puma would not be easy. This fight was to the death. Win or die, with zero room for error. Her own suit was the key, with her own suit making genius having found a way to amplify her impacts. Testing it, she shattered a brick with one blow. She’d hammer the air right out of Puma’s lungs and smash her ribs to immobilize her. Once she had her incapacitated, she’d kill her with a few well-placed swift blows. She didn’t want the woman to suffer. None of this was desirable to her, for the more she studied the woman, the more she did not want to hurt Puma or kill her. Yet it was her job.

Had she not been able to write her own ticket she would not have taken the work. But once you take the money, politics, personal beliefs and even compassion are put to the side. They become irrelevant. After all, Rae didn’t strive for any greater good, unlike like her opponent. No, she simply worked for her own betterment and that of her child.

****

The failing organization wasn’t quite in the disarray that everyone thought it was. That was the plan, though, to make them believe that it was all falling apart. But Griggs degeneration into madness was real enough. Even so, it would appear—and be reported—that Griggs’s deep sanctuary held only him. That word would be communicated to the spies that Puma had inside the organization. They would tell her that Blackthorn had left, disgusted with Griggs, having quit the job, and returned to Florida.

Griggs was in the dark that he was the bait. He wouldn’t have liked that, but if Raeann couldn’t kill Puma his days were numbered anyway. Whether Puma died or killed Raeann, Griggs would be finished. Someone would move in and take it from him, likely killing him in the process. Blackthorn didn’t like the idea of Griggs surviving her by even an hour if she failed. So, he was the perfect enticement. Had it not been bad form, she would kill Puma and then kill him. Her future employment meant she couldn’t betray an employer, no matter how insane they were. Soon enough, she would be free of this life. A few more kills like Puma and Raeann would be set for life.

Shabby Heights took the news of Griggs men’s desertion well. His lunacy had been well reported through the grapevine. It wouldn’t be long, and Black Puma would know, Griggs cowered in fear, unprotected under that dilapidated strip club in Shabby Heights. It would just be too tempting for her not respond since he was devoid of protection.

****

The scruffy apartment surprised Lacey. The worn, faded curtains and ratty furniture looked more like it belonged to one of the whores from the street below than Shawanda, who stood peeking out the blinds at the street.

“That strip joint across the street, The Salacious Lady. That’s the cover for his den. His sanctuary is ten levels underground,” Shawanda explained. “I purchased this building not long after I returned here, to keep an eye on him. I thought tonight, we could be together. We have a few hours until I must go to work. When it’s time, Collins will pick you up and take you back to the house.”

Lacey smiled at her, gazing at the athlete in the dim light of the room. Shawanda’s body, combined with the wine she had just drunk, served to arouse her. Her nipples hardened under her blouse and sheer lacy bra. Shawanda Jones dressed in a tight-fitting top and stretch pants. Lacey knew she wore nothing under them, for they would be worn under the suit. Even the Heavens paled against the beauty of Shawanda’s tight muscled body.

“It’s not even ten,” Lacey Barton said. “You told me you wouldn’t start until at least midnight.” Her raw husky voice rasped out the statement in a breathy burst. Butterflies filled Lacey’s stomach. She had never spoken quite so brazenly to Shawanda. She had no desire to be the aggressor, because it wasn’t her place to be in control. Biting her lower lip, she hoped she hadn’t angered Shawanda.

Turning her head to the younger woman, Puma took in the sight. Lacey’s nipples poked through the bra and the blouse, her goose flesh visible in the hazy light. The girl’s cheeks were flushed, reddened from her rowdy desires. Lacey gnawed on her lower lip, her sweet face almost pleading for Shawanda to take her. Her ample breast heaved with each breath she took.

Without saying a word, Shawanda took control of the situation. Nodding her head toward the worn bed. Shawanda ordered the girl to move there with just a look. Clutching at her buttons on her blouse, Lacey started to remove her clothing, but the stern look from her lover told her to stop. Shawanda moved to the girl and looked down at her own body. Lacey’s trembling hands rolled the tight fitting stretch material over Shawanda’s hips, kneeling as she worked the pants down until Shawanda stepped free of them.

Standing again, she put her hands on the skin-tight top, her eyes turned up to the woman. Shawanda raised her arms, then bent her knees, lowering her body so Lacey could remove the clothing. Standing, Puma reached out with her long fingers, undoing one button at a time of her lover’s see-through top. Shawanda moved the blouse from Lacey’s shoulders, letting the garment drift to the floor.

Unclasping the bra, she slid the straps off the younger woman’s shoulders, and likewise, it tumbled to the ground. Taking the back of Lacey’s head in her hand she pulled her to her, cupping a breast with the other. Lacey sucked air into her lungs, a deep raspy breath, as her nipples stiffened more. Their lips met, and it began.

****

The music pounded in the woman’s head. The incessant beat drove its pulsing rhythm into her brain as she ogled the girl dancing on the stage. The men didn’t go near her, giving her a wide berth. They watched, though, unable to draw their eyes away as she tipped the dancers. They observed the woman sitting near the stage, her body undulating to the music as if she made love to one of the dancers. The current girl, a blonde with big fake tits, slowly peeled out of her sexy clothing, her eyes locked on Raeann. She crawled across the dance floor, down onto a table, then to a chair, at last, descending to the floor, slithering on all fours to the woman. Working her way up the legs of the hit woman, she rested her head in the woman’s lap.

Taking the handful of the bleached blonde hair, Rae stood, dragging the smaller woman to her feet. She suspended the girl in midair, her feet only a few inches off the floor. The woman glared at the dancer, who clutched Raeann’s wrist to lessen the stress on hair. She squealed in pain, then Rae let her fall to the floor. Placing her foot on the girl’s throat, she pressed down hard.

“You think I’m a goddamn lesbo, bitch?”

“I don’t know,” the girl croaked out in terror.

“Well, I’m not,” she said, turned, then walked away, heading for the back door to the hallways that led to the elevator. Why do bitches always think I want to eat their pussies if I look at them and admire their body, she wondered. Walking back, she grabbed one of the men by the wrist.

“Name?”

“Uh, Stan.”

“Got rubbers, Stan?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said, shocked, yet pleasantly surprised.

“Well come on then,” she ordered. Stan followed her with an eager anticipation yet some trepidation. Stanley had seen his fair share of crazy bitches before, but none were close to this one’s level.

****

Laying on the bed, Lacey took a gulp of air, unable to take her eyes off Shawanda’s glistening, ebony body, and rippled perfection. She had no idea what was to come. Shawanda stood, watching the girl. Smiling, wanting the girl so bad, she mounted the bed and straddled the girl, her hips above the girl’s face. She leaned forward, as her mouth descended between Lacey’s legs.

“See something you like?” she asked. Her hot breath moving over the girl’s quim sent shivers through the young woman’s body.

“Shit,” Lacey said, raising she kissed Shawanda’s pussy. She licked her, tongued her, and explored the sweetness that lay between the ebony beauty’s legs. Just as Shawanda did the same to her. The women breathed deep and hard as they explored the familiar territory. The box fan blew cool air over their hot, sweaty flesh, sending shivers through their hot bodies, tremors that mixed with their passion. A wet spot formed on the sheets below Lacey while Shawanda’s own fluids spread over Lacey’s face, trickling down her neck.

Breaking apart, Shawanda lay beside Lacey. With one hand, Shawanda fondled her breasts, moving from one to the other, stimulating herself, while with the other she caressed Lacey’s face.

“I felt you cum,” Shawanda told her.

“I did so …” Lacey broke off looking at her. Shawanda’s beauty overwhelmed Lacey. The powerful body, her exotic face and exceptional proportions always took her breath away. Lacey sat up on the bed, kissed Shawanda, on the lips then traveled to her neck, nibbling on her ears. All the while she touched Shawanda’s body, with gentle, loving hands that caressed and roamed across the stronger woman’s muscled physique.

“You won’t break me,” Shawanda said, putting her arms to her side. “Use me,” it wasn’t a request. Gazing into Shawanda’s eyes, Lacey began to squeeze the woman’s breasts. Shawanda’s tongue darted out of her mouth, her eyes rolled back in her head.

“Just your hands,” Shawanda told her. “At least for now.”

Lacey pinched her nipples, then worked her small hands down Shawanda’s rippled belly, squeezing the muscles roughly. Cupping a hand over the woman’s pussy, she placed her thumb on the clit and began to circle it. Rubbing it as she worked two fingers into the tight snatch of her lover.

Her pale white hands contrasted with Shawanda’s swarthy flesh. Perspiration broke out over Shawanda’s body, as her espresso-colored flesh glimmered in the rooms pale light. Her body grew blistering hot, as her pungent odor wafted in the air.

“Kiss me,” Shawanda ordered, licking her lips after she said the words. Her hips arched into Lacey’s hand. Lacey’s face moved to Shawanda’s, her lips hovered just above Shawanda’s. Their mouths met, and Lacey’s tongue darted into Shawanda’s. The embrace last minutes as Shawanda bucked on the bed. Electricity surged through her body in thousands of small tendrils over every inch of her flesh.

Their lips broke apart, yet Shawanda continued to writhe on the bed, squirming through more emotional and physical shocks. She mouthed something repeatedly. The words took sound and over and over she said it.

“I…love…you,” Shawanda kept repeating it she slowly relaxed, and she went limp in a pool of her own cum and sweat. “I love you,”

Lacey’s mind swam at those three words, consuming the words like food. For the first time, she knew, Shawanda accepted her, loved her, desired her. It wasn’t just fucking, it was real. Laying on top of Shawanda Lacey spoke, in a cool, collected voice, devoid of emotion.

“I love you, too,” then repeated it with more emotion. Again, Lacey said it, more warmly. The two women cuddled together.

****

Stanley Weston followed the woman as her ass moved seductively under the tight-fitting dress. Strutting in front of him, her long shapely legs moved in a decidedly feminine gate. Her head twisted to see if he followed like a good boy. His stupid grin told her he liked what he saw.

Once inside the room, he was shocked by the bright yellow paint. The bed was in the center of the space, and Rae walked past the bed to the small night stand. Opening a drawer, she withdrew something, then turned back to him, a set of handcuffs dangling from her slender fingers.

“Strip,” she ordered him.

“I’m not wearing those,” he said.

“Then, get the fuck out,” she said.

“Now wait a minute here…”

“We play the game my way or not at all. Strip or leave,” she said, then added. “Show me the rubbers.” He pulled two rubbers from his wallet. “On the bedside table.” He placed them on the pitted wood, then took off his shirt, shoes, pants, socks and at last dropping his shorts. He was confused but wasn’t backing out, why would he?

“Face the door,” Raeann said. He turned from her, and immediately her hands pulled his arms behind his back. He felt the cold metal, heard the clicks as she secured the cuffs.

“Little tight,” he said, but her reply was to click them tighter as Stan let out a small gasp.

“Good,” she said, placing a blindfold on him. He could hear the ruffling of clothing, before feeling her warm, tight body press against him. Her large breasts felt good against his back. As her hot hands ran over his body, his cock swelled.

“It’s not big, not big at all,” she whispered in his ear. Biting the lobe, she giggled, then guided him to the center of the bed, positioning him on his back. He felt something cool and slightly silky on his cock, as she rolled the round item down, stroking his balls with it.

“This prick ring should make you have some staying power,” she said. “You look like a quick draw artist to me.” He wanted to say something but considering the vulnerability of his position, held his tongue.

He felt the bed give as Raeann got on it, then felt nylon settle around his ears. A powerful aroma, salty, musky slightly metallic scent. He sucked in the smell and arched up to taste.

“Down, boy,” Rae snapped, rising, and pulling the object of his desire away from him. “You have to be a slow, a good kid. Or no reward for you.” He lay his head back, waiting. He felt her short hairs tickle his chin, then felt the labia touch, ever so softly, his lips. He kissed them.

“Good. Now your tongue, slow and easy,” she said lowering her weight down on him. He felt the moisture ooze out, and he lapped it, working his tongue into the outer lips tasting the salty musk. A shiver ran through her, and she pressed into him harder. Leaning forward she gave a light tug to his rigid cock. The silkiness led him to believe she wore gloves. The flavor was strong, like a good bourbon, sweet and sour at the same time. He worked his tongue into the inner folds.

“Ooh,” she exclaimed, “yeah, that’s it, baby.” Her grip tightened on his cock while her other hand grasped his balls tight, but not too tight. “Work your way around, up to the top, lick the clit,” she said in breathy tones, “That’s it, baby, now back and do it again.” Her pubic hair pressed his skin, soft and matted. Finding the honey hole, he worked the tongue inside, rolling his tongue in her sweet nectar.

“Stop that,” she hissed. “Just the outside. The button is the key.” He changed route, getting his tongue over the clit.

“Ah, that’s it, baby, yes, keep doing that,” she said rolling on his face. His balls ached from her attention. He knew if it weren’t for the cock ring, he would have lost it already. Her hips rolled over his face, then she let go of his cock. Rae screamed out and rode his face hard, her body shivering and quivering. Rising from the bed, she left him wanting more.

“Baby,” he said.

“Shut up,” she said. “I don’t want to hear your voice.” A hard, sharp thumb hit his cock, then his ball. “Understand, just nod don’t speak.” He nodded, feeling her weight back on the bed. He could feel the warmth above his stiff cock. He flexed up with his hips.

“Stop that,” she ordered him. He obeyed, feeling something new on his cock as her hand rolled it over his prick. Rubber. She put a rubber on him. He felt a pressure on his glans, at the same time he heard her moan.
“You’re fucking small, boy,” the scorn in her voice stung him.

“Sorry,” he said.

“Shut the fuck up,” she said. “These are the rules. Lay there, don’t move, don’t speak, don’t thrust your hips. If you do, I’ll slap your face. If you do it a second time, I’ll hurt your balls. Nod if you understand.” He nodded.

Raeann worked down the length of his shaft. She rolled her hips, undulating her body. At one point, Stanley lurched his hips upward. True to her word, her hand stung his face with a blistering slap. He didn’t move from that point. He lay, enjoying the feeling of her tight pussy working him.

In no time, Stan spilled his cum into the rubber. It belched out, spreading upward as far as the condom allowed then oozed back down over his cock. She continued to ride, but the softened cock gave her no satisfaction. In disgust, she dismounted him, pulled the blindfold from his eyes, and glared at him.

“Your pathetic, you know that…right?” she asked him. He nodded his head. Stanley Weston lay on the sheets, satisfied. He watched as the woman dressed, the handcuffs preventing him from using his hands as she donned a skintight baby blue cat suit. Once the woman finished dressing, right down to her baby blue boots, she stood near the door and watched him. She put a mask on then motioned silently for him to stand.

“What do you want, sugar?” Stan asked, getting to his feet. “Can you take these cuffs off?”

“No, not yet, just stand there a second, I want to try something,” she said. Rae stood and approached the man, “You do work for Griggs, right?”

“Naw, I came for the titty show,” he said. “Man alive, you riding me like that was unexpected. What do I owe you?”

“Too bad,” she said. “No money, just tell me if this hurts,” she said. Her body spun around, and her booted foot impacted his chest above his liver. Staggering back, his shocked eyes widened as he felt the rib break under the swift kick.

“Fuck,” he said falling to the ground. He wanted to hit the bitch. He wanted to hold his chest and right side. He couldn’t do either. “When I get out of these cuffs!”

“Get up,” she ordered, “I’m not done yet.”

“You’re done with me,” he said, standing, balling his hands into fists behind his back, exerting pressure to snap the cuffs. “You fucking broke my damn rib!” he yelled as he staggered around, attempting to break the restraints.

She stepped up to him, throwing a fist and hitting his chest on the left side. Another loud cracking filled his ears, as the sharp pain stabbed in his chest and he collapsed to the floor, pain radiating from the impact.

“Fuck,” he said hissing the word. “What did you do?!” The thud of his heart filled his ears, changing to a roar in his head. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong.

“I just murdered you. Broke a rib and drove it into your heart…let’s say you’re dead in thirty seconds.”

Kneeling she showed him her fist. “This suit magnifies the blow. It’s science shit. Sorry, I can’t explain how it works. I’m not sure of that myself. Now tell me did it hurt?”

It hurt like hell. It hurt all the way to his grave, but he couldn’t tell her a thing as he hit the floor, his dead eyes staring lifelessly at her baby blue boots.

Still, she took that as an affirmation that it hurt him right nicely.

****

“Collins is down there waiting for you,” Puma said as she pulled her mask over her face. “I’ll be home soon.”

“You be careful,” Lacey said.

“I love you, you understand that, right? But my work. My work baby, well, I’m married to that. This darkness is my bride.”

Lacey ducked her head, took a deep breath then raised her head again to say something. Puma was gone. “How the hell does she do that?”

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