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Message-ID: <29703asstr$986415004@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Lizard" <drazil@yahoo.com>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Tue, 03 Apr 2001 23:01:32 EDT
Subject: {ASSM} {RP} Bird Of Prey (M/F, oral, snuff, mc)
Date: Wed,  4 Apr 2001 16:10:04 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

If it is unlawful to read this stuff where you live, don't.
If you are a minor, really don't read this. It is unpleasant. It is dark,
and it is perverse. Go do something more fulfilling.










Bird of Prey




     He was sweating, the knife in his hand catching the blinking red neon
"Motel" sign through the window.
     She was sitting, looking at him, and he could see her blood-red eyes
boring into him.
He knew with absolute certainty that one of them was going to die.

*               *               *

     The unknown made Sergeant Jakes nervous, and he had no idea who he was
looking for.
     Four suicides in four days, and it was his job to find out why they had
all spent their last hours in this bar, or why, having spent hours in this
bar, they had killed themselves. It was a pretty dull bar, as sleaze
factories went. The strippers were ugly and untalented, and the music was
disco.
     He looked at his watch. 1:30 A.M., only twenty-five minutes to go, and
he and the three other plainclothesmen could get the hell out of this dump.
     "Can I get you anything?" A voice asked.
     One hell of a voice, he thought, and turned to see the one body that
could have fit that voice.
     "Oh, baby. Where have you been all my life," he said. He was the type
of person who would say that.
     She was shorter than him, maybe 5'4" tall, and blond. The makeup was
subtle and the dress was not too tight. She looked out of place in a bar
full of heavily painted women with sprayed-on clothes. That body was all
sin, he thought.
     She ignored his line. "Do you want to drink, sir?" she said in a
superior sort of tone.
     "I'll drink you, baby," he said. and moved towards her. Something
strange about this girl, he thought. His erection caused the thought. The
first erection that night, in a bar full of strippers and prostitutes.
     "Sorry, Sergeant, I don't play with pigs," she replied, and walked
away.
     He was too busy watching her walk away to take offense at her comment,
and the question of how she knew he was a cop did not even enter his mind.
     He got up and followed her to the bar where she began talking to the
bartender.
     "Hey, waitress," he said, and when she didn't answer, he put his hand
on her shoulder.
     "Don't touch me," she said, and drove her thumbnail into his wrist. He
flinched and pulled his hand back. It hurt, a lot. He sat back down and
watched the show, looking for suicidal men. He didn't see any, and at 1:55
his Captain dismissed him, and the other policemen left.
     He started home, but twice forgot the way to get there, and ended up
taking the wrong exit off the highway.
     He still had an erection.
     He had never been this disturbed in his life. He didn't know why, but
he turned around on the vain hope she might stay late to clean up.
     When he arrived back in front of the bar the interior lights were
dimmer, but they were on. He looked in several of the windows, but could not
see through the dirt.
     He tried the front door, and to his surprise it opened. When he walked
in, it was like another world.
      It was the same bar, but where there were drunks, now there were
businessmen, doctors and lawyers, in three-piece suits that would cost Jakes
three weeks pay.
     Where there were cigarette buts and dirty napkins on the floor, now was
polished tile.
     He sat down.
     She was on stage, singing something soft and dancing slowly from side
to side. She caught his eye.
     He winced expecting a frown and maybe a rude gesture, but he couldn't
look away.
     She smiled and involuntarily he leaned forward in surprise. It never
occurred to him to smile back.
     At that time, it started to make sense. He knew something was wrong,
and it related to four suicides.
     He just didn't care. When the number ended, she bowed to the standing
ovation, and he got a glimpse of nipple, under all that tastefully
concealing clothing.
     The impact of that forbidden glimpse pushed him back into his chair and
drove his suspicions away.
     The music began again and the tempo picked up a bit. She was not
singing this time, just dancing. She whirled around the stage, writhing in
the lights, all the time staring at Jakes. She bent forward until she was on
her knees, shaking her ample chest to the rhythm.
     She locked eyes with him and it seemed that the music stopped
andeveryone vanished.
     She crossed her wrists over her head, closed her eyes and licked her
lips.
     He ejaculated.
     Then the music beat itself back into his consciousness and he was
surrounded by people.
     He sprinted to the bathroom to clean himself up. When he came back out,
she was at the bar, drinking water. He couldn't look at her because he was
sure she knew what had happened.
     He stayed at his end of the bar and ordered a drink.
     He watched her fend off passes for five or ten minutes, then she
started towards him. He began to sweat, hoping that the stain dried,
wondering what sort of humiliating comment she would make.
     He cringed back into the wall, farther away. The closer she came, the
more frightened he was, knowing humiliation to be seconds away.
     She passed him without even a glance and entered the ladies room.
     He breathed a sigh of relief, and went back up to the bar, ordering a
double scotch.
     "Alcohol impairs performance, although with you, it probably wouldn't
make a difference." She said from behind him.
     He almost fell off his seat. He tried, but could not make himself turn
to face her.
     She reached around him and patted his thigh. "I saw that you liked my
performance."
     He blushed scarlet, but nodded, vigorously. He couldn't speak.
     She sidled up close to him and whispered, "If you give me what I want,
I'll give you what you want." She smiled at him, licking her lips, "but
you've got to promise."
     "Wh- Wh- What do you want?"
     "No, no, Sergeant, that's not the way it works. We promise each other
blind. I promise I'll do whatever you want," she rubbed her breasts against
his back, and he could feel her erect nipples pressing into him, "and then
you promise you will do anything I want."
     "Yes."
     "Do you promise?"
     "Yes."
     "Say it."
     "I promise I'll do whatever you want."
     "Repeat after me. I promise Melissa that I'll do whatever she asks me
to do, no matter what it is."
     He repeated it exactly.
     "I have to be on stage. You will wait, won't you?" she asked,
rhetorically, and went on stage.
     As she left, a man in a white suit came up to him, all smiles.
     "Congratulations, sir. I wish you the best of luck," he said, patting
Jakes on the back. Jakes didn't know what to say, so he said nothing.
     For the first time he noticed that he was the only person in the bar
who was not wearing white.
     He did not notice that Melissa was wearing red, or that she was the
only women in the bar.
     There was a band behind her, where there had not been one before, and
they struck up some blues tune. He did not recognize the music, and he
didn't care. He just watched her dance and sing.
     When the set was over, she came to him directly.
     "Take me somewhere," she breathed, leaning heavily on him. They left
the bar. The men in the bar all applauded as they closed the door behind
them. Jakes did not notice that none of them were smiling.
     Once in his car, he asked where she wanted to go, and she did not
answer, instead rubbing his knee. He just drove and pulled in at the first
vacancy sign he came to.
     The hotel was a dump, but he did not even see it. he paid thirty
dollars for the room without hesitation.
     They ran up the stairs, and into the room, slamming and locking the
door.
     She sat gently on the edge of the bed. "I'm yours, if you remember,"
she said, and waited.
     He took out his handcuffs, and she crossed her wrists over her head.
     He snapped the handcuffs shut, and laughed an evil laugh, feeling in
control for the first time in hours.
     He was about to order her to undress and watch and laugh at her
difficulty in disrobing in handcuffs. He was about to tell her to do
degrading things to herself for his amusement.
     She found the tab on his zipper and opened his fly with her teeth.
     It wasn't exactly what he wanted, but he lost the voice to object, and
he soon gave up on the idea of pushing her away.
     She was talented and nimble with her mouth, and soon exposed him, and
consumed him.
     He relaxed and enjoyed it. He enjoyed it a lot
     Gradually, he lost awareness of his surroundings, of his partner and
was simply aware of his own pleasure.
     He hand went to the back of her head to force her, brutally,to the
rhythm he liked and that made it better for him.. He thrust and pulled
aggressively, and in the corner of his mind, he realized he must be hurting
her.
     He liked that idea a lot, and accelerated.
     She played him like a musical instrument, stimulating the most
sensitive parts when most  effective.
     As he climaxed, she scraped her teeth across him hard.
     The pain just heightened his peak.
     It was the most powerful orgasm he ever felt, and he passed out.

     He woke, crumpled on the floor next to the bed. She was sitting in
achair across from the bed.
     "My turn." she said, smiling, showing teeth.
     He sighed, and smiled.
     "Sorry, Baby." he started, getting up and putting himself carefully
back into his pants.  "I'm spent." He walked to the door. "Maybe we'll do
this again, sometime."
      She laughed, and it was the last thing he expected. When he looked at
her, she had a strange, satisfied expression on her face.
     "And your promise?"
     He actually laughed at that. "Made to be broken."
     "Like your wedding vows."
     "Yeah, just like that." he replied, and reached for the handle of the
door.
     She stood up, and her shoulder strap fell down one shoulder.
     "Too bad." She purred, and ran her fingers through her hair, making her
breasts thrust foreword.
     Her nipples were erect, and before he could turn the handle of the
door, so was he.
     "Sit down on the bed, Sargent."
     He was no longer in control, and he knew it. He tried to turn the
handle of the door, and found that he was sitting down on the bed instead.
     She turned on the cheap clock radio, pre-tuned to some musac station,
and started unbuttoning his shirt. As buttons opened, she kissed his chest,
nipples, stomach, until it was off. His eyes closed.
     She gently touched his eyelids, and ordered "open them."
     He complied, and she stood in front of him, swaying slightly to the
barely audible music, caressing herself gently, arms and shoulders.
     "You see, sex does not excite me, Sargent." She started, "I'm turned on
by control. watch." She pulled the strap of her dress farther down,
revealing pink, stopping just short of letting the nipple free. He leaned
foreword, with a slight moan. When she lifted the strap back to her
shoulder, his hands went out to her and he moaned " no!"
     She swayed back out of reach. Her face flushed. Her chest pushed
foreword, and her hips, and her legs opened slightly.
    "You see, that's control. It turns me on."
     "Please..." he moaned, but did not finish.
     "Will you keep your promise, Mr. Cop?"
     He nodded.
     She reached up slowly, and brought the strap down, revealing her breast
completely. He reached for her, but again she swayed backwards.
     He tried to move toward her, but he seemed to have no strength. "I want
you." he whispered.
     "How much?" She asked, and walked to where she had dropped her purse,
took something out.
     He searched for words to answer her, found none.
     "Control, Sargent, control," she said, and returned to him, just out of
reach. "How much do you want me?" She showed him the knife she held in her
hand. she laid it on his lap. He picked it up and stared at it.
     He looked at the knife, and thought of the suicides he had started the
night investigating. He started to stand up.
     She stood in front of him, pinching her nipple between thumb and
forefinger, eyes closed, moaning.
     His erection called to him. So did the knife. He could put that knife
through her now, and end his problem.
     Her eyes still closed, she swayed foreword, moving herself so the knife
point was almost touching her nipple. she moaned in pleasure. "Yes, you
could kill me, but you won't," she said. "It's your choice, Sarge. Kill me,
and you never have me. Surrender to me, and I will give you..." She pulled
the other strap down. Her eyes were still closed, and her legs were pressing
together, then opening gently.
     He froze there, half standing, watching her body sway until her nipple
gently caressed the point of the knife.
     He collapsed back onto the bed, something inside his brain screaming at
him to kill her and go. He couldn't.
     She felt his surrender as he fell back, and she groaned loudly. Her
knees buckled. She caught herself before hitting the floor.
     After a moment, she straightened.
     "More" he said. It was all he had the strength for. "Show me how much
you want me." she breathed, and he remembered the knife. Seemingly on its
own, the knife turned in his grasp, pushed itself into his skin, sliding
down toward his navel, leaving a red snake of blood behind.
     The knife was so sharp as to cause no pain, but the sight of the blood
shocked him.
     "My god!" he almost screamed, and started up. he saw her, head thrown
back, mouth wide open, screaming silently.
     He fell back to the bed. She felt him fall, felt him give in, and she
orgasmed.
     Sweat broke out on her face and chest, dripped down between her
breasts. She sat in the chair, her eyes boring into him.

     He was sweating, the knife in his hand catching the blinking red neon
"Motel" sign through the window.
     She was sitting, looking at him, and all he could see was her blood-red
eyes boring into him.
     He knew with absolute certainty that one of them was going to die.
     "Now we are down to it," she said, her voice coming in ragged gasps
"This is it. are you mine, Officer Jakes, or are you your own?" She slowly
pushed her dress down over her hips, letting it fall to the floor. She began
to caress herself through her black panties. "I've been in control of you
all night. I made you come in your pants, I made you come up here. I gave
you the best orgasm you've ever had. You have been more alive and excited
than ever before in your live, and you loved it. You are going to give me
your life, the ultimate control, just because you want me. And you are never
going to have me. You know it, and you're going to do it anyway."
     He didn't hear a word she said, but watched her. he placed the knife
against his solar plexus, and as her fingers crept beneath her panties, He
experienced his third and best orgasm of the night, and he shoved the knife
into his chest. It slid in smoothly, and the pain of it just made it better.
     She collapsed on the floor, as he was dying. His diaphragm had been
cut, he could not scream, and the blood came out in shallow spurts. She
dressed, watching him carefully, and when she judged him close to death, she
leaned over and kissed him, her tongue exploring his silently screaming
mouth.
     "I love you," she said, and left the room.

     When they found the body, it was dressed in white, immaculately.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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