by Liz Adams
Targets? “Who are you?” Hansel asked.
“Call me Wicka.” She circled Hansel. “If you cooperate with me, I’ll let you go. But the truth is, I’m here to kill you. Both of you.”
“What?! Why?” Hansel said.
“I’ve been hired to do so.”
Hansel couldn’t believe it. “Who hired you to kill us?”
“That’s the interesting bit. Gretel, your parents? They hired me to kill Hansel.”
Before Gretel could get a word in, Wicka said “Shush. Remember. No talking. Hansel?”
“What?”
“Your parents? They hired me to kill Gretel.”
What the hell kind of parents think that killing their child’s fiancée is a viable solution to stopping a marriage?
“But I have to admit,” Wicka continued. “I have never had the pleasure of getting an assignment of such exquisite targets.” She caressed Hansel’s face. Her hand felt warm, gentle. She bent over and whispered in his ear. “I’ve been watching you shower.” Her hand rested on his knee. “What were you dreaming of as the water poured down on you?” She moved her hand up his thigh. Hansel felt his crotch twitch and couldn’t believe it. Was he really getting turned on in a situation like this? Her hand slid up further. “Did you dream of being between Gretel’s legs? Between her lips?” Hansel could feel Wicka’s hot breath become uneven against his ear. She stopped her hand from venturing further, and squeezed his thigh. “I’m going to save you for dessert.”
How the hell was he going to get out of this?
If there were anyway he could get out of these binds, he could push her into the huge store facility oven and grill the witch. The question was, how could he get out of the binds?
Maybe if he built some sort of trust, he could convince this Wicka woman to release him.
Wicka went to Gretel’s chair. “Do you know how beautiful you are?” She began to unbutton Gretel’s shirt.
One button undone. She traced her finger down to the second button.
“I bet you know it.”
Two buttons undone. She traced her finger down to the third button.
“But has a woman ever told you how beautiful you are?”
Three buttons undone. She traced further down.
Hansel noticed Gretel’s breath getting heavy. Did this excite her? Terrify her? Hansel felt an uncomfortable history lesson in his pants. The Battle of the Bulge. It was getting cramped in there.
“What are you feeling right now, Gretel?”
Down, down. Under the hem of Gretel’s skirt, Wicka’s hand reached and disappeared.
“Are you excited or frightened?”
Hansel could see Wicka’s wrist wiggle as though she were manipulating her fingers deep under Gretel’s skirt.
“Ooh. You are excited, aren’t you?”
She came back to Hansel.
“And how are you doing down there?” She squeezed his crotch, putting a firm grip around his hard-on. “You’re doing quite well, I see.”
Hansel bit back a moan. He couldn’t let Gretel see that he was turned on.
Wicka said, “How about a blow job, Hansel? Would you like a blow job from your girl?”
Hansel looked at Gretel. She seemed just as paralyzed by the situation as he was.
“But you don’t want one, do you? Why is that?”
How did she know, Hansel wondered? By the expression on Gretel’s face, Gretel seemed to be wondering the same thing.
“Hansel,” Wicka said, “You don’t know what you’re missing.”
She crouched in front of Gretel. “So how about it, Gretel? How about you show him what he’s missing?”
She grabbed the back of Gretel’s chair and dragged Gretel closer to Hansel so that her chair faced his.
“Ready for this, Hansel?”
She tilted Gretel’s chair so that Gretel’s face was buried in his crotch.
Wicka said, “You’ll need to use your mouth to free his cock, first.”
Gretel looked up at Hansel as though asking what to do. Hansel bent as close to her ear as possible. He whispered, “If we gain her trust, she might free our limbs.”
Wicka grabbed Hansel’s head of hair and Hansel sucked in his breath when he felt the pain of her yanking back his head. She then gripped his collar with both hands and popped open his shirt.
“Bad boy.” She ran her hand down his sternum, pecs, and abs. A current trickled across his chest. “No keeping secrets.” She said to Gretel, “Now get busy on his cock.”
She pressed Gretel’s face into his crotch. He had a hard time resisting grinding his waist against his beloved’s lips.
Hansel looked down at his fiancée. Her blouse was unbuttoned, her breasts inside her white-lace bra rising and falling. That alone made him need some friction to satisfy his itch.
His breaths intensified as Gretel took his zipper between her teeth and tugged it down. At first, the zipper seemed to have trouble moving down with the jerks of her head. She had more success pulling the zipper down slowly. With his fly open, she nudged at his underwear with her nose and tongue, scooting the fabric of his boxers aside.
Hansel shifted, trying to help. It worked. His length popped free from his pants.
Gretel looked up at him. She kissed the base of his cock. Then again higher up. And again higher up.
Hansel twitched in anticipation. This was crazy. It was crazy that it took such a desperate situation to live out his fantasy.
She kissed higher. Higher.
His heart pounded at the sexy sight of her. Her lips so close to the tip of his cock, her blouse wide open, her cleavage shifting with every breath she took.
She took the tip between her lips.
Hansel exhaled a stuttered breath.
Gretel’s warm tongue stroked the underside of his cock. The feeling reached his whole body, as though he were suddenly floating in a bath. She brought him further into her mouth. His butt clenched involuntarily. He wanted to thrust. He wanted more friction.
She gave it to him. With gentle downward bobs of her head, she gently touched her bottom teeth to him and tilted her head side to side as though encircling different parts of him with her teeth.
Hansel moaned. He nearly came right then and there. Not sure she’d appreciate a mouthful of cum. She was so incredible.
He didn’t know anyone that used their teeth in a blow job. In fact, he was positive that one of the first things girls learn from their experienced, frisky girlfriends is to never use teeth in a blow job. Was it just incredible luck that she managed to push all the right buttons?
Hansel strained hard not to jab down her throat. His climax was building.
She pushed her head down on him faster. And by the way she applied her teeth to just the underside of his cock, he knew she wasn’t just lucky. She knew what worked well in a blow job. He wasn’t about to wonder how she got so good.
His climax was approaching. There was no stopping it.
“I’m going to come,” he warned her.
She bobbed faster, swirling her tongue all around as the first spurts shot inside her mouth.
He thrust deeper between her lips and felt a clenching on his tip as she gagged.
His arms and ankles yanked at their bonds, his muscles contracting as her hot mouth remained latched onto his cock and filled with his cum.
His white fluid dripped from the sides of her lips down his length as he continued firing, shooting his load down her throat. Every time she swallowed, the back of her throat clamped on his tip and he came some more.
She kept right on sucking him. He felt the suction of her mouth as she lapped up the escaping seed.
The room spun. He felt dizzy from exhaustion.
Best—blow job—ever.
***
Gretel swallowed her lover’s musky cum. She wanted to ask Hansel how he liked her skill. She wanted to ask the woman who called herself Wicka if she enjoyed the show. As soon as Wicka had commanded her to suck him off, she k
new Wicka was just part of some sex fantasy outfit. And if Wicka was someone Hansel hired for a special sex fantasy, he sure went all out. She seemed like a high-end escort, but an unnecessary expense just to have Gretel give him a blow job. What was with the kidnapping and dressing up? Was that some sort of perk in a special kink package deal? And that whole “your parents hired me to kill you both” thing? Not sexy at all. Still, Gretel couldn’t deny the thrill she got from having an audience.
She felt her chair being lifted back to its upright position.
The escort ran a hand through Gretel’s hair. “You look so sexy right now. The way your hair is disheveled.”
Gretel let herself enjoy the smooth caress.
“The cum on your chin,” Wicka used a fingertip to lift off a drop of cum.
When Wicka sucked on that fingertip, Gretel felt a tingling between her thighs. Wicka touched another part of Gretel’s chin and held the shiny finger to Gretel’s lips. There was more than one way to perform for Wicka. Gretel licked the fingertip, closed her eyes, and took Wicka’s full finger into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it.
When she opened her eyes, she saw Wicka squeezing one of her own breasts. Wicka removed her finger from Gretel’s mouth.
“You look so sexy with your blouse open,” she trailed the wet finger down Gretel’s neck and sternum, to that point where the bra connected the two cups together. Wicka’s breathing got heavier as she traced upwards along the lacy edge of the bra, then slipped her finger inside, brushing against Gretel’s nipple.
Gretel felt her bud harden. Should she play along with Hansel’s game and pretend to want to please Wicka? Should she pretend she was working to gain Wicka’s trust to convince the woman to loosen their bonds? Why not?
Gretel kept her face down and looked up at Wicka to look as sexy and seductive as possible. Wicka seemed to be losing control of her arousal. Though to be fair, so was Gretel. This woman was one of the most sensual women she had ever seen. And those long locks of red hair looked absolutely stunning.
Wicka suddenly turned. “You like what you see, Hansel?”
Hansel just nodded.
“Has this been a fantasy of yours, Hansel? To see your fiancée with another woman?”
Hansel just nodded.
Gretel couldn’t believe it. Was that why he had asked if she had been with another woman? Because it turned him on? Not because he was gay and needed to admit he’s been with other men?
Gretel couldn’t believe she had completely misunderstood his intentions. He wanted to see her with another woman. Of course! That’s why he hired this woman. If that’s what Hansel wanted, then doing a show for him could be fun. Sex with Wicka wouldn’t be an actual chore, though. This woman knew how to touch Gretel in all the right spots. Wicka cupped Gretel’s entire breast in her hand inside the bra and kissed her.
For you, Gretel imagined speaking to Hansel. Only for you.
Wicka’s kiss was deliciously soft. The sensation of her lips combined with knowing Hansel was watching heated her body. Her panties were getting soaked. Those lips were so good.
Wicka broke the kiss. “What about you, Gretel? What do you like?”
If the goal in Hansel’s game was to convince Wicka to set them free, what were the possibilities? What was the best sexual request she could make that would require Wicka to at least loosen their bonds?
“I like it when he kneads my ass like cookie dough.”
That should do it, Gretel thought. The only way to expose Gretel’s ass would be to untie her from the chair. And the only way to get Hansel to do some kneading would be to untie his hands.
“Alright. Let’s be a little creative.”
Good news, Gretel thought. Wicka was taking off the binds on Hansel’s wrists.
Wicka told him, “Since Gretel’s ass is busy sitting in a chair, we’ll use mine.”
Bad news, Gretel thought. Something was wrong about how this was playing out.
Wicka dragged Gretel’s chair a few feet away from Hansel’s, but they still faced each other.
“And to give you incentive, Hansel, the better you are at servicing my ass, the more I’ll take care of your fiancée.”
Gretel felt astonished. This game was going too far.
Wicka got on her hands and knees, tucked her calves under Hansel’s chair, and looked over her shoulder at Hansel. “Start kneading.”
“Now hold on a second,” Gretel said. “Is this really part of your sex fantasy, Hansel?”
“What?” Hansel looked confused.
Wicka laughed. She slapped a hand on Gretel’s thigh. “You thought Hansel hired me to fulfill a sex fantasy? I suppose you’re not too far off. I am here to fulfill sex fantasies. It’s probably best if you just focus on that.”
Gretel felt her heart grow cold. Hansel didn’t hire her? She really was an assassin? Gretel’s mind raced. What were they going to do? Wicka was going to kill them both? Was there a chance she wouldn’t? She had said, If you cooperate with me, I’ll let you go. Gretel wanted to believe that. Those words could be the very thread between life and death. Gretel also remembered Hansel’s words. If we gain her trust, she might free our limbs. Okay. That was the plan.
Hansel looked at Gretel. He gave her a “You okay?” look.
Gretel nodded. Time to focus on what was about to happen. Soon she would have lesbian sex with a hunter, while watching her fiancé use his skills on another woman’s ass.
Hansel placed his hands just above Wicka’s rear. He gave Gretel another look. This one seemed to say, “Can I touch and squeeze and fondle this woman’s gorgeous butt?”
But that wasn’t what he was saying. He was saying that at least now that he had his hands free, a little more and she might free his legs, too. “Do we go ahead with that plan?” his look was really saying.
Gretel nodded.
Hansel touched Wicka’s ass with what looked like polite touches. At least he didn’t seem to be enjoying it.
Wicka raised Gretel’s skirt and made some mechanical jabs with her finger against Gretel’s underwear. It wasn’t stimulating at all.
“This is your show, Hansel. You’re in charge,” Wicka said. “You handle my ass properly, Gretel’s sweet pussy will get a proper tongue-lashing. You touch my ass like you’re fluffing up a goddamned pillow, Gretel’s going to feel like I’m a fucking tampon, and we can forget the whole thing and get down to my clients’ business. If you want to live, do it right. Think of me as a living, breathing vibrator you get to use on your girl.”
Gretel raised her brows, and nodded to Hansel. She gave him her best “Do it, already” look.
She saw Hansel clenching his fingers into Wicka’s butt. He couldn’t be seeing much because Wicka had her catsuit on. Still, Gretel bet the cat suit left little to the imagination. He could probably see her cleft outlined, maybe with a patch of dampness in between.
She felt the woman hook her wet panties with a finger and the hunter’s tongue licked up her cleft. Gretel’s eyes widened. How long had it been since she felt a tongue down there? Hansel never did it. And in the past, she had been so busy focusing on giving great head that it was rare the guy still wanted to go down on her after coming down her throat.
Wicka kept licking up along her folds, lapping it like ice cream. Gretel clenched her fists. She could feel her pussy twitch.
Hansel kept his eyes on Gretel, and she could sense his arousal stirring from the way he watched her own reactions to Wicka’s tongue. His voyeurism made her heart race. You like this, Hansel? You like what you’re seeing?
Then a finger found its way inside of her. Gretel grit her teeth together. Wicka flicked her tongue against the clit and that finger of hers scooped around inside Gretel’s channel.
Gretel kept her eyes on Hansel. Was this turning him on? Was he loving this? He sure seemed to be. She bit her lip.
Gretel found herself thrusting her waist forward, grinding against that tongue, wanting more of that finger.
T
he finger became two, ramming hard inside her, revving up her engine.
Wicka moaned against her pussy. Perhaps she now felt the power of Hansel’s strong hands. Gretel clenched her pussy as the woman’s fingers darted more quickly through her.
An orgasm was on its way. Gretel humped the hunter’s fingers, waves of pleasure washed across her legs, her arms, her breasts, her neck, her toes. Wicka sucked hard on her folds and her clit. Gretel cried out feeling the sensation of the woman’s tongue licking up the juices that spilled onto the very fingers her pussy clamped down upon.
Wicka looked up from between Gretel’s legs. Her mouth and chin were shiny with her juices. “Your pussy is delicious.”
Wicka spun around and said to Hansel, “Have a taste.”
She tried to kiss him, but Hansel turned away.
“Devoted boyfriend, huh? Here, then.” She wiped Gretel’s juices off her chin with a finger and held it out to his lips.
Hansel still pulled away.
“It’s just a finger,” the assassin said. “It’s not like you’re cheating on her, right?”
He didn’t budge.
“Or is it something else?” Wicka asked. She turned to Gretel. “Has he ever eaten you out before?”
Gretel shook her head.
“Well that’s the next order of business, then.”
Gretel was hopeful. Either Wicka was going to release Gretel so that Gretel could sit on Hansel’s face, or Wicka was going to release Hansel so that he could easily move between her legs. Either way, one of them would be completely free from the chair and could try and stop the woman.
“Hansel, you like sweets, don’t you?” Wicka went to a black duffel bag she must have brought in while they were unconscious. “I mean, you make them every day, so you must. So here’s what we’ll do.”
Wicka pulled out a hammer and twirled it in a circle as she approached Gretel. Gretel felt her heart flutter with fear. Images of being struck in the head flashed before her.
