Exigence Ep. 01

When I returned to the private lounge, I couldn't spot my guest until I looked at the floor. Laying on her stomach, kicking her stockinged legs back and forth, my interviewer sucked on her vape pen and watched the fireplace. She'd gotten rid of her skirt, blouse, and heels.

"Comfortable?" I asked, resuming my seat.

Blowing cherry-scented vapour from her nose and mouth, Danika nodded with a smile. "Your pit bull hurt my ankle when she tackled me. So I thought I'd take my shoes off."

"Your shoes aren't the only thing you've taken off," I remarked, observing the blonde reporter's taut ass, with her plain black panties wedged between two lovely cheeks. Her underwear was conservative yet trendy. Her bra gave a little more support than any other would, probably because she needed that support for her larger-than-average breasts.

Turning onto her side, Danika rested her head on her knuckles and regarded me with a journalist's curiosity. She presented her chest unconsciously but proudly as she ogled me. Her thighs were squeezed together to hide the wet patch between her legs.

"What is it about you?" the blonde asked.

"I don't know."

"You've had quite the effect on me."

"I can see that."

"You exude an aura. You're hot. I've never thought that about a man. Not a real man. Actors, maybe, but never the genuine article."

"I'm not much of a heartbreaker, Danika. Women tend to get what they want from me..."

The blonde eased herself onto her back and stared at the ornate ceiling with her palms on her stomach. She was very fit.

"The women get what they want," she mused, "and you get what you want."

Danika perked up, straightening her back, crossing her legs, and turning to face me. "Strange," she said, "looking at you, I'd say you're a type... The type to never actually know what they want."

"I know what I want."

"And what do you want, Mr Orwell? You want me to write a book? Why me, of all people?"

I shrugged. "I want you. I want you to write a book, and I want you. You. Tonight. Only tonight."

"Only tonight?"

"Yes... Looking at you, I'd say you're a type too. Your crazy moments come hard and fast, but you revert to being plain once you've had your fix. If you really craved danger, adventure... Well, you wouldn't be sitting here in London, interviewing businessmen. And, now that I've said all that, you'll try and prove me wrong, which means I will have a good night."

"Or," Danika smirked, "I could stand up and leave."

"You could."

"I won't."

"I know."

"Why not?" the blonde asked herself. "Why won't I stand up and leave right now? You've been wicked to me, Mr Orwell."

"Part of the fun, ain't it? But, of course, there's a deeper reason."

"Oh?"

Grabbing Danika's father's book, I opened to a page I'd marked earlier and read a short passage.

"Some reporters want to tell stories; others want to make stories. Then there are those rare few who practice their craft because they want to listen to stories that matter. They make those stories a part of who they are. They possess a remarkable gift."

Having heard her father's words, Danika placed her palms on her legs. She looked at me with a subtlety of feeling in the way her lips parted to welcome much-needed oxygen.

"I never thought anyone would use my father's words as an aphrodisiac, but I guess this has been a night full of surprises. Except, of course, I knew you wanted to fuck me the moment you saw me."

"You must be a good judge of people," I complimented. "I wasn't sure myself until I saw the craziness behind your pretty blue eyes as the flames danced on your face. Now, I want to add you to my collection."

Danika snickered. "The Doomsday Archive; collectors of weapons of mass destruction. Oliver Orwell; collecter of women. Sound about right?"

"You've got more bang than an atomic bomb, darling."

"Ahhh, you're cute."

Snorting, I silently confessed my correspondent had looked like fun the instant I laid eyes on her. Of course, my cousins and sisters strongly encouraged me to play around with other (lesser) women. They thought it was right and proper for their man to be the sort of man who had his way. But I didn't much embrace their permission. That night, I thought I might. Once-off.

"I've got one more call to make," I lied. "Why don't you swagger to the bedroom and wait for me? I won't be long."

Reaching out to grab her hand, I helped Danika to her feet and pointed her to my room. She swayed her hips and looked at me over her shoulder.

She was going to be fun.

I waited another ten minutes before heading to the bedroom. It was a chance to let her snoop around because I knew she'd want to. When I walked through the door, I realised that was a mistake...

The horny blonde sexpot was on the mattress, standing on her knees, with a massive smile and a gun pointed at my heart. My gun. The one Skylar had given me to keep in my bedside drawer.

Like many women looking for adventure, Danika thought guns were cute. Her heart must have been racing, but her hands were steady. She saw danger and reached out to grab it. She overcame the anxiety she'd always felt when confronted by things her parents took in their heroic stride. It was a game to her. A game that could've gotten one of us killed.

"You're a real-life James Bond," she snickered, waving the thing around.

I raised my hands and spoke calmly. "You better put that down."

"Awww, but won't it be thrilling?"

Danika turned to catch a glance of herself in a mirror across the room. She liked what she saw. Her body looked salacious in her black lingerie and stockings. Her eyeshadow seemed more intense than before. She brought her gaze back to me and she looked totally, beautifully, unhinged.

"I don't... I don't recognise myself," she said. "But I love the person that's staring back at me. She's sexy, exciting... She's who I've always wanted to be."

"Put that gun down, Danika," I instructed, taking a few steps closer. She didn't listen. She didn't even have the good sense to keep her finger off the trigger. To her, the gun was a sex toy, not a dangerous weapon. She wanted to play with me, and she wanted to play with it. Fully loaded.

As I took another step and then another, I sensed Danika was getting jittery. Her excitement was overwhelming her, and I worried she might pull the trigger by accident.

I was no martial artist, but I had to disarm her. I thought my strength advantage might be enough to overcome my lack of finesse, and I moved to wrestle the pistol from her hand. As I grabbed the barrel and tried to pry it from her grip, Danika giggled in response.

She wouldn't let the damn thing go!

My heart raced as the barrel pointed in every direction, wildly swinging around in the hands of a woman who'd lost her mind.

I hated what I did next, but I had no choice.

Lashing out with my free hand, I slapped Danika. Hard. The impact was enough to dislodge her grip. I secured the gun, rendering it safe by removing the magazine and clearing the chamber. Keeping it at my side, my whole spirit deflated as I was faced with the aftermath of what I'd done... What I had no choice but to do.

I'd have preferred to be shot and killed than to have to look at her... To look at the impact of my blow. Danika's cheek was red as a stop sign, and her bottom lip quivered.

I didn't know what to do, but I felt I should hold her. Then I thought holding her might make her feel trapped and afraid -- more afraid than she must've already felt.

Fuck.

My mind was racing, desperately searching for a way to show her my shame and assure her I'd never hurt her again.As I reached out to squeeze Danika's shoulder, her lip stopped quivering... She turned to me with black smears on her face where tears had melted away the makeup around her eyes. But those eyes weren't sad. Those eyes were smiling.

Danika started laughing like a crazy person.

Pouncing, she grabbed my collar with one hand and the gun with another. I kept a firm grip, but the element of surprise saw me yield more slack than I'd have liked as she brought the barrel of the empty pistol to the underside of her chin. Using all my strength, I broke free from her hold and tossed the empty gun across the room before grabbing her by the shoulders, trying to shake her back to her senses.

"You're crazy!"

For a hot little piece, Danika had a lot of power. Then again, she was running on pure adrenaline.

She managed to take hold of my shirt and drag me onto the bed. Her stockinged legs wrapped around my body, and she stuck her tongue down my throat. Her kiss was a fire that couldn't be quenched by water. It could only be extinguished by sex.

She was batshit -- she'd lost her fucking mind -- but I liked it. I liked it a lot.

Grabbing hold of Danika's bra, I tugged hard on the garment until the clasp at the back broke and her breasts were free.

"You've had some work done, Ms Dalton," I observed, squeezing the perfect orbs roughly.

Danika wasn't interested in sweet talk. There was a darkness that had lived inside her for years. Now, she wanted to embrace it.

She hoped I would be the man to make her deepest desire -- her most secret fantasy -- come to life.

09 • Hard News

Holding Danika Dalton was like handling a firework mid-ignition. She'd lost herself to her darkest thoughts and the primaeval urges that course through all our veins.

"Ravish me," she whispered. "I'll scream and fight, but don't hold back. The more I scream, and the more I fight, the rougher I want you to be. Pretend I'm some whore you found passed out in an alley."

"I'm not--"

Before I could protest, Danika gripped a fistful of my hair and pulled hard. I cried out in pain, muffling my grunts to try and maintain my composure. Then, with her other hand, she scratched my neck like she wanted to hurt me, prickling the skin with her girlishly manicured nails.

"Bitch!" I exclaimed, pulling her hands off me. She whimpered as I manhandled her, pistoning her hips like she was in heat, searching for friction from any man, woman or inanimate object.

"Take me," she begged. "I want to feel alive."

With my hands pushing down her arms, I managed to keep Danika pinned. She began kicking and wriggling around. She swung her head at mine, trying to make contact. Trying to hurt me. Trying to play a sick little game. She did her best to make herself look sad, vulnerable and cornered, but delighted madness was the only look on her face.

Shaking her, I nearly slapped her again. "Control yourself, dammit!"

Danika let out a low whine. Her whole body contorted as her pussy experienced a near-orgasm.

The more I threw her around, the hornier she got.

"If I say 'uncle,' we stop," she instructed. "But I won't say it... I won't ever want you to stop. You can do whatever you want. Make me feel like I've been grabbed by a brute and dragged to his cave. Ravish me, Oliver! Take me!"

The little blonde sexpot uttered a four-letter word to describe what she wanted me to do to her. It was a vile concoction of sounds that had no business coming from a beautiful woman's lips. I wouldn't associate it with anything we did or would do as the night progressed. But dark thoughts were still running through my head. Not evil thoughts, not ugly thoughts...

I had no desire to hurt Danika, but I felt those lusts men feel -- those cravings that make us want to see our women on their knees and in our service. They were parts of the psyche we'd rightly trained ourselves to repress, but they could never be banished or bottled up forever. They were what made us human.

In the space of one night, Danika wanted to experience the danger she'd been avoiding her whole life. She wanted to feel like war correspondents feel when a mortar lands a few feet away. Her body craved the moment before disaster struck; the taste you get on the inside of your cheek when real danger enters your comfortable 21st-century life. She wanted a taste of risk and wrath and dread. It was all pretend, but it would be real enough to ignite the inferno of passion she'd always wished she could embody.

While I was thinking about the rules, she was playing the game.

Wrapping her hands around my neck, Danika stared at me with humming blue eyes and squeezed harder than any deviant in an S&M club would ever dare. She squeezed like she wanted to kill me, but the way her lips remained a centimetre apart told me she was waiting, desiring, hoping I'd strike back...

Grabbing her wrists, I pushed them to her sides and kept her pinned as I settled all my weight onto her thighs. Sitting back, I watched her struggle as she spat at me. The gob of saliva didn't travel far from her lips, landing on her chin. She cursed me and threw her weight around. The whites of her eyes had grown red branches and the black tears melting her makeup made her seem like sex personified.

"Fuck you, fucking pig! I should have shot you!" she screamed. "I should have shot you right in your chest!"

The role-play hit me hard. Softening the grip on one of Danika's wrists, I gave the wild blonde a chance to fight back, and she took it. Lashing out, she struck my cheek with her palm. I was quick to grab it but not quick enough to stop her from inflicting a stinging pain.

My cock was throbbing hard. It was stiff from hilt to tip, groaning against the fabric of my pants like a piece of metal under extreme stress.

Danika wanted to be taken. I wanted to take her.

Twisting the arm she'd thrown my way, I made her lift her back off the bed as she responded to the sensation. My control of her limbs became firmer as I snarled at her, showing my teeth and asserting my dominance. Manipulating her hot body, I tossed her over like a pancake. On her stomach, she flailed her arms around, but she couldn't hit me anymore.

Grabbing the back of her neck, I kept her down as I tore aside what remained of her bra. Her bare back was exquisite, her shoulders were feminine, and her platinum blonde hair could unleash the lion in any man. I dragged my nails over her skin, leaving faint marks until I arrived at her panties. Instead of taking them off, I pulled them up, making her squirm as the fabric wedged between her legs.

"Agh! That hurts!"

I waited for Danika to say 'uncle,' but she didn't.

I spanked her, and she cursed me. I spanked her again, and she cursed me again. The way her hips kept swaying, I knew I could spank her harder to make her curse me some more. Her curse words were new ones I'd never heard before, so I spanked her and spanked her again, making her teach me her language.

As my palm crashed against her soft ass for the dozenth, she told me she loved it by pretending to hate it. "No! No! No! Please, no!"

Grabbing the hem of her underwear, I pulled and pulled, trying to break the fabric. It wasn't the kind of dainty lingerie you could easily tear aside, so I had to pull hard and leave some nasty marks.

"Pig!" Danika spat, slamming her head around as best she could while I still had a grip on her neck. Finally, I yanked hard on her panties, ripping them apart as I summoned a ferocious strength. At the same time, she seized her moment and broke free, crawling out from under me as she clambered off the bed and onto the floor. She moved fast as lightning, fleeing. I followed, undoing my belt as I watched her move on hands and knees, getting a good view of her wet pussy.

To say it glistened would be an understatement.

By the time I was undressed, my toy was in the bathroom, holding the door shut by sitting against it. A dark voice inside me took possession of my body as I charged the door with my shoulder, bashing it open and sending Danika tumbling onto her back. She kicked at me with the soft soles of her stocking, but they were weak kicks. Seizing her ankles, I lifted her ass off the ground and dragged her back to my bed. She slammed her fists down as she slid over the marble tiles, cursing me with a voice that had broken about a minute earlier.

Manipulating her sweet body by its limbs, I flipped her over and grabbed her hair, pulling so that she was bent over the bed. Bringing one leg up, she took on the pose of a pornstar wanting to give the camera a better view of her cunt. I called her a whore and spanked her bare ass, telling her I couldn't wait to fuck her pussy and cum deep inside her.

"No," she whimpered, purring involuntarily as my cock pressed against the entrance to her silky slit. "No, please! Nooo!"

I grabbed her thighs and ensured I had Danika exactly how I wanted her. She raised her hips, presenting herself despite her protestation as I pushed my cock into her warm kitty. Soon, she was totally impaled by its hard length.

"That hurts!" she whimpered, but she still hadn't cried, uncle.

I began fucking the sexy blonde hard as she became weak under my command. Finally, she stopped being an actress playing the damsel in distress and became my lover. Her body was too willing for her to hide the desires she felt, and I carved her out, pumping my cock in and out of her tight hole.

"No," she whispered, but it wasn't a meaningful word. It meant nothing; nothing at all.

As I pounded Danika's pussy, it got wetter and wetter around my cock. It offered a combination of tightness and warmth, paired with the unbelievable softness of her feminine heat.

As her curses turned to moans, Danika began asking for more. "Yes, yes... Ohmigod, yes..."

She was breathless, and I was breathless. Our hearts had been racing so fast they might have blown apart. It added urgency. It heightened our lust. We were fucking like we had seconds to live and mere moments to experience on final orgasm -- one last hoorah to have made our lives good ones.

As my hands settled onto Danika's soft hips, I felt a climax approaching. Not mine, but hers...

"Ohhh, yes! Oh, fuck!" she purred with a broken voice and tired body. Reaching between her legs, she rubbed her clit as she lost words and became a prisoner of sensation. "Mmm, harder... Harder!"

I slammed into the feisty reporter with all my strength as I felt the pressure build around my cock. Her pussy clenched and tensed and pulsed. As I pulled out for some relief, she squirted, coating my thighs with her girlcum. The feeling, the smell, her cries... I shove my cock back into her cunt and fucked her harder than I'd fucked her before.

As the peak of Danika's orgasm came, she was overcome by an insatiable desire for more and my body echoed hers. Skin slammed against skin as I pounded her wet cunt with all my strength, carrying her from one climax to another as each offered greater rewards, more dopamine and better thrills. I could feel all her pleasure, and soon my own orgasm dawned as my balls clenched and my throat contracted.

I wanted to cum inside this wild, crazy, uncontrollable woman, but I had more sense than that. I waited as long as possible, letting her pussy drive me to the edge before pulling back at the very last second. Jets of cum painted her back like a canvas as the warm streaks made art of her body.

I stood, admiring my masterpiece. Along with the white lines, there were red marks of contact. It made quite the tableau.

Once we'd both settled, Danika turned around and looked up at me. Gone was the wannabe victim; there was a new lover to add to my collection -- a woman close to being forever mine but not quite there yet...

"You should've cum inside me," she smirked, wiping her lips. Her dark eyeshadow was a mess -- black tears running down her soft cheeks.

Crawling over to the bedside table, Danika grabbed her vape pen and took a drag. She offered me one, but I didn't accept.

"Remember our deal," I said. "I'll give you everything you want in due course. But, right now, I need your help..."