Synopsis: In a phantasmagorical tale of sexual slavery, a mysterious man and woman, a generic sheik, twin submissives, and even some celebrities, come together in a story exploring submissive and dominant needs. Just for fun, there are many references and allegories to pop culture. It is surreal at times but it is not fantasy or a spoof.
The story begins with a dance of dominance and submission between two strangers on a plane, Wolf and Nikita, and moves on to unravel a sinister plot brewing in the bowels of the aircraft. The intensity of events grows with each chapter. The scenes include the sacrament of a sadistic communion between the generic sheik and The Catholic Girl, a female switch turned to slave, a pair of twins separated at birth, one who is Wolf's pet and the other is Nikita's slut slave.
This series is a work in progress because our perverted imaginations take us to unknown destinations. We hope you enjoy the journey with us.
Hunters And Preys by Nikita and Wolff © 2006
The cabin was filled with familiar airplane drone. Inaudible, yet powerful.
The tall, dark stranger was listening to something else. He didn't need to close his eyes to hear the faint baying of the pack. No matter how far they were, somewhere, the moon was rising over the horizon. Ever so often, the gruff stranger pictured a thirteen-year-old boy with mischievous blue eyes that overwhelmed a face with high cheekbones. The boy was a handful of bubbling energy as he dashed about with his slim, wiry legs, dreaming of the running with the wolf pack.
"Mr. Wolf, care for a glass of Cristal?" said flame haired flight attendant. Her nametag said Carleen.
His long legs stuck into the aisle. The designer jeans had appropriately spaced rips and holes. His face possessed deep, knowing eyes that held your attention despite the diamond stud that glinted on his earlobe.
"Mr. Wolf, care for a glass of Cristal?" she repeated, her voice like clinking glasses, trying to hint at the pastime she could be.
"Yes, please. By the way, why haven't we taken off yet?"
The Wolf had an eastern European accent that was hard to place whose dark wavy hair was secured by a rubber band. Still, he could have been traveling incognito or a lucky fuck who won the lotto.
"We have a passenger that was running a little late, but she just checked in," she said apologetically.
Her passenger captivated Carleen. She was always a sucker for quiet, pensive men who wore an aura of mystery like an invisible shield.
What's more -- when he first saw her, his eyes had lit with recognition, and then he had stopped and obviously backed off mentally, closing like lizard covering its eyes with nictitating membrane. Her need to be taken by this man did not did not end with juices flowing from her shaven pussy.
As he accepted the glass of Cristal from the red headed toy, a suitable diversion for the duration of the trip, The Wolf nodded and went back to his iPod.
The Late Passenger
Like a summer breeze, the tardy passenger gracefully slid into the seat across and several rows behind the Wolf and busied herself with being unobtrusive. Although she wasn't tall, her presence added to her stature. She wore an exclusive Chikgeneric two piece. It was a subtle combination of business-like strictness and wantonness. In profile, she looked mysterious, her dark hair cut into one of those messy, wispy styles. However, when she turned to look at him, her face opened up to a warm smile.
Even before the woman entered, he felt the gentle wave of energy float down the aisle intermingled with her scent. Then the wave became tangy and tangible. The baying arose in Wolf's head. The smile that followed it was too warm, like the onrush of tropical butterfly, flashy and wide open. Yet, she was sanguine and spirited.
As often before, a whistle of cold winds from the mountains of the moon redefined such smiles for him. He almost performed the usual ritual of reaching for his mirrored sunglasses. He knew what would silence the pack. It will not be accomplished by the redirecting of the sheer power he felt emanating from the woman - he would handle that, suck it in like his distant cousins, vampires. No, it would take domination of her sanguinity, the capture of ease with which she shed her cloak of power as she entered.
'Forget the vampires,' he thought to himself, 'You never met any and do not believe in them anyway. What you want is her kneeling at your cock, the worship pouring from the pores of her sweating whipped body. You must have that. That is why you arranged to have her board THIS plane.'
"Ms. Wilson, how nice to see you flying with us again." beamed Carleen, as she bowed her head to kiss the proffered hand.
"Hi yourself! Nikita. Please. At least for the duration of the flight," she insisted, squinting her eyes at the Wolf.
The cold reaction from this gruff stranger stung and she was about to extract payment from him. But, this airplane was like no one she had flown before and various bills from her past were finally due.
The flustered Carleen nodded, displaying a familiar neediness for approval. No signal was needed. It was understood that their relationship be invisible in front of others.
The Wolf was disconcerted as he saw the exchange. The flightslut was taken! But his eyes followed her curvy walk until she was out of sight. As he looked at the woman, he thought about her strange name, Nikita. 'Shall I keep that name? Have it engraved on silver dog tag?'
Nikita kicked off her shoes and settled back to look out the window with a glass of Chardonnay in her hand. Once they were airborne, she took out her computer and started typing, in staccato, a pencil behind her ear. Immersed in thought, she did not notice the Wolf shift.
The Wolf motioned for Carleen. She'd inhaled his scent when he boarded, a combination of cologne, expensive cigarettes, and testosterone. It sent shivers up her spine and twitched her pussy. She was ready to drop to her knees.
"Yes, Mr. Wolf?" she asked.
"Who's she?" he whispered, pointing his head toward Nikita.
He knew the answer. He knew all FACTS about that woman except he did not really KNOW her and did not posses her, yet.
"Oh. Mistr... uh, Ms. Wilson. She's a writer. Perhaps you've read her books?" said Carleen.
Carleen's heart was singing to him. He knew WHAT she was and WHO she was, or rather who she was NOT. Finding out who the other woman REALLY was would be an interesting and rewarding pursuit.
Nikita smiled to herself as she listened to the exchange between Carleen and the gruff stranger and continued to peck at her keyboard as the story flowed through her fingers.
She loved to torment Carleen on these long flights, by teasing and playing with her. She was allowed to orgasm at the end of the trip and only on Nikita's command.
Her laptop snapped shut, she turned toward the window and played with a wisp of her hair. After awhile, she drew a blanket over herself and closed her eyes.
Ping Ponging the Attendant
The Wolf's finger traveled to the burning cheek of the cherubic flight attendant as he briefly contemplated taking this morsel for himself, right now, and damn that Nikita bitch! But, baying in his head became urgently threatening.
He gently cupped her chin upwards; his hands fondled her breasts. She leaned toward the open palm, melting into it and buckled. The Wolf caught her before her knees touched the deck. She crouched to steady herself as he fixed his gaze on her violet eyes.
"You belong to her?" he asked.
Another flush enveloped her heartlike face.
"No sir. I would... but she... no, sir I don't."
"You do," he said as he reached for the rubberband that held his hair.
He wound and rewound the rubberband around his fingers, considering, and looking at the little pawn. Captivated with the rubberband, Carleen rode the bittersweet heat wave.
"Hands on the back."
When she complied he leaned over and wound the rubberband around her wrists. The Wolf forced her to gaze at the power in his eyes and feel his will.
"You will go to this Nikita and sit beside her..."
"But sir, I can't do that. Regulations..."
Sighing, the Wolf applied more of his will. "You will sit with her, snuggle up to her, perhaps nibble on her ear...very gently. When she notices you will ask, no, beg her, if I may...how do you Americans say it? Stick my hot dog in your bun. Those exact words, do you understand, Carleen?"
She nodded fearfully and said, "Yes sir".
"I'm not your sir. It's Mr. Wolf to you. Now go."
Admiring how the rigid triangle of her bound arms contrasted with the sway of her hips, the Wolf watched her move off towards Nikita.
He had PINGED the attendant. He will patiently wait for PONG. Not too patiently though. The phantom baying in his head was getting insistent as it usually did when the haunted hunter was in view of a kill.
The little flame snuggled against Nikita's sleeping form. The little flame did not dare move under the blanket, but looked adoringly at Nikita's serene face. He thought there was a glint beneath the irresistible woman's eyes, but he was not sure.
He settled down to wait and took his glass again. It was empty. The plane softly droned on.
Peeking through the thick fringe of her eyelashes Nikita had watched his strong hand play with the glass, then she had shifted her gaze, her lids like slits, to the bound Carleen, walking to her.
She loved the poise of the little wench, breasts thrust out, yet ready to fall at her knees at the slightest glance.
Nikita closed her eyes again and replayed the vision of the stranger. 'Wolf, was that a name? A descriptive title of some sort or a joke?
