I see her out of the corner of my eye. Only for a second, almost imperceptible, but she's definitely watching me. A tail perhaps?
I pick up my pace and turn into an alley. Once I'm around the corner I begin channelling, my awareness spreading out impossibly far, my movements growing extremely precise, more agile. I climb swiftly up the side of the building, using my momentum to overcome gaps that would have seemed impossible to any normal person. Well, even the speed at which I was climbing right now would seem video-game worthy to any normal person.
I pull myself over the railing of a fire escape and drop into a crouch, looking at the entrance to the alley.
The watcher walks a few paces around the corner casually, then she drops the act, realizing I've become smart to her following. She flips out a karambit in her left hand, the blade dark to prevent accidental reflective flashing. Her gait is practiced, aware. I can tell this isn't a surprise for her, she prepared for it. Expected it, even.
She's an assassin. And a good one too. Her tailing skills are professional.
She's expecting me to be on the ground, behind one of the many obstacles, like a trash can. That's why I climbed up here. Most wouldn't even think to look up.
I slowly slide my own Fairbairn-Sykes out from behind my hip, making sure not to pull it out too fast. Peripheral vision tends to be all but blind to slow movement.
She cocks her head, listening, and I realize the danger I'm in is a lot more than I thought. The assassin looks up and spots me immediately. She straightens, smiles, and stands in a lackadaisical manner. Fuck. She's definitely channelling. I can see it in her eyes, the tell-tale black spots swirl. That's how she heard me slide my knife out of its sheath.
I kick my own channelling into high gear, boosting to my second level, not wanted to be surprised by anything. I rise from my crouch, put a boot on the railing and step over into empty air. I fall. My thigh length trench coat style jacket flaps in the rush of wind. I land crouched, only three meters away from the tail, Assassin's creed style.
"Hey handsome." She speaks seductively, her voice casual and light. I look at her up close for the first time. She's pretty, but in a deadly sort of way. This is accentuated by the karambit held loosely in her left hand. High cheekbones, haughty posture, and very, very dangerous look in her almond shaped eyes. She's tall, for a woman, but at 6'4 I still maintain a good half foot on her. Her smile grows as she watches me assess her. It's almost as if she wants me to look.
She wears a heavy long sleeved pullover as a dress, and nothing on her legs underneath save for heavy high heeled boots. A lot of fit, slim white thigh showing, leading to my hormone filled brain thinking a lot of inappropriate things that I really don't need right now. I focus my eyes upward, but that was a mistake.
Almost as if reading my mind, she takes in a long breath, stretching up her arms nonchalantly, grasping the karambit in both hands, arching her back, pushing out her impressive bust for such a fit figure. My hormones are in overdrive now, ignoring my focus, pushing shit ton of blood away from my brain. She smirks.
She walks toward me, one foot directly in front of the other like a model on the catwalk. She exudes power, control and a dark urge with each step. I stand frozen, extremely affected. She closes the distance quickly, stopping just outside arms reach, and pops a hip, all her weight on one foot. She thinks she has me.
"You know, they call me the succubus in my organization. Not because I...well... kill my prey," she smiles at this statement, "But because I give my them the time of their lives-" She steps forward mid sentence and grabs my groin with hefty swing.
"-before they die." She finishes her sentence and her smile turns back into a smirk, squeezing the beginning of my bulge. Her hand travels slowly, tantalizingly, down my length, it straining from beneath the fabric of my pants to receive her touch. As she brings her other leg forward to complete the step, now standing directly under me, her eyes stay locked seductively on mine. They widen as her hand keeps going, farther and farther, and her pupils dilate with lust as she realizes my length. The smirk drops off her face as her mouth opens slightly with surprise.
"Fuck..." She groans and squeezes what she can of my member. "You're a big one aren't you?" She asks, but still I remain silent, locked in her gaze.
"That's too bad," She sighs, and releases me. Her eyes travel down my torso to my bulge. "I would've liked to keep you." She puts one finger in my waistband, tugging it, as if to peer inside.
Her left hand whips out from her side, karambit at its tip, and her other hand, which now fully grasps my waistband, pulls me toward her.
I deepen my channelling, and at this level everything slows down, giving me time to lock up all my hormones and lust, and deal with the situation at hand.
The karambit is on a one stop train to slash my throat. I drop my knife and lean away from the pull of her other hand, limbo-ing beneath the swing of the karambit, putting all my weight into that hand holding me up. She stumbles forward, pulled by my weight, and we both go down. I can see every moment of the fall, and slap both her face and the karambit out of her hand on the way down. I don't want to injure her, but I need her stunned to get a proper hold on her. She falls into me, and I flip her around, putting my arms in a triangle around her throat and head, wrap my legs around her waist when we hit the ground. She struggles for a brief moment before going limp. Too soon. She's either faking or conserving energy. Then I feel her hands going into my pants at the sides, looking for weapons. She won't find any. I only carry the one knife.
"Who do you work for?" I speak for the first time, my voice low but calm, directly in her ear. She shivers in my arms, and a groan escapes from her lips. She mumbles something about control, loss of control.
"Tell me. Now." I muster all my scariness into my voice, trying to get an answer. Her eyes are closed, and she's non-responsive. I'm not fully choking her, just constricting her airflow a little, so I'm confused.
Then my pants begin to slide down. Her hands weren't searching for weapons. They were finding purchase in order to lower my waistband. She grinds her ass into my groin, then moves to the side as my the base of my shaft is uncovered. Her hand dips in and grasps my already semi hard dick firmly, pulling it out to the side of her hip, tugging lightly. Her hands are average size for a girl, but look small next to my cock. I prepare to start squeezing, to stop blood flow from her arteries and put her out and take her somewhere more secure, but her hand begins moving, up and down.
She's stroking my cock.
Her other hand reaches around and tugs my balls, her thumb and index finger creating a tight circle between my balls and cock, pulling downwards, and my cock begins to fully stiffen. Fuck, that got to me. I involuntarily let loose a little groan, and I realize she's whispering something. I listen closely while she starts to stroke faster and faster, her grip getting tighter.
"Fuck me. He's so big. Fuck. So powerful. Dominating. Fuck. I need him to fuck me. Fuck me. I need it. Fuck me."
It wasn't stopping. She seemed to be turned on by the fact that I'd bested her.
Her other hand leaves my balls and I look down to see it in her own panties, her sweater pushed up to allow access, revealing toned abs under an upraised ribcage. Not those of a bodybuilding woman, but of a fitness model. I prepare to counter if I see a weapon come out, but it doesn't. She just continues fingering herself.
I'm at loss of what to do. Her hand grips my now fully hard shaft tighter, and she moves her area of activity around, stroking first just the base of the shaft, then just the top. It feels amazing, given I haven't gotten laid for a month. She begins groaning between the mumblings, and her back arches. I can see the nipples of her breasts straining through the fabric of her pullover as she does this. She's not wearing a bra.
Her hand strokes my cock faster, and I'm starting to get near my climax. I let loose another groan involuntarily as her hand whips back and tugs my balls again, massaging them. Fuuuck. It slips away again and this time I see she's clutching one of her breasts through the fabric, and she pinches the upraised nipple, moaning loudly.
As I get closer and closer, somehow she senses it, and slows down appropriately. Her hand moves across my entire length now, from base to tip. With every stroke she hits the sensitive area on the underside of my glans, and I shudder involuntary, cutting off more of her airflow than usual, making her squeak. She's back to fingering herself.
I'm so close, but her hand slows down to almost nothing, lightly trailing the underside of my cock. It's pulsing with my heartbeat as she teases it along the edge, her other hand working furiously inside her. My mind is swamped with the need to cum, and I realize I'm choking her out, yet somehow she still maintains her control of my dick.
Her fingernails graze my glans, and I fall over the edge.
FUCK. I shout in both my head and outloud. I'm cumming, but so is she, and with no air at all. She makes small squeaks as she trembles violently in my arms, and her hand leaves my dick and goes to her tits, pinching herself again. Her feet push against the floor, trying to find air. I loosen my arms slightly and she gasps for breath.
My orgasm is still going. Thick ropes of cum shoot from my cock, landing on both of us. She isn't touching me anymore, and I desperately need some friction. I try to rub against her hip but she pulls away, and after a few struggling seconds, my orgasm is ruined. I'm unsatisfied, still hard, and she re-grabs my dick.
Not today.
I choke her out in 8 seconds flat, add an additional two seconds to make sure she isn't faking, then get up. I'm still hard. But I see a tracker in her hand, flashing. She must've hidden it in her panties. I never saw it. She must've wanted to keep ruining me over and over till help came. God only knows what she must have been planning after that.
No time to clean up. I have no idea how far away her backup is. I pick her up, throw her over my shoulder, and begin to climb again. I let my channelling fall back down to the first level. I won't need anything higher.
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I watch her from behind the one-way mirror in my private interrogation room. She's still out, drooling on the table, courtesy of a sedative I injected her with on the way back to the safe house. After I frisked and scanned her for any more weapons, trackers, and anything else, I handcuffed her and carried her down here. She should be waking up any second now.
As I wait, I once again appreciate her supple body. What I couldn't focus on before, I now have the opportunity to. She looks extremely fit underneath the sweater and it hangs loose on her, one shoulder uncovered, muscle visible under the lack of fat. Her breasts are crushed underneath her against the table, and once again I note how impressively large they are for someone so fit. I almost think they might be fake. Her pale white skin contrasts against her dark bun of straight yet messy hair, and while asleep she looks less dangerous, and more cute.
Her head twitches, her eyelids flutter, and I wait for her to sit up. She doesn't, instead continues lying on the table, mouth open, drooling. It's a very convincing performance.
I push the button that lets me talk over the speaker,
