Assassin

The blond 19 year old was unconscious, naked and tied to the chair. Her face was swollen, her breasts burned with cigarette butts. Tony G was furious that she had dared to humiliate him in front of his men. The night before, she had pressed a knife against his neck and forced him to let her go.

Fortunately, she was inexperienced and allowed him to call his men after leaving him alone in the desert. His men had followed her dad to the motel where he was holed up. She was taken down and had no chance when she reunited with her father in the motel.

Two men entered the basement of the strip club.

"Wake up, bitch!" Switchblade slapped her so hard she fell sideways with the chair. He twisted both his hands in her hair and yanked her upright. She could hear dozens of her own hair separating from the roots.

Tony G spit at her when she opened her eyes. "Slut, nobody fucks around with me. You understand?"

She nodded.

"I want you to prove that you understand who the boss is." Tony unzipped his pants. "Open your fucking mouth."

Switchblade stood behind her, one hand pinched her nose, the other twisting her right tit.

"If I feel any teeth, he will cut off your nipples slowly, with a butter knife." Tony hooked his pants with his ankles and kicked them off. "Understand?"

She opened her mouth, accepting the pulsating organ. She had done this before, but had never been forced. Closing her eyes, she tried to imagine the high school quarterback.

"Open your eyes and look at me." Tony was intent on full humiliation. Make sure you swallow or I'll bite off your tits."

After Tony had been satisfied, she did the same for Switchblade. When they were both done, Tony ordered that she be cleaned up.

"Let's see how much we can get for this slut." Switchblade nodded and punched a quick dial number.

After a long hot shower, she was brought to the client. She had been dressed in a halter bra top and denim shorts. The top was knotted at the neck and between the breasts. Her midriff was bare, showing her ribs and washerboard flat stomach. Her shorts were tight and very short, hanging off her hips and barely covering her butt.

The client nodded his head. A suitcase of cash was handed over. She was taken to a waiting helicopter.

>>>>>

Megan remembered her humiliation all those years ago. But this time, it was worse. There were five men in the room, not just two. Worse, she was not sitting on a chair. Instead, her ankles were tied to her thighs, her wrists tied above her head to a ceiling pole, her body precariously balanced on her knees. Every few minutes, she tensed her biceps to pull herself up by her tied hands, easing the pain on her knees. The men sat in a circle on folding chairs, legs straddling the back of the chairs, watching her, smoking. Two cameras on tripods captured every moment of her torment, one placed directly in front at the level of her nipples, the other behind her.

A cell phone rang, with the ring tone of a Justin Bieber song. The leader of the group answered. The conversation lasted less than a minute.

"You're in luck," the leader announced to the group. "You have one hour to use her anyway you want." He left the room and locked the door behind him. Only these animals would gang rape an unwilling woman. He preferred women who wanted him as much as he wanted them. He never had any trouble finding willing participants. Even if they fake it, at least they were voluntarily doing it.

The four goons had her cut down and handcuffed her hands behind. They filled her every opening. She was forced to keep her mouth so wide two of them face fuck her at the same time. Finally, when the hour was almost up, her bound wrists were lifted behind her and tied to the ceiling. She was taken from behind at the same time she had another man in her mouth. Another man pinched her nose and forced her to swallow.

Choking and coughing, she heard the leader enter the room.

"Cut her down and take her to the farm," he yelled.

Seated between two men in the backseat, she was covered with sweat, semen, and blood. The ride was bumpy, the driver flooring the pedal and cussing at the mud-covered narrow road. He was talking to himself, with nobody riding shotgun. The two men behind continued to abuse her, twisting her nipples and pulling her hair. She did not resist, letting the men do whatever they fancied because her hands were handcuffed behind. She had to save her strength for the moment of opportunity.

Police cruisers and motorcycles passed them frequently, but the tinted glass did not allow any chance of signaling her distress. In any case, this being Tijuana, the Cartel controlled the streets. Even if a cop pulled over a car with a gringo slut, he would assumed she was a naked Russian prostitute cum drug addict that richly deserved the beatings. Perhaps she had stolen money from the Cartel. If the policia asked any questions, all the goons had to do was to pay him off, or pump some bullets into him.

Darkness had descended as the sedan pulled into the entrance of a fenced property, guarded by arms men in military garb. The driver touched a button on his console. All four windows whirled down, reminding Megan of the doors of a elevator in downtown Dallas. Just days ago, she was in Dallas celebrating another triumphant mission with Fabian. Unknown to her, Fabian was dead and she would soon face the same fate.

"Where are you taking the senorita?" asked the guard in Spanish.

"Boss wants to make her dig her own grave before shooting her." The reply was also in Spanish.

"You guys are not going to fuck her before killing her?"

"We have already done that. Too bad you missed it. She was a great screw."

Both the guard and the driver laughed. The two men in the backseat put their fingers in their mouths to signal how they had fucked her.

"Make sure the hole is at least six feet deep. The last time you buried a man, it was only three feet and the dogs dug it up and dragged the body around."

"Don't worry. We'll do it properly this time."

"Go to the back of the farm, about 15 kilometers from here, okay?"

"Will do," all the windows were closed as the driver sped off.

Unknown to them, she understood Spanish. She would have to make a move soon, regardless of the chance of success. She stole a glance sideways and saw that only the man on her left had a gun tucked into his front waistband. As soon as the car was out of the view of the guards at the entry point, the man on her left put one hand on her breast and another on her butt. The man on her right inserted two fingers, one from each hand, into her cunt. The fingers were long and sharp, circling her inside, scratching and pulling her wall.

When the car hit a bump, she used the opportunity to twist her body sharply to the right, both her legs kicking the back of the front seat, butting the back of her head into the nose of the man on the left, allowing her cuffed hands to snatch the glock from his pants. Enraged the injured man circled her neck with his fingers, tightening it and choking her. She pushed off the safety and fired a shot directly into his left lung. His grip loosened.

The man to the right heard the shot, opened the door of the moving car, and jumped out. The driver stopped the car and put his hands up.

"Get me out of the farm and I promise not to kill you," she spoke in perfect Spanish.

The driver did as he was told, smiling at the guards, aware that she was on the floor of the backseat. She had hooked her hands to the front so that her cuffed hands were now holding the gun in front of her.

An hour later, she allowed him to run away from the car. She took the car keys, dug around, and took only a minute to free her wrists from the handcuffs.

A day later, back in the states, she found out Fabian was dead and vowed revenge.

To be continued in Assassins Ch. 07...