Mistresses Incorporated Pt. 03

A limo waited for us on the street, inside three more trench coat wearing ladies of various hair colors, sizes and beauty, though Lara remained the plainest. I noticed she'd brought a short brimmed Stetson hat tilted down to hide her least attractive asset.

"Hello Joe," the driver grinned. I did a double take. It was the bellboy at the hotel.

George sat in the passenger seat, handing him a thick envelope. George handed back the greasy bag, fresh and delicious sweet rolls it turned out, before bending down onto the driver's lap.

George must have been good at it, because moments after we parked at the dock the driver growled. Some wipes in the glove compartment and a sip from a bottle of vodka, and George was ready to go.

A parade of whores walked to the end of the dock, me included, where a motorboat awaited us. We climbed in and sped to a large yacht anchored a little ways out.

A metal ladder awaited us at the stern, which we climbed. I ended up being last on board, with the raven hair beauty just ahead of me. "Open your coat," she whispered. "The bald man is ours." She referred to a thickset, goonish looking man. A slim, shorter, weasel looking brown hair man stood beside him checking out the merchandise.

Our ally split off and headed towards the bow while the weasel stood by an open door to the interior of the yacht. When I reached him he muttered in Russian, "We do not need another (some word I figured meant faggot)." The black hair beauty turned back to him and cut his throat with a razor.

"Hurry," she whispered. "Open that door." I did, revealing a closet with cleaning equipment and helped pull the dying, bloody man inside. "Wait here," she insisted, and in that dark closet smelling of blood and shit I waited. Not long after, although it probably felt longer, she opened the door. "Come on." I followed her into another room which held a toilet, sink and shower, all cramped. "Strip."

We both did and I admired her lean taut body and round little ass, her breasts obviously augmented to at least d size and her pussy shaved. She showered first, washing blood from her face and hands. I realized she'd buttoned up quickly before killing the man, keeping the blood off her deep red sheathe dress. I wasn't so lucky, having blood on the baby doll blue t shirt. "You will not need it," she said. "We shall be the show."

After her quick shower, I showered just as quickly while she slid on the dress. She handed me the short shorts, leaving my underpants discarded. "Think you can carry me, big guy?" she asked.

"Whatever you need," I said.

We stepped out commando, me sans shirt, to the door at the end of the passage. Music thudded from beyond it. "Let's find out," she said and I lifted her into my arms with her straddling my middle while she opened the door.

It seemed the crew and any associates and the oligarch all decided to enjoy the party. We walked in kissing, my hands on her taut little ass, fabric in between. "Lift the dress," she whispered when we stood at the center of the large party room. With one hand around my neck, she managed to undo my jeans with the other. I got the message, moving the cloth away to hold her ass directly, fingers finding her slit already slippery. "Lubricant," she whispered, her hand pulling on my penis, only half hard but getting harder. "I hope you are safe."

"I am."

"Me too."

I used my mouth to pull down the sheathe dress off her tits while she leaned back just enough. I nibbled on already hard nipples before I moved my mouth to kiss her. I couldn't hold her leaning back. She managed to tug me hard and lead me to her prepared slit and sank down. The audience cheered.

I welcomed the return of a second hand holding me while my hands lifted her and let her sink down. After a minute of fucking and kissing, she pulled her mouth off mine to let loose several Russian curses pretending to cum. The way her pussy clutched at me, it was even convincing internally. It also affected me and I started lifting her faster and pulling her down harder.

Her surprise was evident on her face. "Put me down Joe," she whispered, clutching me. I managed to lower to my knees and she lay back, whereupon I recommenced the fucking, getting to nibble on those tasty nipples some more. Circumstances didn't require me to make her cum, so I just went for it, hard fast strokes sending me over. "Pull out, show them," she moaned. Maybe she did cum. I did as ordered, revealing the proverbial money shot for my last few ejaculations. More applause, ending with scuffling.

One of the men managed to make it past the initial attack, moving at me, maybe thinking I was someone important. A stroke to his solar plexus, his groin, and an upward thrust to his throat ended the attack, the last strike deadly.

"Where's the ladies?" I asked quietly. Everything had been done quietly, with a lot of slit throats and a lot of blood as a result.

"Follow me," George whispered.

"I'll check on the wheelhouse," said the raven haired beauty. A cute blonde and a pudgy, voluptuous redhead followed her while the siblings and I stopped at a door we'd passed earlier. Both had Derringer sized pistols in hand.

George carefully checked the knob on the door, finding it locked. He lifted his foot and kicked it open. We found Natalia, the matriarch's daughter, mid-stroke fucking Lizzie with a strap-on, Lizzie restrained to the bed lying atop Karen, also restrained, Karen on her back and Lizzie on her stomach, both naked, as was Natalia.

"I always knew you were a cunt," Lara muttered in Russian while her brother took Natalia in a choke hold and pulled her off, the long thick dildo shiny with lubricant or something.

"Lizzie? Karen?" I muttered.

"Let us loose," Lizzie responded weakly. "Key in her purse."

The tiny key opened the manacles on their wrists. Lara's still bloody collapsible razor cut through the leather bindings around their ankles. Lizzie struggled to get off Karen and stumbled to a nearby desk chair with a laptop in front of it and turned it on.

"We've been drugged and starved," Karen explained while I held her in my arms in the bed.

"We'll get you some food, but you need to get up," George said apologetically.

I helped Karen off the bed, ending up on the floor with her straddling my lap while my back leaned against the desk just below Lizzie who continued working on the lap top. Meanwhile George and Lana secured Natalia to the bed using the manacles, panties stuffed in her mouth and a leather strap securing it. She'd been rendered unconscious by George's choke hold.

"Molly's in transit," I told Lizzie.

"Doesn't matter," Lizzie responded. I understood.

Lara went to fetch some food while George remained with us. "Need any information?" he asked. "Password?"

"Not necessary," said Lizzie. "Molly's in." She slumped in her chair.

"Impressive," George smiled. "Clothes?"

"In the closet," Lizzie gestured to folding doors on the other side of the bed. Opening it revealed a couple dresses and a pantsuit on hangers and a chest of drawers with a luggage bag atop it. "I need the head," Lizzie added.

"Me too," said Karen.

I helped her up, and then Lizzie, and held them walking them to the one the raven hair beauty and I had used. Bloody coats and shirt remained on the floor. Noticing them, both Lizzie and Karen sighed. "We'll be fine, Joe," Karen said.

"Okay," I nodded.

Bodies remained where they were in the party room while the ladies and the bald man wiped surfaces. Lara had just finished nuking some casserole and coffee dripped at a coffee maker. The raven hair beauty had a bag and collected valuables from the dead, her hands wearing latex gloves.

"What's your name?" I asked her.

She laughed. "Helena."

"Pleasure to meet you," I grinned.

"Pleasure was all mine," she winked.

Sexy humor in a gruesome room? What else could you do?

I took a cloth and began wiping things down.

Several minutes later George approached me. "They're in the oligarch's cabin."

I nodded and followed him, passing Natalia's room. "What are you going to do with her?" I asked.

"You don't want to know."

"Probably not, but tell me anyway."

"We're going to make it look like we tortured her, Lara's expertise, and slit her throat like the others."

I nodded. My stomach clenched. All that murder and blood, and the idea of torture finally struck home. "Excuse me." I went into the familiar head and vomited and wiped down where I touched before continuing on.

Lizzie and Karen sat at the desk in the oligarch's chambers wearing the two dresses that had been in the closet, Lizzie too large and Karen's a little too small. They shared the container of food and sipped coffee. Helena was there too, collecting valuables.

"Hey lover," she teased.

"You fucked her too?" Karen asked.

I shrugged.

"Nice cock," said Helena.

"It is," Karen chuckled.

"You agree, Lizzie?" Helena asked.

"Don't know yet, but he's highly recommended," Lizzie smirked.

"Anyone else, stud?" Karen asked.

"Uhm, Lara," I admitted.

"Good choice," said Lizzie. "She's got quite the hot body."

"I definitely wouldn't kick her out of bed," Karen agreed.

"Lara is my lover," Helena told us. "Our business makes it so we cannot be exclusive, but if we could be..."

"Sorry to hear that," I said.

"I suppose we would never really be exclusive because we love cock too much, the real thing preferred, although Lara especially likes being fucked up the ass while fucking, and me wielding a dildo does just fine for her."

"Probably none of my business," I asked carefully, "but do George and Lara...?"

"Since they were kids and Lara seduced him. But he only does anal with her."

"Which explains her fixation," I offered.

"Probably," she agreed.

"You speak really good English," I noticed.

"Because I was in New York for a couple years. Got kidnapped and got used. I knew some English and taught the other girls some so maybe they could escape. I found an oligarch and had him pay for me, but he was an insufferable asshole, treating me as bad as any john because he bought me. And then George and Lara found me and I escaped to here with them."

"And the oligarch?"

"In one piece unfortunately as far as I know. I was too well known to be his mistress to kill the motherfucker, but we've managed to make him suffer the torture of a thousand cuts with hacking and misinformation. Last time I heard he's been jailed and probably being anally probed as we speak if he's still alive."

"You guys don't tread lightly," I commented.

"We do actually, but it's war, Joe. This is the most obvious we have been, but it sounds as if we'll be covered."

"You will," said Lizzie. "The pirate thing and the oligarch losing grace."

"Good."

"Mikhail?" I asked.

"He'll be the hero in all this and take things over if things work the way they should," Lizzie grinned.

"Good."

"Except if he's as manipulative as the rest of them," Helena pointed out.

"True," we all seemed to agree.

"We should go soon."

"We'll finish up and wipe things down," Lizzie promised.

"Whenever you're ready."

The two nodded.

After Helena left, bag full, Karen bowed her head. "I'm sorry for all this."

"Stop feeling fucking guilty," Lizzie muttered.

"But..."

"You love me. You missed me. I love you too. I missed you too. Maybe we could have waited until Joe got here and we did what we planned, but shit happens, and obviously Natalia isn't the saint we hoped she'd be, so who the fuck knows how all that would have played out."

"You think she was in on the whole thing?" I asked.

"I don't know yet. Molly will find out."

"I'd put my money on her being the one who instigated the whole thing," said Karen.

"No bet," Lizzie agreed.

"The way Lara reacted to her, it does seem like she's a conniving bitch," I added.

After we slipped back into the boat that brought us, the boat taking a long detour where the bald man tossed some chain weighted bags over the side containing the bloody clothes of the prostitutes and the coat and shirt I borrowed, a stash of clothes in the boat giving much more quotidian clothing to wear when we returned to shore an hour or so before dawn, everyone ambled off on their own except my ladies and the siblings and me who walked over to a green Saab in the harbor parking lot. Opening the trunk revealed our luggage from the hotel.

George drove us inland for several miles to a small house in a small village. "What you call a safe house," he explained.

"What about the neighbors?" Karen asked.

"The house is owned by an eccentric recluse writer sympathetic to us. Guests, presumably ex-students or fellow intellectual come visit him on occasion."

We met the recluse either still up or up early, a blond disheveled man with a pot belly looking to be in his late forties. He remained in his study which also had a single sized bed, and after introductions, Lara closed the door to be alone with him.

"The master bedroom is yours," George told us guiding us there, the ladies' luggage in his hands while I carried mine. Once set down, he pulled out a sheet of paper. "The address and directions for Molly when she arrives at the airport. As soon as Lara finishes with Peter, we'll be leaving."

"Thanks for everything," Karen said, hugging him. We each gave him a hug and a thank you before he left us. We heard enthusiastic sex in a nearby room while we stripped and put on some "comfies," to nap. I gave Lizzie the burn phone and she left a message for Molly with the address and the directions. We slid into bed with me spooning behind Karen and Karen spooning behind Lizzie. The two women slept. It took longer for me, images of blood and dead bodies circling through my head until sleep blessedly took them from me. Any nightmares I might have worried about didn't happen.

I awoke to a midday sun alone in the bed and heard murmured conversations somewhere outside the room. Since I was dressed in a t shirt and warm-up pants, I ambled out to find its source. Molly sat at the kitchen table with Lizzie and Karen sitting close on both sides of her.

"Hi," I said.

"There's black bread and cheese," Karen told me. "The coffee should still be good."

"Thanks. Any news?"

"They haven't discovered the yacht," said Molly. "Mikhail's already got the ball rolling, claiming to have seen the oligarch with the businessmen and the Senator and investigated, discovering the plot to sell out his company to the decadent Americans. The search is on for the culprits."

"Meaning they'll be discovered soon," I finished.

"Yep."

"Meaning we should probably leave soon."

"Yep."

"How are you feeling?" I asked Lizzie and Karen.

"Not good," Lizzie reported. "Once the shit she had us on dissipated, things started hurting. Luckily Peter is a bit of a druggy, let us take some of his opiates, so we're okay for now."

"How bad is it?" I asked.

Karen sniffled. "Lizzie got it worse than me."

"I'm tighter down there," Lizzie explained. "Bled some."

"Fuck."

"I insist she gets looked at," said Karen.

"Yes Mom," Lizzie smirked.

"Where?" I asked.

"Paris," said Molly.

"Lizzie's got a place," Karen added.

"It's nice," said Lizzie.

And it was really nice, an apartment on the Boulevard Haussmann with a glimpse of the Arc de Triomphe.

Though I knew the Mistresses were wealthy, I also knew they seemed to acquire property via unscrupulous means.

"Where are the owners?" I asked.

"Already winterizing at the Cote d'Azure." Lizzie chuckled. "But since we kicked the wife abusing asshole out of the wife's and mistress's life, the wife and mistress are fine with us staying in their lovely abode."

"Of course," I shook my head.

"Doctor," Karen muttered.

"By the phone," Lizzy instructed. "The gynecologist proved both helpful and sympathetic to our case. And she's a friend. Tell the receptionist it's Lizzie."

Karen, in French told the receptionist Lizzie had been raped and had bled. "May I?" I asked, and Karen loosened her grip on the phone. "The doctor needs to see two patients," I told the woman, also in French.

"May I have the other woman's name?" she asked, which I gave her. "Are you at the address listed?"

I asked Lizzie and got a nod. "Yes."

"She'll be by after five."

"But shouldn't they be looked at there?" I asked

"If needs be," the woman replied and hung up. You have to love Parisians.

Though at least forty and big boned, the gynecologist ended up being a lovely woman both outwardly and as a person. When she arrived, she and Lizzie hugged and kissed, her compassion obvious.

"Who was this pig?" she asked.

"Of the female variety, but not anyone to worry about anymore," Lizzie smiled.

"If you say so. I'm Sarah by the way."

"Karen, but we've met."

"Yes of course. And the pig?"

They laughed.

"Joe," I said. "I apologize for my gender."

"Nothing to do but cut it off," she smirked.

"Uhm," I cringed

They laughed again.

"Come Lizzie, let us be private."

Karen and I waited on a very expensive couch cuddling. "You do have your points," she giggled caressing my crotch.

"Uhm."

"You're right, I'm not quite ready," she said and kissed me lightly. "But I have missed you."

"I've missed you too."

"Sure you have, after Cheryl and Molly and Lara and Helena and who else?"

"I think that's it."

"The congresswoman."

"Okay yes, but..."

"You only love me."

"Uhm..."

"And Cheryl and Kali and Molly?"

"Uhm..."

Karen giggled. "I can't believe we had to wait for Molly to get off before we left. You know how long she likes to take."

"It was actually a quickie comparatively speaking," I argued.

"I suppose." Her continued rubbing caused the usual result. Sliding off the couch, she knelt in front of me."

"Karen?"

"Ssh."

She unleashed my nearly full erection and sucked it in. Her skills had me cumming in minutes. Afterwards she put it away and drank most of the very good rosé sitting on the coffee table just behind her.

"My turn," I said.

"You can try," she said, a little unsure.

Her skirt made it easy to pull off her panties and put my mouth to work. Fortunately I discovered moisture there. Not a lot, just a bit of dew, but it made me hopeful. It definitely took longer than it should, and I realized the missing part and had her remove her blouse and bra, working her nipples with both mouth and fingers before keeping the fingers there while heading back to her pussy. With her, her nipples were at least as important as her clit, maybe more, so instead of assisting my cunnilingus with fingering, I left both hands at her breasts while using just lips and fingers to coax out an orgasm, succeeding a couple minutes later.

By then we had an audience. "Probably easier to examine her," Sarah said smugly with complete seriousness. Nevertheless we laughed.

Lizzie poured herself a fresh glass of wine and I accepted some in my glass. She settled on the couch with some distance from me. We sipped the delicious liquid silently. "You've really gotten to know what Karen likes," she finally said.

"Nothing better than bringing my lover to climax."

"Better than having something warm and wet sliding up and down your cock?"

I laughed. "Apples and oranges, two great thrills responded to differently, from the head and heart and then something much lower and more primitive, I guess the head too since everything ends up going through the brain, getting combined with all sorts of things, visual and scent and hearing. Maybe not taste on that side of things."

"Unless you're sucking Karen's cute little nipples."

"True," I laughed.

"What?"

"It's just that it's fresh. Karen sucks about as well as anyone I've ever experienced."

"I didn't know. I thought you just went for it, but it was reward."