Tara had her opponent completely under control. She had her legs wrapped around the other woman's head, her crotch covering her opponent's mouth and nose, slowly choking her. The hapless guard couldn't do anything as Tara now grabbed her by the wrists to prevent her from reaching for the pistol. A corner of her mind registered the other woman's perfume, a flowery scent which was noticeable as she heated up because of her struggling. To complete the domination, Tara rolled her opponent onto her back, sitting on her face, and pinned her wrists to the ground. The guardswoman struggled less and less, her legs scraping the ground, until she stopped moving. Tara waited a bit longer, and then unwound her thighs, and slid her body backward. She held both wrists of the defeated woman with one of her hands just in case she wasn't completely out, and then checked for the pulse. It seemed the guard was still alive, which was for the best.
She loved defeating other women, especially in wrestling, and especially when she could use her legs during the finishing move. She was quite proud of her legs, which were long and toned, and the black spandex leggings she was wearing emphasized them perfectly. She also loved the feeling of another body squirming helplessly between her thighs. She didn't like to kill her opponents, however. She preferred they lived on with the humiliating knowledge of how they were defeated. She felt heat radiate from her crotch through her body at the thought. She definitely would have to spend some private time with the showerhead when she was back to her safe-house.
She didn't waste any more time, and rolled the woman onto her belly and cuffed her wrists behind her back with the guard's own handcuffs. She then put her knife under the unconscious woman's nose, and waited for the fogging which showed that she was still breathing, even if weakly. After that she gagged her with the tie that was part of the guard's uniform. It was very considerate for the Baron to require his guards to be wearing those.
It was also very considerate of him to insist that his security detail consist entirely of women. If the guard was a man, she wouldn't have managed to disable him as easily. Most men serving as guards for the Bogrovian aristocracy looked like they had had a gorilla or two among their ancestors. She had ambushed the other woman by hiding among the rafters, and then hanging down and wrapping her thighs around her victim's head like a python. If her target had been a man, there was a chance that he would have simply unwound her legs and freed himself, and then she would have been in trouble.
It was, however, not very considerate of him to have only brunettes guarding him, as her task would have been much easier if she could have infiltrated disguised as one of them. Her raven-black hair would be a dead giveaway however, and dyeing it any other color was never an easy task.
She chastised herself for the woolgathering and pulled the unconscious guardswoman behind some crates. She would be found if anyone searched the attic, but should remain hidden for a while otherwise. It was good that the attic seemed to be in some use and there was little dust on the floor, or it would have been very obvious that a body was dragged around here.
#
Regardless, she had to hurry now. It would be noticed that the guard was missing as soon as she didn't check in on schedule. Tara continued looking for the access hatch to the lower level, which was interrupted earlier by the guard. She found it and opened it quietly, looking at the room below. She didn't know what idiot designed the house so that there was a way to get in the room housing the central ventilation system from the attic, or what idiot allowed the construction plans to be stored in the Central Construction Office where any half competent thief could get them, but she quietly thanked them for making her job easier.
After quickly checking that the room below was empty, she dropped quietly into it, though any sound she made would have been drowned out by the hum of the air pumps anyway. Out of the tiny black backpack she wore she pulled a compact breathing mask, and a metal canister. The canister was matte grey and without any markings, but she didn't need any to know it was full of pressurized knockout gas, enough of it to disable the whole household. She put on the mask, made sure it fit snugly, and then she attached the canister to one of the air pumps in the room. She pulled the pin holding the canister closed, and she checked that the gas was venting into the air pump. Then she started the counter on the watch she had on her wrist, and waited for five minutes. During the down-time she looked over her clothes, a black, tight-fitting two-piece catsuit, and she dusted it off a bit. Dark brown or gray would have probably been better for a nighttime infiltration, but this was also good, and it fit her black hair. It might be vanity, but if she did her job, nobody criticized such details. After the five minutes were up she was ready to move on.
Her target should be in one of the guest bedrooms.
#
Tara moved quickly through the silent corridors. The mansion's interior, all stained wood, old furniture, and even the occasional suit of armor stood in stark contrast to the gray concrete exterior. The Baron had either not bothered to have the outside finished after turning the mansion into a fortress, or he had not bothered to update the interior to fit the brutalist facade. Tara glimpsed her own face in a mirror, black hair gathered in a ponytail, black eyes, and the rest covered by the breathing mask.
The mask should no longer be necessary now, as the gas should have gone inert after a few minutes, soon after putting everyone to sleep. However, the opaque plastic should keep her from being recognized when the Baron's security looked at the recordings of the security cameras in the morning. Destroying the recordings would have been better, but the monitoring room was locked from the inside, and nobody would be getting in until the guards woke up. Regardless, she would be far away by then.
The bedroom she looked for was at the north end of the building. There was another woman lying unconscious near the last door in this particular corridor, so this must have been the place. She tried the handle, and found the door was unlocked. It must have been an inch of solid oak at least, but it opened quietly on well-oiled hinges, despite the weight. She closed it just as quietly, and looked around the large bedroom frowning. There was no one here, and the large four-poster bed did not look slept in, but it had to be the right room. She surveyed the building earlier this day and the traitorous bitch should have been here.
#
As she was considering her next action, the balcony door opened and a blond woman entered the room, wearing only a robe which looked two sizes too small, reaching down to the middle of her thighs, and struggling to contain her breasts. The blonde's cold blue eyes widened in surprise, and then immediately narrowed. She put her fists on her hips and stared at the black-clad intruder.
"Who the fuck are you supposed to be?"
The question brought Tara's brain back to reality. The balcony! She must have been outside when the gas was knocking out everyone else in the building. No matter, she was only a scientist, this will be over quickly.
"I'm waiting for an answer," the blonde stated, narrowing her eyes.
Tara ignored her words and started toward her, fists clenched. Her instincts warned her at the last moment and she jerked back, which was the only thing that saved her as the blonde threw a lightning fast roundhouse kick aimed at her head. As it was, the kick hit her breathing mask and tore it off her face. While she was still trying to understand what had happened, the blonde planted a kick in her midsection which doubled Tara over.
What was going on? The woman was supposed to have been just a scientist, not some martial arts master. She had to get the blonde on the ground, where she could use her legs and grappling techniques. The blonde tried stomping on her, but she managed to roll out of the way, and then brought her legs around her opponent. She put one leg behind the blonde's legs, another in front of her hips and then, in one smooth motion, slammed her to the ground. Her opponent hit the thick plush carpet with a curse, but she didn't seem dazed. Still, Tara used the moment to straddle her and try to pin her, essentially repeating the move which worked on the guard earlier this evening.
She found, however, that this was not as easy against a trained opponent. As she was positioning herself to sit on the blonde's face, the other woman kicked her in the back with both knees, effectively knocking her forward. The pain blinded her for a moment, and before she could orient herself, another kick landed in her side turning her over on her back. Her whole torso was a sea of agony, and although she desperately tried to, she couldn't move. Then she felt a weight on her chest and a musky smell was her only warning as the blonde copied her move from before and sat on Tara's face, cutting off her air supply. Adding insult to injury, the blonde was not wearing panties and, judging by the wetness filling Tara's nose and mouth, was enjoying herself.
Tara struggled and tried to throw her opponent off, but the blonde was seated firmly, having grabbed her by the hair and was pressing her head to her pussy. Tara soon started descending into darkness, and the last thing she felt was the blonde grinding back and forth on her face.
#
Tara woke up in darkness, naked. She was seated on some kind of chair, with her arms tied to the chair behind her back. Whoever tied her knew what he was doing, as the knots were secure, without cutting off the blood flow to her hands. Her legs were not bound, but the chair seemed to be attached to the floor, and it didn't budge. That was about all the good news, however. Most of her muscles were stiff and aching, with her neck being particularly annoying. She could rotate it to the left without issue, but just a hair to the right and the pain lanced through her whole body down to the tips of her toes. The worst, however, was her belly. She made sure to not breathe too deeply, as any pressure on her abs or side caused pain to shoot through her whole body. At least there was no pain coming from the inside, so her internal organs seemed to have survived undamaged.
After going over the same injuries for the second time she realized she was analyzing and cataloging the physical damage to avoid dealing with the humiliation. She could still feel the musky smell and salty taste of the other woman's pussy, and from the crusty feel of the skin on her face, the blonde must have ridden it for some time after Tara had lost consciousness. How could that have happened? The blonde fit the description given to her by her contact. She was supposed to be a scientist who decided to defect, and bringing her back was supposed to be a piece of cake. And yet here she was, defeated like a kitten who attacked a tigress.
