Deadly Sexiness Ch. 03

White eyes (he doesn't give me his name either) leads me to the center of the room, has me remove my shirt, and demonstrates before me a perfect handstand. He begins explaining the importance of body awareness mid-handstand, his voice retaining its terrifying quality throughout, strain apparently non-existent. Then halfway through his lecture he switches to one hand in order to use the other to gesture in the air as he speaks. I stand there, dumbfounded, and if not for his exceptionally scary voice I would never have been able to pay attention to what he said.

I watch his muscles shift, adjusting, maintaining balance. All of it effortless. He talks of how true mastery of the body comes from the awareness of not just each muscle, but each individual muscle fiber. A connection of the primal brain to the body, allowing fluidity and grace within each movement, no matter if practiced or not. This is what he says he has attained.

It also sounds impossible.

For that to be the case, each muscle fiber would need to have its own motor unit, and it just...wouldn't be possible. Yet the man certainly looks, definitely moves, as though he has complete control.

White eyes then has me demonstrate a tragic attempt of a handstand. He watches, then chuckles as I flail and fall onto my back. I don't know how he sees or judges my attempt. He acts blind, his eyes not following anything that I do.

But yet does things that he could not possibly do without sight. I don't understand. I ask him, tentatively,

"Are you...blind?"

His mouth contorts into a half smile.

"Oh you noticed? What, did the white eyes give it away?" He asks dryly.

I sit on the ground in confusion.

"But how do you..." I search for the word, but give up, gesturing at him helplessly.

"Move? See?" He asks, laughing. His eyes look up while as if sharing a joke with someone in the ceiling, then back to me. "Seeing is far more than just sight."

He removes a coin from his jogging pants, flips it into the air, its arc high and shallow. It gets to about head level.

Then he moves.

I almost miss it, it happens so quickly. It starts at his hip, and I watch the physical contraction of each individual muscle, one after the other, completely efficient, traveling up his torso, then flicking out his arm and catching the coin between his index finger and thumb. He ends completely extended, yet completely relaxed. His eyes stay looking downward through the entire process, unlike his ear however, which cocked toward the coin as it traveled through its upward arc.

"You... heard it." I say, in awe once again.

He scoffs. "I did not hear anything. I saw it." He turns around to face the wall-length mirror. "But yes, you are correct. My ears are just one of the many tools I use to see. What you call 'hearing' is just the most basic use of one of the most underappreciated organs of the human body." He pauses, then turns back to me.

"Well done on catching that, first try. Now, handstand. Again."

----------PRESENT-----------

I wake up, roll over, and glance at the clock. Nine full hours have passed. It's now five AM. I push myself out of bed and stand up, feeling refreshed. A full night of sleep without needing to get knocked out in order to accomplish it. I head to the bathroom, and catch myself smiling in the mirror. I stop, face myself for a moment. I have a ridiculous smile on my face, and I try, unsuccessfully, to wipe it off.

After I finish pissing and drinking water to replenish my liquids, I sit on my bed and ponder why I feel so happy. I can't quite put my finger on it.

I mean, I shouldn't be, considering there's still an psychotic, dangerous, lethal minx on the loose inside my little fortress of solitude. So I make my bed quickly, sit on it in lotus, and begin to meditate. I start with a few deep full breaths, then when I've established a relaxed state, I delve into my own mind.

A few minutes pass by. Or perhaps a few hours. I can't really tell.

I chuckle out loud when I finally realize why I'm so happy. I open my eyes and glance at the alarm. Only a couple minutes after all.

I'm happy, energized, because I finally have a purpose again. Something to figure out. Something, someone, to fight against, maybe fuck.

Fuck? Whoa. I stop mid thought to take a second and trace it. Ah. Guess my sex drive is back up and running again.

Before the, well, shit. What do I call her. Up until now I've just thought of her as her.

As I think, I realize I already gave her a nickname.

Well well. Before the Minx tailed me, I had not had a proper goal for the longest time. I was aimless, the country I had believed in not worthy of my support, the apparently unstoppable opponent I had invested so much energy in preparing for -actually just a...well, not what I had been led to believe. So I drifted.

The Minx was my first real excitement in a year, if not more. I wasn't going to let her escape that easy. Besides, she was sexy as fuck.

Yeah. My sex drive drive was up.

I move quickly, removing yesterday's clothing, then pulling on a new pair of underwear and jogging pants. I consider a moment in front of my dresser, then decide to leave my chest, as well as my feet, bare. The bite mark she gave me yesterday contrasts red and angry against my pale skin, but it's not an open wound. I still take a second to cover it in a loose bandage and wrap my chest a couple times to bind it tight.

Gives a whole new meaning to love bite.

I buckle the fairbairn on and take a few deep breaths before unlocking my door. I nudge it open, prepared for anything.

Silence awaits me in the hallway.

I move carefully through the door, fox stepping silently, channelling on the basic level. Nothing out of the ordinary. As I walk down the hallway, I try once again, unsuccessfully, to wipe the grin off my face. I'm excited.

I get to the gym section of the facility. The training knives lie scattered about on the floor below their resting spot. She must have tried to cut the rope with them. No use. They're blunt for safety purposes. They are however, still dangerous if wielded correctly.

I continue fox stepping to the old living quarters hallway, where I once slept. The decorative wooden door at the end leading to the commons room is kicked down. I have to laugh, ruining my whole silent approach. That door was solid fucking wood. I shake my head.

I proceed down the hallway and walk through the now-empty doorframe, expecting an ambush. Instead, I find a pile of rope on the floor next to a box of matches, and a few used matches on the floor, as well as an empty space where the poker used to be for the fireplace used to be.

Smart. She burned the rope. I think about it. She must have burned herself as well as the rope in order to escape. Burned herself pretty badly I would say. Badly enough that she wouldn't be able to fight. I frown. Not very smart. It doesn't...seem...right.

Unless...

I glance to my left and see shavings of rope on the ground, next to a pocket knife resting in its place in the layers of dust. It has carries none itself. Ah.

I duck, knowing what's coming.

The poker swings through the space my head just occupied, and I feel it graze my hair. I twist, springing sideways toward my attacker, hands outstretched. The fucking Minx dances back, out of my reach, and I grab nothing but empty air. She twirls the poker expertly, then takes an en-garde position, chin tilted up.

I note she once again wears an oversized top as a dress as I assess her curious stance. Must have explored more than just the commons room then. I take in her lithe figure, and my hormones predictably start sending furious messages to my pelvis.

She lowers the poker to her side to speak.

"Well hello, Cock. Do you like my new shirt?"

She closes her eyes and breathes in, arching her back, and her breasts rise aggressively under the fabric, raising the bottom hem dangerously close to the beginning of the swell of her shapely ass. I feel a small twitch in my underwear.

"I borrowed it from one of your bedrooms. I've been meaning to ask, why do you have so many?" Her eyes open, then settle on mine as she finishes her question.

I get up slowly.

"Perhaps I'm narcoleptic." I say, tone light. The corner of her mouth rises. She likes that I'm finally playing.

"You disappoint me. I was rather hoping you'd say it was due to all the women you bed," I roll my eyes at the pun, and she continues, "From what I can tell, the way you take your women would lead to some broken ones. Tell me, Cock, if you were narcoleptic, wouldn't you want to place the beds a little more strategically, not have every single one in the same hallway?"

I pause a moment, pretending to think. Then I frown.

"Well, I never really was the quick one when it came to strategy. Then again. Quickness was never really was my best attribute. Anything I do or have tends to be of the lengthy variety." I say, doubling up on the puns.

"Oh I know." She says, her eyes flicking downward to the source of my stirrings. Then as she looks back at me I see her eyes begin to sprout black swirling spots. She's channeling now.

She lunges, aiming to thrust the poker into my solar plexus.

I sidestep and spin along her outstretched arm, and her weight takes her forward into the space I just occupied. I three-sixty slap her ass as she travels past, and watch the delicious ripples travel through her cheeks.

I'm still only channelling on the basic level.

She turns slowly, staring murderously at me through her now-messy hair, pausing to unconsciously try to blow a few wisps of it to the side. Cute.

Then she attacks, swinging the poker low toward my legs. She expects me to retreat, to keep me at bay while she figures out a strategy. I cannot allow that.

I move, reacting impossibly quickly for a normal human, and step inside the arc of the swing. Her inner-arm bounces off my thigh, tearing the poker from her grip. It clangs against the ground. She straightens slowly, possibly now realizing how outmatched she really is. Her nose almost brushes my bare chest as she rises to full height, yet she doesn't look up. I'm far too close now for her to effectively strike anymore.

"Why did you tail me. Why did you try to kill me." I ask, determined to get answers this time.

The Minx stays silent, and I see her eyes moving from side to side. She's thinking, calculating, formulating a plan.

"Who sent you?"

Still no answer.

"Who are you, really?"

She finally looks up. Done calculating then. She must have a plan. Then the Minx bites her lip.

Ah. So it involves sex.

"I'll give you the answers you think you want," She starts, haughty once more. Her fingers dance down my bare chest, tracing my V-line.

"On one condition." Her finger reaches my waistband, and she dips it inside, pulling it towards her suggestively.

Our eyes play a primal battle, neither of us able to look away.

"But I already have you. I could just torture your for the information. What makes you think I'll need to obey your condition?" Her finger moves from side to side, tugging along my waistline as she clicks her tongue.

"Oh, I think you'll like this little condition. In fact, I think you won't be able to turn it down once I've told you. Besides, if you torture me, you'll have wait a while before I give anything at all, and even then, it might just be deliberate misinformation. Might not, but the regardless, you won't know.

"Are you willing to chance that?"

My curiosity is piqued. She has me, and she knows it.

"What's your condition, then?"

My heart rate rises. Her finger freezes inside my pants. She smirks.

She spins, and too late I realize what she's doing. She pivots on one foot and power kicks me straight in the stomach. I only have time to tense before I fly back and end up sprawled on the ground. Damn. She really got me there. I get up, chastising myself silently a moment, but then she speaks.

"Fuck me."

I look up.

"Get that monster" She nods to my crotch, "In my cunt again, and I'll tell you anything you want to know."

I'm shocked. But then I start to smile.

I see the genius behind what she's doing. She knows I want to fuck her, as well as get the information, so she's combining them to give me a handicap, making it easier for her to escape.

But she makes one crucial mistake. She assumes she'll be able to resist herself from wanting me inside her. I plan to test that.

"Stop grinning cock. I'm not going to make it easy for you." She says, but her tone is light, and she grins too.

The game is on.

The dark spots in her eyes swirl faster, and I realize she's deepened her channelling. She'll be faster. Stronger.

Far more fun.

My cock twitches in my pants. Begins to harden.

Then she attacks. She moves quicker than before, and gets halfway across the room before I realize she's attacking. She tackles me onto the ground, and once again I try to apply the guillotine hold around her neck, but she brings her shoulder up, making it difficult to loop my arm around her neck. We crash into the ground, but this time, instead of her being out of options, I am, and she spins over me, faking first an armbar, then going for my leg.

I'm confused. I would have thought she'd want to keep it limited to strikes, as I'm far stronger than her, and getting involved in locks and wrestling would both limit her mobility and her ability to escape.

Then I realize she need to both keep me alive, and have me captive. She can't make it out of here, not without my express voice command and palm print. She wants to interrogate me again, and to do that,

-she needs to choke me out.

I smile. Things are going to get interesting.

I use my strength and flip her sideways, rolling with her so I end up on top. Mid roll, she spins around so we end up opposite each other, our heads at each other's feet. I deepen my channelling for a second to precisely coordinate my arm so it passes between her legs as she wraps them around my neck. Then she begins to squeeze.

I'm mostly safe, I just need to make sure I protect my neck from most of the pressure. I do this by lowering my arm so her legs slide a downward. Time to play.

I move myself closer to her crotch, forcing her legs apart, allowing access to her entrance. I move her shirt out of the way, and then pull her panties down. I feel her cunt.

She's soaking wet.

Meanwhile, she's squeezing with all her might. I probe her entrance with a finger, then begin to rub slowly up and down her slit. I pass over her clit, just barely brushing it, and her legs shudder briefly around my neck and arm. The pressure lessens.

I lick her clit. She shudders again. I press make my tongue flat and press it against her entire pussy for a few seconds, before making a slow lick to the top. She shivers once more, and her legs lose all their strength. Not to be out-oraled, the Minx pulls down the elastic waistband of my joggers and pulls out my somewhat hard cock.

She brings it to full extension with a few pumps, then licks it from base to tip. Now it's my turn to shiver as she moves her hand from the base of my shaft to pull on my scrotum. The Minx starts to slowly take my length down her throat. Fuck that feels good. I don't see it, but I can definitely feel it. I continue lapping her cunt, then insert a couple fingers slowly.

She moans on my dick, now halfway down her throat.

This girl is cunning. I see her plan. Thinks she's can make me cum, and that I'll be too tired to fuck her. Thinks she can get me off, make me too tired to continue. Finish me before I make her beg for my cock.

I'm still supporting myself with my knees on either side of her head, and since she kindly lined everything up for me, I take advantage of the position, dropping my hips. My cock sinks the rest of the way into her hot, wet throat.

I continue slowly both licking her entrance and fingering the spongy tissue some call the g-spot while I stay hilted in her throat, waiting for her to run out of air. I want her to be on the brink of consciousness, so that when she cums the first time, it's explosive. She begins vibrating and contracting her throat around my cock in desperation, realizing she's fighting a losing battle.

Fucking hell, this minx.

I wait a full two minutes of simultaneously fingering her and eating her out before her legs finally begin shaking and kicking, indicating that either she's out of air, or is about to cum. Or both. My bet would be both.

I lick over her clit a final time before removing my cock with a loud squelch from the recesses of her throat, and she sucks in air desperately, her whole body frozen, before letting out a choked scream, her whole body quivering around mine. She's cumming. Juice flows freely from her cunt.

I wait a moment for her to come down from the orgasm. When I hear the lowered moans, and her legs buck for the last time, I grin. Second round.

I lower my cock head to her lips, and I peel them open. No resistance. She still thinks she can win. Then I begin to thrust, slowly at first, but then more, and more violent, till I hear the squelch of my cock burying itself with every pump. My whole body moves with my thrusts, and my balls slap her face. I feel myself slowly rising toward orgasm. I want to go faster, but I don't have enough leverage, and my glutes are already burning. I growl in frustration.

I hilt myself in her throat once more, and deepen my channelling a second time. With the extra strength and body control I hug her legs close, preparing to get up and she senses my intentions, and moves her hands from the base of my cock to my ass to keep herself fully on my length as I move. I get to my feet, cock still embedded in her face, and slam her bodily into the wall. She grunts in pain, and I resume fucking her throat.

My pumps become more urgent, my need more desperate. Her head is trapped between my thrusting hips and the wall, allowing me to efficiently deepthroat her with my entire length at a furious pace. I rise dangerously close to orgasm. I know if I cum, I lose. She knows this too. Yet I want so badly to cum. Saliva drips onto the ground from my cock every time I pull out. Her hands move from my ass to my balls, trusting me to hold her up by her legs. She pulls on them, massages them, tugging on them individually, then manipulating my entire scrotum in different directions, sending electric currents of pleasure through my pelvis and cock.

Fuck. I'm going to cum.

Time to pull out my ace in the hole. Both figuratively and literally.

I pull out of her vibrating, vacuum throat completely with a popping sound, as she reluctantly relinquishes my length. She kisses it with a finality, and I realize she knows I'm past the point of no return. My cock convulses in front of her pouting lips with pre-orgasm contractions like some kind of morphing monster. Her tongue flits out and licks the pre-cum from my uthera.

I drop my channelling another level. My penultimate level. Now in almost complete awareness of every aspect of my body, time moves in almost slow motion. I'm able to inspect each individual source of pleasure on its own, and trace it to its source. Her tongue in my cock. Her hands on my balls. The idea itself of owning such a dangerous, sexy, alpha female is such a way, having her willingly take my entire cock down to the base, and freely being able to pin her to the wall, and cum on her face.

I take a second to enjoy it all. Then time to work.

I find and disable my refractory period. Okay, so it's a little more complicated than that. Basically I reprogram the packet of hormones and neurotransmitters set out to fire and release once I cum. Instead of doing what they would normally do, I redirect and cancel out so that the refractory period lasts just around a minute instead of the normal fifteen. Bodilar scheduling is not quite an exact science, but I have a feel for it. I cancel the tiredness entirely and then phase out of my channelling, back into the basic level. Staying that deep can have adverse effects if held for too long.