Bitches vs. Hell Ch. 01

Billie Rose's thighs were working, but this was the kind of work she trained for. As she slid up and down his shaft, she looked down at him. 'Ugh, have to stop doing that', she thought to herself. This was not a guy she wanted to picture while trying to feel sexy. He was old, cold, and she was having trouble keeping his thin cock all the way inside of her. She had sucked him to his version of hard, but it was still a poor excuse for a cock.

But that didn't really matter. Billie was here for other reasons. She glanced at the beautiful ball gown on the floor thinking about how much it had cost her, but it had been worth it. Deep crimson; a perfect seduction dress. It propped up her cleavage, it showed nearly her whole back, and the slit up the left side allowed it to show off her toned legs, but only when she wanted it to. It was those toned legs that were getting the workout now.

Lifting and lowering herself onto his lap, she could hear the slap of their skin together as well as his heavy breathing. 'Thank the gods, he's getting close', she thought. She had actually worried that he might be too old to actually get off.

He had been a difficult target to catch. He rarely left his house; only for the most important galas. And he seemed to have a string of girls who followed him around, desperately hopeful that they could hook him and inherit once he died, which wouldn't be too far off now, Billie told herself.

Sneaking into the ball hadn't been too difficult in that gorgeous dress. But he had been tough to attract. Coy hadn't worked. Playful hadn't worked. She had gone with her gut on this one and played meek. Yep, that worked. Clearly this one liked them submissive, at least he liked them that way when clothed. Once naked, he made it clear he expected her to tend to his needs. 'On top and doing all the work', crossed her mind. 'Just like my own sex life. Wait, what sex life do I think I have?'

The old man now actually starting to grow a bit beneath her wasn't some gold digger's dream of hers. He was her mark. She had been paid handsomely to make sure he wasn't alive in the morning. As she felt him growing a bit more, signaling how close he was, she reached up into her hair and took down bronze knitting needles she had used to tie her hair up.

She writhed and bore down on him. She ground her hips into his. His breathing sounded awful, but he seemed to be showing more life than he had earlier. 'Just a few more strokes.' As she felt his hips begin to jerk, she struck with all her might. Both needles hit him on opposite sides of his neck. Immediately, she bent forward and smashed her ample chest into his face. Normally a very pleasant thing, she did this to smother any cries of pain that might try to alert the other guests here at the hotel.

Satisfied, at least with her work, she climbed off of him and began using the sheets to clean herself off. She hadn't noticed, but it had taken her so long, she had actually started to work up a sweat. As she was wiping off the sweat and the other sexual liquids, she felt something was wrong. Nothing obvious was catching her notice, but her gut was telling her things were not good.

She grabbed for her purse. She couldn't get out of here wearing that ball gown. She'd have to leave it behind. In her purse she pulled out her silk catsuit and climbed into it. Just as she was putting her arms into the sleeves, she heard it. He gasped. Loudly.

Her brain went wild. Had she failed to kill him? Granted those knitting needles were not her standard weapons, but she couldn't have missed the arteries. She looked over at what should have been his corpse lying on the bed and noticed that there was almost no blood. She looked around the room for something to use as a weapon - after all, the needles were still sticking out of his neck. She threw open the closet door, hoping to find a bed pan, and a girl fell out.

"What the f___" was all Billie got out before half catching half dropping the waifish girl. She was pale, cool and looked like she had been kept in a dungeon. Sounded like this dirt bag. She glanced over at this man she was growing to hate even more, only to find him struggling to rise.

There was nothing to be done. She had screwed up the assassination. Even if she managed to kill him now, the combat would likely alert others, leaving her at risk for being captured. And now she had this silly slave girl she needed to save. 'OK', she admitted to herself, 'maybe I don't need to save her, but I'm not leaving her to him.'

Billie knew full well that beneath that window was a canvas awning meant to protect people leaving their coaches from the near constant rain of this seaside city. Without warning or pleasantry, she made two throws. She threw open the window and threw the girl out. She leapt after, bouncing off the awning and landing mainly on her feet. The girl wasn't so lucky. She had fallen hard, but she was alive and would heal.

Billie gathered up the girl and fled down a nearby alley.

***

Billie threw the waif over her shoulder as she ran down the alleyways. She had already booked passage on a ship and had planned to board just before dawn, just before it sailed. She raced to where she had stashed her clothes. This silk catsuit was perfect for racing down alleyways in the night, but if she tried to board a ship dressed this way she'd probably wind up the crew's play-toy for at least that one voyage. She might sleep with guys she planned to kill, but sailor gang bangs were not her style of fun.

She picked up her duffle bag and debated changing into her street clothes now. Better to wait, just in case she needed to do some more running. She normally would have climbed a building and waited out the night on the roof, but she couldn't climb while carrying the waif. So she just hunkered down behind some crates and waited for the glow of the sun.

It wasn't more than an hour when she heard dogs barking in the distance. She'd never been to this town before, but dogs at night sounded ominous. She threw the duffle bag over her shoulder and picked up the waif. Whether they were after her or not, moving was probably a good idea now.

Cautiously, she slipped from alley to alley, staying off the streets as much as possible. She was moving towards the docks, but she wasn't sure if she was giving herself an outlet or cornering herself. She did know one thing - if the dogs caught up to her, she was leaving the waif behind. Better to lose the girl to the authorities than to allow herself to be captured trying to save a slave.

She stopped to listen, to determine if the dogs were just out or if they were after her. They had set to baying and howling. It sounded to Billie like they were where she had stopped by the crates. So, OK, they were after her. 'Damn!' She remembered the lovely ball gown. Certainly the dogs had gotten her scent off of that and would have had no problem following her trail. She kept moving, faster now, and debating how long she needed to lug the waif over her shoulder.

Billie stopped at a street. It was an open plaza or courtyard or something, far wider than she wanted to risk, but the only alley took her in the wrong direction. Should she risk the open square? Just then a door opened on the side of the square and a well-dressed woman stepped out. Light flooded out from behind her, and Billie suddenly realized how cold she was. The light was inviting, and the woman was waving her over. Billie raced across the square and through the door.

As soon as she entered the building, Billie dropped the waif and pulled one of her blades. There was no normal way she would have entered this building because the woman waved to her. She must have been magiced.

"Please, I mean you no harm," the woman was saying. Billie was fighting to keep her head clear, but the soothing words had her dropping her guard. Her savior showed no concern and simply walked down the narrow hallway, expecting Billie to follow. Outside, Billie heard the dogs, so she grabbed the waif's arm and dragged her down the hallway, desperately trying to clear her head.

Billie had to pick the girl up again to carry her up a set of stairs. They entered a bedroom, lush beyond any Billie had ever seen, and she had fucked and killed some rich assholes. The woman picked up a chamber pot and dumped it out the window. "I'm Tricia. I'm a priestess, you can trust me." This time Billie didn't feel any magic, not that she had the first time, but instinctively, she was leaning towards trusting this woman.

"The dogs were almost on you", she continued. "Hopefully that will throw them off the scent. That, plus that door is near impossible to see from the outside." Tricia smiled at Billie, and whether it was magic or not, Billie wanted to see more of that smile. There was something there, some crazy mix of a mother's love, a lover's love, and the promise of the best sex she'd ever had. It wasn't just the smile, it was the whole face, eyes, mouth, even a little crinkle to the nose. It literally stunned Billie into speechlessness.

Tricia broke eye contact and the feeling went away. "Hey, stop doing that!" Billie nearly spat at her.

"Hmm", Tricia mused. "You came out of that far faster than I've ever seen. Assuming I'm not losing my touch, you're a tough nut to crack. But you do have to be quiet. Even if the dogs can't smell you, their handlers might hear you."

It did seem she was safe for the moment, so Billie looked around. She noticed she was still clutching her dagger, so she put that away too. As she sized up Tricia, she realized where she was. Tricia was dressed fancy, no doubt about it, but sexy fancy! Her top covered less of her chest than most women's bras, and her "skirt" was fringe, and not a thick fringe. The room had that slightly gaudy, whore-house vibe to it, and Billie was certain that there was good reason for this feeling. Still, a prostitute that could use magic? Tricia was not your run of the mill street hooker!

Apparently, Billie had been sizing up Tricia a little too long. "Like what you see?" Tricia asked with more than a little bit of sarcasm.

Ever the blunt one, Billie simply replied, "Yeah, but no time for that now." Billie looked over the waif, just to make sure she was going to be alright. She hadn't really moved since bouncing off the awning. Meanwhile Tricia was watching the window. The sound of dogs had moved off, but Billie was still on edge.

"Why'd you help me?" Billie eventually asked.

"Because the goddess told me to," was the reply.

"No, I mean really, why help a woman carrying another woman?"

"Yes, really, because the goddess told me to. I was letting my last customer out that side door, when I just felt that I had to wait there for a little bit more. I waited a few minutes, then opened the door again and then I saw you two. Not exactly sure why, but I knew I was supposed to help you. I have a habit of going with certain urges, even when they're not the obviously fun ones."

Billie tried to put her professional face back on. The sexuality coming from this woman was nearly overwhelming. "Well, I need to catch a ship at dawn. I'll be out of your hair then."

Tricia smiled that killer smile and disagreed, "Somehow honey, I don't think that'll be the case."