This story is a work of fiction. Any similarity to anyone alive or dead is not intended. Please do not recopy or re post. This story contains bondage, whipping, and some mild torture. If you oppose this type of behavior, please do not read it. If you enjoy said acts, then enjoy. :)
-----------------------------------------------------
My life is very simple. Clients want someone dead, they pay me, I make the person dead. I would like to tell you I have a code of honor. I would like to tell you I don't kill women or children, but I am not a liar. I have killed women and would have no moral problem with killing a child. The subject has never come up.
My work is done through a broker. We have never met and we never will. I get all my information through an encrypted website. I have the best electronic countermeasures in place to insure that my connection to this website cannot be traced. I check this site daily and get the information on targets as they become available. When I am working my life moves smoothly. It is the down time that is maddening. I could pass for any average forty year old man. I try to dress, act, and do everything in a completely nondescript manner. I am just a ghost in a crowd.
I have a loft apartment in the industrial part of town. I paid cash for it via a false identity and none of it can be traced to me on paper. The loft is divided into two parts. The outside area is the part that anyone who visits me would see. The only visitors I have had in years are call girls. I get them via an agency known for its discretion and for supplying women to men with tastes that normal girls would not be able satisfy.
The inner area of my space is where I really live. The outer part is simply a shell. A front if you will. I don't even sleep in the bed that is in the front part of the loft. I only fuck in it. The shower in the bathroom in the front is only used by the whores after I have used them. The inner area has everything I need. A bed that I use for sleeping is off in the corner. This area is completely open save for the range area. I have an enclosed range that is completely sound proofed. You could set off a nuke in that area and no one would hear the band. Beside the range is the armory where I store all of my weapons. Everything you could ever need for any situation is here. Next to the armory is my dojo area. I use this area to work out and stay in shape. I have studied martial arts of all kind as a younger man and I use this area to practice and stay in tune. There is a kitchen area that is on the back of fake apartment out front. I have a full bathroom with a dry sauna and an area where I have a TV and my computer for keeping up on the information I need to do my job effectively.
My routine is like a well working clock. I am up at six am every day. I work out on the weights, work out in the dojo, and then I shower and eat breakfast. Food for me is fuel. I have a nutritionist who laid out a diet for me years ago that I have never deviated from. It puts nothing but healthy and well balanced nutrition into my system. I have hundreds of thousands of dollars in the weapons I use to kill. However, my body and my mind are the true weapons. I treat them as such.
Unless I have a job to do, I see a whore from The Emporium every Friday. For years I tried to just abstain but the urges for sex where distracting me from my job. Through my broker I found The Emporium. They are very expensive but the money is well spent. The girls come here knowing what will happen and know they will be well paid and well tipped for it. They don't ask questions and they don't cause problems.
I am a sexual dominant and a sexual sadist. I need to be in charge and the woman needs to feel pain for me to truly get off. It is very hard to find a person like this if you are the average Joe going to bars and trying to meet women in the laundromat. It can happen but it is rare and it is risky. Whores come to be abused and get paid. They don't talk. If you work at The Emporium and you talk, you might get a visit from me in a completely different capacity. You don't want that.
It is Friday night and I am sitting in the outer space of my loft. It is like being in another person's home. It is a facade in every way. I even keep the kitchen stocked to look like I live there. To the casual observer it is a very nicely appointed one bedroom apartment. The bedroom is not normal though. The bed is a play thing. It has been designed for one purpose: to bind and abuse a woman. When I am not entertaining it appears to be a normal king sized bed. It is set up to where I can attach rails to it to make it a twisted version of a canopy bed. There are d-rings all over the rails, overhead and on the head board and foot board. It gives me the flexibility to bind a woman in many different ways.
It takes me about an hour to assemble the bed and get it ready. The girl will be here at eight pm sharp so at seven I start getting things ready. I dress in black slacks, a blood red silk shirt, a black tie, and a pair of black dress shoes. I am very adept at disguises. I have one that I use when the women are here. I keep my head shaved so I can attach wigs that look very realistic. My face is clean shaven for the same reason. I can wear many different beards to change my appearance. I have every shade of eye color available via contact lenses. I am a virtual chameleon.
For the girls I wear a black wig that comes straight back with hair gel for a slicked back appearance. My eyes are a cold steel blue naturally. For this get up they get a dark hazel. A black goatee completes the look. My agreement with The Emporium is very specific. The girls know when they come here what is expected of them and what they are to do. They are to come to the door come straight in without knocking. There is a coat rack in the corner of the living room area. They are to be dressed in a trench coat. Under the trench coat is to be white lingerie complete with garters and high heels. As she walks in the door she is to kneel before me in a very specific pose. Ass back on the balls of her feet, hands on her knees palms up. Back arched slightly to push her breasts out for me to inspect. Her legs are to be parted as far as she can. Our eyes are not to meet without permission. There is no touching me without permission. She is to do exactly what she is told to do. There is no safe word here. She knows everything that I will do to her and if she could not withstand it she would not be here.
It is ten minutes before eight and I am sitting in my leather chair. I have a glass of scotch in one hand and a cigar burning in the other. It has been two weeks since I have a had a whore. I had business last week and missed my appointment. I never deviate. If I have work, I wait another week. I have only waited two weeks once. The girl I got the following week got an extra-large tip because she really earned it.
At precisely eight o'clock the door opens. My tastes in women are very simple. I like them petite. Build is not important. I like them with large tits or small. I can work with either. Petite is the only thing I stress. The vision of a woman that walks in my door sends shivers up my back. She is five feet tall with red hair. One thing I specify is that I don't like them to be made up heavily. Some black eye liner and some light red lipstick is enough. Her hair is cropped in a short bob style. They have to have some hair, enough for me to wrap my hands up in. Her face almost takes my breath away. She is lovely, they are all lovely. That is not the breath taking part. Her face brings back a memory from my past that causes my heart to skip a little bit. She could be Kira's twin.
I was only eight years old the first time I saw Kira. Her family moved in to the house beside where my family lived in the old city I was raised in. Even at the age of eight I was deeply in love with Kira. She was angelic. Her face was perfect. She had skin that was the palest of pales. As a kid she she was all freckles. Her face was a dot to dot puzzle of the things. She got teased for her freckles but I always thought they were cute. We became fast friends. But as we got older though something changed in her. Around the age of thirteen she began to withdraw and become distant. I could not figure out what the problem was. As we got older into our teen years she started to become someone I didn't know. She experimented with drugs and became very promiscuous. Her reputation was that if you wanted your dick sucked or if you wanted fucked, go see Kira. She couldn't say no. At this age I was very introverted. Kira had been the only person I truly every talked to. Now I could not even talk to her. My father was a mean drunk. I became his favorite target in my teen years. I got tough fast.
I remember well the summer of my sixteenth year. It was a hot miserable summer, the kind of weather that flares the tempers of even calm people. I was laying in my bed sweating like a dog when I heard a tap on the window. Getting out of my bed I was surprised to see Kira outside of my window. I went to the window and threw up the sash. She had clearly been crying and was was bleeding out of her nose. I reached down and helped her up into the window. Without saying anything she hugged me deeply and began sobbing. I could tell that she really didn't want to talk right now so I simply held her to me as she cried deeply. She must have cried for ten minutes before she raised her head from my chest to speak.
"I need your help Joseph. I am in hell and I need your help to get out." Without even a thought I replied.
"I will help you in any way I can Kira. Just tell me what is wrong."
Through sobs and more crying I finally found out what had turned my loving friend into the neighborhood whore. She had been raped early and often by her father. And to make matters worse on this night he told her that she was not even his. Her mother had cheated on him with someone at work and she was his daughter. Her mother had long since passed away. He told her the only reason he had kept her around was so he could make her life hell.
