Angel Faces Demon Minds

by Jessica Rael

  ‘Pretty.’ Mariana’s friend nodded at her observation. ‘In fact, my dear…’ the hostess lifted Juana’s chin to look into her frightened eyes, ‘quite beautiful. Which is of course essential. My parties are legendary, my guests always expect something new, and I? Well… I aim to please.’ Mariana gently tugged on the silver chain that ran from the slave’s collar between her small but shapely breasts, to finally slither across her toned stomach where it snatched hold of her clitoris like a hungry snake.

  ‘Do we have time to train her properly?’ one of the women asked.

  ‘She doesn’t need it, do you, sweetie?’ The hostess gripped the young woman’s chin a little firmer. ‘I am certain she will be completely compliant.’ Mariana led the girl into the next room, a grand, high-ceilinged affair, decorated in Roman-Greek style with sumptuous couches in secluded corners. The centerpiece of the room was a large pool; the tiles lacquered gold, and yellow lights were set beneath the waterline so the water itself seemed to be the precious metal in its liquid form. The twinkling, sparkling reflections from the pool’s surface pervaded the room, and even in Juana’s apprehensive state she had to acknowledge the effect was stunning. ‘I will give you an hour to wander the party room and familiarize yourself with the layout. Pay particular attention to the couch alcoves. Your duties will be threefold, but all very simple. First, you will ensure that a constant supply of champagne is delivered to our all female guests, the bar is located over there, behind the statue of Isis. That should require no thought whatsoever, however, you will need to concentrate on your second duty. I do not want you to appear reluctant, it will reflect badly on me.’ The hostess fixed the naked Latina with a stare that surpassed any language barrier. ‘The party room has no bathroom, primarily because I see nothing less elegant than women standing in line waiting to take a piss. Totally crashes the flow of things, my dear. So… to twist the law of gravity to my own purposes for a moment, consider the human body like this; what goes in, must come out. So your main function will be to deliver one liquid to the guests, and relieve them of another. You look like a smart girl, so I am no doubt making myself perfectly clear.’ The hostess raised an eyebrow and the slave nodded weakly.

  ‘Good. Oh… and the third duty, you will perform any – and I mean any – sexual act the guest wishes you to. They have all been instructed to limit this to three minutes otherwise you’ll end up trapped in some corner being pawed over all night, and I didn’t lay out serious cash for you to be a private whore. However, my staff will regulate the timing in a discreet manner, and you are not to pull away of your own accord, understood?’

  Juana nodded. She understood only too well.

  The apartment sat over a liquor store in a rundown neighborhood. From the outside it looked jaded and dingy. Amber climbed the stairs, fingering the Uzi nervously. The initial excitement had faded and the eighteen-year-old was feeling decidedly out of her depth. An attractive blonde woman answered the door, ushering the anxious redhead inside without asking questions.

  ‘Shadow Stalker?’ Amber asked, a little breathless.

  ‘Yes, my dear. That’s for me I assume?’ The woman reached out and took the camera from the girl. ‘You’re Gemstone, I take it?’

  ‘Yes.’ First Amber had heard of her handle, but it made sense. The woman plugged the camera into a laptop and hit print.

  ‘Timeframe?’

  ‘Midnight, tonight.’

  “Mmm, interestingly tight. Fee?’

  ‘Double,’ Amber replied, trying to place the woman’s accent. New York; she was from New York. The young redhead placed it by running TV shows through her head.

  ‘Acceptable…’ Shadow Stalker held up the four photographs, ‘and achievable, the same four losers I’ve been scouting for three days. It’s nice not to have too many surprises from the client side of things in my line of work, Gemstone. I get enough of that from the targets. The woman showed Amber into the plush lounge. The outside of the building was a façade, literally, and inside the apartment reeked of money. Shadow Stalker led the girl to a comfortable couch and placed a strong vodka-martini in her hand. ‘Plenty more in the cabinet, my dear.’ Then she left the room.

  When she returned she was dressed a little like Amber in black fatigues, and carrying a black unmarked sports bag. She was also leading a pretty Indian woman by a leash attached to a collar. The martini had bounced off Amber’s empty stomach and landed straight in her brain. Acceptable, she thought, internally mimicking the strange woman’s voice.

  ‘I carry her with me for entertainment; there can be a lot of waiting around in my line of work.’ Shadow Stalker handed the naked slave’s leash to the young redhead. ‘Something to help pass the time. Don’t worry about marks, but just don’t break anything, okay?’ Amber nodded, feeling pleasantly woozy. The blonde picked up her bag and headed out of the door.

  Shalyn picked up her cell-phone as she drove. One call to a primed junior doctor with a gambling habit and target one was off the list. She had delivered the sodium pentothal and potassium chloride to the nervous young man from Taiwan personally, and he’d tucked the deadly phials in his pocket, clutching the brown, cash-filled envelope nervously. Shalyn made it clear that he could expect another envelope if the target received the contents of the phials in A&E, or a bullet to the brain if the target walked. Shadow Stalker liked simple choices; they suited the simple people she had to deal with. Another phone call told her that targets two and three were together, one wounded, while target four was at his girlfriend’s apartment.

  Amber relaxed, it was all going to be okay. She had an overwhelming sense of confidence in the assertive blonde, and she’d done her part exactly as outlined. The teenager pulled the Indian woman down to her knees, and she sat there, brown eyes looking through the girl holding her leash. Amber popped the stud on the waistband of her combat jeans, pulled down the zipper and slid them down to her ankles, while the slave remained frozen in place. The redhead pointed a little drunkenly to her cute little panties, with the sparkly pink heart on the front.

  ‘Like these?’ The teen tugged the leash and the slave nodded. ‘Yeah, me too. Fuck, when I remember what I used to have to wear when I was with my dad in the trailer. I even stole stuff off washing lines. Can you imagine that? Stealing underwear off washing lines cos your dad was a shit-face drunk and thought the tinkerbell panty an’ sock set mom got me when I was ten would “do just fine girly, you ain’t no woman yet”.’ Amber laughed at her own impression. ‘Well these are fucking class, probably cost more than the old man’s trailer. She slipped the prized panties down her shapely legs, pushing them on top of the black jeans. She drained the last of the martini then shuffled over to the drinks cabinet, panties round her ankles, and giggled at herself the whole way there. She poured a martini, two-thirds vodka.

  ‘Well…’ the teenager looked over at the slave, still impassively staring at the vacant couch, ‘it’s either a sleepover or I’m getting a cab home.’ Amber giggled then thought for a while. ‘They’ll probably send over a limo if I ask.’ She took a swig from the strong drink, shaking her head. ‘Y’know, life can turn around real quick sometimes. A limo… fuck, who’d have thought?’

  Shalyn knocked on the graffiti-covered door in the dingy apartment block, leaning in close so her face would fill the spy hole.

  ‘What you fuckin’ want, whore?’

  ‘To suck your dick, big boy. Danni give me fifty bucks an’ says go round an’ do Lazy-T, so I’m here.’ Shalyn heard the latches unclip.

  ‘No Lazy-T here, bitch, but I got a dick if you’re looking for somethin’ to suck…’ the last two latches disengaged. ‘If you can fit the thing in your mouth, whore. This ain’t no fuckin’ pencil I’m holdin’ in my…’ the door swung open and he stared at the Navy issue MP5, custom silencer, in the blonde’s hands. He fell silent.

  ‘I know, messy really, but then this job’s all about speed. Have to sacri
fice a little finesse, right?’ The machine pistol emptied twenty-five rounds into the man’s chest before his brain could even register what had happened. The body fell heavily to the floor. Shalyn moved confidently into the apartment. She found the corpse’s wounded companion in the back room, tugging frantically at the rear fire escape door. The MP5 tore open his back, shedding lung and heart tissue into a fine pulp that splattered over the worn, paint-flaked door.

  Amber settled back onto the couch, lifted her legs and placed them over the Indian woman’s head, so the slave now lay inside the zone marked at the rear boundary by the redhead’s jeans, at either side by her taught thighs, and at the front by her shaven pussy. The teenager reached clumsily forward, grabbed the Indian by the hair and plunged her face against her waiting sex. Definitely not a virgin cunt-licker, thought Amber as the woman’s tongue wormed its way deep into her already lubricated vagina, flicking from side to side as it descended into the girl’s tunnel of joy. Amber rummaged in her jacket pocket, pulling out a small pair of silver-plated pliers, a gift from McKenna. The teenager unfolded the delicate implement then reached around her own left thigh, groping for the woman’s breast. After a few seconds of drunken fumbling she found it, roughly pulling the pert tit to the side so she could see it past her leg and the bobbing head as it worked away on her dripping pussy.

  Well, thought Amber, this ain’t gonna break anything, and the drunken girl guided the pliers to the dark nipple, slid the jaws either side of the small bud, then squeezed. The slave jerked, losing her momentum for a moment, but she recovered quickly, lapping at the teen’s cunt like a kitten at its first bowl of milk. Amber smiled to herself and closed the jaws of the pliers, squeezing the slave’s nipple, who increased her efforts proportionately, driving her twirling tongue deeper into the young slit, pressing her face into the vagina, moving from side to side.

  ‘Mmm, not bad,’ Amber murmured. ‘Know what I like? Close your mouth round my hole. You’re gonna have to get in real close though, then like, totally suck on it, like you’re trying to turn me inside out an’ have my guts in your mouth.’ Amber giggled, spilling some of the martini on top of the woman’s head. ‘Hey, that sounds gross, doesn’t it? Feels pretty cool though. Okay, let’s see how you do.’ The drunken teen gripped the slave’s nipple and began to twist it, turning slowly clockwise and stretching it outward away from her breast. The reaction was immediate and the woman had evidently been listening intently. She jutted out her lower jaw, forcing her mouth between the girl’s labia so her lips closed around the vaginal tunnel, her small nose pressing against the girl’s urethra. The slave sucked and Amber moaned, forgetting the night’s tension.

  ‘More,’ she ordered, twisting the tortured nipple and yanking hard. The slave’s chest heaved as she sucked frantically, gulping down air, drawing the teenager’s labia into her mouth, swallowing the girl’s juices, trying desperately not to choke on the flood. ‘Yessssss…’ Amber flopped back into the soft scatter cushions, she felt her vaginal fluids being sucked from her and imagined them seeping down the slut’s throat, an orgasm creeping upward from her genitals, hitting her brain like an electric shock, and as the teenager writhed in the throes of a multiple orgasm she wrenched hard on the nipple imprisoned in the silver jaws, a hostage to her continued pleasure.

  The second apartment was virtually indistinguishable from the first, apart from the fact that the graffiti on the door contained some legible words, meaninglessly scrawled obscenities. The door was helpfully ajar. Shalyn squinted through the small gap, and seeing nothing she eased the door open with her foot. It swung wide silently and the assassin smiled; only a truly arrogant bastard would leave his door open in a neighborhood like this, and Shalyn loved arrogant bastards. They were so easy to kill. If someone wasn’t watching their own back it was easy to put a bullet in it.

  She clung to the shadows following the voices from the second floor. A male was shouting, a female trying to argue back in between stifled sobs. Rounding the corner the assassin could see clearly into the bedroom. The man stood, arms waving, a powerful handgun clenched in his right fist as he ranted at a cowering girl in front of him. A disheveled, brown-haired girl, her pretty face spoilt by lines of mascara that flowed down her cheeks following the tracks of tears from a pair of attractive green eyes.

  The assassin couldn’t get a clear shot without hitting the girl; if she hadn’t been attractive she wouldn’t have hesitated. Shalyn paused, a risk, but possibly worth it. She clipped the MP5 to her belt and silently slid off her small backpack. Reaching inside she pulled out a black disk, roughly the size, shape and color of a hockey puck. The device had a single small switch recessed into a groove on the puck, two positions, forward or back, timer – fixed five seconds – or pressure activated. Shalyn set the mine for timer, and then slid the taser-anti-personnel-munition into the room.

  It came to a halt between the man’s legs and he stared at it for the remaining three seconds before it exploded, sending out darts carrying a disabling charge of fifty thousand volts. The assassin moved swiftly into the room, the occupants twitching convulsively on the floor. She moved quickly to secure her unexpected prize, pressing duct tape over the young woman’s mouth, using the girl’s own T-shirt to wipe away the vomit residue; taser side effect; loss of bowel, bladder and stomach control.

  Cable ties had the girl secured in seconds. Shalyn grabbed the waistband of her jeans, dragging her across the room, pausing to press the MP5 against the skull of the twitching male. She squeezed the trigger, mingling his blood and brains with the pool of shit and piss he lay in.

  Shalyn slung the girl in the back seat of the innocuous red pickup. ‘You better be worth it when you’re cleaned up, bitch. The police can put an MP5 down to a gangland hit, but taser mines are a little special.’

  Juana slumped onto the plastic chemical toilet, discretely hidden behind a curtain beside the bar. She noted wearily that urine passed though her system as quickly as cheap beer, and she had to empty herself every time she returned for more champagne. The slave dabbed her crotch with a soft towel, grabbed another silver tray of bubbly fun-juice and headed back into the babbling crowd. She ducked into an alcove, finding a woman with a girl, who was all giggles while the woman played with her exposed breasts. Juana placed the tray on a side table and poured two glasses.

  ‘You need to pee, little sweet thing?’ the woman asked the apparently mindless giggling blonde. Juana felt sure it was an act, something the older woman got off on. ‘I’d love to watch.’

  ‘Okay then,’ was all the girl said, slipping down her panties.

  Juana wasn’t sure if anything more was expected of her and hesitated, but the woman grabbed her arm and pulled her down across the low marble table before the couch. The giggling thing crouched over her and worked her way up the supine slave’s body till she was straddling the Latina’s head. Juana knew what was expected of her, and opened her mouth and allowed her mind to drift away.

  The teenager groped drunkenly at her vagina, pulling the lips apart clumsily, then a look of intense concentration fell across her face, exciting the older woman. A squirt of warm piss splashed against the slave’s cheek, the blonde giggled and adjusted her aim, and then she was on target and a surprisingly forceful stream of perfectly clear pee bubbled and frothed into the slave’s mouth. Juana gulped it down. The life of a slave forces a reassessment of priorities; once she would have been fighting and screaming – but now? Well… actually it wasn’t that bad; she had no ego that could be humiliated anymore, the teenage blonde, all giggly squeals and oversized tits had been drinking heavily, and all Juana tasted was warm, slightly salty water.

  The older woman was visibly turned on by the display. She dragged the slave from the table, pulling the Latina between her own legs, and began to empty her bladder into the waiting mouth. Since Juana was forced to lick spillages from the floor she had quickly learned to keep a tight seal, but the woman was cheating, get
ting round the three minute rule by masturbating on the slave’s face while her piss gushed into her mouth. Juana felt a strong hand grab her hair, holding her head in place between the plump thighs while the woman rubbed her pussy over her face. Urine glistened on the Latina’s cheeks and forehead, soaking her hair and dripping from her chin to form a puddle on the floor. The flow stopped to be replaced by a trickle of sex juice, and having stolen the illicit orgasm the woman then used her official three minutes by having the vacant blonde press her fist into Juana’s pussy, while the slave knelt on all fours licking up the puddle of piss.

  ‘We only have three minutes, sweetums,’ the woman told the grinning airhead, stroking her soft, hair maternally, ‘no time to be gentle.’ The teenager jammed her hand into Juana’s vagina causing the slave to wince in discomfort, but she continued lapping at the pee-puddle like a kitten with a bowl of milk while the blonde, seemingly unsure what she should be doing, rummaged around inside the Latina as if she were digging in her purse for a set of lost car keys.

  Humiliation’s Daughter

  Amber wasn’t sure how it got this way with Rainbow Girl – it just sort of happened. The two fell into the relationship naturally; owner and slave shifted slightly, like the foundations of a house after one of the San Andreas quakes, becoming mistress and servant. It was subtle, Rainbow Girl still wasn’t free and she still had sexual duties to perform, like tonguing Amber’s pussy every night till the teenager drifted off to sleep, but the redhead treated the woman with an unusual courtesy. She didn’t hurt Rainbow Girl, even though she was her property, nor did she unnecessarily degrade her. Amber even allowed the young woman to speak, if she was given permission to do so, and in the deep recesses of Rainbow Girl’s mind, her mistress, Amber, had rescued her from an unthinkably hideous fate in that basement. As a result the young woman was fiercely loyal to her mistress. The relationship suited both of them, but it meant something was lacking from the teenager’s life, a proper toy she could play with as she pleased.