Disclaimer time. Thanks everyone for your kind remarks and feedback, even the negative stuff. I hope you keep reading; we'll see how far this ship can sail.
Also, Niamh is pronounced "NEEV". ScSc = Scorekeeper Scent,
The Ponytail Express
Chapter 8: Executive Decision
5:22am
Friday morning
Fred woke up to the warmth of Deb's mouth taking in as much cock as she could. He made eye contact with her as he caressed her hair affectionately. Deb's eyes smiled and she winked while she lazily sucked away, occasionally pausing to lick and fondle his balls. She held Fred's other hand while jacking the base of his cock with the other.
"Deb, give me your other hand." His breathless request cut through the slurping noises around his stiff member. They were palm to palm now. Deb laid between Fred's thighs, the magnificent backside of her sculpted physique on display, blond hair pulled back behind her in a ponytail. Fred sighed in contentment while his lover gave his morning wood a tongue bath.
"Deb, keep your mouth on my cock, but stop when you get to my crown," Fred requested shakily. In response, Deb took a long suck, stopping when Fred could see his glans on her lips.
The pair laid in that position, still palm to palm. Fred slowly moved his hips, watching his cock sink into Deb's mouth until halfway down the shaft. When she realized what Fred was doing, she moaned with lust. Both the taste and texture of his flagpole was heaven as she flicked her tongue when and where she could. Her excitement built with his as she felt his hips increase the pace. Their hands locked as Fred's grip tightened the closer his orgasm approached. Deb had greased his dick with copious amounts of her saliva in her oral worship as each upward thrust sent little explosions of spittle into the air. Her chin was caked with saliva and precum as she polished her lover's erect tool lovingly, adoringly. Periodically, Fred would go too deep with a thrust, making contact with the back of her throat, but Deb would arch her back and neck to adjust to his cock as it plunged into her hungry mouth. It wasn't long before she could feel his balls tighten. He was going to cum soon; she knew the signs.
"Deb!" The first of several successive jets of Fred's seed spattered the roof of her mouth, careening down her throat. Her lover spasmed underneath her; as he cried her name, she rubbed her thighs together; that, and the taste of him was all it took. It wasn't the mind-shattering orgasm that had become commonplace, but a satisfying one, nonetheless. She finished swallowing him, taking time to rub the rest into her skin as she nibbled on his glans. It was like she wanted to smell like him. No, she wanted his smell on her; it marked her as his. Fred laid there trying to catch his breath.
"Good morning, babe." Deb greeted.
"Morning, dear," Fred sighed. "Time to head over to the police station. We have a big day ahead of us, and I want to make sure we control enough of it to not get us thrown in prison."
Brass Nugget Casino
8:05pm
"Tell me what the fuck happened." Mr. Terry sat in the back of his limo, letting two of his employees know how angry he was. Since this was a business trip, Guppy drove, Rick was replaced by Minka, who sat opposite him in the immaculate limousine. Minka, a former champion of the ring, looked like she'd run into trouble earlier tonight. She had a bandaid on her right ear, a bruise on her chin and favored her left arm. She had one of those messy pixie cuts with long bangs in front; cold blue eyes stared at her boss. She was impassive, adjusting the coral neck scarf she wore when she wasn't in Mr. Terry's private quarters. He liked seeing those scars. Black sports bra under a black tank top with a tactical harness that held a beretta in a holster, loose fit black jeans with leg holsters that currently housed four throwing knives, and a pair of sneakers. Her feet fidgeted, giving away the fact she was scared. That was good, but she was in the clear. Tonight, he would do something he made a deal he would never do; he would be the sausage in the middle of a sister sandwich. He was going to break the Ryan sisters.
As her boss simmered, Minka reported.
"Boss," she began, "Niamh was taken from her bungalow at the cathouse by a group of college kids. We're not sure who their leader is, but it's the three from Wednesday night, plus another girl. Their names are Frederick Markinson, Benji Kilmeade, Deborah Stallings, and Onvipa Dasna. It looks like Frederick took a cab in earlier in the day and worked as an advanced scout. Video surveillance shows him spending a little money, but mainly talking to personnel. Later, Benji Kilmeade arrived as part of a group with several other students in the Diamond. That's where I first came in because large groups of college students rarely come out here impromptu. It was strange, but not alarming. Benji's appearance after Wednesday set off some warning bells, but up to that point Frederick hadn't appeared on our radar as he stayed on the Casino floor. There was something curious about him, though."
Mr. Terry's eyes bore into Minka's. "Curious, you say."
"He'd acquired what looked like a squeeze bottle of Windex. It looked like periodically he'd spray it."
His eyes narrowed. "What in the blue fuck?"
"Not sure, Boss. He left the bottle. We think it was full of piss."
"Weird fucker. He a meth-head?"
"Sheriff Mackey's check came back and they're all squeaky clean, boss. Frederick fits the profile, but he doesn't exhibit any telltale signs of being an addict. Highly unlikely for the others. Kilmeade drinks and that's about it."
"He better watch out." Mr. Terry mused, "habit like that can get him kicked off the football team, Defensive MVP or not." Mr. Terry indicated for Minka to continue.
"Boss, this Markinson kid then somehow manages to talk his way out to the ranch." Minka eyed Mr. Terry intently. She thought it was an inside job; unlikely, but you never know. Mia might have found someone crazy, but then he was patient enough to wait almost six hours. Someone had to have given him help.
"Then what?"
"Frederick drops a grand to see Niamh. At the same time, there was a camera outage in sector 2. We did the usual and sent a pair out to make sure it wasn't another short. The last thing they radioed in was the make and plates of a car belonging to Ivaan Sakul, Onvipa's father."
"What happened to the guys we sent out?" Mr. Terry was curious.
"The girls beat them up then zip tied them to a tree."
"Fucking Christ."
"Onvipa and Deborah then climbed the fence, snuck into the ranch undetected, took out two more men, one of which was guarding Niamh's shack. The four then retreated back where the vehicle was waiting."
Mr. Terry looked at Minka. "You're leaving out your involvement."
"Rick and I got wind of what was going on, but I arrived onsite first. I hit Frederick in the shoulder with a throwing knife and was advancing to acquire Niamh when Onvipa and Deborah entered into the theater."
"How'd it go?" Mr. Terry was looking at pictures of both women on his cell. He wondered if they were good enough to survive the ring.
"You want an assessment of their fighting skills Boss, or how I fared?"
"I know how you fared, Minka. They beat you." He let disappointment ooze into his voice. She blinked in response.
"They both exhibited knowledge of Krav Maga, but they're not experts. Boss, have you ever heard of Pariset Ju-Jitsu?"
"Enlighten me."
"It's also called atemi ju-jitsu, it developed off French judo. It involves striking vital points on the body. Tough to say if she's an expert, but she surprised me with the knowledge. If you want an assessment, I'd say Onvipa would be entertainment for one fight. Deborah is another story. A little more training and she could be formidable in the ring."
"Then why the fuck didn't any of my recruiters say anything?"
