Hela... is Ch. 02 - Pain

The only certainty in life is death.

*****

This is a story in 4 parts about a woman who's a dominatrix for recreation and a hitwoman for a living. Each chapter can be read as an independent story but they are linked and I think it's better if they are read in chronological order. But as the reader it's up to you. .

In case anyone thinks they are reading something familiar and accuses me of plagiarism the basis of this series comes from a story I submitted some years ago, now deleted, and which forms the basis for the first three chapters. Its been edited, partially rewritten, and new content added.

*****

I set off early and within an hour was on the interstate heading west. The weather was terrible and as bad as I have ever driven in. Torrential rain had reduced visibility to fifteen yards and I was in the first lane, doing thirty, trying to hang on to the tail lights of the car in front. Despite the weather there were still truckers, in their juggernauts, thundering past flexing their egos. Or their stupidity.

Thirty miles south and the rain stopped. But the surface was still wet and you needed to drive easy so I stayed in the first lane. A car flashed by in the outside lane. The driver must have had it in cruise control because a hundred yards on the car became airborne. It soared through the air, straight into the car in front, collided with the driver's side of the other car and bounced off to the left, onto the median, rolling on to its roof. I took a quick look as I drove past and it looked bad. Whoever was in it must have been seriously injured, if not dead.

I drove on. Someone else could stop to help and call the highway police. I had something more important to deal with than a car crash involving someone I didn't know. Leave it to the emergency services. Sounds callous but sometimes that's the way it is and the weather was going to make me late anyway.

I pulled off the freeway to fill up with gas even though I still had half a tank. I never, ever, let it go below halfway. I always like to have between half empty and full, because I never know when I may need it. Particularly in my business.

There was a Denny's, two hundred yards from the gas station, and my growling stomach told me it was time to eat. I was ready for buttermilk pancakes, bacon strips and sunny side up eggs. Delicious and washed down with cool, clear, water to flush out the badness from within me. Doesn't always work in my case.

Less than an hour later I was almost at the town which was my destination. I was a long way from home, although I have travelled farther for a contract. Flying is often the best option on many occasions. But not this time. I find driving, listening to the music on the radio, relaxing. Heavy metal from the 80's is my favourite. Certainly not the moronic and plastic rap crap that's so prevalent nowadays.

In my line of work, and as a freelance, sometimes putting distance between home and work is an advantage, desirous, and recommended.

I needed to go somewhere before I got to town. The directions were already in the GPS and hopefully it would lead me to the location without a problem. Which is not always the case. Sometimes technology doesn't work and on those occasions it's a pain in the ass.

I don't consider I'm sadistic by nature. But there have been occasions when it's been necessary to persuade subjects, against their will, to divulge information. This was one of them. So before leaving home I searched the web and found suitable, and sound proofed, premises several miles out of town. It was available for hire on an hourly basis and I had booked it for forty-eight hours.

The premises weren't close to town, which fitted my requirements, because I hadn't wanted to run the possibility of being seen entering or leaving them. The GPS coordinates were accurate, and within ten minutes I was close to the location.

I'd been told to look for a large rock with a lightning flash carved in it and then turn off onto a narrow dirt road that looked as if it led nowhere. After three hundred yards I came across an old barn badly in need of repair. A well hidden door with a lock that looked as if it should have been on a bank vault and after putting in the numeric code I entered.

Then came the surprise. There was a building, within a building, and clad in sound proofing sheets. Another door with another numeric lock. Behind the door a short corridor with three doors. I received a further surprise when I opened the door at the end of the corridor. A polished hardwood floor, a matching ceiling, above which was doubtless more sound insulation. The walls were quilted leather panels, or maybe faux leather, in red and black. This was just what I was looking for. A paradise for both a sadist and a masochist and everyone in between.

To say the dungeon was well equipped would be an understatement. A St. Andrews cross; Fetters wheel and suspension frame; leather body bags and strait jackets; shiny black leather swing and harnesses; spanking bench; metal cage; saw horse with pony saddle, bridles and cuffs; fully functioning stocks and pillory; floggers, whips, paddles, crops and even slippers hung on one wall; another wall had ropes; cuffs; gags; bridles and restraints; throne and torture seat; and a mirrored wall cupboard with, no doubt, other goodies inside.

The throne itself was elaborate. Constructed, obviously by a craftsman, from polished ebony and with the padded seat and back covered in red leather. The horseshoe shaped back was decorated with bright steel handcuffs linked together by gold rings, and topped with a black tiara decorated with reflective stones. At the end of each of the red leather armrests was a set of balls with a drooping penis. One black and one white.

Full height mirrors were fitted at intervals along the walls in between the leather panels, together with mirrors on the ceiling. In the corner was a shower easily big enough to accommodate several people and with additional fittings not intended for showering. It wasn't too difficult to guess what it was used for in addition to being used as a shower.

Now I understood why I had been told it wasn't necessary to bring my own 'goody bag' but I'd brought it anyway. Satisfied the premises would suit my purpose I headed for town.

Using a credit card in one of my various aliases, I'd booked a room at the local Holiday Inn Express. Money was no object, with the clients paying all expenses, but they didn't tend to remember you at budget hotels as they do at the more expensive ones. Plus you knew what you were getting when you stayed at an Express. Even when you're only staying a couple of nights you want to be comfortable, and after the drive I wanted a long soak in a bath. I needed to relax and clear my head.

I decided to eat early to give me plenty of time to once again go over the information the clients had supplied. As it was summer, a plain blue skirt worn with a blue and white striped shirt was the way I decided to go. Black shoes with sensible heels and a brunette wig to hide my red hair. No jewellery, except for earrings and a Macy's watch. Important nobody would remember me.

The hotel concierge recommended a restaurant within easy walking distance but I was a disappointed when I saw the outside. It looked as if it hadn't seen paint since Elvis was a teenager, and inside it wasn't any better. Plank top tables, without tablecloths, and what looked like uncomfortable chairs. But surprisingly, from its appearance and the early hour, the place looked full and I thought I wasn't going to get a table. A guy wearing Levi's and a button down white shirt, that hung over his pants, scuttled over. He must have been told that wearing his shirt that way hid his belly and made him look younger. The advice was wrong. Although it hid his belt buckle, his stomach was well on its way towards his knees.

He showed me to the worst table in any restaurant. It was only just big enough for two, which was fine, and squashed into a corner. But it was right next to the swing doors into the kitchen. One of those tables where, when you were eating, you had to keep your elbows in. Beggars can't be choosers and, as I wanted to eat, that's the way it had to be.

I'd just ordered when a guy on his own walked in, looking around for a table. The waiter went to him and you didn't have to be a lip reader to know what he was saying. I don't know what came over me but I got his attention and gestured to the seat opposite me. He said something to the waiter, who looked at me, I nodded, and he escorted the guy across.

The food was marvellous. It looked as if it had been thrown onto the plate but it was delicious. I wanted something simple, so I didn't order an appetiser, and went straight to ordering a steak. I'm a red wine girl and it had to be a large glass. It's supposed to be good for your health but I just like the taste. What the guy ordered I can't remember. It wasn't important.

I was surprised when he didn't proposition me. Who wouldn't want to try their luck with me? I'm no supermodel but I'm a pretty good looker. He asked for the check and while we waited I reached across the table and placed my hand on top of his. I was as horny as hell and I needed a fuck. I wasn't going to let this opportunity get away.

"Do you have a hotel room?" I said, as I caressed the back of his hand.

"Yes, I do." I could see both uncertainty and hope in his eyes.

"I'd like to see it. Pay the check and let's go." I'm a confident person at the worst of times and taking control of a situation isn't a problem. This guy wasn't going to get away.

He paid the check just like a gentleman should, and within minutes we were in his room ripping our clothes off. Neither of wanted to make love, we just wanted to fuck. I discovered he was in his early twenties, which was quite a bit younger than me, but thankfully he turned out to be reasonably experienced. Not a bad kisser but that wasn't what I wanted. I'd had a long day, which still wasn't over, and I wanted hot, rough sex.

"Sit on the bed," I said. Not a request. Not a command. But a firm authorative instruction without any doubt. He sat.

Once through any bedroom door I was in charge. I'd decided a long time ago no man was ever going to tell me what to do. The only time I knelt to any man was when I gave him the pleasure of my hand wrapped around his cock. On rare occasions, very rare occasions, I would allow a man to take me from behind. But it was when I was feeling exceptionally horny and it was my decision not his. Nothing happened without my consent. Ninety nine percent of the time he was on his back and I rode him. Hard. I rode men not because I wanted to be in control but because I needed to be in control. I was a domme even when fucking a vanilla guy and no part of the decision was his even if he did think so.

I didn't have to work on him. I could see from the strain his pants were experiencing he was already hard as rock in anticipation. I quickly unbuckled his belt, unzipped him, and pulled his pants down to his ankles removing his shoes at the same time. I tossed everything on top of his jacket and shirt which were already heaped on the floor.

Taking hold of his knees I parted his legs and assessed what I had to work with and what I was shortly going to take. His cock wasn't exceptional but it was acceptable and he had a fair sized set of balls. I took his manhood in my hand, gently blew on it, and if anything it grew harder. With my other hand I fondled his balls whilst kissing the head of his shaft. That was the closest he was going to get to my mouth. A little too much hair for me on his genitals and in the past I'd used scissors before getting down to it but as this was going to be a one off for the evening I let it go and climbed aboard. He scrunched up the bedclothes in his fists and the muscles in his thighs tightened as I slowly slid down his cock a little at a time as I took his hands and placed them on my breasts.

"Tease my tits while I fuck you," I instructed.

"Fucking hell, you've definitely done this before," he gasped, and I could feel the veins in his cock trying to burst through the skin. My body was doing an excellent job of lubing me and my juices were running out and around the base of his cock. As I continued to fuck him I felt him getting close but there was no way was he going to come until I was ready. I released him, gave the head a kiss, and stood up.

"What are you doing? Finish me. Please," he pleaded.

"That's enough of that," I grinned, "better things are to come. Right now it's your turn." I climbed on the bed, on my back, pulling my pussy lips apart giving him a good view of my wet cunt and my impatient clit. "Get your mouth to work pleasing me and then I might let you come."

He wasn't happy about my disappointing him but he settled between my legs, buried his nose in me and started behaving like a pig at a trough.

"Whoa, boy, whoa," I called out, grasping him by the hair and pulling his head up so I could see his eyes. "Have you never tasted pussy before?"

"A couple of times," he replied, with a crestfallen look wondering what I was going to do or say next.

"What was the ladies response? Did they say they liked it."

"They never said anything. They just had me do it for a minute and then said they wanted my cock inside them because they were eager to be fucked."

"They were being nice to you. They wanted you to get on with fucking them because you were making a mess of eating them out. Now get back to it, keep your nose out of my cunt, slowly lick between my pussy lips up to my clit. Then do it again until I tell you when to stop."

I hadn't realised how much he lacked experience. There was pleasure in teaching someone how to eat pussy but I wasn't going to spend too long on it. I wanted his cock inside me again. I ran my fingers through his hair, guiding him as I encouraged him with words I knew he wanted to hear.

"That's much better. Not too fast. Keep it slow. Suck my clit. Hold it gently between your lips and ... fuck, that's the spot, keep sucking, yeeessss, fucking hell, now lick me, keep it slow, all the way up and all the way down ... yeeesss yeesss yeeesss ... don't stop." I kept him at it until I had to stop. I couldn't take another orgasm. I lay back, my head on the pillow, gently massaged my breasts. I heard this soft voice, almost a whisper.

"I've never had a woman react like that before. I thought you were never going to stop."

"That's what happens when you get it right. A woman can have as many orgasms as she wants. Or as many as she can stand. We aren't a one trick pony like men. We don't have to pause while we reload. But right now I want you on your back again."

Turned out he had come prepared, which was good because I wasn't in the mood to trail back to my hotel room. I ripped the packet open with my teeth and slid the rubber on his cock. I climbed on top and slid down in one smooth movement. Down to his balls quickly because of his length being only average, riding him steadily, keeping it easy because I didn't want him to come too soon but conscious I still had things to do. I gripped him with my cunt as I rose up, released him as I reached his tip, and smoothly slid down again. I could tell he was more excited than me and I did want him to enjoy it. I stuck a finger in my cunt while I worked my clit with my thumb. I checked my watch, saw how quickly the time had passed, and decided to finish it. I began riding him hard and fast, working his cock even harder with my pussy muscles. We came at the same time and I kept pumping him until he had nothing left to give.

I thanked him for a great fuck, the lie slipping easily from my lips. Like his cock his performance was only average and that was being generous.

"Should we shower together," he asked, the eagerness in his voice almost begging.

"I'd love to but I need to get back to my hotel." Another lie sliding easily from my lips. "I've got an important meeting tomorrow and I need to prepare for it."

*****

I wanted a nap before going to work so I returned to my room, set the alarm for 11pm and was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. It only seemed seconds later when the alarm went off and I was awake instantly. One of those things I'd always been able to do. Switch from sleep to instant action in seconds. It has come in handy on many occasions.

So why was I in Fordham? A town which had nothing to offer and was 'nobody's favourite vacation hangout?' The answer was I'd received a new contract three days ago and the clients wanted it done as soon as I could! The money was so good for a simple job I put the job I was planning on hold. Some guy had got so far into debt with my clients, was now apparently without sufficient funds to repay them, and he was about to discover the consequences of being unable to discharge his obligations. In those circumstances there was only one possible course of action for my clients. Me! It isn't always a case of putting them down. Sometimes it's just giving them a lesson they'll remember for the rest of their life.

Contact between a client and myself was always by email, with payment into an offshore bank account to preserve my anonymity. I always received photos and relevant background information of "the target" via encrypted memory stick.

The target was a man who ran several businesses, most as a front for more dubious enterprises. Not that I was interested in how he made his money. He was just a problem to be removed.

For tonight's work I was wearing sneakers, jeans, and roll top sweater, all in black, together with a couple of other necessary items. I checked I was ready to go, then set off to catch my prey. I already knew his favoured choice of relaxation, and which club he would be in. Unable to keep a partner his leisure time ranged from picking up a street hooker for a quickie to renting the services of a high priced escort for the night.

*****

From inside his car I watched him come out of the club, walking towards me on unsteady feet, his companion supporting him. He had obviously decided on a hooker and tonight's model was peroxide blonde, tall, slim, almost wearing a gold lame dress plus skyscraper heels. How she managed to stay on her feet whilst supporting him was amazing. He had one arm over her shoulder, the other inside her dress fondling her breast. He probably intended to take her somewhere quiet to fuck her, or in his condition, maybe just get a blow job.

I heard the click as the doors unlocked. After he fell into the driver's seat the hooker walked around to the passenger side. Gently placing her ass on the seat, she swung her legs in, closed her door, and bent over his lap reaching for his zipper while he went to press the ignition. Rising up from the rear seat, I grasped his hair with one hand, wrenched his head back, and with the other hand I pressed the chloroform pad over his mouth and nose. It only took a few moments before he was unconscious.

The hooker, oblivious to what was happening, was still bobbing her head up and down on his cock. I reached around her head and, before she realised and had time to react, clamped the pad over her nose and mouth. She went out like a light. I dragged him from his car, hoisted him over my shoulder, and dumped him in the trunk of my rental. I'd had enough practice over the years to perfect the technique.

The subject had been married twice. A known wife beater who, because of his contacts and paying off the relevant authorities, had never had any action taken against him. His first wife had run away whilst pregnant and his second wife had an unfortunate accident when she fell down the stairs and broke her neck.

I got him back to the dungeon and fastened him, naked, into a chair. I changed into my black latex catsuit; knee high black leather boots; four inch metal tipped spiked heels; and pulled on a black latex hood that showed only my lips and eyes but completely hid my red hair. Soft black leather gloves that reached up to my elbows and three imitation diamond rings on my right hand.