Capture Of An Immortal Pt 02

Disclaimer: This story contains sex, violence, bondage, rape, and immortality. And a dungeon.

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Johnnie Jones bit his nails, waiting for an answer on the phone trapped against a sweaty ear. He tried not to stare through the booth at the babe across the street.

The receiver finally clicked through. "Yeah," came a harsh voice over the phone.

"Uh, boss, I got somethin for ya." Johnnie straightened out a bit and looked back across the street. "She's a real looker. Tall, blond, built."

"Where are you?"

"That's tha funny thing. A few blocks south of ya pad. She's lookin at stuff in the jewelry store." He grinned and hoped he got a piece of this one.

"Alright. Me and some boys are on the way."

Johnnie's grin dissolved. He swept raw fingers through his greasy mop of hair. "Uh, boss, some guy is movin to her. Big guy in a raincoat."

"Just stay there."

Johnnie shifted in the booth and averted his eyes from the man approaching the model. He was totally digging the chick, but didn't want any part of the dude in the raincoat.

*****

The first thing Duncan noticed was her eyes - deep brown canyons with more than a touch of resolve and strength. Dominoe wore squaw booties and a simple slip dress, but on her figure, it demanded the attention of every male within a block. Platinum blonde hair was cut short about her stunning features.

"Duncan?" She knew the approaching stud must be Natasha's friend. The outline of a sword through the raincoat was subtle but visible to her trained eye.

"Hello," he replied softly. "Natasha mentioned you a while ago. Why don't you tell me what this is about?" He tried to remain focused on the task at hand, but his eyes roamed the stranger's curves.

"Natasha asked me for information on a local crime lord, Andre Franklin. The guy's a real dirt bag. Runs a few legitimate businesses as a cover for a sex slave ring." She paused. "Well, she didn't show for dinner the night after I gave her Franklin's dossier. I can't find her anywhere. My best guess is the bastard's got her."

Duncan grimaced. "Can you give me a copy of the information on Franklin?"

"I can do you one better," she said gleefully. "I was going to lead you to a bar up the street. He owns it and may scout victims there."

Duncan raised an eyebrow. "And let me guess... you are bait?"

"Just as in your case," she replied, "looks can be deceiving. Let's just say I'm your ordinary genetically-engineered super spy with a lifetime of combat experience." Dominoe brought forward a small black bag and opened it, displaying a small arsenal of high-tech weaponry.

"Just shadow me," she said, lowering her voice. "I've handled worse than Franklin, but I guess having an immortal bodyguard makes me more comfortable."

She grinned and gave Duncan's arm a slight squeeze. "Besides, I've heard a lot about you from Natasha."

Before he could muster a response, Dominoe was strolling up the street. "Stay out of sight Duncan," she commanded without looking back.

He smiled as he watched the swing of her shapely ass.

*****

Natasha came slowly out of a deep comforting sleep, drawn by the tugs on her ankles. The mirror showed two beefy men working on her restraints. They were dressed in dark blue jumpsuits and performed their task with efficiency, like keepers at a zoo.

She winced as her legs and arms moved from their fixed positions, suppressing the urge to attack immediately. She felt weak and her body ached.

"Would you look at the body on this one," one keeper murmured. He pulled the left wrist behind her back, snapping a steel handcuff on tightly.

"Yeah, no wonder she gets this pleasure palace all to herself," the other smirked, controlling her right hand until she felt cold steel on both wrists.

Natasha seethed. The men talked as if she weren't there, some object with no feelings or thoughts.

Strong hands lifted her off the rape machine and she found herself standing on unrestrained wobbly legs. The guy on her left - a black man in his twenties - grabbed an arm. His older bald partner dangled a rubber eyeless cowl in front of her face.

"It's your lucky day," he said. "You get some time in the sun."

She didn't resist as he pulled the rubber over her head, stopping just above her mouth. Then she was blind, pushed forward, awkwardly, towards the steel door.

It seemed like she walked forever, wooden flooring then soft carpet replacing the smooth metal below her feet. She felt the guards' hard muscles bracketing her body, aware of the bounce of her naked breasts as the pace picked up. Then she felt that familiar buzz, the sensation of another immortal close by. It passed and they continued walking, the presence fading away.

They stopped and the cowl was pulled from her head. A steel door slid shut behind them as she was pushed into a small circular lawn. Fifteen foot high concrete walls topped with rows of barbed wire enclosed the area, shading the grass from a bright sun almost directly above.

Natasha walked away from the guards who stood by the steel door, savoring the warmth of the sun, the faint cry of distant song birds, and the joy of a simple walk with unrestrained legs. She allowed herself a brief moment of happiness, a parole from her endless bondage and sexual torment.

The guards were also enjoying themselves, devouring the naked beauty with their eyes, imagining free reign over those proudly displayed breasts. Twenty minutes passed quickly for both guards and prisoner.

Then Natasha began stretching in a series of highly erotic poses. Despite bound wrists, she lifted her right foot, placing it on the wall near her head. She slowly bounced towards and away from the wall, presumably stretching the raised leg but offering the guards an eyeful. Then came a series of abdominal stretches where she faced away from the guards and spread her legs, seductively bending forward, her tits swinging behind the most delectable cunt either guard had ever seen.

She turned around and faced the guards, showing them the slightest hint of tongue sliding across those sensuous lips.

"It's been a long time since I've felt the sun on my skin," she purred. "Thank you very much gentlemen."

She moved forward, breasts slightly jiggling with each step until she was little more than arms length away. "Is there any way I can repay you for my," she sighed, "vacation?"

The bald guard needed no encouragement, practically ripping the jumpsuit before it formed a puddle around his feet. The black keeper was a little more controlled, taking his time with the jumpsuit's zipper, trying to tease the vixen. He was looking so deeply into her eyes that he barely saw the kick before it minced his swollen balls.

"Shit!" the bald one shouted, bending down to retrieve his clothes and more importantly, his baton. Natasha spun and delivered a brutal roundhouse kick that sent a few teeth flying. In one fluid motion, she jumped and scissored the black guard's head between her legs, twisting her body and the trapped head until she felt a crack.

A few minutes later, she zipped up a blue jumpsuit that hung a little loosely from her body. The dead black man was face down in the lawn; the bald guard was lying in his underwear. Natasha picked up both batons and ID cards. She moved to the steel door and passed one of the IDs through the slot, waiting as the door slid open.

Standing there, holding a .38 revolver, was a young man wearing a helmet. He fired, twice.

The impact knocked Natasha onto her back, sprawled over the bald guard, gasping for air. She felt the pull of death as the man stepped into view.

"I'm Sage, Andre's not-so-silent partner," he said, removing the helmet. Natasha grimaced as her head buzzed with the presence of an immortal.

"An invention of mine to keep me off the radar," he smiled, pointing to the helmet. "Sorry for the interlude, but I wanted you to have a taste of freedom again."

The boyish immortal reached down, opening the bullet-torn jumpsuit in a carefree manner, slipping his hand inside.

"I would love to spend some time with you Natasha," he said. "But I have pressing matters and Andre wants you to meet another member of our... happy family."

He bent down and kissed her full on the lips. "Why don't you rest my sweet. Let your body be reborn," he cooed. Then blackness enveloped Natasha.

******

Duncan walked only one block before he sensed something amiss. It was another immortal, close - and malevolent. He spun and saw an old enemy standing in the alley.

"Andre Mansarrat. I always figured scum like you would turn up."

Andre beckoned. "My dear Macleod, is that anyway to treat a fellow immortal?"

Duncan immediately connected the dots and didn't like the picture. Franklin was Mansarrat. He hadn't changed his ways for centuries, so white slavery was a natural business for his unnatural needs. And that meant he had Natasha.

"Yes, I'm enjoying your darling friend," he said as if reading Macleod's mind. "She's quite the slut once you break her in."

Duncan roared, charging the retreating jackal. He cut the distance in half just as Andre slipped through a basement entrance. Duncan stopped at the doorway and pulled his dragon head katana from its sheath on his back. It was dark so he proceeded slowly. His eyes adjusted to the blackness, focusing on Andre at the center of the large chamber.

"Let's see what you got Macleod," Andre shouted. His saber whipped through the air in figure eights.

Duncan sprung forward and launched a vicious offensive. Deafening rings echoed through the basement as the two immortals swung their swords with deadly intent.

Andre retreated, parrying as well as he could, but occasionally the flashing katana would cut him on the arm, nick him at the thigh. This was not training. This was holding a pit viper next to your neck with two fingers.

"What the hell are you cretins waiting for," he shouted. "Shoot the fucker!"

Duncan broke off his assault and got a few steps towards the door before fire spread across his chest. He landed in a heap as the echoes of automatic gunfire died out.

*****

Dominoe crouched on a fire escape five floors up, watching the grim proceedings below. Rugged men in suits pushed a body bag into a black limo. A large man then appeared through the doorway, glancing each way down the alley. Dominoe recognized Andre Franklin's mug.

She opened her bag and pulled out a small black disk. Just as the limo engine revved up, she dropped the device onto the departing vehicle's roof. It was time for war.

*****

The girl struggled to get the steel door opened but was rewarded with her first look inside the torture chamber.

"Ooooooo." She wet her lips and smoothed the new strappy leather outfit down from her pert young breasts. "I like! I like! This is much better than the other play areas!"

After a few minutes gazing at the multitude of devices lining the large mirrored room, she strode to an area covered by red crepe paper, ribbons, and a gaudy "Happy 19th Birthday" placard.

She tore into the wrapping, finally revealing a nude goddess lying horizontally, fastened to thin steel rods below her body. Natasha was fixed in a straight position, arms next to each other over her head, as were her legs. Metal bracelets fixed each joint to a steel rod below, and small motorized globes connected the rods.

An impressive artificial penis rose from the gag filling her mouth. A few feet from the restrained beauty, a sleek console displayed a realistic computer model of the victim, bound in the same position.

"My my. Daddy gave me a beautiful new toy."

The girl noticed a puzzled look on Natasha's face. "Oh, you're an immortal and you're wondering how daddy gets a daughter."

She bent down within licking distance of Natasha's gagged mouth. "Well I was daddy's toy before I was adopted, so to speak. Guess he wanted an heiress."

The girl broke out in a smile, stood and extended her hand. "My name is Sarah, pleased to meet you." When there was no response, she laughed and skipped over to the console.

Sarah was a pixie, cute with clear skin and a dainty upturned nose. But as her eyes devoured Natasha's naked body, she looked anything but innocent. The girl kicked off her stiletto pumps and stripped. She moaned as she pushed her breasts together and slid a hand over her shaved cunt. The huge penis arising from Natasha's gag left little to the imagination.

The girl began sliding her finger over the console, dragging the graphic model's ankles out in an obscene split, then changing to a side view and forcing the model's chest up.

"I hope you're very flexible or this machine's got built-in safety limits," Sarah laughed and pushed a button.

Natasha whimpered as the rods moved. With her arms locked straight, her chest was forced up while her legs shot apart. She was screaming through the gag when the machine stopped her legs at nearly a 140 degree split, breasts thrust out towards the ceiling.

The girl slinked up to Natasha's side and casually began fondling the shaking chest. "Daddy liked the dominant side I showed to his other... acquisitions."

She took some time kneading the firm tits, flicking her tongue over the sensitive nipples. "Very very nice," she marveled. Her hands roamed the flawless expanse of skin before she moved between Natasha's straining legs. "I must say you are the best catch I've seen."

Natasha could feel Sarah's hot breath on her cunt. She felt delicate fingers prying open her lips, sliding to and fro, probing.

"Let's have a taste of daddy's gift huh?"

Natasha cried out with the flurry of licking and sucking. After all she'd gone through, she couldn't believe she was being raped, eaten out by a teenager. Sarah was quite good at what she did.

Natasha moaned and bucked and screamed, but the girl's hands continued clenching her magnificent ass while her mouth latched onto Natasha's sweet splayed sex. After finally succumbing to a wrenching orgasm, Natasha felt Sarah pick up the pace even more - as if she was trying to force as much nectar as possible from the trembling beauty. The girl's probing and wiggling tongue felt like a foot-long wet slice of heaven.

Soon Sarah's delicate finger began probing Natasha's asshole, coated by the juices flowing from both the girl's mouth and her victim's throbbing violated sex. She paused only long enough to push another button at the console and mount the beauty in a '69' position. Natasha felt her chest sink, head rise, and arms spread down to the side.

Sarah gasped as she impaled her pussy on the penis gag before returning to the feast below. A few moments later, the diabolical rods began thrusting Natasha's head and attached penis in and out of the girl's sopping cunt. The torture room was doused in the pungent aroma of sex mixed with the muffled groans of Natasha and the blissful mewing of the girl.

In at least one way, Sarah was truly Andre Mansarrat's daughter: she was insatiable.