Tracking Evil: Bucharest Pt. 03

"That the only big gun you got?" Denisa had to act the part, had to fill the role of drunken slut. Drunk took acting, the role of slut came naturally.

"What's going on?" The guard still at his post outside the house called out in French.

"Drunk bitch is desperate for a cock," his friend called back.

"Then fucking give it to her if it'll shut her up, but she needs to be quiet, don't need someone calling the cops." was the reply he received. "I'll cover for you... or I can take care of her instead?"

"No, no, I got it. I'll be twenty minutes."

The guard holding Denisa by the arm gave it, her, a tug, dragging her by the wrist, away from the lamppost and into the shadowed gloom of the alleyway. He pushed her against the wall roughly, gun still pointing at her. He took a moment to judge where best to deal with her. There was nobody around, no one to disturb them. A building adjacent to the alley had a basement entrance, some steps leading down to an alcove. He pushed her down them, all the way to the back where the darkness lay thickest.

"You want a black weapon, yeah? Go find it then whore," he said, releasing his grip on her.

Denisa sank to her knees, hands going to the waist of his tracksuit bottoms to steady herself, still playing her role. She pulled at the front of them, freeing his black cock, the thick tube of flesh filling her small hands. Her tongue licked around the head, Denisa wetting it by degrees, her tongue flickering out snake-like, to dart along his hard flesh.

"Swallow it, suck it," the guard said, dropping his arm so that both gun and cock were pointed at her face. She turned her face slightly right, mouth agape, swallowing the top four inches of the gun. Slowly she drew back, her pursed lips full as the dragged their way back along the cool metal. Then she repeated the same move on his cock, swallowing it before a long-drawn-out sucking action as her lips retreated up his shaft.

"Crazy fucking bitch" he muttered. Making a show of it, he pulled back on the slide, feeding a round into the chamber from the magazine. Her sharp eyes followed his movements as he flicked off the safety catch.

"How crazy are you?"

Denisa answered this by slobbering over the muzzle of the gun again, rubbing her nose against it then, tongue tracing the base of the barrel. For all the world, sucking and nuzzling it as she would a cock. Finally she swapped steel for flesh, swallowing his black cock into her wet mouth once more.

The man groaned, turned on by the sight of her sucking his cock, then his gun, then his cock again. Whatever she did to the dark fleshed weapon that was his dick, she did to the 9mm handgun he kept trained on her. Sucking, licking, kissing the two of them, each in turn. Denisa could taste a faint film of gun oil on her tongue, just another flavour in her mouth along with the sweaty tang from his cock and the almost imperceptible saltiness of pre cum that was oozing from the tip of his hard cock.

She had planned to separate the two guards. Lure one away, incapacitate him, kill him if needed. 'Never mistake motion for action' is what her father would have said, quoting his favourite American author. By luring him away, something was happening, just not the something she had planned on. Divine inspiration had been the catalyst for her plan, it just hadn't entailed getting on her knees in front of him.

She hadn't envisaged the asshole keeping his weapon pointed at her the whole time, Denisa could have tried taking it from him, she'd have had a better than even chance of succeeding as well. If she failed though, there was no Plan B. So, she bided her time, using her mouth and hands on his big black cock, watching and waiting on an opportunity to act.

"Gluck, mmph," she spat his cock free, bobbing her head on the barrel of the gun, jacking his shaft in her small hand.

The gun twitched in her mouth fractionally as the guard's eyes flickered to her crotch. As she was stroking his dick and rolling her pink tongue over his Glock, Denisa had dropped a hand between her legs. Her pussy was still hot and bothered from her visit to the church, so her fingers found easy access as she began getting herself off as she worked her oral magic on him.

It twitched again and only her raging libido kept her in place, each slight quiver of the gun with the mans finger hovering near the trigger meant she was running the risk of being shot. Denisa felt alive! The danger a succulent sauce drizzled over the black meat she was feasting on.

Chapter Three: "The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time." Mark Twain

The sight of a gorgeous drunk young Romanian woman, on her knees, dangerously slutty as she throated a live handgun and frigged herself was too much for the guard.

The gun and cock disappeared from her line of sight, Denisa getting hauled to her feet by the man. He turned her around, pushing her forward so that her right cheek now rested against the cold stone of the alley wall. One handed and using his feet as aid's, he pulled her hips back, kicking her own feet wide apart. Denisa couldn't disguise a shiver of wanton expectation as his fingers worked a path under her short skirt, prying her panties loose from her sodden pussy, yanking them down her legs.

She braced herself for the arrival of his cock, hating herself for looking forward to it, promising herself she'd turn over a new leaf, once this was all behind her.

The touch of cold steel caught her by surprise, the gun feeling its way up the inside of her thigh. Even for her, this was like juggling with chainsaws. Her actions had spurred this asshole on, excited him into disengaging the safety catch, and now stirred him up to the point he was frigging her with the gun. The end of the suppressed gun barrel pushed at the opening to her pussy, the most dangerous dildo she had ever encountered pushing past her swollen lips and into her body.

"Oh, oh shit," she whispered.

"Not so mouthy now, are you whore?" The suppressor made the gun a little unwieldy, it added over five inches to the length of the gun after all and angling it to slide inside her was hardly a design specification. He managed to get a good four inches inside her, the round metal barrel sliding in and out of her well lubricated snatch. Her pussy clamped down on it like it was a real cock, seizing the smooth metal with her muscled vaginal walls. It wasn't big enough; it wasn't deep enough.

"Fuck me," Denisa moaned.

"What? I can't hear you cunt. What did you say?" He was clearly loving being in control, derisive of the young woman he had pinned and helpless.

"Fuck me, fuck me with your cock, fuck me," she moaned again, louder.

"I don't know what shit you were drinking tonight but they should make all the stuck-up cunts in this miserable fucking city drink it." His gun was slowly retracted from her pussy and she could hear the sound of pushing his clothing aside. This was the moment for action. Now!

"Fuck me," Denisa sighed, waiting impatiently for impalement.

"It's coming, it's coming you nasty fucking whore... wait...wait..." he talked as he fumbled his pants down past his knees, wanting full freedom for his cock and balls.

"There!" His cock pushed hard inside her. Denisa's hands braced against the slightly slimy walls, high above her head as he continued pressing forward.

He kept shoving against her, his progress slow as her tight snatch gripped at him, each inch gained as he got deeper in her was a small struggle. Inch by inch though, he stretched and bullied to clear a path for himself. The guard's large black hands slid up, settling on, over, her own small white ones as his final inches of cock pressed inside. She registered that both his hands were empty, his gun now unattended, however her mind was really absorbed by the feeling of being filled up, just as she needed to be.

"Whore," he whispered in her ear, balls deep in her.

"Yes," she sighed in satisfaction, not bothering to deny it.

His hands drew back up her arms, past her shoulders. One stayed there, entwining a length of her dark hair in a strong, black-fisted grip. The other continued down her body, settling on her left hip. He leaned a little back, making himself room, this deceleration in pace leaving Denisa desperate for him to start fucking her.

'Whu-umppf'

He pulled out and slammed forward in a smooth fast movement that rocked her petite form forward.

'Who-oompfff'

Smooth, fast, strong and deep. His long dicking style had her fingers and toes curling in response.

'Wh-aam, whap-whap-whap-whap'

One last long stroke and then his own needs became apparent. Fast and hard, his hard black cock belted in and out of Denisa, her body rocking in response, her lower lips sealed about his powerful shaft. Not to be outdone, Denisa began throwing her firm round butt back at him, meeting his powerful strokes with well timed backward lunges. Her chin rose slowly as he hauled on her hair, careless of whatever hurt he might be causing her, just fucking the living daylights out of her toned body and grasping tight pussy.

"Fuck me you fucker! Uhhhh, give it, give it...give it to me. Yesssss... hurt me, you black bastard!" Denisa swore, caught up in the whole kink of being fucked by a killer in a public spot. Revenge would come in time and would be all the sweeter for the wait. However right now she wanted this dark-skinned thug to do his best, she wanted a challenge!

"Crazy drunk cunt!" he swore in French, hammering on her so that her toned ass rippled constantly from the speed of his body lashing against hers. It was a miracle the noise of their fucking didn't draw every stray mutt and alley cat from miles around. The sound of their fucking could have been mistaken for two animals rutting, ignorant and heedless of whoever might be around or within earshot. Squeaks, squelches, sighs and swearing drifted into the still night air, minutes passing with no let up from either of them. His cock offering no quarter, her pussy accepting no surrender.

The guard yanked his cock out of her, spinning Denisa around in order to lift her up in his arms. She threw her own arms around his neck, settling back down onto his rampant cock. Her head, she flung back in triumph and orgasm as she reclaimed his shaft, sliding back down its length as they settled into this fresh position.

"Ouvre la bouche, tire la langue... open your mouth, stick out your tongue," he ordered her. First in French before he realised his mistake, switching back to his barely comprehensible Romanian.

Denisa did as he commanded, her long tongue sticking out to form a lewd expression on her pretty face. He hawked and spat onto the outstretched tongue, grinning at first, before looking in wonderment as he saw her gulp back his spittle with a wanton thirst that his actions barely quenched.

They kept fucking, the position offering him good access to her depths, the drumming pace of his strokes slower than before but still fast enough to send Denisa into a delirium of extasy. She gripped his shoulders, humping wildly on his cock as she fancied herself riding a thoroughbred black stallion into battle. She was a modern day Valkyrie, a dream of sensual beauty to some, a nightmarish figure of redemption and justice to others.

"Cumming!" she wailed through gritted teeth.

"Oui, oui, I come, I come too," he stumbled through French and Romanian, barely keeping his shit together as he neared his own orgasm.

"Mooottheeer Fuuucckkkeerrr!" she yelled, releasing her grip on his shoulders, throwing herself backwards, arms outstretched as she dove into an exquisite maelstrom of orgasmic bliss. Only her legs wrapped around his waist kept them attached as her lithe body dipped away. His black cock was pulsing and juddering inside her, drooling and spurting seed into her.

"Jesus, whore, you're trying to kill me," the guard complained breathlessly, his ass cheeks tightening as he squeezed another snot of cum into her young white body.

Strong and supple, Denisa drew herself back up, the guard noticing the huge smile that lit up her face first, the gun she had retrieved from the alley floor second of all.

She hit him with the butt of the handgun in his throat. Three fast strikes that crushed his larynx, snapping his hyoid bone. His hands went to his throat as Denisa kicked herself loose, landing nimbly on her feet. He waved at her, eyes begging even as his voice no longer could. Cold eyed, she raised the gun, pointing it at him. The asshole had been shoving it into her with the safety catch off, so that saved her having to flip it off herself.

"Not trying to kill you, actually killing you," Denisa corrected him, squeezing off two shots that took him in the face, sending him spinning lifeless into a corner.

<<0>>

Even suppressed, the Glock made a lot of noise. The confines of the alleyway didn't help things either, echoing the muffled reports along its length. Denisa looked down at the man she'd just killed, regret in her eyes.

Not at killing him, but at the level of DNA evidence she'd left all along his big black cock. There was nothing to be done about it now though. With a bit of luck, the criminals she was hunting would be as keen to clean up her mess as she was for them to do it. Neither side wanted the police involved.

She stuck the gun in the small of her back, through the waist of her short skirt. Before heading towards the house, Denisa took a moment to check she could pull it out cleanly, that her oversized shirt wasn't going to snag the draw of the weapon, killing her with a delay. It was all good. Recreating the same stumbling drunk walk of before wasn't hard, her legs were a bit jelly-like anyway after the sex. A minute later she had left the alleyway, making a bee line for the remaining guard.

"Where's Phillipe? What was that noise?" the guard hailed her before she'd covered half the distance to him. Suspicion was rife on his face.

"Taking a piss I think," Denisa slurred, "he told me you'd have a light for me... and a cock to suck as well." She kept her off balance gait in place as she closed the distance between them.

"Where is he? Don't come any closer" the man said, raising a hand in warning. "Phillipe, Phillipe!" he yelled loudly.

"What's the problem? He's right there." She staggered slightly, throwing an arm out dramatically towards the mouth of the alleyway. "Hello Mr Phillipe. Hello Mr Big cock!" Denisa yelled merrily.

The guard peered at the alleyway, seeing nothing as there was nothing there to see. When his distrustful gaze swung back to Denisa, his eyes nearly crossed as they focused on the gun pointing directly at him. His hand dropped to draw his own weapon.

'Blam!'

A single round took him in the forehead, and he dropped silently. Denisa checked him as she passed by, retrieving keys from the front pocket of his pants that she hoped opened the door to the house.

Inside, she closed the door behind her quietly, sweeping through the downstairs, gun at the ready. Nobody there. She checked the rear of the grounds through the kitchen window, fearing more guards might be on duty there but the small walled garden that lay at the rear of the property was empty.

The next floor of the house beckoned. The staircase leading there was as old as the rest of the building but between her hugging close to the wall and her own light thread, she made no noise as she scaled it. She heard the scrape of wood on wood, legs of a chair moving on a floor. The sound coming from a room three doors down from where she stood on the landing. Denisa went straight for it, the door was ajar, so she stepped boldly into the room, gun poised and ready to fire.

A black man in his early fifties stood beside a large drink cabinet. He had a glass in one hand, an expensive looking decanter in another. He raised an eyebrow in surprise at her entry before turning away to finish pouring himself a glass of wine.

"This is a private residence," he said. His Romanian was perfect. No accent. Clipped and precise. It made her teeth itch to hear her native language spoken with such a sterile, soulless intonation.

"And?" Denisa knew it was a shit comeback but she was more than a little tired, so she cut herself some slack.

"And you have no business here young lady. Time you were leaving," he replied. For a man staring down the wrong end of a 9mm chambered gun, he was cool enough. Ice water running through his veins. Denisa could respect that even if everything else about him sickened her.

"Lukeba?" Denisa asked, surprise flitting across his face, confirming to her that she had the right man.

Her aim remaining locked on him, Denisa pulled her phone awkwardly from her jacket pocket. She opened the gallery app, selecting a photo of Maria which she then showed to him.

"Remember her?"

"Should I? Pretty girl... but no, doesn't ring a bell," he answered with a sniff, settling back in a high backed leather padded chair, sipping unconcernedly from his glass.

"You had her killed last week. All to blackmail a city councillor," Denisa said.

"Oh yes, now I recall. Though I'll confess that her face is still a mystery to me. I paid no attention to the young woman myself. I so rarely concern myself with the tools used to accomplish a job, just with the outcome of the work."

"She wasn't a fucking tool; she was my friend!" Denisa snarled. "You killed her and now you're going to die."

"Please. I'm tired and in no mood for amateur dramatics. Just leave and close the door behind you," Lukeba drawled, shooing at her as if she was simply a buzzing insect who had flown into his study.

"Dramatics? Do I look like I'm performing 'Othello' here for you?"

"Young lady, when you do what I do and for as long as I have done it. You learn to be an excellent judge of character. We both know you aren't going to shoot me; it isn't in you. Now I'll ask you once again... please... go. I'm tired and bored."

"You know what?" Denisa said. "If you were a good judge of character then you'd have shit yourself the second I walked in this room."

She pulled the trigger, the first round hitting the hand holding the glass of wine. Bone, flesh and the crystal wine glass were torn apart by a 9mm round of subsonic ammunition. Shock was the only thing that stopped Lukeba from screaming.

The next round hit him dead centre in his crotch, the carefully aimed bullet obliterating his manhood. Then the screaming started. High pitched, feminine, all smugness and disdain washed from him through blood and pain.

"Rot in hell you evil prick," Denisa said.

Two rounds, so close together they could have ben a single shot, ripping through his open mouth, cutting off his pained screams in a split second. Blood and brain matter fountaining out the back of his skull in a crude interpretation of a Jackson Pollock painting.

"One down. One to go," she said out loud. She dropped the gun after wiping it clear of her prints, doing the same with the keys she'd taken from the guard. A minute later she was clear of the house, walking briskly to hide herself among the throngs of young Romanian's as they left bars, restaurants and café's, full of life and free of cares.

To be continued.