THE DEADLY ASSASSIN'S TOUR
By Kandor
This is one of an ongoing series of stories about an all-female assassination company
(This is one of an ongoing series of stories about an all-female company
of assassins. Bear in mind these stories were done for someone who loves
feet, foot torture and incredibly violent, ball-busting type death. If
you find yourself getting squeamish from, or too turned on by these
stories, don't worry about it, it's only fantasy....)
Paulina danced on the dimly lit stage, every inch of her lean, lithe
body slithering across the shiny surface. She reached out for the pole
with one gloved hand and wrapped a long leg around the bottom, curling
her glitter-painted toes around the base and spinning slowly, her long
hair cascading behind her, until she spun to the floor on her succulent,
g-stringed ass.
Some watched, most sucked down their beer and expensive, watered-
down drinks and tried to think of what it would be like to be Paulina's
g-string, still others looked away, lost in a world of jumbled voices in
their heads.
It was the strip joint that Paulina was told she'd find Aramonis,
the wealthy Greek businessman/prick whom she was scheduled to dispatch.
She liked that term. Dispatched. Better than kill with extreme
prejudice, which was the exact reason she was here.
Paulina and dozens and dozens of other women, had gone through
rigorous training at the Assassin School for Girls, a months-long course
that involved extreme physical activity, hands-on , or more usually,
feets-on training, and a huge battle in the school's arena as a
graduation activity of sorts.
All the women passed, Claudia, Deanna, Christy, Kathy, Bridget, all
the others, the world's most beautiful women, all now trained in the art
of death. They'd branched out, far and wide, all over the globe, taking
assignments from their mentor and leader, Suze. Paulina found herself
here, in Amsterdam, dancing in a sleazy strip joint awaiting the arrival
of one of the world's richest and meanest men. Aramonis had fucked over
a wealthy client - nearly as wealthy as himself - and the client came to
Suze looking for retribution.
It was a business. If Aramonis had gotten there first, Paulina would
have been sneaking up on his enemy now.
She saw him, dark and sunglassed, slide into a back booth. It was
his MO, just like the dossier said. He traveled incognito and liked the
favors of local strippers. He'd usually get the greasy hags used up by
the barflies of this end of town, but when he laid eyes on Paulina, he
fairly drooled. This place seldom saw them this nice. He winked and
waved. She returned the motions and finished her dance.
She put a lacy shawl around her slender shoulders that barely
covered her sweating breasts. She sauntered through the bar to the back
of the room, into the little alcove where Aramonis sat. No one noticed
her go as the music came up anew and a new stripper of lesser talent
than Paulina took the dim limelight.
"Hello, little lady, have a seat," Aramonis said in thick accent,
twirling his dark, oily mustache in one fat hand. "I want you."
Paulina laughed. "You waste no time, do you?"
"Never," he said, smiling white through his dark face, a glint of
gold in his teeth. "Time is money and I waste neither."
"Neither do I," Paulina said, snuggling close and draping one lean
leg into his lap, rubbing his crotch with her slim calf. "Let's talk."
Aramonis gulped. He was usually the aggressor. He balked and she
noticed and picked up the pace.
"Tell me, Mr. Aramonis," she hissed, sliding behind him on the
cheesy padded bench at which they sat behind. "What's it like to be such
an asshole?"
"How did you know my name?" he said, startled, trying to turn to
look at her as she rubbed his shoulders, slowly encircling his chubby
waist with her long legs. "How?"
"I know many things, Mr. Aramonis," Paulina cooed into his ear,
tightening the legs, crossing her feet and locking them in his lap,
smiling as she felt his cock stiffen and poke up through his pants into
the locked vee of her naked feet. "I know you are a businessman of
global proportions and that you screwed over a Mr. Johnson in Sweden.
Correct?"
"I did business with him, yes," Aramonis said curtly, reaching under
the table to free his thick cock from his expensive pants and let them
slip between the locked upper soles of Paulina's pumping feet. "That
feels soo nice..."
"Mmmm, doesn't it, doesn't it feel nice to have such creamy, smooth
feet stroking your cock, hmm?" she said, slowly jerking his prick in her
feet, the tops of them wrapped around the shaft, pumping him until a
stream of precum coated them, making the job easier and far more erotic.
"How do my thighs feel, Mr. Aramonis?" Paulina growled seductively.
"Squeeezing your sides, squeeeeeezing your ribs, like you put the
squeeze on those you do business with, no?"
She laughed and tightened her scissor. He fidgeted, still absorbed
by the sweet pleasure of her pumping feet, but feeling his ribs bend in
her legs. Paulina stopped rubbing his neck with both hands; with one,
she reached into her purse and pulled out a length of strong leather,
two looped handles in either end. She slowly draped it around his neck,
putting one hand in a loop and then the other. It hung loosely around
his throat, brushing the knot of his silk tie. He looked down, confused.
"What..." he started to say.
"How do my feet feel, Mr. Aramonis?" she hissed into his ear, taking
up the slack on the leather.
"Going to...come....soon.." he grimaced, the thighs squeezing
tighter, the leather coming closer to his neck, the feet crunching his
cock as he heels pounded into his nuts, adding pain to his pleasure.
"No, you're not," she said calmly, leaning forward to whisper into
his ear, pulling back harder on the leather. "Because I'm going to
tighten this garrote around your fat neck, I'm going to scissor you
until I break your ribs, and I'm going to push my feet together in such
a way as to break your cock just before you come. And oh, yes, I'm going
to kick your balls back up into your dying body. I'm going to kill you,
Mr. Aramonis. That's why I'm here!!"
He stiffened to fight but she leaned back, snarling, and twisted the
garrote tight on his neck, the leather slicing into his windpipe,
cracking it, the sides cutting into his carotids, numbing him
immediately. His hands trembled as they tried to find purchase inside
the garrote, but it was too tight. Paulina's strong, long hands crossed
as she hauled back hard, twisting the garrote, digging it in even harder
on his neck, at the same time punching down on her scissors, snapping
four lower ribs like kindling.
Aramonis tried to scream, but nothing came out. His eyes grew huge,
bubbling almost out of their sockets in a ghoulish white glow as Paulina
tightened the garrote, bloating his face horribly. And she made good her
promise down below; he was on the verge of coming when she twisted her
feet round each other, bending and wetly snapping his cock like a fat
green twig. That deed done, she began hammering her heels into his
balls, blasting them to paste, and then driving them back up inside his
dying body.
"Goodbye, Mr. Aramonis," she seethed into his ear, crossing her
hands further and snapping the garrote, cracking his neck in the jerky
motion.
Paulina, athlete, stripper, assassin, shook loose the garrote and
her legs from the broJohn man's body, straightened herself up and left,
Aramonis face down on the table as if he'd had too much to drink. No one
would notice for hours, Paulina smiled to herself as she dressed in the
back stage area and then slipped out the rear door, eager for her next
kill.
Rodriquez strutted.
He always did, of course, a man makes as much money as he does, he
walks the walk. But Rodriquez liked to strut, thinking himself a true
black man and entitled to the strut by heredity. Truth was, he was
black, Hispanic, Haitian and whatever other brand of man happened to be
in the sperm blender the night his crack-addicted momma conceived him,
the unwitting side effect of a $15 trick.
He grew up poor watching rich kids handle thick wads of green from
drug dealing. He started as a watchdog at 8 and progressed from there.
Now he was a lord in the neighborhood of NYC where whites mixed with
blacks only by driving up in their NJ-registered Beemers and Volvos to
score diluted bags of dope from the street hustlers. Rodriquez was a
rich man, stepping on others to get there, killing some outright and
lord only knew how many others by stepping all over his dope with rat
poison and whatever else he could use to stretch profits.
Some of his reach extended to school yards. Kids were dying, young
kids, who were trying to be like the punk they'd buy dope from.
Rodriquez didn't give a fat ghetto rat's ass for them, he liked the
dough, bottom line. So when some of the neighborhood parents got
together and talked to a friend of a friend of a friend who knew of this
place where beautiful women would take care of things, well, Rodriquez
was strutting his last, only he didn't know it.
Helena knew it. The black-haired beauty would stick out like a sore
thumb in this neighborhood, though, and she didn't want her mark to know
she was there, so she pulled about as opposite a supermodel look as she
could: Hair covered in a kerchief, big dark glasses, baggy sweatshirt,
baggier sweatpants, ratty old sneakers, dingy yellowed socks.
But a woman that beautiful can never hide the truth and even as she
skulked through the neighborhood keeping a watch on Rodriquez, Rodriquez
was keeping an eye on her. He sensed beauty beneath the veneer and he
could smell out pussy almost as fast as a good drug deal. It was a knack
that made him so powerful and despised.
Helena staked him out for about a week, tracking his moves, watching
where he hung out, figuring where to strike. As good as she was, she
didn't count on him being better. It was late one night, she was rooting
around the trashcans in an alley, looking like a bag lady, when she felt
a poke in the ribs, a shiv jabbing at her. She froze.
"OK, my little cunt fan, what do you want?" Rodriquez hissed in her
ear, leaning close to her, feeling her through her clothes, feeling hard
muscle and soft tits. "Why have you been following me? You the law?"
"No, not the law," Helena said, not turning around. "Just someone
who wants to know you better, that's all."
She knew it was lame as soon as she said it. So did he.
"That's bullshit, now what do you want?" he said, poking harder with
the knife, and now humping her soft ass with his crotch, pushing her
farther back down the alley.
"OK, OK," she said, spinning away from him and backing into the
alley wall, nowhere to go and no one seeing them this far from the
street. "I was sent here to kill you."
Rodriquez looked shocked, than broke into laughter. It worked. She
continued.
"No, really, I belong to an international ring of gorgeous
assassins," she said. "We kill with our hands, legs, feet, we break
cocks and rip off balls, we stab, strangle, stomp, we're killers, all of
us."
Rodriquez was doubled over in laughter now, the knife in his hand
loose on his knee.
"Oh, that's rich, bitch, really," he said, straightening up now and
coming toward her, knife extended. "I really like fucking the crazy
ladies, I really do. They never remember it after and even if they do,
who the fuck would believe someone as loony as you?"
His look got stern as he waved the knife inches from her.
"Lose the hat and shirt and pants," he growled. "If you don't stink
too fucking bad, I just may fuck you."
Helena smirked and peeled off her hat, her long black locks spilling
down. Rodriquez was entranced by her beauty, more so as she pulled off
her baggy sweatshirt, her perfect tits rising high over her hard belly
and bouncing back down as she tossed it aside. She pulled down her sweat
pants and stood now in a black g-string, yellowed socks and dirty
sneakers. Rodriquez gulped.
"Wow," he said. "Lady, crazy or not, smell or no, you and I are
gonna fuck!!"
"Bring it on, lover," she said, backing up to the wall and spreading
her slender, powerful legs.
Rodriquez slipped the knife into the waistband of his jeans, behind
his back, and snuggled close to Helena. He nuzzled her neck, biting the
white flesh, and rudely pinched her thick nipples in his rough hands.
She growled as he pumped his thicJohning crotch into her pussy.
"Mmm, lover that's it, that's it," she cooed, circling his waist in
her long legs. "I wanna feel that big cock of yours inside me, I wanna
feel that hot load explode in my cunt!!"
A hunk of rope hung down from the wall Helena was backed into, left
there by others who had scaled it, probably a regular escape route from
the cops. Helena felt is brush her hands and hoped he wouldn't notice.
But he did.
"Just in case, honey," he said, stopping his dry fucking for a
moment to tie her hands in the rope, leaving her standing with her arms
extended straight above her, against the wall.
'This will make things a little more interesting, that's all,' she
thought to herself as Rodriquez roughly slobbered over her creamy tits
and pulled at the gentle curls of her pussy hair.
She had to work fast. She didn't want this guy's cock inside her,
God only knew where it'd been, what diseases collected inside his
system. He pulled it out of his zipper and the thick head gleamed precum
in the greasy light of the dirty alley. He rubbed it on her belly,
leaving a trail of goo. He laughed and started pulling down her panties
and slipping his cock up into her.
"Wait, lover, not so fast," she cooed, snapping her legs down and
together, pushing him out. "How about a little foreplay, get a girl a
little wet, whaddya say?"
Rodriquez looked at her flatly.
"What kind of foreplay, baby?" he asked, irritated, as he stroked
his cock.
"Eat me," she hissed. "Get in there and eat my pussy!!"
He smiled and hit his knees. He had time to kill, he'd oblige her.
Her cunt was drenched already; she always juiced up prior to a hit.
Rodriquez thought it was his charm and she giggled as she felt him
nuzzle his nose in her hairy slit, parting the meaty lips, and driving
his tongue deep into her hole. It actually felt rather good and she
allowed herself a quick orgasm before faking a larger one.
"Oh, yeah, YEAH!!!" she growled, letting her legs snap up and around
his neck, scissoring him tight in her thighs and squeezing as hard as
she could. "Baby, make me come!!!!"
He passed out cold in her scissors, the cords of inner muscle
creasing his neck and blacking him out. Perfect, except for one thing:
He'd rolled away and she couldn't reach the knife in his pants with her
feet. When he regained consciousness, she snared him with her legs again
when he got close, hooking him back in a figure four, a long calf tucked
into his throat, her thighs chewing at his head. She wasn't nearly as
pleasant as before.
"Now look, fuckhead, I'm here to kill you, and that's the truth,"
she growled, punching the hold down, snapping his head back and forth.
"But first, we'll have a little fun. Reach down and take off my shoes
and socks. And don't entertain a fucking clue about pulling that shiv
outta your pants; one snap of my legs and you're neck's fucking broke,
you got me? Want a sample?"
"N...no..." he grimaced, quickly unlacing her foul sneakers and
pulling off her socks. The aroma from her feet wafted up to her nose and
she laughed.
"Put those socks in your mouth," she ordered him. "NOW!!"
He trembled and lifted the soiled cloth to his lips and put them
inside. Helena curled a foot up and used her toes to stuff them deeper,
all the while keeping a tight grip on his head. Then she stuffed a pair
of toes up his nose and made him sniff. Rodriquez obeyed and began to
cry. Helena laughed.
"Now take that knife out verrrrry slowly and put it in my toes,
handle first," she said evenly, curling back the calf until he gagged,
keeping his neck at the point of snapping so he'd obey. He did and she
clenched the knife in the toes of her extended foot.
"Now jack off," she said. "I want your hot load on my toes."
He balked and she squeezed. He quickly got jerking. She pointed her
sexy toes downward at his cock, the tip of which grazed the top of her
foot. It didn't take long, it never did with Helena's feet as the prize.
He twitched in her tight legs and jettisoned a thick river of goo all
over her foot, a puddle forming on top, a river running between her
toes. She quickly clamped the bent calf deep into his throat and brought
that foot to his face.
"Lick," was all she said and he did her bidding, sliding his mouth
all over her slimed foot, sucking in and swallowing every gob of his
goo, his cock never shrinking an inch as he did.
Helena laughed. "They all have such staying power when I get them,"
she sighed.
"The time has come, little man," she growled, extending her legs
down for a straight headscissor squeeze, the knife sticking out of her
toes. "Say your prayers."
"NOOOOOOO!!!!" he screamed through clenched teeth as Helena bore
down on the leg lock.
His cock stayed stiff. Helena brought up her locked feet and pounded
them down, driving her hard heels into the tip, smashing the head
bloody, and snapping the shaft in the middle. He screamed a guttural
scream, his shaking hands trying to keep her from repeating the move,
but she did, again and again, snapping his busted cock and now driving
his balls down to the ground between his legs, slamming her heels into
them, mashing them to flat sacks of meat. He slumped in her legs, nearly
out. She let go the scissorlock and he fell to the ground at her feet,
the knife still sticking out of them.
"Perfect," she growled.
Clenching the knife in her soles, she drove it downward, slicing the
point into the flattened mush of his balls, piercing the meat and
stabbing his thighs on the other side. She pulled it up and out, the
sucking sound filling the still alley again and again as she repeatedly
stabbed his nuts. Rodriquez twitched and gurgled and started to come
around from the new pain. He half sat up and looked at his mangled cock
and blood-spurting balls and he screamed a high-pitched death wail.
"Lights out," she said, switching the knife to one foot and grabbing
his bloody genital package and stretching it out with the other.
One clean swipe at his cock with the knife and Helena held it up in
the other foot, the bloody stump left behind gushing a river of blood so
high and hard it hit Rodriquez in the stunned face. His hands
instinctively clamped over the severed lump and a torrent of red pushed
them away.
"You....cu...." he started to say, but never finished. He died from
instant loss of blood.
Helena smiled and curled her lithe body up and back to slice through
the rope that held her hands with the knife clenched in her feet. She
quickly dressed and covered his body with trash from the alley. Rifling
his pockets, she found thousands of dollars in 50s and 20s.
Two days later, long after Helena was on her next assignment, the
local drug abuse center down the street would receive rather large and
anonymous cash donation, all 50s and 20s.
Gabriella and Pamela sat in the waiting room on the cheap plastic
furniture of the Hollywood producer awaiting their audition. They'd
answered the ad that had drawn others here before them, most of them
never to return.
Making pornos in Hollywood is a way of life - and occasionally,
death. Snuff films were made here, totally underground, featuring
beautiful young girls eager to crack the lucrative porno market,
thinking they're just fucking their way through a film only to find
themselves tied up, tortured and eventually killed when it was over.
And the films sold big, mostly to a bizarre foreign market, rich men
eager to watch screaming, terrorized girls being sliced up, hacked and
chopped and murdered as they sat in their plush piazzas or mansions,
slowly jacking their fat wealthy cocks.
The girls' assignment was simple: Crack the company, get jobs, make
a movie - and then wipe them out. Running this company was a slug named
Parsons, a fat shit in polyester clothes who reeked of cheap cologne and
cheaper cigars.
"Youse wanna make a movie for me, huh?" he leered at the two
beauties sitting on the couch before him in his office far from the real
money streets in Hollywood. "So kiss for me. Go on, I'm making a lezzy
film, I wanna see you guys kiss and suck each other off."
Gabby and Pam shrugged and embraced. Most of the girls in the school
were bi, if not outright gay. Having sex was no big deal, and soon they
were locked in a hot 69 on the floor before a leering Parsons, tonguing
each other's tight pussies to a shuddering orgasm. They looked up and
heard a man groaning; Parsons had taken his cock out and was jacking off
above them. Quickly, Pam and Gabby spun on their asses and extended
their feet and Parsons had two pairs of heels grinding up into his fat
balls. He stopped jacking off.
"Put that fucking thing away or you'll be picking your nuts out of
your fucking ears," Gabby growled, thickening her athletic thighs to
show the power behind the kick she would surely deliver if he didn't
obey.
Parsons gulped. He obeyed.
Shooting began the next day. It was a simple shoot; the two girls
were to suck each other. That was in their script. The real script held
that they'd be tied to the beds, atop each other, and slowly cut with
sharpened dildos, fucked with them, leaving them bloodied and begging
for mercy. They would die like that.
Ordinary girls wouldn't know this. These were no ordinary girls. So
Gabby and Pam performed on each other, happily, bringing each other to
genuine orgasm before a leering Parsons running the camera. It was low-
budget all the way. The girls waited for the next move. It soon came.
"We wanna try something different now, do you mind?" Parsons said,
walking over to the girls on the bed with a length of rope. "I wanna tie
you together in a 69, that should be hot. Won't take long and you'll be
outta here with your money in an hour. OK?"
This was in films the girls had seen before, the snuff films they
viewed as research. They would be tied, face to pussy, their hands
behind their backs. Then Parsons would pull them away from each other
once they were immobile, tie them to chairs facing each other and slowly
kill them, dutifully running the camera on tripods, walking back and
forth to slice them deeper and then run the camera.
The girls smiled and sat up on the bed, naked. Parsons stood before
them, waiting.
"Well?" he said. "I ain't got all day."
"Correction," Gabby said. "You got less time than that!"
She lashed out her athletic legs and blasted both smooth, hard heels
into his crotch, burying her feet up to the ankles in his balls.
Parsons' face went white and his breath left him quickly as he crashed
backwards, past the camera running on the tripod, and into a wall. Gabby
and Pam stood, laughing, and descended on the blubbering fat man.
"We know all about you, Parsons," Gabby said, getting him in a side
headlock, her strong arm digging into his neck as Pam shook his pants
and underwear down his fat legs until he stood bareassed in Gabby's
grip.
"Did you think you'd get away with killing for long?" Pam said,
spreading his legs before the camera, exposing his hairy, low-hung nuts.
"How many did you kill, Parsons? How many?"
"F...fuck you," he growled from the vicegrip of Gabby's muscular
arm.
"Never mind, asshole, we know how many," Gabby grunted, powering
down on the hold until he groaned. "47. 47 girls killed, you fat fuck,
47 families ruined because of you."
Pam wheeled over a device onto which people are tied, spread-eagled,
and tortured. They'd seen it in the film, a crude, handmade wooden
machination, almost a crucifix. They strapped Parsons on, legs spread
wide, arms tied down out to the side. He was completely immobile. He
cried for mercy.
"C'mon, please, look, money, I'se got lots of fucking money, and you
can have some, just let's me go and we'll talk, OK?" he babbled.
"You suck, and your grammar is worse," Gabby laughed, walking in
front of him. "OK?"
"We did the math, fat man," Pam continued, walking to stand behind
him now. "47 girls. From families. Average size family is about 4 in
this country. 4 times 47 is 168. That's 168 people whose lives you
fucked up and ruined. 168 people, Parsons. Remember that number. You'll
wish you never heard it."
Gabby stepped up to his sweaty, nervous face.
"168. 168 times you're gonna get this. Don't bother to count. We
will," Gabby hissed.
She stepped back, pumped one foot behind her and ran forward,
letting that foot fly up - and right into Parson's hanging balls. He
screamed like a trapped animal, his eyes fat and clenched shut against
the pain, the harsh slap of foot bone on tender nutflesh resonating off
the cheap walls nearly as loudly as his scream. Gabby stepped back.
"One," she said.
Pam ran up from behind and delivered the top of her foot into his
wounded balls, driving the bulk of them up and in, her sharp toenails
digging a slice into his cock in the process.
"Two," she said.
On and on and on it went, Gabby ruining his balls from the front,
Pam from the back. The girls would use the tops of their slender feet
mostly, splattering his tender nuts against them, but for variety would
occasionally point their toes straight and hard and brutally drive them
into his blistered ball bag, digging into the meat, bloodying and
bruising it. Gabby also liked to get on her hands and knees in front of
Parsons and ram her leg up in reverse, using the entire length of the
bottom of her foot to plaster his pulverized pills. For about a dozen of
the kicks, Gabby stood between his legs and yanked his nuts down in one
hand, forming a tight circle with her fingers around the base,
ballooning the damaged flesh into a big purple ball in her grip, holding
them down and out for Pam.
"Perfect," Pam growled, taking aim. "Looks like a big fat tick! If I
hit 'em hard enough, maybe they'll blow up!!"
And she tried, delivering brutal kick after brutal kick to the
puffed-up package of nut meat, the top of her foot blasting into it,
then the sides, the bottoms. She turned and punched her heel into it a
few times. As they neared the end of the 168 blows, Parsons' fat face
was awash in tears, and the murderer blubbered like a baby.
"Please.......no...more..........please...." he cried, head hanging
on his chest.
"Hey, this looks familiar," Pam said, retrieving a metal softball
bat from a corner of the room. "I think this has been in a few of your
movies, right?"
It had been used against bound women, Parsons savagely fucking the
women with it as he tortured and killed them. Pam stood before him as
Gabby finished up her round of kicks, leaving the total at 165.
"Batter up!" Gabby hollered and stepped aside.
Pam took aim and swung the heavy bat up and in, the fat end slamming
into Parsons' hanging balls. He screamed anew, his eyes rolling into the
back of his head.
"Strike one!" Gabby shrieked. "Try again!"
Pam stepped up, twisted the bat in her hands and delivered another
brutal blow, harder than the first. Parsons' nuts flattened and stuck to
the bat as she pulled it back. Blood oozed from his mouth, evidence of
heavy internal damage.
"Strike two!!" Gabby giggled.
Pam looked determined now and delivered the hardest swing yet,
smashing it up between his quivering thighs and leaving it there,
twisting and rubbing and jabbing the fat bat into his mauled balls.
Parsons vomited, a river of chunks running down his fat chest to his
crotch.
"Yerrrrrrrrrrrrr OUT!!!" Gabby said, yanking a thumb back like an
umpire.
The two girls walked to a table and grabbed a pair of dildoes, the
special ones Parsons used in the movies, the ones sharpened to points.
They turned the buzzing tools on and walked back to the man strapped to
the framework. His face was white and green, spew ran down his body, and
his balls were a bloody, flat mess. They smiled.
Retrieving a piece of plywood, they put it up behind Parsons as he
hung limply from his torture device. His balls lay flat against it.
Putting on rubber gloves, Gabby and Pam lifted his nuts, spreading them
against the wood.
"You'll be dead soon," Gabby said, lifting the point of her buzzing
dildo to one of his nuts. "But this should stretch it out nicely."
Both girls slowly, painfully, deliberately, sliced the tip of their
sharpened dildoes into Parson's mangled nut meat. His eyes rolled in his
head again, more vomit leaked out of the corners of his mouth. The cuts
were made as the points sliced through flesh and found the wood behind.
The girls leaned hard onto the dildoes, grunting to push harder and make
sure the whirring devices dug into the board. Pam grabbed a nearby
hammer and slammed it into the fat end of her dildo until it stuck into
the wood, like a big nail, vibrating a quiver of agony up his shattered
nuts. Gabby did the same and both girls stood back, admiring their
handiwork. Parsons lay dying on the board, his balls impaled by the
tools of torture with which he had killed so many others.
Pam and Gabby dressed. They popped open the running camcorder on the
tripod and took the videotape out.
"Maybe when Suze sees this, we'll get a raise," Pam laughed as the
two assassins strolled out of the room.
Kate turned heads as the tall, leggy beauty strolled through
Palermo International Airport in Sicily. The island always attracted the
rich and famous and beautiful, but Kate's lean body walking on air
through the crowd made even long-time airport workers turn and stare.
She'd been sent to the Italian Mafia stronghold to do away with a
mobster, pure and simple. He'd been cutting in on someone's turf who
didn't like it and who had the financial balls to do something about it.
Kate knew she would like this one. The guy had a thing for feet, and
no one had sexier feet than Kate, long, lean, toes to die for - and by.
She'd slowly kill this guy and he wouldn't even know it until toward the
end. He'd just think she was an intense sexual young woman playing his
game.
She found her mark, Mario Pardini, sitting in a small outdoor cafe,
sipping espresso. Taking a table across the piazza, she waited. It
didn't take long. Kate wore a pair of stretch pant culottes ending at
the knees, her lovely, slender calves exposed. On her feet she wore gold
lame sandals, flat, a thin strap around the ankle, a wider one across
the top of her feet, just above the toes, effectively making her long
toes look longer still. The paint on the nails matched the light golden
tone of the sandals.
She crossed her leg, the top leg's calf muscle creased sensually
along the side as she slowly bounced it. Her perfectly straight toes
were pointed right at Pardini. He took a huge, nervous sip of espresso
and spit it out in a coffee-colored spray, forgetting it was piping hot.
Kate smiled at him as he blasted the waiter in Italian for serving the
beverage too warm.
She winked at him and he waved back. He beckoned her over. She shook
her head in a little 'no' motion, pursing her sexy, full lips in mock
sternness, instead curling a long finger at him. He hurriedly tossed a
handful of lira on the table and bolted across the piazza.
Kate's Italian was marginal, Pardini's English much less so, but the
universal thought was there. She slowly worked a foot up under the
table, between his legs, and massaged his fat cock to life in his
designer suit pants.
"You like, no?" Kate hissed. "You like my feet on your cock, Mario?
You like more of this? Hmm?"
"Ci, ci, ciiiiiiii," he moaned, eyes closed as Kate's toes bent and
straightened on his prick. "Bella, bella..."
They were soon on the way to his villa, high in the olive-tree laden
hills. It was midday, no one was around. They alone had the handsome
home to themselves. They started out in his den. He sat behind his big
desk, she pulled her slim, hard ass onto the top, swinging her legs
apart, planting her feet on each arm of his chair.
"Do you understand what I'm gonna do, Pardini?" she cooed, pursing
those famous lips and running her long fingers over her shins, to unsnap
the buckles on her sandals and toss them aside. "I'm gonna seduce you
with me feet, sexually abuse you with my feet, and then I'm gonna kill
you with my feet. Capice?"
"Ci, capice, capice!!" Pardini frantically nodded, faking that the
had a clue what she was saying as Kate spread her long toes with her
fingers and fucked the crevasses between them, slowly bringing the
fingers to his nose so he could inhale the sweaty vapor laced with fine
lilac cologne.
She spun away quickly, dancing seductively on the den's thick rug,
as he watched, fondling his own crotch. She laughed and danced some
more, standing on her toes, flexing her slim calves at him, pumping the
toes back and forth, up and down, until his cock was fully erect in his
trousers. Then she went to him, sat on the desk again, and slowly
unzipped his pants and slid them off - with only her feet. Pardini was
going wild, his huge, thick cock oozing a huge dollop of precum. Kate
bit her lower lip and rubbed one big toe over his cock head, shining it
thoroughly with his lubrication. She brought it to his mouth.
"Suck it," she ordered him. He didn't understand the word, but knew
the intent and popped the big toe in his moaning mouth, licking it like
a cock, sucking clean his own juice from the silky digit as she fucked
his lips with it.
She quickly pulled it out, and he looked disappointed. She laughed
and waltzed out of the room, her hot feet padding across the cold marble
hallway floor. Curling that finger again, she motioned him to follow,
and he did. She pointed to the floor.
"On her knees, slave boy," she growled in Italian. "On your knees
and crawl, looking only at my beautiful feet!!"
He eagerly obeyed, his eyes transfixed on her heels as she walked
away, toward the sitting room, where she lay on the couch, feet crossed.
She motioned for him to sit on the end. She scissored his fat cock in
her slender feet, gripping the base in her inturned soles. Jacking him
off slowly, she smiled at him.
"You dumb dago, you have no clue what's gonna happen to you, do
you?" she teased in English, laughing as he madly nodded, humping her
feet, having no idea what she was saying.
She squeezed. His root reddened in her foot grip as she crushed in a
bit harder, a bit harder still. He grimaced and tried to pull away. She
didn't let go and he smiled nervously.
"Your balls are next," she growled in Italian this time. His face
whitened a bit.
Kate scooted her feet down and took his huge nuts between the soles
of her feet, now capturing his entire genital package in them. She
crushed them in, bubbles of ball meat billowing up between her feet. He
winced but didn't pull away; he couldn't if he wanted to. Now he closed
his eyes as Kate slowly increased the pressure, tilting her head back,
clenching her teeth and looking sternly at him. She pumped her feet up
and down slowly at first, then more quickly, jacking off his entire
gonad bundle and cock. Pulling up hard, the balls and prick would snap
up against the tops of her locked feet before she let them flop down
again, only to pull on them harder on the next upstroke.
Pardini was sweating profusely, making Kate giggle. He was scared,
but extremely aroused, he'd never had a woman do this to him before.
Then suddenly his nuts were free and she was gone when he opened his
eyes. He saw her around the corner, making her way to his workshop. He
followed, again on his knees, watching those feet.
"Close your eyes again, Mario, I like that," she hissed in his
native tongue, sitting him on a bench, his legs spread wide.
He obeyed and didn't open them again even as she slowly tightened a
wooden C-clamp around his swollen balls. Tighter and tighter she twisted
the handles, until his balls were blue in the middle. Smiling, she let
the clamp fall free, over the edge of the bench, stretching his balls
horribly. His eyes remained shut, tears squeezing out of the corner.
Kate laughed and stepped back, sitting in a chair, crossing her legs.
She told him to open his eyes and watch as she slowly flexed her sexy
feet, the long tendons dancing under the delicate skin. His cock was
hard as a rock, even as his balls grew longer and more blue in the
hanging grip of the big wooden clamp.
She freed him shortly and allowed him to follow her to the barn.
This is where it would end, and soon; Kate had a return flight to catch,
no time to stay in a country where the sanctity of the mob is taken
deadly seriously and those screwing around with the code meet a deadly
fate. She had Pardini stand in the middle aisle of the stable area, the
whinnying horses nervously rearing to their feet when they saw him. Kate
patted each one and they calmed down. She had a way with animals, two-
or four-legged.
Kate grabbed a low hanging rope and tied his hands above his head.
Another rope hung nearby. She grabbed it and pulled herself up, her
lithe arms rippling with small balls of muscle as she did. When her feet
got to his crotch, she encircled them with her feet again, jerking his
balls and cock until he moaned in ecstasy.
Suddenly she lowered herself and spun him around. Driving her pretty
foot upward, she delivered a dozen foot kicks into his exposed ass,
reddening the flesh. He screamed in Italian for her to stop. She laughed
and spun him around. Terror filled his eyes. Her's flashed power. The
foot came up again, toes first, right into his nuts.
"NOOOOOooooooooo!!" Pardini screamed as Kate powdered his nuts again
and again, finally going up to him and pulling his hair, snapping his
head back.
"This is good, no?" she spit into his ear in Italian.. "Tell me you
love it, tell me you love me kicking your balls, you little fuck, tell
me you love me!!"
He did, he babbled that he loved her feet crushing his nuts and that
he loved her. And he meant it, for his cock stiffened as he said it.
Kate smiled and cruelly grabbed his rod, twisting it until he screamed a
silent scream. She stepped back and kicked again, this time into his
cock, snapping it painfully in mid-stem. His eyes rolled into his head
and he passed out.
When he awoke, his guts were burning. Kate had lowered him to the
floor, still with his hands tied, and stood on him, one foot on his
balls, mashing them to the hay-strewn floor below, the other digging
mercilessly down into his belly, toes pointed like a spear, digging,
digging. She was massaging his internal organs with her strong foot.
"This will cause internal bleeding and will eventually kill you as I
rupture you from the outside in," she said calmly, putting her weight
into the twisting and grinding toes. "Mmm, I love this, I really do.
Shows you what a woman with strong feet can do to a man!"
He didn't understand her English, but he knew pain and he tried to
buck her off. Her foot speared harder, her other foot crushed his nuts
flat. The pain/pleasure threshold had been crossed and now Pardini
feared for his life, or at least the life of his balls.
Skin broke as sharp toenails popped through the flesh. Blood oozed
up around Kate's pumping foot and she felt her cunt moisten. Growling,
she twisted and snapped and ground her foot harder and harder, driven by
Pardini's helpless moan, and soon she saw her big toe disappear inside a
ripped fold of bloody flesh. She came, and came hard, a river of her
sweet juices running down the inside of her hard thighs, wetting her
pants, as she fucked his speared body with the one big toe, the obscene
sucking sounds it made filling the stable. She pulled it out and wiped
it across Pardini's crying face; a huge bubble of blood welled in the
wound and ran down his side. More followed, slowly.
She pulled him up again, high in the air, off his feet. He swayed
before her.
"Now you die, Pardini," she growled, hoisting herself up on her
rope.
She pulled herself up until her feet were at his head. Swinging them
up, she put one heel on each temple, pointing her feet out - and slowly,
painfully bore down, driving the bones of her heels into his soft
temples. His eyes bugged out and he screamed, his face contorting in
pain and from the squeeze of her feet. She'd occasionally pull the feet
off, spread her legs wide and slam them, heels first, into the temple,
driving quivering shockwaves to his agonized brain, causing ministrokes
to explode in the tender tissue inside. His voice garbled and he
drooled. She was vegetating him with her powerful feet, and it made her
come again.
She stopped the heel assault and dropped her feet to his shoulders,
locking them behind his neck. His teary eyes looked at her as he felt
her bony ankles dig into his carotid arteries. She scissored his neck
hard in her ankles, jolting the hold on, and in seconds he was on the
verge of passing out. Letting up, she let him regain consciousness -
then did it again. She'd scissor those ankles on again and again and
again, reeling him back from the dark, letting him come round, and then
do it again.
"I'm killing you slowly, Pardini," she said in Italian this time.
"My little ankle scissors slowly rob your brain of blood and oxygen, and
like my heels pounding and pressing your temples, they make you have
little strokes, which put together, will kill you slowly."
As she beat him, more blood oozed from his side wound, slowly
draining his body of the vital fluid. She laughed and squeezed again,
not stopping until she'd nearly knocked him out and brought him round
again 100 times. His brain was sizzling - and slowly rupturing from
within.
She hurried it along now, eager to leave the estate before workers
returned from their afternoon break. She swung on her rope backwards and
let herself crash forward, feet first, into his open mouth, driving her
deadly toes inside, filling his lips, splitting his jaws, breaking
bones. The long toes wiggled against the back of his throat as she foot-
fucked his mouth. She came once more, especially hard this time as his
dying eyes implored her for release.
"Ciao, baby," Kate hissed through clenched teeth, punching her
deadly feet deeper into his mouth.
He choked, gagged and slowly and painfully died at the end of the
beauty's long legs and incredible feet. She let herself down and fetched
her handbag, taking out another pair of shoes. Slipping them on, she
picked up the sandals she had been wearing, and looped the ankle straps
around his cock and balls, pulling them as tight as possible and hooking
the buckles shut. Smiling, she walked out of the barn, sliding the big
door shut and locking it. She took his car back to the airport and made
her way out of the country.
Kim, Angie and Eva found him easily enough. He was the loudmouth at
the redneck bar, challenging everyone to a fight. The three women had
made their way to backwater Oklahoma in search of a batterer, a man who
repeatedly beat whatever woman he was married to or involved with, and
he'd been married six times. Three of the women died, and here in
frontier-justice land, he slipped between the judicial cracks in a
system that doesn't really care about its women getting beaten and
killed.
So the women came to mete out a little justice of their own. It
would ordinarily take just one, but it was a training-working mission;
Kim needed to make her first kill on the job and she was a little
nervous about it. Angie and Eva would show her the way, guide her
through it. Kim was eager.
The man, Carl Wayslow, staggered toward his pickup truck in the
dimly lit and dusty parking lot of the Tornado Bar and Grill, so named
because it had narrowly avoided destruction in twisters a number of
times in its lucky past. The women waited in their own pickup truck
parked next to his.
"Carl?" Kim said, walking up to him, dressed in flannel shirt, tight
jeans and cowboy boots. "You Carl?"
"Cunt? You a cunt?" he leered, eyeballing the tall blonde. "I wanna
fuck you."
"I know you do," she said calmly as Eva and Angie came up beside
her, two more beautiful women in western wear. "Are you the guy who's
killed his wives and other women before and gotten away with it?"
"Fucking A, I am, " he said proudly, weaving on unsteady feet,
reaching to fondle Kim's huge breasts through her shirt.
She rolled her eyes and let him have a quick feel - then she felled
him with a kick of her pointed boots right into his crotch. His eyes
went white and wide and he fell at her feet. Laughing, the three women
hoisted him in the back of the pickup and drove away.
They came to their campsite 20 miles out of town. Wayslow had been
quiet the whole ride, largely because Kim stayed in the back with him,
laying at the far end of the truck bed, her booted feet pressed into his
nuts. He never moved, just stared at her with uncertainty and hatred,
waiting for the time he could make his move. He always made his move,
and no woman would stop him. Until tonight.
Eva jumped out of the truck and held a large hunting knife to
Wayslow's throat, beckoning him to get out. He obeyed, his dark eyes
flashing anger. He didn't say anything, but would occasionally let loose
a beer-stinking belch. They tossed him down near the campfire and
circled him, slowly peeling off their clothes. Wayslow finally smiled
and started taking off his clothes until he sat naked in the dirt, his
cock stiffening at the site of the three women who were now clad only in
pointy cowboy boots and hats.
"Let's see, Carl, you beat one of your wives, or a couple of them,
with a bullwhip, right?" Angie said. "That right?"
"Right," Wayslow sneered. "Cunt had it comin'. She wouldn't take
this up her fat fucking ass."
He fondled his cock, aiming it Angie's way as she stood before him
as he knelt in the dirt.
"Thought so," she said. "Kim? The whip?"
Kim ran to the truck and returned with a big, nasty-looking
bullwhip. She cracked it at her side, the rifle-shot snap sound cracking
the night air. Wayslow looked uneasy.
"Uh, what're you gonna do with that?" he asked slowly.
"Rip your balls apart," Kim growled. "Girls, pin him!"
Wayslow couldn't move fast enough and quickly found Eva sitting by
his head, her boots on his shoulders as she pulled his arms tight up at
her side, stretching them painfully. Angie sat on his belly and pulled
his legs up under her arms, putting her full weight back on the small
man to hold him still. His big balls, and now soft cock, hung down over
his asshole. He hollered in protest. The girls laughed.
"Let 'em have it, girl!" Eva yelled to Kim.
Kim had trained for weeks with the whip for this moment and the
practice showed. The first crack of the whip put the feathered end of it
right into the middle of his ball package, splitting the skin in the
seam and letting blood spray out. Wayslow screamed horribly against the
pain and the women holding him. Eva pulled on his arms harder, the
sockets in his shoulders beginning to tear. Angie raked her long nails
down the backs of his thighs, leaving huge bloody scrapes. He begged for
mercy and screamed like a little girl when Kim's whip tip crackled down
on his balls two more times, one in the middle of each one, opening a
hole.
"STOP!!!!!!! PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!" he yelped, tears rolling down his
face.
"Oh, but it was OK for you to do THIS.." Kim yelled, snapping the
whip on his nuts on the word 'this', "to those women's tits and pussies,
right?"
Kim's strong arm reared back and the whip flew again and again,
leaving his balls a bloody mess and the cowboy pinned under Angie's
delicious ass a crying baby. His shoulders were badly damaged by the
constant pull of Eva's powerful arms and by the time they all go up, he
rolled in the dirt, barely able to move his hands to cover his aching
and destroyed balls.
"How 'bout the plain beatings you put on them, Carl," Kim said,
walking around to Carl's head, shoving the point of her boot under his
heavily breathing face. "How 'bout the times you stomped them. Like
this!!"
She lifted the boot and drilled the side of his head with it,
crushing his jaw under the heavy sole. His head bounced off the hard
ground and he tried rolling away, but Kim was there, behind him,
slamming the metallic toe of her cowboy boot deep into his agonized
nuts, flipping him over. Now all three girls stomped the moaning man at
their feet, Eva drilling her heel into his mouth, breaking his teeth and
nose, Angie jumping up and down on his legs, shattering his kneecaps and
snapping his lower leg bones, Kim pummeling his already destroyed balls,
grinding them to paste in her pointy boots. He was nearly dead when they
finished, but they weren't finished yet.
"Oh, and remember that woman, Erline, you lived with, the one you
tortured and killed?" Kim said. "Remember the pitchfork and what you did
and how the sheriff said it was the most gruesome murder he'd ever
seen?"
Wayslow looked at her through black eyes and moaned through busted
lips and teeth.
"....uck....you...." he hissed, knowing his time on earth was very
limited now.
"No," Kim smiled, snapping her fingers for the other girls to put a
pitchfork in her hands. "But this can fuck your cock!!"
Kim kicked apart Wayslow's broken legs and used the toe of her boot
to nudge his cock. Amazingly, it started to get hard. Eva and Angie
slipped off their boots and sat beside him, pinning his cock between
their feet. They jacked him off by holding his meat between their soles
and pulling the meat up and down. Wayslow moaned in pleasure, his head
back in the dirt, blood smearing his face.
Then his eyes popped open wide just as he started to come. He felt
extreme cold and pain in his cock and looking down, he was horrified to
find out why. Kim Alexis was poking one thick tine of the pitchfork into
the hole of his cock, twisting and pushing, grunting as she did, until
the metal speared the entire length of his prick. Where once come was
about to spew out, now their seeped blood.
"EEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!" Wayslow screamed, his entire
body convulsing against the incredible pain in his cock.
Eva and Angie continued to hold his bloody cock in their bare feet
as Kim now brutally fucked it with her pitchfork, the steel sliding in
and out of his meat easily. On each downstroke she'd plunge it in deeper
and deeper, stabbing through the base of his cock, into his nuts, into
his urinary tract, into his bowels. She was sweating heavily, her eyes
wide, her mouth grinning maniacally. It was her first paid kill and she
was so totally absorbed in it, come from her gushing pussy ran down the
inside of her creamy thighs.
"ARGHHHH!!!" she screamed finally, leaning all her weight into the
pitchfork, skewering his cock one last time, the other tines in the tool
spearing his lower body and pinning him to the ground.
Wayslow died in a slow gurgle of blood as Kim stood over him,
leaning on the pitchfork, rubbing her coming cunt against the smooth
wood of the long handle. She bent it down now and inserted it in her
pussy, fucking herself deep and long and screaming out another drenching
orgasm that ran down the handle and fork and dripped on the dead man's
body. Eva and Angie watched, amazed.
"By George," Eva laughed.
"I think she's got it," Angie finished.
The three women hugged by the campfire and then set about cleaning
up after themselves before leaving - and after dumping Wayslow's body in
a gully wash nearby.
Suze walked into the office building in a crush of other people so
she wouldn't be noticed. And at nearly 6 feet tall and possessed of
supermodel beauty, she would be noticed. She wore dark glasses and a
dark business suit with stiletto heels as she got on the elevator and
made her way to the business suite.
John was alone at his desk late in the day. He was making plans long
after everyone had left, plans to turn his small underworld female
assassins' organization into a huge, world-class affair - like Suze's.
He was recruiting heavily, offering more money, apartments, health
benefits, and a load of other perks, to lure girls from Suze's fold.
Suze picked the lock of the outer office, happy no one was there.
She walked through the maze of doors and found John's office deep in the
suite, an office overlooking the huge lake beyond, some 25 stories above
ground. She was impressed. He didn't see her standing there. He was so
engrossed in his work, he didn't see her slither in and slide into a
chair before him, crossing her lean, sexy legs, the black-shoed foot
bouncing sexily.
"John, we need to talk," she said calmly.
John jumped a foot off his chair, his pen clattering to the floor.
His eyes were wide and a sudden sweat broke on his brow.
"Jesus Christ, Suze, you'll give me a fucking heart attack!" he
grumbled.
She smiled. "That would be easier, yes."
He glared at her.
"Look, I know why you're here and it's just not gonna work," he
said. "I'm gonna do this and you can't stop me, unless you kill me and I
don't think you will."
"Oh?" she said, raising an eyebrow and tensing her body to full
alert. "And why's that?"
"This is why," he said, pressing a button under his desk.
Suddenly two women appeared, two extremely large women,
bodybuilders, each topping 6-4 inches and weighing at least 240 pounds.
They wore tight, barely visible bikinis and they were thick with muscle,
from the round pads of meat around their necks and chests to the
monstrous bubbles of hard flesh on their calves. One stood on each side
of Suze, their huge arms bowed at their sides.
"This?" Suze said, laughing, looking at the steroid-fed monsters at
either side of her. "You call this the reason why? Please, John, is this
what you're going after? This mutants couldn't get out of their own
way."
John smiled and nodded at the women. Each reached down and grabbed
an arm of Suze and stood her up. The tall, lean beauty went along
easily, standing between the behemoths, dwarfed by them.
"They could easily tear your arms off right now and beat you to
death with them," John said, leaning back in his chair and laughing.
"I've seen them do it."
"Ah, but have you seen me do this?" Suze said.
Instantly, she sprang backwards, her arms still held tight by the
amazons. She did a back flip and hit the floor to push off hard and
return to her original standing position, smiling at John.
"Yeah, so?" he said, not impressed. "You did a backflip, you showed
your agility, your flexibility because your arms stayed in the same
position. So fucking what? How does that get you out of their grip? It
doesn't."
"Oh, but it does," Suze hissed. "Watch!"
Suze did the backflip again and sprang back to the front. And again.
And again. John watched, confused. The amazons held her, confused. And
Suze smiled. It was time to move.
She did the backflip again, but this time spread her legs a bit as
she did - and drove a pointed stiletto into the eye of each amazon,
spearing it in a juicy pop. She pulled back to the standing position,
yanking one eyeball each from the muscle women, and using her momentum
on the return spring to fling them at John. The eyeballs bounced off his
chest and face and rolled onto his desktop, bloodying the papers before
him.
"JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!!!!!!!!" John shrieked, jumping up and batting
at his chest and face as if a horribly large bug had brushed across him.
"GODDAM SON OF A BITCH BASTARD CUNT!!!!"
Suze laughed and turned to grab the backs of the heads of the
amazons who were staggering into each other, their burly hands clamped
over the blood oozing eye sockets in their heads. She slammed their
heads together repeatedly in a basic pro wrestling move, cracking their
skulls and opening up scalp wounds on their steroid-thinned skin. She
spun back to face John now.
"I'm gonna finish them off now, John," she growled. "Then I'm coming
for you!"
John moved for his desk drawer but Suze was like a cat, leaping
across the room and desk in one jump, punching him back to his chair
with her feet. She jumped up and came down with her knees, driving both
into his crotch. John's face went white and he nearly passed out as the
beautiful woman knelt on his balls, grinding them in his pants. When he
was sufficiently calmed, she ran back to the woozy amazons.
She leaped up, legs first, and took one down in a flying
neckscissors, her taut thighs slicing into the throat of one of the big
girls. She crashed to the carpeted floor and locked her ankles, wasting
no time in going for the kill. The amazon's hands came away from her
face and tried in vain to pull apart Suze's long, strong legs, but Suze
was on her hands now, leaning up and brutally snapping her thighs on the
neck, the corded muscles of one inner leg crushing the big girl's
windpipe, the other grinding into the spinal column from behind. The
amazon's popped eye spouted blood and optical nerve goop under the
tremendous scissor pressure of Suze's relentless legs and the other eye
stared mournfully at the woman doing all the damage. Suze grit her teeth
and powered down with a series of thunderous jolts, one of which snapped
the amazon's neck cleanly, killing her.
Suze unhinged her deadly legs and jumped to her feet to square off
against the remaining girl, who lurched for her. Suze leaped up and
blasted her feet into the growling face, puncturing the remaining
eyeball with her heel and pulling it free. Rolling to her back, she
pulled the eyeball from her heel and rolled it over on John's desk.
John, still nauseous from the ball mashing Suze had given him, puked all
over the floor.
Suze dropkicked the amazon to her back and unleashed a brutal
torrent of kicks to the girl's pussy, pointing the toe of her black
shoes and drilling through the thin bikini bottom fabric, tearing it,
bloodying the hairless cuntlips underneath. Walking around to the
amazon's moaning head now, Suze stepped on her muscular throat with both
feet, punching her weight down in a series of grunting jolts until the
sharp heels of her stilettos popped through the windpipe and killed her.
She was a growling, feline animal now. Pulling her feet free from
her shoes and leaving them in the dead woman's throat, Suze slithered to
John's desk, spinning him around in his chair. She sat on the desk and
bent her legs up. Grabbing the back of his head with one foot, she
lathered his face with the other, grinding his nose and lips in the sexy
smooth sole of her foot, rubbing it raw, mashing his facial features and
making him kiss and lick her long, strong toes. Laughing, she pinched
his nose between her big toes and twisted. He cried out in pain as she
cracked it one way, then the other.
"Never," she said with a crack of his nose.
"Ever," she said, cracking it the other way.
"Think," she continued, cracking it again, and doing so on each of
the words that would follow.
"That..you...can..fuck..with...me..and...LIVE!!!!"
On 'live,' she twisted John's nose so brutally hard it shattered in
her toe grip, blood gushing from his nostrils and coating his $500 suit.
She kept twisting and grinding and snapping, holding the back of his
head with her other slender foot, until John was convinced she would rip
the nose right off his face.
She finally let go and he slumped back in his seat, blood pouring
from his face. Suze laughed and lowered her feet, unsnapping his pants
with them, pulling them off to reveal his limp cock and balls. She used
the toes, the soles, the heels, to slowly stiffen his cock, taking it
between her feet and jerking it slowly at first, then more quickly.
"Come for me, John," she hissed, looking at his pained, bloodied
face. "Come all over my pretty feet, Johnny baby, c'mon, I wanna see a
big, creamy load of come blast from that big cock of yours and lather my
feet, my pretty feet, my painted toenails, my smooth, smooth
insteps..mmm, you're gonna come for me, baby? Huh?"
Despite the pain in his head and nuts, John felt his inner sexual
soul bend and twist and start the irreversible gushing of spunk up his
foot-wrapped prick. The first shot jettisoned high in the air and made
Suze moan out loud - and then slam her feet together so tightly, the
rest of the screaming load backed up inside John's nuts in a welling of
extreme pain, as if he'd been hit in the balls with a hammer.
"How's THIS feel, asshole??" Suze growled.
As she shut down his coming, she moved one sole to the base of his
cock, the other to the head and pushed. John's cock snapped cleanly in
the middle. The pain seared through his body like a red-hot poker up his
ass. His mouth cracked open in a silent scream and as he looked down at
his stiff cock bent at a gruesome 90-degree angle, he puked all over it,
and just as Suze moved her feet away.
"Can't take it?" she hissed, slapping his face with her foot, wiping
his one shot of come clean on it. "Baby, you ain't seen nothin' yet!"
She grabbed him and flipped him to the floor in front of his big
desk. He moaned, his face bloodied, his cock mangled, his balls mashed.
She stood between his legs and delivered a series of brutal front kicks
to his nuts.
"Just doing business, Johnny boy," she said, slamming her foot into
his nuts, using her toes to crush them further. "You fuck with my
business, I fuck you up. Simple."
She went over to the amazons' bodies and pulled off one of their
tiny bikini tops. She returned to Johnny and tied the flimsy material
around his nuts and cock, in garrote fashion. Sitting on his chest, she
began twisting and jerking the fabric, slicing the nylon into this
genital package, cutting him. He screamed in renewed terror.
"NOOOOO!!" he roared.
Suze smiled and jerked her hands to one side, then the other. If
this garrote were around his neck, it would snap it, but now just sliced
deeper and deeper into the meat of his ball and cock base, blood pouring
from the wound. When it was nearly through, she tied it in a knot and
stood up. Retrieving her shoes from a dead amazon's throat, she slipped
them on her feet and walked to Johnny, who was looking up at her through
fading eyes.
"Please...." he groaned. "Work..together...you and me..."
She laughed.
"Nice try, but too little, too late," she said, twisting his head to
the side and lifting one foot to fit a stiletto heel to his temple.
"Besides, I could never work with an asshole like you. But I could do
this!!"
She stomped down hard, the sharp heel easily piercing the soft
temple tissue and slicing through cleanly to John's brain. At the same
time, she pulled back on the knotted bikini top around his cock and
balls and the jerking motion finished the job, severing his genitals
which rolled clear of his legs and left nothing but a stump ejaculating
thick rivers of blood. She ground down with the heel now, grinding it
into his brain and his entire body convulsed and jerked around the point
of the heel holding his head still. His mouth cracked open and let out a
shrill, frightening screech. Suze growled and twisted more, corkscrewing
the heel inside John's brain, mashing and destroying the organ as she
did. Within seconds, he was dead, his head pinned to the floor by Suze's
heel, his cock and balls laying in a bloody lump beside him.
She cleaned up before leaving.
"Nice not doing business with you, Johnny," she laughed and headed
out the door, stepping over bodies as she went.
(For information on how custom stories like this may be created for
you, e-mail KanDor876@aol.com
You can also buy custom stories in Diana's Shopping Mall, at
http://www.TheValkyrie.com/mall/office/shoppin1.htm)