Assassin Ch. 09

The story so far...

Megan, a contract killer, had been kidnapped by an unknown group of international criminals. Brutally tortured and interrogated, she had no choice but to give up the password for the laptop she had taken from a money launderer she killed in a seedy Hong Kong nightclub. Fabian Long, her professional partner, had helped her crack the password protection of the laptop the night before she was kidnapped.

The torture and interrogation ceased when she cooperated and told them the password. But things got worse. With her hands cruelly bound behind and tied to the ceiling, she was gang raped by four hardened men. They filled her mouth, cunt, ass at the same time, forcing her to swallow. Covered with semen, sweat, and blood, she was taken to a farm to be shot like an animal and buried in a nameless grave. To add insult to injury, they had planned to force her to dig her own grave.

But she foiled the plan. Her wrists were cuffed behind and she was trapped between two men in the backseat. Both men continued to abuse her bruised and naked body, fingers pinching and twisting her bloody nipples, fingers in her cunt and ass, fingers twisted around her hair and yanking her head in awkward directions. When the car hit a bump, she snatched a gun from the distracted man beside her and shot him. The other two men jumped out, allowing her to escape.

When she found out that her long-time partner Fabian was dead, she vowed revenge. But she had no idea who her enemies were. To find out, she turned to Chuck, who owed her his life. But Chuck drove a hard bargain. He would only trade information if she offered her body. Megan did not hesitate to drive to Florida for the trade. She was taken out on a yacht in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, where the fun would begin.

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It was a typical hot and humid day in South Florida. The yacht was anchored some twenty miles east of Miami, Florida. Cloudless, the sun was directly overhead, its rays burning into the bones of anything that stood in the way. As far as the eye could see, there were no signs of any other human activity.

On the open deck, two men sat on opposite sides of the large circular hot tub. One of them was relaxed and held a Mojito in his hand. The other man was visibly nervous and held a gun.

The tub was shaped like a donut, with a raised platform and a shiny pole in the middle. Four Bose speakers surrounded the tub, blasting Kanye West rap music directly at the pole and platform, which shook twice every second from the heavy beats, spreading concentric waves out to the hot water and steam covering both men.

On top of the platform stood a tanned and athletic woman in a bikini, dancing to the thumping beat of Kanye's Gold Digger. She balanced herself on six inches of spiked heels, her hands mostly above her head, occasionally holding the pole for support when ocean waves rock the yacht.

Chuck operated a strip club and had visited world class performances in Las Vegas and around the world. But he had never experienced the gyrations of a woman who could kill with her bare hands, or even her legs. Chuck had heard that Megan once killed someone with her hands cuffed behind, using only her powerful thighs to squeeze the man's neck like a python. Although his bodyguard had his gun aimed squarely at her, Chuck did not doubt that she could knock it off in a moment of distraction, perhaps when the vessel hit a wave. Somehow, that element of danger aroused him more than ever.

Rocky, his bodyguard, had counseled against letting Megan dance freely on the deck. He reminded his boss of how dangerous she could be. She should be handcuffed to the pole, he urged. With her hands cuffed in front to the pole, she could still dance and entertain them.

But the boss ignored his advice. Chuck knew that Megan was weak and helpless as long as he had the information she wanted. Still, he wanted Rocky to hold his gun firmly and watch her as if he was watching a tiger.

An hour and four mojitos later, Chuck ordered Rocky to bring her inside his cabin. Her neck chained, she was made to crawl on the marble floor on her knees and elbows.

Rocky opened a can of spam, emptied its contents to a dog bowl, and spit on it. He placed it in the corner of the bathroom next to cabin. "Crawl in there and lick it clean."

She crawled on her hands and knees, swallowed the odd-tasting spam, and licked it a couple of times. Rocky extended his index fingers and motioned for her to return. She did so promptly. In her mind, she was plotting what she would do to Rocky's balls when the tables were turned one day.

Chuck was amused at Rocky's creativity. Not only was the muscled bodyguard rough and brutal, he could also be funny. Chuck sat back on his bed and enjoyed the scene, nodding his head to signal his approval.

"Are you going to tell me more about Alan after I finish the food this clown placed here?" Megan said to Chuck and looked at him, as if Rocky did not exist.

"You will be fucked until you pass out, and then dumped hands and legs tied. Deal?"

"Will I be shot, stabbed, or otherwise injured?"

"Tired, starved, and perhaps dehydrated. But you will be in good health."

One thing good about dealing with Chuck was that he was straight shooter and a linear thinker. In that sense, he was trustworthy. But he was also a very selfish man. Megan pondered only for a few seconds before she continued the negotiation.

"So you tell me Alan's last known address and I submit to your rape fantasies."

Chuck stroked his chin and replied. "Not my fantasies, but Rocky's. I have no desire for such things." Chuck did not let her know that since his injury, he was no longer capable of an erection, even with the assistance of chemicals. Watching Rocky was how Chuck got his kicks these days.

"You will give me Alan's zip code?"

"I will give you the city and you can figure it out. Anyway, he is unlikely to be still in the same city. But I am sure you have the resources to track him down once you know where he had been." Chuck paused and smiled, well aware of his high ground. "Take it or leave it. I ain't have all day."

Rocky jerked the chain holding her neck, forcing her to crawl toward him. When she was within slapping range, he grabbed her hair and yanked her to a kneeling position.

She nodded her head.

"Okay, whore. You are going to have to learn some manners. Put your slutty hands behind."

She obeyed, crossing her wrists just above her butt. Rocky twisted the wrists until the palms face together, then handcuffed them. For good measure, he duct taped the fingers together, making doubly sure she could not try anything.

"Get down and crawl on your belly to the opposite side of the room."

She knew that if she hesitated, Rocky would elbow or kick her. So she let her torso hit the ground, twisting sideways to avoid a direct impact to the face, landing instead on her shoulders.

"Crawl to the wall, kiss it and crawl back here."

With her hands behind, she wiggled like a snake on her chest, shoulders, and stomach. When she got back, Rocky threw a dog treat on the ground. "Good cunt. Here's your reward. Eat it."

She crawled to the crumb and position herself to eat it. But Rocky kicked it away. The treat was now on the far side of the room. "Too slow. Get over there and eat it."

When she was halfway across the room, Rocky walked to the crumb and stepped on it, grinding it to fine powder. She glared at him and suppressed the urge to kick him in the balls.

"What's the matter, bitch? Want to give up?"

She kept silent and continued to the far side.

"You have to hurry up. This is too slow." Rocky kicked her butt to make her speed up. She had to push her chest harder against the floor and spread her legs wider to satisfy Rocky. Her bikini top slid up and exposed a nipple by the time she got to the powdered crumbs. She exhaled deeply and vacuumed up the crumbs with her lips, licking the floor clean with her tongue.

An hour later, Rocky was no longer interested in humiliation. He tied her legs to the ceiling and lifted the ropes until her legs were in the air, her ass slightly off the ground, her weight supported by the bound hands trapped behind her back.

Rocky was unable to hold back for long when he penetrated her, exploding his load in less than a second. Once spent, he inserted a dildo to her stretched vagina and put his fingers around her neck. He sat on her chest and squeezed her neck until she passed out.

When she woke up, she was inside the trunk of a car, heading west along I-75, known locally as the Alligator Alley. Rocky pulled off the highway when it got dark. The bumpy ride let Megan know it was a dirt road. She started tracking the time. 45 minutes of dirt road later, the trunk was open. It was a dark, cloudless, and moonless. But the stars were out in force. There seemed to be thousands of them. Megan was carried out of the trunk and dumped in the muddy bushes.

"Good luck," Rocky rolled down the window and waved at her as he took off.

Megan took a minute to adjust her eyes to the darkness. They had dressed her in bra and panties when she was passed out. But one strap of her bra was broken. The other was off her shoulder. Her panties were torn and muddy. She sat up with some difficulty, her hands tied behind her. Her knees were also secured together with a thick rope.

The first thing she did was to wiggle her bound hands to the front, sliding over her butt and toes. When she had her hands in front, she adjusted the good bra strap to hook it over her shoulder. Only then did she notice a small card taped into the inside of her bra. She bent forward, slid off the strap, reversed the bra cup, and tore out the card. It was too dark to see the writing on one side of the card. At the first hint sunrise, she looked at the card again. Only two words were on the card: "Hong Kong."

She flagged down a surprised orange farmer, gave him a blowjob, and elbowed him hard in the nose. Knocking him out, she drove until she came to a strip mall. She wore his shirt and jeans, then bought a pair of jeans and t-shirt for herself from Family Dollar. When he awoke in his car, she was nowhere to be found.

Continued in the next chapter ...