Hayley Lankford: In The Cross Hairs

Lankford knew she was going to cum, but surely that was impossible. How could she enjoy this? How could she enjoy what was happening to her? She was so vulnerable and completely at this woman's mercy. She was being humiliated more than she thought possible, yet she was close to cumming. It made no sense.

"Oh fuck yeah, you fucking whore," the woman said. "You're fucking enjoying this aren't you, you sick little slut."

How could the woman tell that she was enjoying it? What signs was she showing? Lankford needed to control herself and to keep her pleasure a secret.

Lankford struggled right up until the minute her body finally betrayed her. She came hard, her body bucking and pushing the invading fist deeper inside her than it had been before. Her unused pussy leaked its thick juices down her thigh and her whole body tensed against the bonds.

"AHhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," Lankford screamed, the noise thankfully muffled by the underwear. Lanford's hands went white as they pulled against the cable ties.

When the forbidden orgasm was done, Lankford fell silent and lay still beneath the woman. Her eyes were tightly closed, there were tears that she didn't want the woman to see. This couldn't have happened.

The woman removed her hand from Lankford's anus, but it didn't close. Lankford's previously pristine anus gaped wide as the lotion oozed out of it.

The woman wiped her hand on Lankford's lower back. Lankford didn't move or react. She wanted the ground to open up and swallow her whole.

The woman then stripped off her own shorts and underwear. She then climbed up on to the small bed and moved so that she was sitting over Lankford's blonde head.

The woman's weight pressed Langford's face hard into the mattress. Lankford tried to push her head up, but the woman was too strong. The woman began rubbing her pussy into Lankford's head and hair. The woman was using Lankford's head to get herself off as she might use a pillow. Lankford was no longer a person, just a prop to satisfy this woman's needs.

The woman rode her head like a victor, the winner rubbing Lankford's defeated face into the bed.

Lankford screwed up her eyes even tighter. Her nose was pressed hard into the bed with each of the woman's perverted gyrations. She couldn't stop the tears from coming. She screamed into the mattress in frustration, but her screams were only just as loud as the moans the other woman was making. This was more humiliating than the fisting.

It seemed endless, with the woman grinding herself backwards and forwards until she came, screaming widely, leaving her hair a wet mess

The woman didn't linger. With the deed done and Lankford's beautiful blonde hair matted with her juices, she quickly dressed and left.

Lankford waited, but there was nothing, no sound. She was alone.

She turned her head to the side and spat out her thong. How long had she been here now? How long until the explosions? Would the woman come back? Did she want her to? Would anyone else come past? What if the boy she'd kneecapped had friends and one of them wanted revenge? She'd be able to do nothing.

A little voice whispered that at least she would barely feel it, and she buried her face in the pillow in shame.

She was already trying to push the events with this woman to the back of her mind. It was over. She had won, because survival was all that mattered.. The woman had no idea about the explosions. The woman may have defeated her, but as soon as the Land Rovers blew she would be the winner.

Lankford tried to smile, but she couldn't, not yet.

X

More time had passed. Her arms and legs were now completely numb. She had been held in that position for too long. There had been no noise, no disturbances, nothing. Thankfully no one else had come in and used her. She started to worry that more than seven hours had passed, and that something had gone wrong. The explosions should have started.

Maybe they had. Maybe she'd missed them. Maybe the rescue attempt had begun, but no one knew where she was. Maybe one of the assault team would find her? Could she live with that? Could she live with anyone seeing her like this?

Lankford was also too hot. Her throat felt so dry. She needed water; Lankford knew she was getting dehydrated. She could feel the headache starting. The bitch had left her in the room to roast.

Time seemed to drag on. No one came into the room, and she had no choice but to close her eyes. There was nothing she could do. A dark twisted and restless sleep claimed her intermittently.

"Hello," came a deep male voice by the side of her.

Lankford's head whipped around and looked at the man from before, the professional mercenary. He was standing by the side of her bed. She had no idea how he'd gotten into the room without her noticing.

She really didn't like this man seeing her like this, but she tried to bravely meet his eyes. She was thankful he was looking in her eyes and not elsewhere.

"I've come to tie up some loose ends," he said, and he leaned over the bed and began untying the rope that looped around her neck where it joined the bed frame.

She didn't reply, but her face showed her confusion. He smiled. She cursed her numb hands. She wanted to strangle him as soon as they were untied but knew she wouldn't be able to.

"You are the loose end, Lankford," he said. "You cost me a lot of money when you stepped in front of my car bomb. You also damaged my reputation. I don't like having any failure on my resume. My employer wants you kept alive, wants you to be a broken woman, as an advertisement for what she can do, but I think she's underestimated you. I saw the look on your face that day from the roof. I know that whatever she did will only make you come back for revenge. She doesn't know how dangerous you are."

Grant pulled the rope into the middle of the room. Lankford remained quiet, trying to work her wrists to get blood back into them.

Grant threw the rope up over one of the exposed metal girders that ran the length of the bedroom. He then leaned in and used a sharp knife to cut the cable ties holding her wrists.

This was her moment. Lankford tensed, ready to whip into action. She stopped before she even started, as the man pressed the blade of his knife against her throat.

"Don't do anything stupid," he said simply.

Lankford nodded. Together they both stood. Grant stepped back from her, taking the knife from her throat. Lankford was about to pounce, but again he was ahead of her. He pulled the rope over the girder, and it grew tight around her neck.

"Stay there," he ordered.

He dragged the chair and the nightstand to the middle of the room.

"Get up on the nightstand," he instructed.

Lankford looked at him wide-eyed. She had no choice, but nothing about what he was suggesting was good. He then stood up on the chair and tied the rope off to the girder.

"Thank you very much for assisting in arranging your own suicide," he said.

Fuck, she'd been right, and now it was too late to do anything. He hadn't given her a chance. It had been either fight him and get her throat cut or buy time, going along with it until she got her moment.

Only, there had been no moment.

He stepped off the chair and put it back in the corner of the room as if it had never been moved.

"Everyone will assume you got loose and couldn't live with what had happened to you. When whatever my employer did to you shows up on your autopsy, no one will blame you. My employer will just think she won." Then he laughed. "She'll probably find it funny."

"You don't have to do this," Lankford said. How could she have been so stupid, so naïve? Now she was well and truly fucked. Hanging in only her bra, lotion and whatever else leaking down her thighs. How much would the report include? How much would her family find out?

If she could just delay things until the explosions went off, she thought, she might still get out—

BOOM

The whole room shook as a massive explosion rocked the building. The first of the Land Rovers had exploded.

The nightstand felt as if it was about to topple over. Lankford struggled to regain a foothold.

For some reason, perhaps instinct, the man had caught the nightstand and steadied it. He seemed to have forgotten about her, his mind had moved on to the new problem. An unexpected explosion was never good. Without looking at Lankford, he drew his gun and left the room ready to deal with whatever he might find.

Moments passed. Minutes. He wasn't coming back.

Lankford was elated, the stress of the seven hours in captivity already lifting. She'd made it, she would be rescued. She reached up and began to untie the knot around the girder. She'd beaten them, they hadn't broken her. They'd tried, but she'd outlasted them. They'd underestimated her, and her bombs had detonated.

In the distance, she could hear faint gunfire. That would be the professional security teams storming the base while the insurgents were trying to put out the explosions.

The knot was tight, but her fingers had just begun to loosen it.

BOOM

The second explosion shook the room. It was the second explosion, the fuel storage area. She felt the building shake again, even worse than before. She planted her feet firmly on the nightstand, but she could already feel it wobbling.

"Shirrrgh," she cried, as the nightstand slipped out from under her feet, this time there was no one to catch the table.

She felt her throat take her whole weight. She was hanging, fingers struggling with the tight knot at the top of the rope, but her weight had pulled the knot even tighter. Her hands instinctively fell down to the noose around her neck. Lankford didn't have time to think about the irony of her own explosions causing her to hang.

Desperately she fought at the noose. Her head felt like it was on fire with all the blood was trapped in her head. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think.

Lankford descended into sheer panic. She couldn't get any grip on the rope, couldn't lessen the tightness around her throat, and she couldn't get a foothold.

The room was spinning, and then Lankford was lost in darkness.

To be continued?