The story so far...
Megan, a contract killer, had been kidnapped by an unknown group of international criminals. Brutally tortured and interrogated, she had no choice but to give up the password for the laptop she had taken from a money launderer she killed in a seedy Hong Kong nightclub. Fabian Long, her professional partner, had helped her crack the password protection of the laptop the night before she was kidnapped.
The torture and interrogation ceased when she cooperated and told them the password. But things got worse. With her hands cruelly bound behind and tied to the ceiling, she was gang raped by four hardened men. They filled her mouth, cunt, ass at the same time, forcing her to swallow. Covered with semen, sweat, and blood, she was taken to a farm to be shot like an animal and buried in a nameless grave. To add insult to injury, they had planned to force her to dig her own grave.
But she foiled the plan. Her wrists were cuffed behind and she was trapped between two men in the backseat. Both men continued to abuse her bruised and naked body, fingers pinching and twisting her bloody nipples, fingers in her cunt and ass, fingers twisted around her hair and yanking her head in awkward directions. When the car hit a bump, she snatched a gun from the distracted man beside her and shot him. The other two men jumped out, allowing her to escape.
When she found out that her long-time partner Fabian was dead, she vowed revenge. But she had no idea who her enemies were. To find out, she turned to Chuck, who owed her his life. But Chuck drove a hard bargain. He would only trade information if she offered her body. Megan did not hesitate to drive to Florida for the trade. She was taken out on a yacht in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, where the fun would begin.
>>>>>
It was a typical hot and humid day in South Florida. The yacht was anchored some twenty miles east of Miami, Florida. Cloudless, the sun was directly overhead, its rays burning into the bones of anything that stood in the way. As far as the eye could see, there were no signs of any other human activity.
On the open deck, two men sat on opposite sides of the large circular hot tub. One of them was relaxed and held a Mojito in his hand. The other man was visibly nervous and held a gun.
The tub was shaped like a donut, with a raised platform and a shiny pole in the middle. Four Bose speakers surrounded the tub, blasting Kanye West rap music directly at the pole and platform, which shook twice every second from the heavy beats, spreading concentric waves out to the hot water and steam covering both men.
On top of the platform stood a tanned and athletic woman in a bikini, dancing to the thumping beat of Kanye's Gold Digger. She balanced herself on six inches of spiked heels, her hands mostly above her head, occasionally holding the pole for support when ocean waves rock the yacht.
Chuck operated a strip club and had visited world class performances in Las Vegas and around the world. But he had never experienced the gyrations of a woman who could kill with her bare hands, or even her legs. Chuck had heard that Megan once killed someone with her hands cuffed behind, using only her powerful thighs to squeeze the man's neck like a python. Although his bodyguard had his gun aimed squarely at her, Chuck did not doubt that she could knock it off in a moment of distraction, perhaps when the vessel hit a wave. Somehow, that element of danger aroused him more than ever.
Rocky, his bodyguard, had counseled against letting Megan dance freely on the deck. He reminded his boss of how dangerous she could be. She should be handcuffed to the pole, he urged. With her hands cuffed in front to the pole, she could still dance and entertain them.
But the boss ignored his advice. Chuck knew that Megan was weak and helpless as long as he had the information she wanted. Still, he wanted Rocky to hold his gun firmly and watch her as if he was watching a tiger.
An hour and four mojitos later, Chuck ordered Rocky to bring her inside his cabin. Her neck chained, she was made to crawl on the marble floor on her knees and elbows.
Rocky opened a can of spam, emptied its contents to a dog bowl, and spit on it. He placed it in the corner of the bathroom next to cabin. "Crawl in there and lick it clean."
She crawled on her hands and knees, swallowed the odd-tasting spam, and licked it a couple of times. Rocky extended his index fingers and motioned for her to return. She did so promptly. In her mind, she was plotting what she would do to Rocky's balls when the tables were turned one day.
Chuck was amused at Rocky's creativity. Not only was the muscled bodyguard rough and brutal, he could also be funny. Chuck sat back on his bed and enjoyed the scene, nodding his head to signal his approval.
"Are you going to tell me more about Alan after I finish the food this clown placed here?" Megan said to Chuck and looked at him, as if Rocky did not exist.
"You will be fucked until you pass out, and then dumped hands and legs tied. Deal?"
"Will I be shot, stabbed, or otherwise injured?"
"Tired, starved, and perhaps dehydrated. But you will be in good health."
One thing good about dealing with Chuck was that he was straight shooter and a linear thinker. In that sense, he was trustworthy. But he was also a very selfish man. Megan pondered only for a few seconds before she continued the negotiation.
"So you tell me Alan's last known address and I submit to your rape fantasies."
