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Message-ID: <39765asstr$1039569002@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: simon_48@hotmail.com (Simon Wagstaff III)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: 10 Dec 2002 21:50:22 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} DIE REALLY HARD by mandible              (mf sex, rape)
Date: Tue, 10 Dec 2002 20:10:02 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

DIE REALLY HARD   by mandible 


	Charlie Messer stared in disbelief at the bobbing head of the
beautiful blonde as she lovingly sucked his cock, little soft hands
wandering across his thighs and arms as if she couldn't believe he was
real. Little tears of joy were running down her cheeks, and she was
moaning deliciously as she sucked. He stroked her silky hair and
shivered with delight, never taking his eyes off the view, through a
grille, of the room outside the ventilator where they hid from the
hitmen.
	The interesting thing about fighting and running desperately for your
lives as an introduction was that it rendered a lot of social
interaction irrelevant. If I'd asked her out, he mused, she'd have
looked me up and down, wondering if my clothes reflected my paycheck
or if I had bad habits and filthy diseases. We'd have had to date a
bit, find out each other's preferences about important things, unwind
and let down our defenses and slowly or quickly decide if we'd be
friends or enemies, all the social things that came down to 'Are you a
good protector and provider? Can you help me, take care of me? and
will you?'
	Saving a girl's life cuts right to the bone. Answer:yes. 
	Charlie used CORY'S TRAVEL to book his twenty to thirty plane flights
every year, usually to boring places like Minnesota and Idaho in
keeping with his job selling down-and-dirty workhorse hydraulic pumps
to mines and factories. He'd salivated over the new girl Cory'd hired
just from hearing her cool voice on the phone, and seeing her in
person had not been a disappointment.
	Not often, however, you meet someone for the first time and see them
with a gun to their head. Charlie'd found the door open and pushed
into the gloomy place, thinking as usual 'what a dump,' and seeing no
one behind the counter, he'd headed down the hall to Cory's office.
Just as he entered, he tried to halt and teetered just beyond the
doorway. The voices he'd been hearing caught up to him in a rush: "And
if you won't tell me where it is, we'll shoot this bint to show you
we're not fooling." Another voice, hardly sounding like Cory, gritted
"You'll shoot us both anyway, you asshole, but this is it," and
Charlie, off-balance, stepped into the doorway.
	Two men had their backs turned to him; the third saw him instantly
and pointed a big handgun at him. One of the other men had been
pointing his gun at a lovely blonde, who had her eyes squeezed shut
and her face set like someone anticipating a loud noise. Cory, face
bleeding, was handing the second man a small plastic case,
credit-card-sized. The second man leaned forward and blocked the third
man's shot at Charlie. Charlie had already decided that running wasn't
an option and hit the first man like a ton of bricks, knocking him
into the third, who accidentally shot the second man through the body.
As the second man sagged over the gun that had killed him, Charlie
punched the third man as hard as he could while the man's arms were
pinned, then grabbed the case from Cory with his left and the blonde's
hand with his right and ran like hell towards the back of the
business. Shots followed him.
	The back room was a mess of boxes and crates, piled three and four
deep in some places. Charlie shoved the blonde behind a large crate,
ran a step and threw open the back door, then dove behind the blonde's
crate just as two men staggered into the room. They cursed in a
strange language and raced towards the door; one stopped short and the
other ran on into the alley, returning a minute later. The returning
thug growled something and ran back to Cory's office. The one in the
back room began prowling around the far side of the room, looking
behind boxes and piles of junk, slowly working his way towards the
fugitives. He made a little hmm? sound, then stood on a box to move an
unsecured grille and peer into a dusty ventilator shaft. He grunted in
disgust and checked out a few more boxes. The blonde shivered beside
Charlie and he put an arm around her. She was tiny, probably less than
a hundred pounds, but she didn't have that anorexic look some tiny
girls develop. There was a crash from Cory's office and she screamed;
then another crash. Charlie winced, the girl cringed, the thug ran
down the hall to help. While he was moving Charlie grabbed the girl
and half-dragged her across the room, hopping up on the boxes as the
thug had and pushing her into the ventilator shaft. He crawled in
after her and set the grille back in place.
	"He just checked here," he breathed in the girl's ear. "Unlikely
he'll check again." She whimpered; Charlie whispered back, "Let's
crawl along a bit so they won't be able to see us." They moved away
from the grille and rounded a corner, huddling in the dark.
	The girl was attached to Charlie like a siamese twin. She was sobbing
against his chest; he clutched her tightly. "Everything's ok now," he
began, but she pushed away from his chest and looked full in his face,
eyes pools of horror.
	"They were going to RAPE me," she choked. "Both of them, rape me and,
and kill me after." She choked and sobbed, holding her hands over her
mouth. "The one you shot, he said he'd take me to Greece and keep me
prisoner in a, a whorehouse, and make me," she began to sob. Charlie
shoved her face against his chest again, muffling her sobs and making
him want badly to kiss her. To distract himself he asked quietly,
"What's behind it? What did Cory have, that they want?"
	"My God," she said suddenly, sitting up again, "I thought you were
part of this, too. You don't know?"
	"I just walked in, saw the guns, started swinging. Do you know what
it is?" Charlie had the case in his pocket and was pretty sure it was
microfilms or computer tape.
	In the half-light her face was strong and open, although very dusty.
Animation seemed to flow back into her face as she explained. Cory had
this information that these fellows wanted badly. Not government
information, but some kind of industrial inside info that could make
them, and their narcotics ring, wealthy. She'd tried to sell it to
someone else, and these fellows had gotten wind of it, and all hell
broke loose. "They told her they'd just take it, and she kept
dickering about money even though she knew they were just going to
kill us. They thought she was crazy, and just kept torturing her with
money promises, when we all knew she was just buying time. After a
while they started talking about selling us into white slavery and
stuff, describing how whores are trained. The one you shot told me he
hated women deciding things, like who and when to fuck, and that I'd
made my last decision about that for the rest of my life." She put her
little hand firmly on Charlie's crotch, smiling when she noted the
hardon concealed beneath his slacks. "I'd like to prove him wrong
about that, even if they catch us and kill us soon."
	Her skirt was short and Charlie had already noticed her panties were
missing as they climbed. She unbuttoned her blouse and let her tiny
breasts out; Charlie kissed them reverently. His hands were roaming
beneath the skirt, finding her skin baby-smooth and her crotch wet.
She tugged his pants open, mmm'ed at his big cock, and lowered her
mouth onto it. Just as Charlie decided he was in heaven she opened her
mouth and whispered, "Thanks for saving me." Before he could get too
distracted Charlie lifted her head again and leaned her back, stopping
her lips with his own as he entered her. They both mmm'ed and then
began to move together, slowly finding a rhythm. She was tight and
incredibly excited; her eyes shone and she looked up at him with
worship in her eyes. He slowed, hearing voices outside.
	" - already checked up there, and on that - " the voices were blurry,
but Charlie knew his ruse had worked. He looked down at the blonde;
she gave him a dazzled smile as her eyes crossed. She grunted and
squeezed her eyes shut; her vagina contracted like a fist around his
cock. Charlie made a silly cooing noise and came, over and over, as
she gasped and scratched his shoulder. Finally they were quiet, her
head on his shoulder in the gloom.
	"What next, Mr Bond?" she whispered impishly.
	"I thought I recognized you, Miss Galore," Charlie breathed. "We
either hide here until reinforcements arrive or the creeps leave, like
maybe hours, or we try to climb up to the second or third floor and
call reinforcements ourselves. Let's have a look through this vent,
shall we?" He stroked a breast, then tenderly tucked it inside the
blouse. "And the name's Messer, CHARLIE Messer. Agent 9 and a half,
baby." She giggled carefully.
	Charlie crawled up to the next vent and froze. This was bad. This was
not good at ALL. Cory was kneeling, hands separately cuffed and held
apart by chair legs. She was naked, and Charlie was startled by how
buffed the blowsy, middle-aged woman was beneath her customary smock.
Her breasts were soft and large-nippled and her stomach was rock-hard;
her calves rippled as she tried to stay balanced. One of the men held
a gun at her head; the other had his pants down and an ugly hardon
revealed. Charlie winced; where were these people from, Lower
Scabovia? The blonde came up beside him and said "Eww" into his ear.
He squeezed her hand; she said softly "I'm Joan, Charlie. This looks
bad."
	"If we don't get it, we'll burn the building down," the one with the
pecker said in weirdly accented English. "You copied it, didn't you?
Bitch?"
	"Copied how?" asked Cory grimly, trying not to look at his wang.
"Does this look like a photo lab, or a computer center? We're both
screwed, and the sooner you realize that and escape the better. Let me
go, and I'll get another copy the same way, and have a third party
sell it to you."
	"You're dead, bitch," said the one with the gun. "As soon as you bore
us, BANG. Better think of a good story to tell when your mouth is
empty again." The one with the dick grabbed Cory's hair and shoved his
thing in her mouth. She gagged and almost fell, spitting it out as she
sat down hard. Both men laughed; the one with the dong grabbed her
hair and sat her up again. Charlie winced.
	Pulling away, he said, "I don't want to watch this and we can't help.
Let's try to climb out," and he squirmed around, Joan following. There
was a vertical shaft with several offsets to act as steps; Charlie
climbed up and returned to help Joan. She was shaky and her knees gave
out several times, but they made it up to the next floor. Charlie went
ahead and checked the rooms through the ventilator grilles; three
rooms over was a room with a phone. They wriggled through the shaft
until they were at the phone; then Charlie kicked the grille out and
lowered Joan to the ground.
	"Call for help, Joan," he told her. "Get cops here fast, or I'm a
dead man." He peered down from the ceiling vent at her, admiring her
intelligent face.
	"What are you going to do?" she demanded.
	"I can't let them just kill Cory, without trying to help. I'm going
back." He blew her a kiss. "Get cops here, fast. Nine-one-one. And
Joan? If I get killed it was great making love to you. Thanks, baby."
He pulled his head back into the vent and wriggled back to the down
shaft.
	A few minutes later he was peering out at Cory, who was stretched
across a desk, still cuffed and being fucked from behind by the creep
with the gun, while the one with the ugly dork was still trying to get
it into her mouth. He slapped her and snatched at her hair; she turned
her head again and refused his cock, grunting in pain as the one
behind her rammed it in further. Charlie fidgeted, knowing Joan was
dialing 911 and that cops would be on the way. Where was the gun? Oh,
there it was; the creep still had it. Right next to his hand, but not
in it.
	Cory had made this bed, but Charlie still hated to see her lie in it.
He inched back to the shaft he'd entered in the first place and
wiggled out. He got behind the boxes again, wishing for a weapon, and
saw the dead man tucked away behind a stack of crates. No, he thought.
They couldn't be that stupid.
	But they were. Charlie found a small handgun tucked into the corpse's
shoulder holster and fiddled with it until he was sure he had the
safety off. He tossed the microfilm into a box of papers, where it
vanished in plain sight. He hadn't fired a pistol in years, and knew
he'd have to be close to hit anyone. He eased up to the door of the
office and froze, wondering how best to do this. Cory wasn't in any
immediate danger, but she was between him and the creeps. Actually she
was between the creeps; Charlie saw that she had the one clown's cock
in her mouth while the other man  was boning her up the ass. Her eyes
were wide open and full of an eerie joy; each time the man behind her
thrust she moaned and sucked hard. She seemed to be almost enjoying
herself. Charlie's hair stood on end.
	I guess if I was being done by two girls who planned to shoot me
afterwards I'd try to enjoy it, thought Charlie. Or try not to, so I'd
last longer, he corrected himself. Cory must be one of those girls who
has secret rape fantasies.
	If she lived, Charlie bet that fantasy would be a thing of the past.
He kept quietly inching into the office, gun ready. The man in the
back gasped, then grunted loudly as he orgasmed. Cory made an urgent
noise and bit the cock in her mouth, ripping it with her sharp teeth
as she spasmed. Charlie was around the door jamb and shot the man in
back of Cory through the forehead. His brains blew all over the office
wall and Cory screamed through a bloody mouth. As Charlie whirled
around, he was clubbed in the temple with a heavy .45 automatic,
knocking him to the floor. He shook his head and tried to remember why
he was on the ground, then tried to get up and found the muzzle of the
pistol in his face.
	"You bastard! I'll kill you, look what the bitch did to me!" The man
was bleeding from minor rips in his cock, painful but not likely to
make him faint from blood loss. His pants were around his ankles and
he waved the gun in furious arcs between Cory, spreadeagled still and
panting, and Charlie, who seemed the biggest threat. He should have
remembered who bit his dork, Charlie thought as Cory came up screaming
and fighting. The bleeding shit used his gun to club her down, during
which time Charlie rose to his feet.
	"Right!" the gunman panted. "Right! We come here to do business and
you cheat us. You can't even fuck right, you stupid arrogant bitch.
Stavro and I went way back. I'm gonna kill you for this!" He levelled
the gun at Cory.
	"These shots will bring cops," Charlie remarked quickly. The gun
swung towards him, then back to Cory.
	"The last ones didn't," the asshole smiled, finger tightening on the
trigger. "Say goodbye."
	From the vent over his head, a stream of cold white vapor blinded
him. He fired wildly as Cory ducked and rolled away. Charlie heard her
shriek in time to a shot; then she was silent. He dodged, but the punk
was looking up; unwisely as another burst of vapor got his eyes. As he
cursed, a heavy blow knocked the vent's grille loose and cracked the
wall around it; a small fire extinguisher emerged and cracked him
solidly on the head. He crumpled like a wet box; Joan peered through
the hole and yelled, "Run, Charlie!"
	Run? Charlie wouldn't have left now for a million bucks. He took the
gun from the staggering hitman and hit him hard in the stomach, noting
with delight how flabby the man's belly was. A roundhouse right
followed, knocking the man down and out. Charlie kicked him in the
temple, hoping he'd broken his neck. He whirled around, looking both
ways. An unconscious man, a dead man, Cory moaning in a corner. It was
over.
	"Son of a bitch - dirty camel-raper," Cory gasped, probing gingerly
at her rectum. There didn't seem to be any blood. "Hope he didn't have
AIDS," she shuddered. Joan came running from the back room, having
gotten out through the grille they'd gone in through, and wrapped her
arms around Charlie.
	"God, Charlie," Cory stared worshipfully up at him, "I didn't know
you were the Terminator. I'd have given you an android discount, how
the FUCK did you do that? These were dangerous men, really bad
hitmen."
	"Oh bullshit," Charlie snorted. "Real hitmen would have shot us all
in the first ten seconds and run before the cops came. These were
amateurs, or the guys you dealt with themselves. They got mad and
stayed for revenge. Oh, wait." He ducked into the back room and came
back with the microfilm packet, which he handed to the naked woman.
"You ought to get something out of this; good luck." She stared up at
him with calculation in her eyes.
	Joan said, "Charlie, the cops will be here soon. Should you leave?"
	Charlie started and said, "God, you're right. They'll put my name in
the papers, and maybe come after me. Blame it on the creeps fighting
over your body, Cory. I'll leave you naked; the cops will believe it.
Damn, you're hot. Do you work out?"
	Cory turned bright red and covered her nipples, then snorted and
lowered her hands, a cuff dangling from each wrist. "Kind of you to
say so." She slid the microfilm under a stack of newspapers. "Get Joan
out of this, please."
	"Tell 'em YOU made the  911 call while they were fighting." Charlie
dragged Joan out into the parking lot, noting the sirens coming up
fast. He got her into the car and  backed it up, exiting the lot just
before the first police car came into sight. Casually he motored down
the street, as if he hadn't a care in the world. "We're clear, Joan.
Can I drop you off somewhere?"
	"Actually," she purred, "I just decided my boyfriend is history.
Would you take me home and fuck my brains out? In about ten minutes
I'm going to start screaming and shaking, and I might as well have a
good reason. You're not married, are you? I'm not going to jump out of
the car if you say yes."
	"No, I'm not," Charlie assured her. "She left me two years ago
because she couldn't stand me being gone for days at a time. Thought I
was cheating, because everyone thinks that about travelling salesmen."
She murmured to herself. "What?" Charlie asked.
	"I said it was like a movie," she repeated, eyes dreamy, then she
focussed and smiled wickedly as she reached under the steering wheel
to stroke his crotch. "DIE HARD," she grinned. "REALLY, really hard."
Charlie drove a little faster.

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