A Slave To Lust Ch. 07

"Aww, don't give me that look. I'm still here, aren't I, hon? I said I wanted to feel special, and that means not getting fucked in a dirty bathroom. Let's go, get a hotel room and just stay in bed for a week. Don't that sound good, sugar?" Sheila's burning eyes and sultry voice had the man so hypnotized that he would've agreed to soaking himself in gasoline and lighting himself on fire just so she could light a cigarette.

A smile returning to his face, he quickly got dressed and they moved swiftly through the cavernous warehouse towards the exit. It felt like years had passed since she had first come into the place that had become her prison. She was uncertain of the layout, but relied on her companion's anxiousness to lead the way and they soon came to a door. On either side of the door sat two men, both hard looking and armed. They sprung to their feet, and stood in front of the door, barring the way. Sheila and the man stopped about ten feet away from the other men, the man appearing dumbstruck, some part of his brain seeming to realize that he was doing something wrong. Sheila glanced at him, but realized her hold over him was wavering.

"Hey, guys, we were just going out. Ah, Howie, uh, sent for me. Seems he's got a little party going on at clubhouse next town over and I'm supposed to provide some, ah, entertainment." Sheila tried to be as seductive as she could, trying to tap into the same vein of lust, as she had done with the men in the shower, but her confidence had faltered. Between the crumbling grip on the man beside her and poorly improvising a lie that might get her outside, fear tipped the scales against her.

The guards both unholstered their sidearms, holding them low, but in two-handed grips, stances steady, ready to aim and shoot in an instant. The man beside Sheila was more under lust's control than she had realized and she heard a low growl in his throat, that erupted in a furious battle cry, as he leapt at the two men. The sudden and insane nature of the attack almost caught the two off guard, and Sheila's companion was able to tackle one to the ground, a flurry of fists. A gunshot rang out, loud in such a large, enclosed space, and the man went limp, any fight in him ceasing in an instant. The other guard wasn't taking any chances and he leveled his gun at Sheila, firing two shots, at point blank range, both hitting her in the chest, red blossoms staining her baggy shirt.

The force of the bullets knocked her back and to the floor. There was a searing pain, but the feeling of pressure, of having the wind knocked out of her, was the overwhelming sensation. She lay on the concrete floor, back arched, desperately trying to suck air back into her ruined lungs. Then, within seconds, she could breath. The pain diminished, replaced by the almost orgasmic joy of glorious air coming back into her chest. She sat up, still coughing and gasping, her labored breathing the only sound in the eerily silent chamber. With the blind, mad panic of suffocation fading, her mind recalled the present danger of the armed guards and her head snapped up. She saw them both looking at her, guns still pointed in her direction, but their eyes wide, mouths agape. She slowly got to her feet.

They fired again, another eruption of noise and fire, lethal projectiles tearing her shirt to shreds, more blood spraying from the huge exit wounds left as the bullets ripped through her body. This time, she did not fall. Braced and ready, she accepted the pain, the evil presence that dwelt inside her feeding off it. The guards watched in amazement as they saw her wounds mend in seconds, then looking up they saw her looking back. It wasn't her though, they could feel it. Never mind that her eyes had become burning coals, hot from the flames of Hell, malevolence boring through them. Never mind that her stance, her very frame, had changed from the submissive, young pain-slut that they had abused mercilessly last night, to something old and feral and predatory. An aura of demonic fury emanated from her and their hearts grew weak, their ineffectual weapons dropping to the floor and a dark stain forming at one man's crotch.

When she moved, it happened fast. In the blink of an eye, she was close to one of the men, so close that, while not touching, he could feel the heat of her body. In a single, swift motion, she back handed the man, snapping his head to the side. He dropped in a crumpled heap at her feet with a fleshy thud. Turning her head, she stared at the other man and smiled in a way that made one think mayhem and gleeful violence. He turned and ran, the echoes of his flight slowly fading deeper into the warehouse.

She took a moment to look around, the same smile on her lips as she surveyed the motionless bodies around her. Taking the time to search their clothes for anything of value, she soon walked out of the building, reveling in the feel of the breeze on her face and the open expanse of the horizon. Matching one of the stolen sets of keys with a vehicle, she was soon driving on a long, straight stretch of black top, headed West. There was a pull, a force that beckoned to the demon which resided in Sheila. A force from an unknown entity that would not be denied.

Epilogue

"Quite an operation they had here. What do you think happened?"

Agent Danvers walked through warehouse, marveling at how much had been left behind. "Hasty retreat, I'd say. Do you think they were tipped off?"

Agent Willis whistled through his teeth, amazed at the drugs and evidence, as he explored the various rooms. "Damned if I know." Willis said while absently rubbing the back of his neck, an unconscious habit that indicated the detective part of his brain was working overtime. "With this crew, we'd normally be looking at nothing but dust, but this ...?" His voice trailed off, his mind running scenario after scenario that made sense.

"Well, I'm not sure if it means anything, but we've got one interesting piece of evidence right here. Look at this." Agent Danvers walked deeper into the warehouse, following the sound of Willis's voice. Stopping at the scene of Sheila's gangbang mere days ago, the camera and saw horse still in place, she fiddled with the buttons on the big screen television and the dvd player beneath it. Soon, the screen flared to life, a replay of Sheila's ordeal in vivid high def.

"Recognize her?" Agent Danvers has waited until a clear shot of Sheila's face appeared on the screen, her features contorted by the extreme ecstasy or agony she was experiencing at that moment, maybe both, and paused it. Willis looked at the screen, his hand still on the back of his neck, continuing to massage the permanent tightness that had developed over the course of his career.

"Isn't that ...?"

"One Sheila Benson. A person of interest in the murder of one Benjamin Renolds. Though I'm not sure how a young girl like that could've caused all the damage that had been done to him. And ZI sure as hell don't know what she was doing here. I think Ms. Benson just became even more interesting."

"You're not wrong." Willis snapped on a pair of latex gloves and ejected the dvd, placing it in an evidence bag. "I have a feeling that there's something strange going on and I don't like strange."

"I don't know what to think either, but I believe Ms. Benson will have some answers for us. Let's put out a BOLO on her. We need to bring her in."