The Assassin

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A story of pain, pleasure, death and life.
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This story is a work of fiction. Any similarity to anyone alive or dead is not intended. Please do not recopy or re post. This story contains bondage, whipping, and some mild torture. If you oppose this type of behavior, please do not read it. If you enjoy said acts, then enjoy. :)

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My life is very simple. Clients want someone dead, they pay me, I make the person dead. I would like to tell you I have a code of honor. I would like to tell you I don't kill women or children, but I am not a liar. I have killed women and would have no moral problem with killing a child. The subject has never come up.

My work is done through a broker. We have never met and we never will. I get all my information through an encrypted website. I have the best electronic countermeasures in place to insure that my connection to this website cannot be traced. I check this site daily and get the information on targets as they become available. When I am working my life moves smoothly. It is the down time that is maddening. I could pass for any average forty year old man. I try to dress, act, and do everything in a completely nondescript manner. I am just a ghost in a crowd.

I have a loft apartment in the industrial part of town. I paid cash for it via a false identity and none of it can be traced to me on paper. The loft is divided into two parts. The outside area is the part that anyone who visits me would see. The only visitors I have had in years are call girls. I get them via an agency known for its discretion and for supplying women to men with tastes that normal girls would not be able satisfy.

The inner area of my space is where I really live. The outer part is simply a shell. A front if you will. I don't even sleep in the bed that is in the front part of the loft. I only fuck in it. The shower in the bathroom in the front is only used by the whores after I have used them. The inner area has everything I need. A bed that I use for sleeping is off in the corner. This area is completely open save for the range area. I have an enclosed range that is completely sound proofed. You could set off a nuke in that area and no one would hear the band. Beside the range is the armory where I store all of my weapons. Everything you could ever need for any situation is here. Next to the armory is my dojo area. I use this area to work out and stay in shape. I have studied martial arts of all kind as a younger man and I use this area to practice and stay in tune. There is a kitchen area that is on the back of fake apartment out front. I have a full bathroom with a dry sauna and an area where I have a TV and my computer for keeping up on the information I need to do my job effectively.

My routine is like a well working clock. I am up at six am every day. I work out on the weights, work out in the dojo, and then I shower and eat breakfast. Food for me is fuel. I have a nutritionist who laid out a diet for me years ago that I have never deviated from. It puts nothing but healthy and well balanced nutrition into my system. I have hundreds of thousands of dollars in the weapons I use to kill. However, my body and my mind are the true weapons. I treat them as such.

Unless I have a job to do, I see a whore from The Emporium every Friday. For years I tried to just abstain but the urges for sex where distracting me from my job. Through my broker I found The Emporium. They are very expensive but the money is well spent. The girls come here knowing what will happen and know they will be well paid and well tipped for it. They don't ask questions and they don't cause problems.

I am a sexual dominant and a sexual sadist. I need to be in charge and the woman needs to feel pain for me to truly get off. It is very hard to find a person like this if you are the average Joe going to bars and trying to meet women in the laundromat. It can happen but it is rare and it is risky. Whores come to be abused and get paid. They don't talk. If you work at The Emporium and you talk, you might get a visit from me in a completely different capacity. You don't want that.

It is Friday night and I am sitting in the outer space of my loft. It is like being in another person's home. It is a facade in every way. I even keep the kitchen stocked to look like I live there. To the casual observer it is a very nicely appointed one bedroom apartment. The bedroom is not normal though. The bed is a play thing. It has been designed for one purpose: to bind and abuse a woman. When I am not entertaining it appears to be a normal king sized bed. It is set up to where I can attach rails to it to make it a twisted version of a canopy bed. There are d-rings all over the rails, overhead and on the head board and foot board. It gives me the flexibility to bind a woman in many different ways.

It takes me about an hour to assemble the bed and get it ready. The girl will be here at eight pm sharp so at seven I start getting things ready. I dress in black slacks, a blood red silk shirt, a black tie, and a pair of black dress shoes. I am very adept at disguises. I have one that I use when the women are here. I keep my head shaved so I can attach wigs that look very realistic. My face is clean shaven for the same reason. I can wear many different beards to change my appearance. I have every shade of eye color available via contact lenses. I am a virtual chameleon.

For the girls I wear a black wig that comes straight back with hair gel for a slicked back appearance. My eyes are a cold steel blue naturally. For this get up they get a dark hazel. A black goatee completes the look. My agreement with The Emporium is very specific. The girls know when they come here what is expected of them and what they are to do. They are to come to the door come straight in without knocking. There is a coat rack in the corner of the living room area. They are to be dressed in a trench coat. Under the trench coat is to be white lingerie complete with garters and high heels. As she walks in the door she is to kneel before me in a very specific pose. Ass back on the balls of her feet, hands on her knees palms up. Back arched slightly to push her breasts out for me to inspect. Her legs are to be parted as far as she can. Our eyes are not to meet without permission. There is no touching me without permission. She is to do exactly what she is told to do. There is no safe word here. She knows everything that I will do to her and if she could not withstand it she would not be here.

It is ten minutes before eight and I am sitting in my leather chair. I have a glass of scotch in one hand and a cigar burning in the other. It has been two weeks since I have a had a whore. I had business last week and missed my appointment. I never deviate. If I have work, I wait another week. I have only waited two weeks once. The girl I got the following week got an extra-large tip because she really earned it.

At precisely eight o'clock the door opens. My tastes in women are very simple. I like them petite. Build is not important. I like them with large tits or small. I can work with either. Petite is the only thing I stress. The vision of a woman that walks in my door sends shivers up my back. She is five feet tall with red hair. One thing I specify is that I don't like them to be made up heavily. Some black eye liner and some light red lipstick is enough. Her hair is cropped in a short bob style. They have to have some hair, enough for me to wrap my hands up in. Her face almost takes my breath away. She is lovely, they are all lovely. That is not the breath taking part. Her face brings back a memory from my past that causes my heart to skip a little bit. She could be Kira's twin.

I was only eight years old the first time I saw Kira. Her family moved in to the house beside where my family lived in the old city I was raised in. Even at the age of eight I was deeply in love with Kira. She was angelic. Her face was perfect. She had skin that was the palest of pales. As a kid she she was all freckles. Her face was a dot to dot puzzle of the things. She got teased for her freckles but I always thought they were cute. We became fast friends. But as we got older though something changed in her. Around the age of thirteen she began to withdraw and become distant. I could not figure out what the problem was. As we got older into our teen years she started to become someone I didn't know. She experimented with drugs and became very promiscuous. Her reputation was that if you wanted your dick sucked or if you wanted fucked, go see Kira. She couldn't say no. At this age I was very introverted. Kira had been the only person I truly every talked to. Now I could not even talk to her. My father was a mean drunk. I became his favorite target in my teen years. I got tough fast.

I remember well the summer of my sixteenth year. It was a hot miserable summer, the kind of weather that flares the tempers of even calm people. I was laying in my bed sweating like a dog when I heard a tap on the window. Getting out of my bed I was surprised to see Kira outside of my window. I went to the window and threw up the sash. She had clearly been crying and was was bleeding out of her nose. I reached down and helped her up into the window. Without saying anything she hugged me deeply and began sobbing. I could tell that she really didn't want to talk right now so I simply held her to me as she cried deeply. She must have cried for ten minutes before she raised her head from my chest to speak.

"I need your help Joseph. I am in hell and I need your help to get out." Without even a thought I replied.

"I will help you in any way I can Kira. Just tell me what is wrong."

Through sobs and more crying I finally found out what had turned my loving friend into the neighborhood whore. She had been raped early and often by her father. And to make matters worse on this night he told her that she was not even his. Her mother had cheated on him with someone at work and she was his daughter. Her mother had long since passed away. He told her the only reason he had kept her around was so he could make her life hell.

I was shocked. I had no idea anything like this could happen in my little corner of the world. I told Kira that I knew exactly what to do. We would wake my father up and he would help us. To my surprise this only caused Kira to sob harder. I will never forget when she looked up at me through those tearful eyes to tell me that my father had taken his turn with her while her dad had held her down. A rage that I could never imagine washed over me like a wave. I told Kira to stay put. I was going to deal with my father.

I was not a big kid. I was not into sports and much more preferred to stay in my room reading. I assumed in my youthful ignorance that my rage would carry me through. I was wrong. I woke my father up and confronted him about Kira. He simply laughed at me and called me a fool. Why would I want to defend a worthless whore?

The last thing I remember is attacking him. I woke up hours later in my bed with a black eye for my efforts. He had knocked me out and beat me while I was out. Kira was nowhere to be seen. As I got up from the room I could hear sirens. Looking out my bedroom window I could see that the police and the ambulance was at Kira's house. I jumped out and put my clothes on to go see what was going on. As I got over to the house I could see them bringing out a body bag. Her piece of shit father was talking to the cops. I could ever hear them saying that Kira had slit her wrists in the bath tub and bled to death. He was playing it up like he could never know what would cause her to do such things.

Of course no one took the word of the shy dorky neighbor who everyone knew had a crush on the girl. Her father and my father got away with it all. I ran away the next day and never returned. I went to work for a mob guy where I learned how much people truly hurt each other. I learned to hurt people myself. I became an enforcer for the mob guys. I worked hard to turn my body into a weapon. I studied all kinds of firearms. I became proficient with edged weapons. I took Akido and Crav Maga. I became simply know as Machine. My name no longer had any meaning to me. I had various aliases that I used as I needed them.

Eventually the mob got busted and I went out on my own. I had a lot of contacts and got set up with the broker through a mob guy I knew I could trust; he was already in prison and wasn't ratting anyone out.

A noise from the girl in the room smacks me back to reality. As she was told to do she was now spinning in front of me so I could check out the goods. She was petite and had very small breasts. Her ass was very well defined and looked amazing in the lacy white panties. As she spun I took in the sight. It was more like a lion looking at a gazelle then a man looking at a woman. As she slowly spun something interesting happened. Even though they knew what they were getting into, by this time most of the whores were scared, as I sat there looking at them like a buffet, fear would creep into their eyes. However, with this one something different happened. She seemed flushed in the face and her nipples were visibly erect. Though averting her gaze I could see no fear in her eyes. It was more like wonderment. I really think she was getting aroused.

A nod took her from the modeling to the submission pose. I had moved all of the furniture to the edges of the room except for the coffee table. At a glance from most people the coffee table was normal. Very heavy made but normal. It was heavy made for a very important reason. It is a stage. With an agile grace she climbed onto the block of wood and presented her self to me. Standing up I got close to inspect her. This one is different for sure. I could her breathing coming fast and shallow. I could see her nipples straining through her lacy bra. Reaching into my pocket I pulled out my Damascus steel dagger and with a very swift and practiced hand I cut the straps on her bra. This was new. She was not expecting this. As the cold edge of the blade came in contact with her skin, she gasped. But she never moved. Reaching a hold of it with my left hand and slicing it cleanly with my right hand, I removed the garment completely and tossed it to the corner.

Now in view her nipples were amazing. They are at least a half-inch long and painfully erect. Walking slowly around like I was looking over a purchase, I knew it was going to be a very long night for her. She was going to earn every cent she got tonight.

"Tell me your name please."

"It is Elektra sir."

Normally hearing an obvious working name would not bother me at all. However tonight for some reason it went through me like a shot.

"I don't want your whore working name, tell me your real name now!"

This shocked her and she looked up at me. My eyes were alive with fire. She saw that and bit her lip. Averting her eyes back down to the floor she gasped again.

"My name is Stacey sir."

"Thank you Stacey. This is how this is going to work tonight. When I ask you a question you will tell me the truth. You know what you are getting into by coming here, so you know how I am. Tonight will be different though. If you lie to me, I am going to punish you for real. Do you understand that Stacey? Do you get what I mean?"

"Yes sir, I do."

"If you want to leave you can leave now. I will see that you are paid and you will still get a very generous tip for your time. However, if you stay you will do what I say when I say. I will be in charge completely. Not complying with my demands will earn you more punishment. There is no turning back once you agree to stay. I won't do anything to permanently hurt you Stacey, but you will receive pain. I want you to take a couple minutes to think about it. I will return in a few minutes."

Without another word I left the room. Going into the kitchen I opened up a bottle of water and gulped some down. What the fuck was I doing. I was breaking my routine. Why the hell did I ask her what her real name was? I had to gather my senses and calm down. The damage was already done. More than likely I was misreading her body and she would be scared shitless and leave. I was kind of hoping that she would. I calmed myself and went back into the living room.

Stacey was still in the inspection pose with her eyes on the floor. She had not moved. I could see that her breathing was still coming in short and deep. Her nipples had not shrunk at all. I calmly walked into the room and took a seat in my leather chair. I reached over and took a deep draw from the glass of scotch and re lit my cigar.

"So Stacey, what is it going to be? Would you like to leave and get paid, or do you want to stay? You do this of your own free will."

"I want to stay sir, please let me stay."

"You understand the deal right? You know what you are getting into?"

"Yes sir please, I need to be abused. I am so aroused right now I will do anything for you please."

I am surprised that she has agreed to stay. She is getting paid whether she stays or not and that can only mean that she truly wants and needs to be abused like a whore. I am torn. Part of me is glad she is staying because I sincerely want to see her splayed and abused on my bed. But, another part of me is telling me to send her away. With the likeness to Kira, it is too close to my feelings. I am weak though and the common sense part of me loses the battle.

Standing up I walk into the other room and go to the closet of tools. Out of the closet I retrieve a collar with matching wrist and leg cuffs. As I return to the room I see she has not moved. She has held this pose for around twenty minutes or more. Her legs must be aching. It goes to show me that she is truly submitting to me.

"Please stand up and come over here."

I can tell by how she is walking that her legs need stretched. The walk from the table to my chair should do it nicely for her.

"Kneel down here for me now Stacey."

She complies, she has no choice but to do what she is told. I reach down and lock the collar and cuffs in place. I put my finger under her chin and pull her to a standing position. She knew instinctually what my finger on her chin meant. She was to follow me.

I lead her into the room where my bed is. Again there was an audible gasp as she saw the bed. I have to admit it is very imposing to see. I positioned her on the bed on her back. Attached to the d rings on the bed were some chains. I went about fastening her hand and leg cuffs in to the links to the chains. This puts her into a mild spread eagle position. Not too severe yet. I reach over on the side table and retrieve a blindfold that I have ready. As I lean forward to put the blindfold in place, she leans her head up allowing me access to her head easily.

"I am going to do things to you Stacey that no one has probably done. But I will not hurt you. I may cause your body come discomfort and possibly even some pain. But I will do nothing to you that causes any real damage. Do you understand and trust me Stacey?"

"Yes sir. I understand and I completely trust you. I don't know why sir, but I would follow you anywhere and let you do whatever you wanted to me sir."

With the blindfold in place she can't see what I am doing. She has no idea what I am up to at all. So whatever I do will be a surprise to her.

Walking to the tool closet I select my first weapon for the assault on her senses. I will start light and build up to the harder things. Out of the closet I pull two things. On my right hand I attach a massage mitt. It is basically a glove made from a very fury fuzzy blanket. It brings all the nerves in the skin alive as it touches. On the left hand is a glove with small steel spikes on it. It is not sharp enough or big enough to hurt the skin. It just raises the nerves in a totally different way.