Not Quite a White Knight Bk. 02 Pt. 02

It is true that normally I don't share, not even with the people of the ranch like Tango, who would become my brother in a ritual during July. But for the indians the whole thing is different, and because of my time with Marta and on the mountain they are the greater influence in my formative life. We indians of the tribe all consider ourselves blood cousins (because we are - there are records) where sharing is normal. In my time on the mountain I lived with several different families as one of them. So I am glad to share female flesh with Qwit and the other indians, I consider it normal because it was how we did things when a woman took us to the cave. The same applied to Gracie and the indians in Detroit, I knew without asking that she found my cousins to be a comfort in the night.

All this explains why sharing with Qwit or other indians was much different to me from the social view which essentially boiled down to a man using his cock in "marking" or "claiming" a woman as either the man's exclusive property or, if she was shared, then she was considered a slut and therefore unworthy of being claimed by any man as sexual property.

-

After my phone call Sam and I were both ready to play at the same time, she could not wait to get strapped into the tension rig. I got things adjusted then added the tension. For Sam the stress meters were all in the green, the lowest levels; it was enough so she could not move and she could feel the tension, but not enough to start pulling hard on joints. Gracie had been looking for thrills and because of that she accepted real pain. But for Sam, it was about being with me as my toy, to play with anyway I wanted.

Once Sam was held fast in the table I started kissing on her body where I pleased. I did not have good access to her front, but her back and her legs provided plenty of places to kiss her gently while telling her how much I liked having her like this. My lips went everywhere along her back, from the middle of her thigh to her hairline, and down her arms as well. I took my time, Sam is generally a patient lover and I wanted to get her a little wound up.

Just to keep it interesting I alternated the kisses with other things, such as running my fingers lightly over her, or nibbling with my lips and tongue on various parts. For now I kept away from her genitals; this got her antsy.

Her being unable to move even a little bit made everything much more intense for her. However, she could turn her head, so every so often I caught her lips and gave her sudden, deeply passionate kisses.

After winding her up for as long as I felt like it, I moved my fingers to her slit. Her labia were open and she was very wet with her pussy juices. I used a stronger touch, my finger slid along the length of her crotch from her prow to her rosebud. Then I pressed on both of the openings, her pussy and her ass. For her pussy I pressed a finger in; it was just one finger and I only went to my first knuckle. She tried to squeeze, to catch me there, but I did not give her time and she was so juice she could not have held me. Then I transferred some of her juices to her back door where I pushed in just enough to open the door, but not enough to enter.

She started to get vocal so I stood on one side and said that if she did not quiet down I would have to gag her, which would mean I could not kiss her, "Like this."

With that I kissed her strongly, forcing my tongue her mouth. At the same time I slipped a finger deep inside her sexual core. With my other hand I took her breast, holding it and rolling the nipple between my fingers. She went crazy over the multi-point attack.

I also indulged myself with tickles and caresses on her entire body. Sam does not have large areas of smooth flesh; scars, tats and body mods adorn her body. So lightly trailing fingers over her skin reveal a three-dimensional terrain. A great deal of the flesh still has feeling, and I tried to find a touch that worked well for every feature. She loved every bit of it.

When we were both ready - she seemed like a tea pot on the stove just before it hit the boiling point - I eased my cock into her pussy from behind. I had already parted her labials with my fingers, and spread some of her moisture where it did some good. I was also lubricating. With her held as she was I could slip into her pussy with one single move, expanding the tunnel to her core.

She exploded on my cock. Her muscles contracted tight, so if I hadn't been in, I wasn't getting in for a bit. But I was inside, so it felt wonderful as she grabbed my cock and compressed it while making happy noises. I admit that I made happy noises too.

Actually, the teapot on the stove is the wrong example. If you have ever boiled water in a microwave you can get it to the point above boiling, superheating the water, without getting any boiling visible. Then, when you drop the tea-bag in, the whole thing goes to boiling over all at once, and the very hot water gets all over the place, making a mess, and burning the tea. It feels like you have personally given great offense to the gods of physics.

Sam was more like that, doing explosive elation focused on my cock.

She climaxed like crazy as I slipped it in. It was not acting, I could read the gauges and they all jumped from green, through yellow, into red. There were warning bells and flashing lights I did not know the machine had. On top of that Sam was weeping in a strange way. Well, I say "weeping" but in truth I could not see her face.

"Oh PAULO... I'm cummmmming so HAARRRRDDD. Fuck that is so hot... stay with me... you are so good to be in there... oh yesssss, it feels so good!"

As you can imagine, my cock got the full effect from ground zero, and it was a special pleasure to be me. I did not even stroke once, she did it all for me without moving her body, because she could not move her body. She was almost through the show and into muscle fatigue when my cock had to give it up. With a grunt I filled her pussy with lots of fresh cum. Very hydraulic. That restarted her happiness thing. She sort of milked in out of me, I had no choice but to give cum and enjoy cumming.

When the lights and bells finally stopped I slapped the fast release and managed to move her limp body to the bed behind me. I basically fell back and pulled her down on top of me. She did not let go, if you know what I mean, and I had not softened so she could keep her grip. Then we both took a blissful little nap.

We were out for a half hour, and I woke up with her still in my arms, blissed out, half awake and very happy. I saw no reason to change anything.

Eventually I carried her into the regular bed upstairs, that is where Qwit expected to find and molest her during the night. I said that the rule of the house was that she had to sleep naked, I did not know how long I would be gone and I suggested that when I came back there would be more mutual fun to share.

I did one other thing - I threw the master switch that kept all the lights off. The bedroom had no windows so it would stay dark. Qwit knew his way around in the dark. The total effect might make her late-night surprise a little more dramatic.

She was uncomfortable about being out-of-touch from her home, her office and the law office, saying, "As CEO I have a business to run." But I said I would make arrangements, that she needed to sleep because our date was not over. After hearing those magic words she was very cooperative.

On the way to work I called Brisk at the Batcave, had him go to Sam's office (he had a master key), keep and eye on things. He could phone Sam at my fort if any emergency came up. He knew the number. If anybody at the office had a problem he was free to beat them a little, or more than a little. Meanwhile I would be at my law office, I needed to make some calls and bank a few hours of work.

That part did not go quite the way I planned it.

-

Chapter 9. Taking Fire

Saturday May 24, 1 AM

Driving To Work Takes A Detour

Falling into a routine - even one that is unconscious - is dangerous in my business, and I guess I had done exactly that. If I did not see it I guessed nobody else would. WRONG!

I realized after the fact that I tended to come to work taking a particular expressway exit and a set of streets for the last few blocks of my trip. Also, lately I did not rotate as many vehicles as I liked to use. The pickup truck I was in was not the worst vehicle to get ambushed in, but it was close. What really tripping me up was the time when I came to work. It seemed that the fourth Saturday of every month I arrived at work between 12:30 and 2:00 in the morning, driving the new Chevy pickup or the look-alike 3-year old pickup it replaced. I had not realized, but I checked my schedule after the incident and for the last 6 months, the pattern was solid.

Yeah, these are the things I always think of too late.

I was minutes away from my office at the law firm when things got interesting. I was on a deserted street, so I did not have the cover that usually comes with driving a common vehicle. The street was not straight but curved - sort of like the magazine of an AK-47, you will see why that came to my mind - with trees in the median, moving through a complex of office buildings. Ahead, at the end of the block, I can see a guy stroll out to the center of my lane where he stops. I can't see his hands, they are behind his back. As I get closer he casually pulls out this AK-47 from behind his back, puts it to his shoulder, and and I see the flashes of bullets coming my way.

The pickup is relatively new, still had that "new car" smell, and it has very little protection. There is an armor plate in front of the engine and radiator, and another between the cab and the bed. No protection on the sides (on order), no bulletproof glass (on order), no rifle built into the trunk, nothing. I had my pistols but shooting at this range was a waste of ammo even if I could sight the thing, and I was sorta busy driving. The one thing that was in my favor was that the guy had his rifle on full auto, and unless the Hulk is pulling the trigger the AK simply can't be held on target at full auto. The first bullet was low - he probably had the range wrong. Maybe whoever paced it off mixed up feet and yards, it would not be the first time. About three bullets hit the windshield and the rest were all pretty random, including one that took out a streetlight. In full auto guys tends to empty the clip real fast.

I did a 180 with that truck as quick as I could, hopping the median in the process. The shooter calmly pulled out a second clip, switched to single fire and did a better job on range so he put some bullets in the side and back of the box but that was it. Trees in the median caught a few bullets that could have caught me. I took off as fast as the standard V-8 could. In the mirror I saw a big SUV come around the corner, pick the guy up, then it came after me. I turned a corner and tried to think of my options.

Moments later I saw the SUV slide around the corner behind me, drifting the turn perfectly. I'm guessing it was a block or more back, but it was gaining so that cut down my choices. The move and speed said this was not random. I could not outrun these guys. I might lose them, I knew my way around here, but it would be tricky with my brake lights working, giving my moves away (normally I have a switch to kill all the lights, but it is on order). Plus, if I did lose them I would have no way to find out who was shooting at me and that was unhealthy. I was too far to call for a 49 Fast Response team. So much for the bad news.

It really presents an interesting problem: how to extract men with guns from a metal box (the SUV) without getting killed and leaving them in good enough shape to have a nice conversation afterward because, otherwise, what is the point? If they get too broken to talk (TV and movies always to a spectacular crash with lots of fire) then it has to be called a wasted opportunity, and I hate wasted opportunities.

One option was to even the odds quick and dirty, again like they do on TV or in the movies. With a few turns I could get to a point where I could stop and get out of the truck without my brake lights being seen. (TV writers never think of that part.) Then, if I was tall and handsome like Will Smith and Tom Cruise (actually, I am a bit taller than Will and more handsome than either, or so I am told) I could position myself in the dark to ambush the SUV right where it would stop, shooting them up broadside, emptying my three full mags of my Glocks. I would get at least 2 on the first pass, maybe all of them. (The SUV was too quick to have armor.) But that TV plot has a couple of big downsides. First, I could trip over a curb or sprinkler head or sleeping homeless guy in the dark. Second, somebody would likely return fire with the AK, throwing lots of lead in my direction at short range, so they could get lucky. Third, if I guessed wrong about where they stopped then I lost my advantage of a free shot. Then we went to a ground game in the dark where they had the numbers on their side. Also, if they had night vision (I didn't) I was really screwed. Finally, if I got them all, I had nobody to question and LAPD on the way.

That didn't sound like the good answer for the Prince. If only I could surround them with my own men in a canyon someplace, with night vision. Then we could just wound them all and add some military grade knockout gas so we could talk later in a comfortable setting. Here is where them being in a common large SUV was a break for me.

It meant playing the long game on LA streets. I had a preset trap if I could get there, but it required a little luck and some real skill from me. Like a deep sea fisherman with a prize fish on the line, I had to keep the SUV close enough to see me, but not close enough to shoot me, and I had to do it for about 5 miles on city streets with no accidents or cops. It was late so traffic was light. If I kept them on the line I could pull them into my net.

Once they were trapped in my net it was game over. Then it was my turn to play a game of "20 Questions - the Pain edition."

Yeah, I was going for the long street game. This ride was going to be a lot more exciting than researching water rights rulings from the 9th circuit. I admit I was curious why they were shooting at me.

I hit speed-dial on my phone, it rang twice before Tango answered. "Boss, what can I do for you?" He sounded like I just woke him for a casual conversation, so I had to impress upon him a degree of urgency.

"Shots fired, no blood. Iron Alley, repeat Iron Alley, 10 minutes, full force flash. Assume 4 to 6 hostiles. I want all these bastards alive enough to torture for a week. Angel trace. ZAP. Out." That should wake him up.

I had told him he had a few minutes to get all the solders to their fire locations around "Iron Alley." As it was night they would be armed with their favorite long rifles equipped with silencers so as not to disturb the neighbors and wearing night vision. There was no time and no need for body armor. The men were in a barracks a block from the alley, they had practiced the move a few times and knew their spots. There were service tunnels and secured skywalks, guys with rifles would not appear on the streets. This time of night the area was essentially deserted, but a random patrol car or drunk would be a problem. Any cops in the area would be distracted with a 9-1-1 call someplace else. Any other witnesses would be taken and held and fed lots of cheap vodka.

The "ZAP" meant that my guys would overwhelm cell towers in the area with a computer-generated deluge of calls. It would not last long.

Now all I had to do was get there without getting shot, or losing the SUV, or having an accident, or attracting the cops. The "trace" would also help with that. A few moments later our radio guy Angel was on my speaker, telling me where to turn to avoid LAPD roaming and stationary cars. This time of night there was not much out, so he talked me through it easily.

I laid a trail that seemed to head for the airport, I did not want to telegraph my route or destination in case they had buddies out there. The SUV stayed with me, it was clear they had me on horsepower but it was not NOZ or anything radical. The driver was good, he kept up without making any mistakes. Twice the SUV got close enough to tempt them to shoot, but that was futile, they were shooting by leaning out the window with the AK or just sticking out pistols, in either case aiming was impossible.

Finally I pulled into Iron Alley.

The entrance is a parking structure, after entry I hung a hard left instead of going through the ticket thing. Then came a tight-S, a turn right and I was out of the parking structure and into this narrow alley between the parking structure (6 stories) and a building (8 stories) with no windows facing the alley. The narrow alley ended in a T-intersection with the main alley which ran behind more tall, windowless buildings.

There is no reason for anybody to come here, to see the alley. Garbage trucks use the wider main alley to service the buildings. From that end Iron Alley looks like a crowded dead end. People in the parking ramp stay on the main path, they don't turn off early on the left turn, or if they do they make a second left back to the street. Only somebody who deals with parking ramps and walks around in them knows about the narrow alley. Toad spotted it while scouting the area years ago.

The deal is, a number of large metal dumpsters line both sides of the alley, which is narrow but there is just enough room for a full-size SUV or pickup to drive. However, if you stop with the dumpsters on each side, there is not enough room to open the doors of a full-sized SUV or pickup, because both sides are fully lined with the dumpsters.

Now, you might be asking why bad guys, chasing me with guns, would stop in the alley. It is not something they would choose to do. That is where Tango comes in.

I got to the end of the Iron Alley and turned out-of-sight into the main alley just as the SUV turned into Iron Alley. Tango then used his big M-107 rifle with anti-vehicle rounds to make sure the SUV stopped at the right spot (or the wrong spot, depending on which side you were on). He fired 3 times, first shot killed the distributor, second shot killed the injector pump, and on third shot the titanium core jammed the dead engine. The SUV stopped dead, with the powerless big engine jammed and the wheels locked. Tango was shooting down from his perch less than 40 feet up, and nobody thinks to put ceramic armor from a tank on the hood of a stolen SUV. Tango had no silencer, but in that deep concrete canyon the sound of the 3 quick shots was not going to give anybody direction.

The alley was very dark but my soldiers had night vision, most of them were 5 to 30 feet above the vehicle. It was shooting fish in a barrel. When anybody tried to climb out through a window or tried to return fire with a gun they got an arm or a leg shot from enough angles to convince them that they were outgunned and outnumbered. There was one soldier behind a vehicle, in a sort of indented doorway, in case somebody came out the back, and Tango had the front window, but neither one happened.

Once the car's occupants settled down with their pain and bleeding act two soldiers tossed some canisters of military knockout gas, courtesy of Peru and Argentina, through broken windows. It was past the expiration date on the canisters, but you know, the South Africans who make the stuff are too conservative about that, because outside of a little coughing they still worked fine. The smart move at that point is to shoot the bad guy next to you, sort of cash in your karma chips then and there. But they were not thinking that way, despite the pain hope was still alive.