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