by Alana Melos
Rock moved forward again dropping his knife as M danced before him, not being able to anticipate what he was going to do. As S lashed out with her whip again, striking him on his back, he dodge M’s clumsy strike once more, and grabbed her by her hair, yanking it hard to force her head back. She cried out, her hand flying to his, and kissed her brutally. She moaned into his mouth, and he knew he’d have her, easily enough… S was going to be another matter. When she lashed his back again, he groaned, feeling the heat of the whip burn into his skin. The heat seemed to arouse his senses rather than dull them. His erection throbbed in time to the lines on his back, and wounds caused by LeMarchand. He turned, keeping M in line with a tight grip, and used her as a shield. “Don’t you want a chance to master a man, S?” he asked, his voice hoarse and husky. “Or should I say, Mistress S?”
Her arm had been cranked back to whip him again, but it shook slightly with his words. She licked her red, red lips, and looked him up and down slowly, devouring him with her eyes. “I see the Master has already been at you,” she said. “I’m just going to finish the job.”
“The ‘Master’, eh?” he said as M struggled in his arms. He jerked her head back further, and she moaned, her breasts sticking straight out. “But he’s not here now, is he? You’re going to kill me… but don’t you want to play with me, first?”
“Yes, Mistress!” M exclaimed. “Let’s play with him!” She moaned and writhed in his arms as his free hand rolled down her chest, cupping one of her heavy breasts...then pinching her nipple, hard, causing the girl to cry out in pleasure in his arms.
“Very well, Agent Hardin,” S said, spying her slave’s pleasure in his arms. “You’ll be my instrument then.” She lowered the whip, but kept it in hand, letting the length of it snake along the floor behind her. “Beat that slave,” she said, knowing he had an aversion to hitting women. She had to have known… one didn’t get into her sort of kink without understanding the plays of power between people.
He whipped M around in his arms and gazed deeply into her green eyes, trying to form a connection, to understand the need to pain. ‘It’s alright,’ she mouthed to him, looking bright and eager. Her head nodded slightly, and he could tell she wanted it. While she had been in his arms, her skin had been hot and flushed, scorching to the touch. Against all of his instincts, he cranked his arm back and slapped her across the face, hard… though not as hard as he could have. She cried out, and fell back as he let go of her. S purred and nodded in approval. “Again,” she said. “The slut deserves to be beaten….” When he glanced over to the mistress, he saw that she had maneuvered herself to a desk while he’d been distracted by the wanton M, and had pulled a revolver from a drawer. The ebony mistress held it steady on him.
Having no choice now, he damned himself for being so foolish and slapped M again, backhanded this time, on the other cheek. M moaned and fell to her knees before him, scrabbling after his jeans. As she unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, his cock grew even harder and he double damned himself. Shit, he thought. Maybe Maverick was right.
That was neither here nor there though, and he kicked off his shoes. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d fought and won naked, nor would it be the last if he had his way. When she lowered his jeans, his cock sprung free, hard and ready to go. S laughed derisively, “You might look down on us for our… playtime, but you’re no better. I knew this was what you wanted.”
“You’re both so beautiful,” he said, looking down at M. “How could I not be hard?”
“You live up to your name well, Agent Hard… in,” she laughed, throatily. Her voice turned hard as steel, “Now, beat that slut. I want to hear her scream.”
Now fully naked, Rock grabbed M by her hair again, yanking her up roughly. He let his instincts take over, and while he tried to cushion the blows as best as possible, he slapped her full, heavy breasts over and over again as she writhed and moaned in pleasure. He angled each slap to do the least amount of damage, and kept his hand slightly cupped for a louder, sharper slap sound to please Mistress S. The flurry of blows drove M back against an overstuffed chair, her back to its back.
He grabbed her arm and whipped her around. “I want your ass,” he said, and heard a warning noise from Mistress S. Ducking his head submissively, he cut a glance to her, “With your permission, Mistress.”
She must have heard the capitalization in his voice, and she nodded her acquiescence. As M wiggled her ass provocatively, he began to spank her. At first it was light, even though her rear was already red from S’s attention before. As Rock warmed her up, she moaned and gripped the chair, thrusting her ass back at him. He picked up the pace, giving her one, two, three hard spanks, causing the flesh on her ass to vibrate and jiggle. He pinched the cheeks, getting a big bit of her skin in between his fingers to lessen the severity of the pinches, but he squeezed… and hard. A cry erupted from M’s lips, along with, “Yes! Yes! More!”
With her cries and moans, he couldn’t help but to feel her passion. She dragged him along with her, down into her dark desire. He wanted to hurt her, a savagery he hadn’t know he possessed before took hold of him, and he began to spank her again, each blow harder than the last. Each wiggle, each cry, each little whimper of pain and pleasure intermingled together made him want to take her, hard. The rational part of his mind kept tabs on the situation and tried not to let him go too far, but it was so hard, and she was so very tempting. So very… very tempting.
“That’s enough,” Mistress S said, cutting through his haze. “Here, slaves,” she commanded, bringing them both to heel. M scampered over to her Mistress, kissing her boots adoringly, whimpering with pain and pleasure both. Rock moved over more slowly, almost as if he were in a dream from which he couldn’t wake. Mistress S sat down in a chair with no arm, and spread her legs wide, showing her beautiful dark pussy through an opening in her leather dominatrix outfit. Rock licked his lips as he knelt slowly near M. “You’ve done so well warming her up, Agent Hardin, I didn’t know you had it in you,” she said. “One final show before the end then… Slave M, lick my pussy.” M dove in eagerly, shoving her face into the ebony goddess’ wetness as Mistress S regarded him. “Fuck Slave M, Slave Hardin,” she said, her voice coming rough.
He didn’t have to be told twice. Rock immediately put himself behind and rubbed his cock along M’s wetness, lubricating himself before shoving into her tightness. He groaned in pleasure as she enveloped him, and he began to ride her hard, knowing that he had until S came to live. The pleasure reverberated throughout his entire body, and he moaned and gasped, fucking M for all he was worth. He pistoned his hips back and forth as both of the women moaned in pleasure, their voices mixing in the most delightful way, urging him forward, harder and harder.
M had trouble keeping in line with her Mistress’ pussy, which was part of his plan. The more he jostled her about, the harder time she had of licking her Mistress. M wrapped her arms around her Mistress’ thighs, trying to keep herself steady as she groaned into the pussy she was devouring. Rock kept thrusting, wanting to come so fucking badly. Her tightness squeezed him, drawing him into her depths, and he rocked back and forth, plunging in and out of her with abandon.
S began to writhe under M’s attention, her eyes closed in ecstasy even as she still held the gun. When she began to groan, her breath coming more and more ragged, Rock picked up his pace, wanting, needing, desperately to shoot his load into M, trying to time it for a bit before S came. The orgasm came upon him, hard, violent, explosive. He ground his teeth and tried not to let it show he came, but it was so hard to keep pumping his cock in and out of that sweet, tight pussy as if he were still fucking and not coming. He longed to just bury himself in her; each motion wrung him out, making him quiver and tremble.
As he came down from his climax, his cock sore and aching from the overuse, too sensitive now from the orgasm, he saw S’s flesh tremble, and she screamed as she came. Her free hand worked her breasts, pinching her own nipples through the leather su
it as M relentlessly kept licking her pussy, getting every drop, every bit of pleasure out of her Mistress as she could. Rock withdrew quickly from M and, even though it still felt wrong to him, he socked S as hard as he could, knocking her out as she came.
M jerked up, and he fell back, taking her in a sleeper hold. As she fell unconscious, he eased Slave M gently to the ground, and brushed a kiss over her temple. “Thank you,” he whispered, then wasted no more time in getting dressed, and dashing out to resume his mission. He remembered his knife, but only barely. Rock thought he was lucky to remember to put his boots on, hopping from one foot to another in his haste to catch up with LeMarchand and Cynthia.
The next room was clear of people, and he moved through the lavishly decorated place quickly, looking for the way out. As he ran past another window, movement caught his eye… a car, heading down the road towards the plains. He’d have to be quick to catch them. Hardin raced ahead, trying to find the way out...or better yet, the way to the garage.
Most structures had a sort of uniformity to them which helped him find the front door. He burst outside, and looked back at the house in which he’d been held. To the far side, a garage stood, and Rock closed the distance. When he reached for the side door to the carport, the door opened before he could touch it, and Petite stood there. Her mouth dropped open, and she stood there for a moment, as if trying to process what she was seeing.
“Surprised to see me, sweetheart?” he asked, then rushed her, slamming her against the door, and scanning the garage. Seeing no one else, he focused his attention on her. She slammed her knee up into his groin, and he released her, taking a step back as pain surged through him. Petite dodged into the garage as he groped after her. She reached for her purse and before he could stop her, pulled a gun.
“Very,” she said, her voice and her hands trembling. Rock tried to straighten up, to stand taller so as to intimidate her, but the pain radiating throughout his groin made it a difficult task indeed. “Don’t!”
Rock raised both of his hands. “I’m not,” he said, making his voice smooth and even. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to save her.”
“It’s too late,” she said. “They’re going to be on the plane to--” Realizing what she was saying, Petite cut the words off. “You’re too late.”
“It’s never too late,” he said soothingly. With great care, he took a step forward, sliding his foot so as not to spook her. “I know you’re confused… you don’t want to do this.” Petite shook the gun at him, and he stopped where he was. “You’re not a killer.”
Petite never took her eyes off of him. “You don’t know me,” she said, a pleading tone in her voice. “Don’t make me do this.”
“You’re not a killer,” he said again, reaffirming what he surmised about her. “You’re just in over your head. I can help you. I can get you out.”
She shook her head, tears beginning to slip down her cheeks. “You can’t. You don’t know them.”
Rock eased forward another step, and began ever so slowly to reach for the gun. “I know you,” he said, voice soft, almost whispering the words. “You could have killed me a dozen times over… but you didn’t. You chose to delay me instead. Just give me the gun, Petite. I promise everything will be alright.”
“I…” she said, but her hand began to lower, and he grabbed the gun. She covered her eyes with her hands, and looked up to him, “They have my sis--”
A gunshot rang out, and she fell forward. Without a second’s hesitation, Rock shot with Petite’s gun, shooting a thug who had come into the garage and seen the scene between them. The thug fell backwards against the wall as Rock caught Petite and lowered her to the ground. When the thug didn’t move, and no others came through the door, he turned to the woman in his arms. “Petite,” he said, voice urgent.
Her eyes fluttered open. A tiny hand reached up to stroke his face, “My family…”
“You’ll see them again,” he promised. “I’ll get you to a hospital. Just hold on!”
“No,” Petite whispered. “Jasmine Morgan… my sister. Save her.”
“Hold on!” he said, shaking her. As her eyes closed, he felt her go limp in his arms. “God dammit,” he muttered under his breath. Gently, he kissed her sweet lips one last time, then laid her on the ground. He had no time for anything more.
The garage held a number of cars, but also a motorcycle. Lady Luck must have been shining on him for the keys were in the ignition. He pushed the bike out the open door, gave Petite one last look, then kick started the cycle. It roared into life, and down the road he flew. He had been unable to save one lady… but he could save the other.
Chapter Four
Rock caught up to them as they entered a private airfield… the very same one he’d arrived in. His jet was gone, but a few others were here. He angled the bike away from the road towards the low bushes and shrubs to give him some cover. Rock ditched the bike and snuck along the ditch, creeping as close as he could. He had no idea which plane they were taking, as the vehicle he’d seen on the road had been ditched at the side of the runway. The agent fished around in his jacket and came up with the shades Skip had sent with him. “Let’s hope these work,” he said.
As he put them on, his world changed, colored with blue, green, and orange blobs. The shades lost the edges of any objects or people, and colored the world in heat. With them, however, it was easy to see which of the jets were beginning to power up their engine. As he took off the shades and tucked them away again, a quick look told him no one was faced his direction, and he raced as low and fast as he could towards the jet, using as much of the terrain as he could to cloak himself.
The ramp was still down, but not for much longer. As a man began to close it, Rock lunged from underneath the belly of the plane. He grabbed the ramp and used his weight to lever it open. “What the--?!” the mook said, caught flat footed as Rock climbed the ramp. The jet began to move. The mook reached into his jacket for his gun, but the plane lurched, knocking him off balance. Agent Hardin grabbed him by his lapels and threw him off the ramp before thrusting himself inside the plane. He didn’t watch the thug bounce and roll on the runway, scanning the seats for Cindy instead.
She sat bound to the chair near the cockpit. LeMarchand wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Before he could move, a fist socked him in the jaw causing him to reel to the side. Ducking another punch, Rock turned to see another couple of thugs, one right in his face. He put up an arm to ward off the blows as the thug behind the first yelled, “Get out of the way, idiot! You’re in my line of fire!”
Instead of shrinking away from his attacker, Rock pushed forward, getting inside the thug’s punching range, moving him back. The second thug fired wildly as the two interlocked scrappers came lunging at him. The secret agent kept his head and used the first thug as a meat shield, though behind him Cindy screamed at the gunshots. The plane, moving already, began to lift into the air taking off to an unknown destination.
The first mook jabbed him in the side, hitting where LeMarchand had scoured him before with the barbed whip. Wincing in pain, Rock hit back, knowing just where to strike to do the most damage thanks to his martial arts training. A couple jabs to the kidney and the first mook toppled back… aided by the plane which skewed their fighting ground dangerously. The thug with the gun lost his footing, but fired again nevertheless, having a clear shot at his opponent. The plane tipped back further and further, causing Rock to stumble forward. He ducked behind a seat for cover as the last remaining mook fired once more.
“Stop shooting!” Cindy wailed. “You almost hit me!”
Both of the men ignored her. Hardin rushed forward as the mook leveled his gun, finally having regained his balance. He grabbed the gun, and the men wrestled with it as the jet began to level off, not climbing as high as it could go. Grunts of exertion and pain from elicited from both, and the mook slammed Hardin back and forth between the seats. Rock wouldn’t let go of the gun, and as he squeezed the mook’s hand, mo
re shots fired wildly until the gun went click-click-click. Now that it was empty, he changed tactics. Hardin grabbed the mook with his free hand, swept the inside of his leg to throw him off-balance, and threw himself backwards. He rolled easily, taking the off-balance mook with him, throwing him over to land hard in the aisle.
The jet began to veer slightly, throwing the fighting ground off as Rock kip-upped, landing on his feet somewhat shakily. The mook scrambled to get to his feet, but he was too late. Rock stomped on his head, knocking him unconscious. As he drug the mook over to the door, he grunted, “Welcome to the mile high club, buddy….” The agent tossed the thug out the door and watched him sail through the air for a moment. “You just got fucked.”
With no further enemies to fight, he moved to Cindy as the plane began to take a nosedive. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath as he flicked his blade open, cutting her bonds. “Stay here, I’m going to the cockpit.”
The girl rubbed her wrists as he moved towards the front of the plane. “Hell with that, I’m staying with you!”
He shrugged out of his jacket when he reached the cockpit and tossed it to her as they hadn’t bothered giving her anything to cover herself. “Stay back,” Rock said, testing the door. It was locked. The plane began to fall faster, as he backed up and rammed his shoulder into the door, breaking the flimsy lock. As he thought… one of the mook’s wild shots had pierced the thin wall and killed the pilot. Grabbing the corpse, he pulled it out of the seat and sat down in it.
