Becca XXX - Double Trouble Ch. 16

Lexa reached into the back of her waist band as though she was undoing her bra. Josh thought he was about to see an eyeful of Lexa's gorgeous orbs, but instead she pulled the Makarov out and pointed it at his head.

"Here's my fucking goods," she spat. "Sit the fuck down."

He looked like a startled rabbit and sat backwards into his chair with his hands up in surrender.

"Sorry, look, we can talk about this. Don't shoot. Who are you?" he squirmed.

"It doesn't matter who we are. Answer my girlfriend's question," said Lexa keeping the gun on him.

"She's your girlfriend? Are you two lesbia...."

"Answer the fucking questions," she interrupted through gritted teeth.

"You really don't want to piss her off, Josh," I said. "Where's the pick up and what time?"

"It's at eight o'clock outside the Ibis hotel near Wembley stadium," he spluttered. "What's this all about?"

"What's the girl's name?"

"Roxy."

"Ring Roxy and tell her there's been a change of plan. I'm taking her place," I said.

"But he's expecting her," he protested.

"Has she been there before? Does he know what she looks like?" asked Lexa, suddenly sounding concerned.

"No, he always likes a new girl."

"Well then, he won't know the difference will he. Pussy's pussy, right? That's what you pimps say about us," I hissed.

"What's the guy's name at the embassy?" quizzed Lexa.

"Stan, that's all I know. He's a mafia type. You don't want to be fucking with these people. You know what I'm saying?" he said.

"He doesn't want to be fucking with us," I replied. "I've already slaughtered twenty of his men. Do you want to be number twenty-one?"

He knew I meant business from my stance, voice and body language. He gulped and went pale, shaking his head.

"What's the procedure at the hotel? How does it work?" asked Lexa.

We were keeping the pressure on him with a barrage of questions and intimidation. He had no time to think or plan an escape even if he wanted to.

"They always send a black Mercedes, like a limo. It pulls up at the front of the hotel and beeps it's horn twice. The girl gets in and then she's dropped off later."

"Ring Roxy," she said.

He got his phone out of his pocket and dialled a number with his shaky hands.

"Put it on speaker, so we can hear it."

I heard it ringing and a girl's voice answered.

"Hi Josh," she tittered.

"Roxy baby. Tonight's been cancelled," was all he said.

There was a pause on the other end of the line.

"But you said it was my turn. You know I need the money," she moaned.

"I know. I'll see if I can set something up for tomorrow. Don't worry."

"Ok baby," she said. "I'll make a couple of calls to my regulars instead."

"Yeah, you do that baby. Big J's got you covered."

He hung up.

"Big J?" I smirked.

"Yeah. If you'd given me the chance, I'd have shown it to you," he nodded at his crotch.

"I'm sure I've had bigger. Show me where the Ibis hotel is on Google maps," I smiled.

He used his phone to pinpoint the hotel which was only a couple of blocks away.

"Is there anything else you tell the girls before they go to the embassy?" asked Lexa.

"I just tell them to do everything they're told. I have a reputation to uphold. You know what I'm saying?" he smiled.

"Do you have Stan's phone number?" she said, ignoring his bravado.

"No. He always calls from a blocked number," he shrugged.

That was good news as it meant that he couldn't ring Stanislav and warn him. Lexa really was a master at this sort of thing. I hadn't even thought of it.

"Good. After tonight you can go back to your normal disgusting little world," said Lexa.

"Whatever you say lady. You're the one with the gun. I'm not getting involved."

"Exactly... and I know where you live. Just forget we were ever here and tell no one about our intervention. If you do, they'll be calling you Small J, not Big J, understand?"

"Yes... yes... ok... we never met," he said. "Please, just go."

Lexa put her gun back into her waist band and we left him to it. As long as he stayed quiet for the next few hours it wouldn't matter even if he did tell anyone about us.

"It looks like we didn't need the zip-ties after all," I giggled as we got back into the car.

She took the pistol out of her waist band and slid it under her thigh. I'd been given the same training. It made it easily accessible, but hidden from view.

"That's not the only reason I bought them," she said. "You need to practice."

"Practice what?"

"How to get out of them. It's highly likely this freak, Stanislav is going to tie you up later. You need to know how to take them off."

"I thought they had to be cut off," I said as she started the car and we pulled back onto the main road.

"No, there's a technique to it."

It was just before seven, so we had an hour to kill. Lexa drove to a retail park and parked as far away from everyone else as possible.

"Ok. Get the zip-ties out," she said.

I got the Tesco bag from the footwell and retrieved the pack of cable ties as Lexa held her hands out, as though she was praying.

"Tie me up," she said.

"Shouldn't we wait until after the mission for the kinky stuff," I joked.

"We can save some for later, but I need to show you how to break out of them, you horny bitch," she laughed.

I opened the pack and took out the long black plastic strap. I wrapped one around her hands, passed the end through the clasp and pulled it tight.

"You need to understand the weakest point of the mechanism," she started to explain. "The locking device is just a small plastic tab which slots into the ribs of the strap. That prevents it from being undone."

"I know that," I said. "Everyone knows how zip-ties work."

"Do you know how to break out of them?" she asked.

"No."

"Well then, shut up and listen," she chastised me.

"Sorry mum."

"You need to overload the clasp by pulling your hands towards your belly with your elbows either side of your body, hard and fast like this," she said.

She pushed her hands away from her body and then pulled them towards her in a blink of an eye. The zip ties snapped.

"Piece of piss," she smiled.

"Maybe, but there's a slight problem."

"What problem?"

"Claire said she had her hands tied behind her back."

"That shouldn't be a problem. You're flexible enough to pass them under that sexy ass of yours and get them in front of you. Put your hands behind your back," she instructed.

She tied my hands tightly with the zip tie and sat back to watch my performance.

I wriggled my hands under my ass and passed my legs through one at a time. I then repeated Lexa's performance and slammed my hands against my belly with my elbows splayed. Nothing happened except I winded myself.

"Ouch, fuck!"

"You need to believe in it. You're holding back because you don't think it will break. Do it harder and faster," she said. "Commit to it."

I extended my arms again and repeated the manoeuvre. The tie broke with ease and I burst out laughing. I couldn't believe it had worked.

"Piece of piss," I giggled.

"Let's hope you can pull it off under pressure," she smiled, but it was a nervous smile. "Drink some more water and get yourself mentally prepared."

I got some water down my neck as Lexa took the Uzi out of my bag. She loaded in a magazine and pulled the cocking lever. She then placed it in my footwell. I knew she'd move it to the passenger seat and put something over the top of it, once I got out. She wasn't taking any chances.

"Just stick to the plan and we'll be sitting next to Natalie by sunrise," she smiled.

****

It was cold and damp as I stood outside the Ibis hotel on South Way, next to Wembley stadium. I could see the huge arch lit up a few hundred metres away. I had my coat buttoned up and my hood up to keep out the wind.

Lexa was sitting in the foyer drinking a cup of coffee and keeping an eye on me until the last possible moment. The Range Rover was parked out of sight so that the Russians wouldn't recognise it. She had the Makarov stuffed in the back of her waistband again, just in case this all went horribly wrong.

At exactly eight o'clock, a black limo arrived and pulled up outside. It beeped its horn twice and I walked over. My high-heeled shoes clip-clopped towards them and I opened the rear door and climbed in. It felt warm and welcoming inside the car and smelled of cheap aftershave.

"Roxy?" asked the guy in the passenger seat, with a heavy Russian accent.

"Yes," I replied nervously.

He looked down at my legs with a filthy grin which made me pull my coat around me tighter. He was mentally undressing me with his eyes, probably knowing that I had very little on underneath. Usually this would make me feel wanted and desired, but I was genuinely scared of these people. If they knew who I really was they'd kill me in a heart beat.

The car pulled off and I was now alone without any back up. Lexa would stay at the hotel to await my return as it was too risky for her to follow in the stolen Range Rover.

It was all down to me now.

The embassy was about thirty minutes away and we drove there in silence. Neither of the two men spoke which made the whole journey feel awkward and intimidating. My paranoia crept in and I wondered if they somehow knew who I was. Maybe I was being driven to my death. I gave myself a mental slap and concentrated on taking in as much detail as I could about the journey.

We arrived at a gatehouse on Bayswater Road and were waved through by the guards. We were now driving on Kensington Palace Gardens where a lot of foreign embassies were located. We turned left onto Palace Garden Mews and through another gatehouse. We were now on Russian soil and any crimes I committed would be dealt with under their laws which was a frightening prospect.

The car went to the rear of the huge white building and pulled up next to a large wooden door. I tried the car door handle, but it must have had the child locks on. That wasn't a good sign and meant that I would be unable to escape the car if it all went wrong on the way home. The passenger got out and opened the door for me and the two men led me inside, gripping my arms to control me. I kept my hood up to shield my face from any security cameras. If they ever played the footage back, they'd just see a woman in a black coat, who could have been anybody.

Once we got inside the door was closed and I looked around. It was some sort of tradesmen's entrance, maybe for kitchen staff or servants. It was like being back at Kingsley manor. The walls were dark wood and there were antique rugs on the floor. It smelt of furniture polish and stale coffee and had very high ceilings.

"Open coat," ordered the passenger, in pigeon English.

I undid the flasher-coat and held it open to reveal my perfect body and skimpy red underwear. I was expecting a reaction, but all I got was a smirk from him and his friend.

His hands frisked me in the deserted corridor, checking under my arms and down my legs. It was all pretty pointless as I was almost naked under my coat and couldn't possibly be concealing anything. His hands slipped into my bra and he felt around, obviously finding nothing, but he enjoyed groping my warm breasts.

He mumbled something in Russian to the driver, who let out a small laugh.

He then squatted down and pulled my panties down. I let out a sigh of dissatisfaction, but he ignored me. Two fingers entered my pussy and I realised how wet I was. It hadn't really been on my mind, but I was drenched.

He said something else in Russian and his mate laughed again. It didn't take much guessing to figure out what he'd said. After a good feel around, he pulled his fingers out of my gash and turned me around. I felt his wet finger slip into my ass and I was glad I'd been so wet. It acted as lube as he checked my rectum for anything dangerous.

I don't know what he was expecting to find up there, but he definitely enjoyed degrading me.

"Ok," he said, standing back up.

I pulled my knickers back up and closed my coat, noticing that they were both armed under their suit jackets. They both had a shoulder holster with a small black pistol under their armpits. I noticed that they were a mirror image of each other. The driver's was under his left arm and the passengers was under his right. This meant the passenger was left-handed which was unusual. It also made me realise the gravity of the situation as they led me to a lift and we entered it without saying another word.

Bing.

The door opened.

We entered the lift and went to the second floor of the old building. I was led down a corridor to a door that said 'Suite Two' in fancy red writing. This place felt more like a hotel than an embassy. I guessed this was the accommodation area for Russian dignitaries and that the floors below were where all the work was carried out.

The driver knocked on the door.

Knock-knock.

"Enter," said a booming Russian voice.

The driver opened the door and allowed me to enter the room.

"Knock when you are done," he said to me. "Then I take you home."

I nodded and entered the room as the door was closed and locked behind me. A large man with a shaved head was standing by the window looking outside. He was wearing a pair of black trousers and a grey shirt.

He turned towards me as I entered and he smiled a menacing smile at me. I dropped my hood down and shook my hair free.

"You must be Roxy," he said.

"Yes sir," I replied, staying near the door and waiting to be invited closer.

"Come," he beckoned. "Have a drink."

"Thank you," I replied.

As I got closer, I could see his pock-marked face and battle-hardened stare. He seemed emotionless behind his forced smile and I pulled my coat a little tighter to look timid and nervous. Some of it was me acting the part, but not all of it. I was here to kill this man and it wasn't going to be easy.

He poured us some champagne, eyeing me up and down.

"Are you cold?" he asked, noticing I was clutching my coat around me.

"No, just nervous," I admitted.

"Awww, poor little lamb," he cooed. "I won't bite."

I smiled.

"Take your coat off," he ordered. "Let me see you properly."

I fumbled with my buttons, slipped it off my shoulders and laid it over the back of a chair. My nipples became hard even though it was warm in the suite. It was an open plan area with a couple of doors leading to what I thought would be the bedrooms.

The main area had sofas and tables and was furnished in Russian styling. There was even a painting of the Kremlin on the wall above the ornate fire place.

"You are beautiful," he said, offering me a glass.

"Thank you," I replied coyly.

"Relax, little one. You look like a frightened deer."

"Sorry, it's just that I'm not used to being around such an important man," I played to his ego.

"Some would say I am important, but others, not so much," he replied.

"You're living at the embassy. You must be pretty important," I swooned.

"I once was and I hope to be again soon," he replied in perfect English with a heavy accent.

I took a long sip of my champagne and stared at him. He seemed completely different to what I was expecting, but I knew how quickly that could change.

"So... how do you normally do this?" I asked. "Do you just want me to get down to it, or do you want to talk for a while first?"

"I like to talk first and then take what I've paid for," he said, with no expression whatsoever. "You may sit."

I took a seat at one end of the sofa and he sat at the other. He was still glaring at my body and talking to my tits rather than my face.

"Open your legs a little," he ordered.

I obeyed so he could see my bulging panties. They were so skimpy they barely contained my plump lips.

"That's better," he said, sipping his champagne.

He spoke very slowly and watched my every move.

"Did he know who I really was?" I wondered to myself.

"So, what does an important man like you do at the embassy?" I asked, as though I knew nothing about him.

"I'm trying to open a trading route between our two great countries, but it's a little unconventional," he said.

"What sort of trade?"

"The same trade that you are into."

"What, fucking people for money?" I joked.

"In a way yes. You see I used to be a soldier."

"Wow," I gasped. "I like a man in uniform."

"I did everything my government asked of me and I was rewarded by being taken to a war crimes tribunal."

"Well, that doesn't sound very fair," I replied.

"No, it wasn't."

"What did they say you had done?"

"They said I had performed dishonourably," he said. "Take your bra strap off your shoulder."

I slipped the red strap down and my left boob started to show a little more nipple.

"I can't imagine a sexy man like you behaving badly," I winked.

"My orders were to get the job done in any way I saw fit. I wanted people to fear my very name and flee their villages, before I even arrived with my men."

"Wow," I sighed, as though he'd virtually made me cum in my knickers. "You are a big man aren't you. What did you do to make them fear you?"

"I raped their women," he replied as though he was talking about the weather.

"What?"

"The men were shot or captured and the women were used for my pleasure. Just like you're going to be tonight. Slide the other strap off your shoulder."

I obeyed with a slight tremble which was involuntary. He'd just admitted that he was a monster and he didn't seem in the slightest bit bothered.

"I like a dominant man," I winked. "May I have more champagne?"

He got up and walked over to get the bottle. As he came back, he undid his belt and then refilled my glass.

"Unfortunately, your United Nations didn't like my methods and I was arrested."

He remained standing in front of me.

"Drink," he ordered.

I took a couple of long sips, but I knew he wanted me to down it.

"How did you escape?" I asked.

"I bribed a friend at the UN who was at the tribunal and he managed to get me acquitted. He was an Englishman," he nodded at my glass again.

I downed the rest of it, already feeling light headed and he refilled it and sat closer to me than before.

"It must be nice to have friends in high places," I giggled.

I was trying to come across as naïve and flirtatious, as though I was too stupid to understand the ramifications of what he was saying. I was a whore after all, so what would I know.

On the inside I was taking it all in and my head was buzzing with more than just alcohol.

"After I was set free, I decided to move into the trading business," he continued his story.

"What do you trade?"

"Drugs, women and guns," he said proudly. "I mostly trade in my own country and the eastern block, but I'm looking to branch out."

"You make it all sound so exciting," I gasped. "You trade women?"

"They are a commodity, like anything else," he shrugged.

"A commodity?"

He moved closer to me and put his hand on my leg.

"You are owned by your pimp, dah?" he said.

"I wouldn't call it owned," I shrugged.

"You do as he says, dah?"

"To a point."

"Then he owns you. I, on the other hand, answer to no one. If I want something, I take it."

His hand slowly stroked up my thigh and over my pubic mound. His touch was light, but his skin was rough. I could hear his calluses catching on the lace as he traced the outline of my pussy.

I let out a sharp out-breath, waiting for him to slip my underwear aside and finger me, but his hand kept moving. He brushed against my taut abs with the back of his fingers and they made their way to my bra.

"Oh my, sir. You're making me all sticky in my panties," I purred, pushing my head back to expose my neck.

"I know," he said. "I can smell you from here. Josh has excelled himself this time, sending me such a gorgeous little lamb."