index


Message-ID: <34584asstr$1010470206@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Laura Davis" <ldavis4@hotmail.com>
Mime-Version: 1.0
Subject: {ASSM} The Assassin by Laura Lynn Davis, F/f, Murder, Bondage, Rape
Date: Tue,  8 Jan 2002 01:10:06 -0500
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



The Assassin by Laura Lynn Davis, F/f, murder, bnd, rape
Copyright 2002

	I was just finishing my workout when a chime altered me to the fact that a 
vehicle had just entered my driveway.  I walked over to the security monitor 
and punched up the driveway camera.  Isaac's Lincoln was what I expected to 
see and that's what I saw.  I grabbed a towel and walked down the hall to 
the front door.

	Isaac rang the bell just as I approached the door.  I opened it and he 
smiled as he ran his eyes over my nude body.  "Hi, Louise.  You're looking 
good."

	I nodded.  "Good morning, Isaac.  What brings you out this early?"  It was 
just after six a.m. and I knew the answer to the question before I asked it. 
  Only a job would get Isaac out of bed that early.

	He knew I knew so he didn't bother answering.  "Coffee on?"  He continued 
on down the hall without waiting.  He knew the answer to that question.  I 
followed and leaned against the counter while I watched him fix himself a 
cup of coffee.  He looked at me and raised and eyebrow.  I shook my head and 
he shrugged.

	He took a long sip, sighed with pleasure, and then said, "I have a job for 
you."  He opened his briefcase and took out a brown Manila envelope.  He 
tossed it on the table.  "You can look at it afterward."

	I knew what afterward meant.  I went over to the table and leaned over it, 
taking my weight on my elbows.  Isaac entered me with a smooth thrust and 
fucked me with long, hard strokes while I stared at the opposite wall.  
After he came, I sank to my knees and stared at the floor while he wiped his 
cock with my hair.

	I stood up and opened the envelope while Isaac relaxed at the table, 
sipping his coffee.  I could feel his cum running down my thigh but I 
ignored it.  The first thing I took out of the envelope was a color 
photograph of a beautiful blonde teenager wearing a Catholic school uniform. 
  I glanced at Isaac but he just smiled.  I threw the envelope down on the 
table.  "I don't do women or kids.  She's both.  What in the hell could she 
have down to anger the Agency enough to want to kill her?"

	Isaac took another sip.  "Nothing.  But she's causing problems for a 
friend, a powerful friend, and he wants her removed.  We've reviewed the 
situation and decided to accommodate him.  She has to die by the 29th of 
June, so you have five weeks."  He paused for another sip.  "If you won't do 
it, I'm sure Melvin would take the assignment."

	I stared at him and the expression on my face caused him to draw back a 
little.  He wasn't really frightened, just cautious.  Being in a room with 
me was, for him, like being in a cage with a half-trained tiger.  You knew 
it might turn on you any minute but you couldn't show fear.

	"I'll do it."  I didn't want Melvin anywhere near the girl.  Nobody 
deserved that.

	"Are you sure?"  Isaac was perceptive enough to know that I wasn't fully 
committed.

	"I'm sure."  I put a snap into my voice and he relaxed.  I knew at that 
moment that I wasn't going to kill her but I couldn't let Isaac doubt me for 
a moment.  I sat down and went over the packet.  Her name was Sara Lynn 
Boyer and she was seventeen years old, a senior at a Catholic high school in 
a suburb of Springfield, Massachusetts.  She was an honor student, an 
outstanding athlete, and drop-dead gorgeous.  She stood 5' 10" in her bare 
feet and weighed 136 pounds.  Her hair was blonde, her eyes blue, her 
complexion fair.  Her favorite subject was history and her favorite musical 
group was Deep Dish.

	I glanced at Isaac.  "Why?"

	He shrugged.  "When she turns 18 she inherits everything.  Her grandmother 
bypassed her father in favor of Sara when she wrote her will.  When she 
inherits he's out.  He doesn't want that and neither do we."

	We talked for another twenty minutes and then Isaac left, satisfied that 
I'd do the job.  I'd been with Isaac, been owned by Isaac would be more 
accurate, for three years.  In that time I'd killed 7 people, six men and 
one woman.  All of them clearly enemies of the United States and deserving 
of their fate.  But this was different.  If Isaac had any clue as to what I 
was thinking I'd have been dead within 24 hours.  After he left I sat at the 
table and drank a cup of coffee while I thought back over the last ten years 
of my life.

==================================================================

	Louise Blaine, the name I use now, isn't the one I was born with.  I was 
born in May, 1973, and grew up in North Carolina.  My father was an enlisted 
man, a Special Forces noncom, and I was his only child.  My mother died when 
I was six and my father never remarried.  He raised me like a son and by the 
time I was sixteen I was proficient with almost every infantry weapon in use 
at the time.  We hunted and fished and he taught me every dirty trick he 
knew.  He used to laugh and say that I was the most dangerous teenaged girl 
in the world.

	He made a lot of money but suckering people who didn't know me into 
shooting contests.  I was barely 5' 4" and weighed 110 pounds.  I didn't 
look like I could handle the recoil of a twenty-two, never mind a Winchester 
.300 magnum.  I was a pretty girl with black hair, brown eyes, and a smooth 
olive complexion.  And I was the best shot in the Special Forces community, 
possibly the best shot in the world.

	  I had a potentially fatal flaw in my makeup - I didn't know the 
difference between right and wrong.  In fact, I had only had a vague notion 
that there was such a thing.  It was my father who kept me anchored in 
reality.  He gave me a series of rules to live by and enforced those rules 
with iron discipline.

	My father was killed in a training accident in 1992.  I was nineteen, a 
sophomore in college, and his death was devastating.  My anchor in the 
*real* world was gone.  I dropped out of college and enlisted in the army.  
I thrived in that environment and probably would have stayed there until 
they forced me to retire.  But, in 1997, I was a passenger on a plane that 
crashed in a remote area in central Africa.

	I was one of a dozen survivors.  We were taken by a local warlord and the 
others were held for ransom.  The warlord claimed me for his own.  My left 
leg had been broken in the crash and I never received proper treatment.  As 
a result, I still have a noticeable limp.  The broken leg kept me from 
escaping and by the time it was mended I was in no condition to escape.  The 
warlord kept me nude and fucked me every day.  Sometimes, for amusement, 
he'd have his bodyguards take turns with me.  I tried to kill myself several 
times but I was stopped each time.

	I spent my days and nights chained to a stake driven deep into the ground.  
I lived like an animal and was treated like one.  When Isaac rescued me, 
after a year in captivity, I was clinically insane.  A year of intense 
therapy brought me back to the point where I could function again.  I still 
limped and my back was criss-crossed with scars left by the whip the warlord 
used on me almost every day, but I could function in the *real* world, 
marginally.

	Isaac installed me in a house in a small town west of the Mississippi and I 
became his pet assassin.  Isaac owned me and I mean that literally.  I 
couldn't function without someone to answer to and that person was Isaac.

	He visited me almost every week and supplied the guidance I needed.  He 
punished me when I did something wrong and sometimes when I hadn't.  He also 
fucked me regularly.  It wasn't sexual for either of us.  It was just 
something that had to be done to keep me going, like tuning up a car 
regularly to ensure you got good performance.  When he didn't have time to 
come himself he'd hire someone to come and rape me.  I hated men but, 
perversely, craved sex with them.  Hard, sweaty, abusive sex that left me 
drained of anger for as long as twenty-four hours at a stretch.  Isaac took 
care of my needs and every so often I'd go out and kill someone for him.

================================================================

	After Isaac left I took a long, hot shower and read through the packet 
again.  Then I called Rosalinda and asked her if she could come and cut my 
hair and give me a massage.  She said she could come right after lunch and I 
told her that after lunch would be ideal.

	I put a robe on before answering the door, out of respect for Rosalinda's 
Catholic sensibilities.  Roasalinda was thirty, a widow whose husband and 
daughter had been killed in an automobile accident.  Rosalinda had been 
driving and she blamed herself for their deaths even though the accident 
wasn't her fault.  They'd been hit head-on by a drunken cowboy driving an 
old pickup with faulty brakes.  Rosalinda tried to commit suicide several 
times before giving up.  Those attempts had put her beyond the pale as far 
as the church and her family were concerned.  She now lived alone and made 
her living by cutting hair and giving therapeutic massages.

	I slipped the robe off as soon as the door was closed and Rosalinda put her 
hand on the back of my neck and squeezed gently while she kissed me on the 
cheek.  "How are you?"

	I shrugged.  "Fine, I guess.  But I need a haircut and I need to relax."

	She cut my hair while I sat on a stool in the middle of the kitchen.  She 
cut it short, no more than 2" long anywhere, and when she was done I looked 
like a boy.  A handsome boy to be sure, but still a boy.

	Then we went to the exercise room and I set up the portable massage table 
while she heated the scented oil she used.  When it was ready I climbed onto 
the table and stretched out face-down.  She took her time and 90 minutes 
later I was laying on my back, limp and totally relaxed.  She rubbed my 
belly for a moment then she told me to turn over.

	I turned onto my belly and moaned with pleasure as her hand slipped between 
my legs.  I'd shaved the day before and I was smooth, my skin slick with 
oil.  She slipped two fingers into my cunt and I whimpered as she pushed her 
thumb into my ass.  She masturbated me to orgasm and then she slipped her 
clothes off and put me on my knees.  I brought her to orgasm with my tongue 
while she sobbed in shame at what she'd become.  Afterward, we cried 
together and then took a long, hot shower.

	Before she left she slapped me a couple of times and vowed never to set 
foot in my house again.  Doing so salvaged a little of her pride.  She did 
so every time she left but this time it was true, although she didn't know 
it.

	After she was gone I turned my attention to Sara Lynn Boyer.  I knew I 
wasn't going to kill her.  The problem was how to keep her alive to inherit 
her grandmother's estate.  After thinking about it I realized that the only 
thing I could do was go to Springfield and confront her.

===================================================================

	It took me a week to make the trip because I had to drive.   I slept in 
ratty motels and paid cash.  After arriving in Springfield I scouted the 
suburbs and located Sara's school.  I watched for two days and established 
that she was dropped off every morning by the housekeeper but she generally 
walked home after school because she usually had lacrosse practice or a 
game.

	Her pictures didn't do her justice.  She wasn't just beautiful - she was 
stunning, a sweet girl with a ready smile and a warm personality.  The type 
of person you liked on sight.  After five minutes in her company you felt as 
if you'd known her forever.

	On the third day I parked my truck on a side street and was sitting on a 
bench at a bus stop when she came by.  I glanced up as she approached and 
said, "Hi, Sara."

	Her reaction startled me.  She smiled and said, "Hi."  Then she dropped her 
sports bag, eased her backpack off and sat down beside me.  "I didn't know 
he'd send a woman."

	I glanced at her in surprise.  "I beg your pardon?"

	"To kill me.  I didn't know he'd trust a woman.  That's why you're here, 
isn't it?  To kill me."  She smiled, her eyes fixed on my face.

	"No.  I mean yes, that's why I was sent.  But I'm not going to kill you."

	"Why not?  A million dollars is a lot of money."

	"A million dollars?  What are you talking about?"

	"I overheard him talking with someone he called Isaac.  He said he'd pay a 
million dollars to have me out of the way."

	I was stunned.  "That mother-fucking rat bastard!"

	I was even more stunned when Sara slapped me across the face.  "Watch your 
language!  You can kill me, I can't stop you, but I won't have you talk like 
that in front of me!"

	I mumbled an apology, my face flaming.  "I'm not going to kill you.  But we 
do have to get out of here if I'm going to keep you alive for the next 
couple of weeks."

	I got up and walked away without looking back.  If she followed I had a 
chance of keeping her alive.  If she didn't whatever happened wouldn't be my 
fault.  I heard footsteps and then she was beside me, her backpack dangling 
from her left hand.  "Where are we going?"

	I shrugged.  "I don't know.  Somewhere away from here.  We'll just drive 
randomly at first."

	We got into the truck and took off.  I glanced at Sara.  She hadn't had 
practice, or a game, so she was wearing her uniform.  "Have you got 
something to change into?  That uniform is a little distinctive."

	She nodded.  "I've got my exercise gear."  She opened her sports bag and 
pulled out a T-shirt, a sports bra, shorts, and running shoes.  She changed 
right there in the truck and it was a remarkable performance.  She never 
showed an inch of skin that wasn't visible when she was done.

	I drove north out of Springfield on Rte. 91 and got off in Greenfield.  
Then I drove west, zig-zagging randomly until we were somewhere in rural 
upstate New York.  I stopped at a small motel and paid cash, registering us 
as sisters.

	Once we were in the room Sara sat down on the bed, cross-legged and 
demanded that I tell her everything.  I refused.  She got up and slapped me. 
  "If you don't tell me everything I'm going to slap you silly."

	I smiled and said, "You can slap me all you want but I won't say a word."  
She obviously didn't believe me because she slapped me again.  I turned my 
back and peeled my T-shirt off.  I heard her gasp in shock as she looked at 
the scars on my back.

	I turned to face her and was surprised to see the tears streaming down her 
face.  "Who did that to you?"

	I shrugged and finished undressing.  "I hope you don't mind but I feel more 
comfortable nude."  I sat down on the bed, cross-legged, and told her 
everything, beginning with my mother's death.  By the time I finished it was 
after midnight and we were both exhausted, physically and emotionally.  I 
got up and went into the bathroom.  I washed up and brushed my teeth.  When 
I came out Sara got up and went in.  A moment later she stuck her head 
around the corner.  "Would you be totally freaked if I used your 
toothbrush?"

	I shook my head.  "Not totally."  She grinned and disappeared.  I stretched 
out and waited.  There was only one bed, a small double bed, and I was 
curious about how she'd handle it.

	The light in the bathroom went out and the door opened.  "Turn out the 
light, please."  I reached and switched the light off.  Sara was a pale 
shadow as she walked to the bed and slid between the covers.  I was 
surprised when she turned and took me in her arms.  "I've been thinking.  
You can't function on your own and I can't stay alive on my own."  She 
paused and kissed me on the mouth.  "So, from now on, you're mine.  Any 
objections?"

	I shook my head and whispered, "No, none at all."

	"Good.  Now ......"  She kissed me again and her hand moved down between my 
legs.  I was stunned because the packed hadn't mention her sexual 
preference.  Someone had done a sloppy job.  She obviously knew what she was 
doing because within in a couple of minutes I was moaning in pleasure, near 
orgasm.  She held me there, teasing me, until I begged her to let me come.  
She continued to tease me until I was crying in frustration.  Then she 
flicked my clit with the tip of one finger and I arched my back and screamed 
with pleasure as I came and came and came.

	She wouldn't let me reciprocate.  "Not tonight.  I want complete control 
tonight."  And she had it.  She brought me to orgasm six or seven times 
before she let me fall asleep.

	I woke up at 5:00 a.m., as usual.  I sat up quietly and slipped out of bed 
to go to the bathroom.  When I returned I sat and watched Sara for nearly 
ninety minutes.  She was a quiet sleeper, moving rarely.  The room was hot 
and she'd kicked the covers off.  Her body was perfect, the only flaw a 2" 
scar on her left knee.  Her pubic bush was a thick tangle of dark blonde 
hair.  I'd have to talk her into shaving.

	Even though it was barely mid June she had a nice tan.  Her skin was golden 
brown every place that hadn't been covered by a rather modest bikini.  There 
were shades of lighter tan where her lacrosse uniform had covered her.  Her 
breasts were full and firm, a good 36c, and tipped with pert pink nipples.  
Her face was a long oval with high cheekbones, a long straight nose, and 
full lips over a firm chin.  Her complexion was flawless, a sprinkling of 
freckles over her nose and cheeks emphasized her beauty rather than 
detracting from it.

	I decided, after careful study, that her legs were her best feature, 
especially her long, firm thighs.  Her thighs tapered down to her delicately 
sculptured knees which gave way to the elegant curve of her calves.  Yes, 
her legs were by far her best feature.

	Her eyes opened while I was looking at her legs.  "Like what you see?"

	I blushed and nodded.  "You're very beautiful."

	She grinned.  "Well, as my friend Katie says, I'm not bad looking for a 
homely girl."  She reached and grabbed my left wrist, drawing me down for a 
long kiss.  The kiss was long and very satisfying.  When it was over I 
rested my head on her shoulder.  She held me and whispered, "You're mine, 
now.  Don't you ever forget it!"

	"I'm way too old for you."

	She sat up abruptly.  "No, you're not.  You're perfect for me.  Don't you 
ever say anything like that again.  Do you understand?"

	I nodded and whispered, "Yes, my lady."

	She grinned, pleased.  "I like the sound of that."  She got up and walked 
to the bathroom, her firm butt swaying saucily.

	When she emerged I was sitting on the edge of the bed.  I slipped off onto 
my knees as she approached.  I took her right hand and kissed her palm.  
Then I bent and kissed her feet.  She crouched and ruffled my hair.  "That's 
not necessary."

	I looked up at her.  "Yes, it is."

	We stared at each other in silence for at least a full minute. Then, 
finally, she nodded her acceptance.  I had my own personal goddess to guide 
me and I would worship her in my own fashion.

====================================================================

	We left the motel shortly after nine a.m. and continued west.  I knew we 
had three or four days before Isaac got suspicious and another day or two 
before he dispatched Melvin.  We had to be ready.  If Melvin caught us 
unaware we'd die in agony after begging him for death for days.

	I was tempted to swing north, to Canada but crossing the border was too 
complicated.  Going south and west was exactly what Isaac would expect.  I 
decided to go south and east, to Washington.  But first we made several 
stops.  To buy clothe and to change our appearance.  I bought a long, blond 
wig and we had Sara's hair cut short and dyed red.  Her eyebrows were dyed 
too.  She objected to a full bikini wax until I whispered in her ear, 
telling her that I'd not go down on her unless she was bare down there.  She 
gave me a look of pure imperial arrogance, "What if I order you?  Would you 
do it then?"

	I nodded and whispered, "Yes, my lady."

	She grinned.  "Okay, then let's do it."  She held my hand and yelped each 
time the beautician pulled a strip off.  When it was done she was bare and 
beautiful, the delicate folds of her sex completely exposed.  She blushed 
and professed to be embarrassed beyond belief but I sensed that she was 
pleased with the result.

	We drove for ten hours, taking turns at the wheel.  And we talked.  It was, 
in many ways, more intense than therapy because I couldn't lie to her like 
I'd lied to the therapist.  And she answered all of my questions without 
hesitation.  I learned that she'd been sexually active since she was 
fourteen.  "Once with a guy was enough for me to be sure that I preferred 
girls.  My looks kept me from being suspected.  Thank God for stereotypes!"

	"How about this Katie that you mentioned.  Is she your lover?"

	She nodded.  "She was, but not anymore."

	I laughed, pleased, and she ran her hand up my thigh.  Then she pulled the 
truck off onto a narrow dirt road and stopped as soon as we were out of 
sight of the main road.  We made love in the grass beside the truck and I 
went down on her for the first time.  It was wonderful!

	By time we stopped for the night there might have been a few things we 
didn't know about each other but not many.  We slept soundly, woke up late, 
and made love.  We stayed another night and spent the day making plans.  The 
next morning we sold the truck and bought a used SUV.  We drove on through 
Pennsylvania, through Delaware, and on into Maryland.

	We rented a house on the outskirts of Rockville and settled in to wait for 
Melvin.  The poor fool never had a chance.  He got the drop on me, or so he 
thought, and while he was gloating Sara blew his head off with a shotgun.  
She was hysterical afterward and it took me an hour to calm her down.  I was 
glad the way she reacted. One cold-blooded killer in the relationship was 
more than enough.

	We moved on and I contacted Isaac a few hours later.  I told him where to 
find Melvin and hung up.  I knew he'd clean up the mess.  We continued on 
south, all the way to the Florida keys and celebrated Sara's eighteenth 
birthday in Key West.  We were home free.  Now that she was eighteen Isaac 
had no reason to kill her.

	He was pissed that I was no longer available to him and even more pissed 
that we'd disposed of Melvin.  But he was nothing if not pragmatic.  And his 
mood brightened when Sara told him she'd pay the million dollars her father 
had promised.  If Isaac took care of him.  He agreed and by the time we got 
back to Springfield Sara's father was gone, the victim of a tragic accident.

===================================================================

	After the funeral she took make-up exams and aced them.  She'd missed 
graduation with her class and that made her sad for a day but she brightened 
up when we hit the road again.  We went to Cape Cod and spent most of the 
summer in a cottage in Truro, near Provincetown, courtesy of Isaac and the 
agency.

	We spent a lot of time on the nude beach near Race Point.  It took me three 
days to talk Sara into taking her top off and another week to talk her out 
of her bikini bottoms.

	One of the things Sara learned during out stay on the Cape was the 
necessity for her to be a firm disciplinarian.  It wasn't easy but after I 
broke a guy's arm for merely jostling her she bowed to the inevitable.  We 
were lucky that it happened late at night and we were able to get away 
clean.

	Back at the cottage she poured herself a glass of milk and sat down at the 
table.  She took a sip and glanced up at me.  "I suppose I have to punish 
you."

	I nodded.  "Yes, you do."

	She sighed.  "Go get the strap.  And leave your clothes in the bedroom."

	I returned a couple of minutes later, nude, carrying a stiff leather strap. 
  I stood facing the wall, hands clasped behind my neck, my elbows touching 
the wall.  She stood behind me.  "Do you know why you're being punished?"

	I nodded.  "Because I broke that guys arm without permission."

	I heard her sob.  "NO!  You're being punished because breaking his arm was 
wrong, with or without permission!  It was wrong!  Do you understand?"

	I shook my head.  "No, Sara."

	I heard her sobbing as she swung the strap.  She gave me twenty and I 
didn't move, didn't make a sound.  My back felt like it was on fire but I 
refused to cry.  She gave me another twenty, harder, and still I refused to 
cry.  I didn't understand that she *wanted* me to cry, wanted some sign that 
the punishment was having some effect.  She made me turn around and I stared 
straight ahead, not even blinking, while she gave me twenty more across my 
belly and breasts.  I heard her mutter, "Cry, damn you.  Cry."  Her voice 
was barely audible and suddenly I realized what she wanted.  I released my 
control and by the time she finished the last twenty I was sobbing like a 
baby.

	When she threw the strap aside I sank to my knees and crawled to her on my 
belly.  I kissed her feet and promised I'd try to be good.  She made me 
spend the night on my knees at the foot of the bed.  She told me she'd beat 
me senseless if I moved a muscle before dawn.  She slept like a baby but I 
didn't move once during the entire night.  In the morning I was stiff and 
sore, my back, belly, and breasts covered with fresh welts.  She cried in 
remorse when she saw me and took me into the bathroom for a long hot shower 
and some equally hot sex.  All was forgiven but she disciplined me regularly 
after that.

====================================================================

	We left the Cape in mid August, tanned and fit and happy.  We drove to 
Boston and bought a house near BC where Sara was an incoming freshman.  She 
joined the soccer team as a walk-on and was soon their most outstanding 
player.  She was offered a scholarship but turned it down because she didn't 
need it.  She had to live in a dorm her freshman year but I saw her every 
day.

	She moved back to the house at the end of the year but we traveled with a 
conference all-star team for most of the summer.  My nightmares have 
gradually faded and I put the horrors of Africa into a closed compartment in 
the back of my mind.  I still wake up screaming one in a while and I'll 
never be entirely *normal* but I think I can be happy as long as I have Sara 
to worship.

	She's a junior now, majoring in business, with plans to get her MBA so she 
can run the business empire she inherited from her grandmother.  Right now 
they're being run by a guy Isaac found for us.  He's eminently trustworthy 
because he know what will happen to him if he screws up.  Sara will take 
over in time but for now she's busy with soccer, school work, and running my 
life for me.

	After her sophomore year, tired of my lousy cooking, she decided we needed 
a housekeeper.  I suggested Rosalinda.  Sara flew out to talk to her, 
leaving me behind even though I cried and begged her to take me along.  She 
had to do some talking to persuade Rosalinda to come back with her but she 
was successful.  Rosalinda cooks and cleans, cuts our hair, and massages us. 
  When Sara's busy she disciplines me.  And she's not above taking Sara 
across her lap if she thinks it's necessary.  The first time she spanked 
Sara was traumatic for me.  She spanked Sara for not cleaning up a mess she 
made.  Then she spanked me for interfering.  She put us both on our knees 
afterward and kept us there for an hour.

	I love to watch Sara play soccer and I've attended every game she's played, 
home and away.  She made me promise not to kill anyone who knocks her down 
and I've kept it so far.  I understand that it's only a game and they aren't 
really trying to hurt her.  At least I think I understand.  I have a list of 
rules on a plastic card and not killing anyone is one of them.  Sara 
reinforces the rules by quzzing me every Friday night and whipping me if I 
make a mistake.  Which I frequently do.

	I do know that someday she might tire of me.  I've gotten her to promise 
that she'll kill me rather than let me go back to Isaac.  It took me a week 
of solid persuasion to convince her that I'd rather be dead than live 
without her, especially since Isaac is my only option.  We've planned it all 
out - a tragic diving accident in the Bahamas.  But it won't happen for 
years, if ever.

The End





_________________________________________________________________
MSN Photos is the easiest way to share and print your photos: 
http://photos.msn.com/support/worldwide.aspx

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> |
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html>  Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|Archive: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository |
|<http://www.asstr-mirror.org>, an entity supported entirely by donations.         |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+