Dragonslut's Blog

Tales of a Hyper-sexual Spy

The Whore, the Rent Boy and the Sex Slave: Part 3

The Sex Slave: I’d been extreme survival training way up in the Arctic Circle. At a place where it is so cold even the rivers and ocean freeze. Where the rain turns to ice on the wind and the snow drifts a hundred feet deep. A place where giant bears and wolf packs prey on lost souls. Make a mistake in that wilderness and you’ll lose your fingers, toes or life to the frost. Now, after three bitter weeks, I’m home and she’s broken her promise.

I’d come through the door of our London apartment like a dog on heat.

“Take me to bed or lose me forever!” I’d bellowed.

“I’ll make you a nice hot beef stew with dumplings and we’ll make sweet love under the Christmas Tree,” she’d told me.

“Gone to visit and get drunk with my sister,” reads the note under the tree.

“Bitch,” she’ll have used the money I put into the joint account for that adventure. Worse than that, she’d promised me passion and not delivered. I’m raging. There’s a fire unquenched inside me.

If I call her she’ll say I can wait for a few days. Like that’s what passion is! I’m furious…

“Bitch,” I curse under my breath. I want to fuck now! She’d said now! I know I’m going to cheat…

I could call Mary, but she wants my baby and she reminds me of when Bethany was killed. I could call Josephine, but she’s married to my colleague. I could have a man, but I’m not in the mood. I could go out and pull a girl. But for Christ’s sake I want to fuck now!

“Fuck it!” I decide to go whoring. I’m new to London, but I know you can find whores in Soho.

So I’m knocking on a door that reads ‘Model Upstairs’.The door opens and I stomp up a flight of steps. It’s a seedy little joint. My nose curls at the smell.

“You can have her in any position you want for the next hour, £150,” says the Madam.

I look at the woman I’m offered. In ancient Greece they told of an island of women so desirable that sailors would smash their ships to pieces on the rocks just to get a glance at them. This girl is hotter than that…long brown hair cascades like a waterfall over her shoulders…her eyes are wide and dreamy…her body, like a siren, like a Goddess. I haven’t paid and my hands are on her already. The breath is caught in my throat and my mind is blown. I brush a hair from her face, her smile seems forced and tight lipped.

“Money,” coughs the Madam behind me. I thrust the cash into her hands and the Goddess walks into another room. “Don’t take any shit from her,” says the Madam. But I barely register her voice. I close the door behind me so I can’t hear the ugly old crone. At last I can find a release for my passion.

The Goddess is wearing a thong and has her back to me. My hand squeezes the hard, firm muscle of her ass. My temperature starts to rise. It’s not just her body that’s hard now. I move my fingers towards what I’m hoping will be a warm wet cunt…suddenly she spins around and slaps my hand away. I look into her eyes and I see rage.

She’s not the only one who’s angry. I’ve paid for her. My eyes start to narrow. Only slightly above half my size her response is to jut out her chin in defiance. It’s like there’s a volcano inside me about to blow. I growl under my breath…fear flashes in her eyes.

And a tear, but she stands her ground and sticks out her chin.

“What’s your fucking problem?” I ask.

She gabbles at me in a language I can’t understand.

“In English,” I snarl at her.

Again she gabbles at me in a language I can’t understand. There is a power to her words. Some kind of meaning I can’t fathom. I cock my head and study her. She copies me.

Again she speaks, gesturing to the door. Slowly she draws her finger across her throat.

Now I understand. Again I narrow my eyes, the Goddess steps back in fear but holds my gaze. It’s not her I’m angry with. I turn on my heel and storm out of the door in a fierce temper. A temper that’s descended like thunder. If I can’t fuck then I want to fight.

“You trying to make a rapist out of me you ugly old cunt?” The Madam hits a button on the wall and a red light flashes. I slap the bitch to the floor. Within a heartbeat the door opens and a great ape of man is racing up the steps. It’s a stupid way to attack me, who the fuck does he think he’s fighting?

My boot hits him square in the jaw and sends him flying back down where he came from. He lands in a heap and reaches into his pocket.There is no room for mercy. I take the steps three at a time. I stamp on his face and hand. His hand breaks, it sounds like cracking chicken bones. He releases his grip on wicked curved blade. The bastard. I scoop it up and I stamp on him again and again.

“Fucking slaver cunt!”

I drag him into the street, you can smell blood on the wintry city air. More heavies are coming, I clock two, three, four coming at me. If I run now I’ll be fine. She won’t. Shit! Shit! Shit! Serves me right…

Out of frustration I sever the slavers Achilles tendon. He’ll never walk right again.

I go back inside and bolt the door. The Goddess, the victim of sex trafficking watches me, all fear and tears, blood dripping from the blade in my hand. It’s a good door, but it won’t hold them long.

“I’ll cook you a beef stew and we’ll make sweet love by the Christmas tree…” I mutter in mockery of my girlfriends voice. The goddess tries desperately to understand. “Put some clothes on,” I can’t think when I look at a body like hers. She makes me dizzy. I want to fuck her, but not like this.

She does nothing. I throw my jacket at her. Her aura is off putting. There’s a crash at the door. I turn my back on it and climb the stairs. I have time.

I grab the old Madam by her hair. “Is there another way out of here?”

“No,” she cackles, “you’ve fucked with the wrong people.”

I put the blade to her throat and she wets herself. It stinks.

“Good job I’ve got you as a hostage isn’t it?”

She’s made a mistake. It’s not me who’s fucked with the wrong people. There is another crash at the door. I call work, I call Mary.

“What can I do for you Jack?” Her voice sultry and deep. I should have called her to begin with.

“I’m in a brothel in Soho. I pissed some people off.”

“A brothel, your girlfriend not tending to your needs?”

“Something like that.”

“I see…and you’d rather fuck a hooker than me? Is that what you’re saying?” She’s not that pissed off. She’s used to a macho, testosterone fuelled world. She know’s it’s wrong to want me. She was Bethany’s sister. I loved Bethany. We both did.

“She’s a slave, not a hooker. You coming or not?”

“Cook, Tucker, Wykes, Finn get the light armour and pistols. There in ten Jack. We got your cells position. You owe me.”

Ten minutes…I have to hold for ten minutes. Easy. Unless they have firearms. The door splinters. I throw a chair down the stairs. I throw the bed. I throw a microwave, a fridge, a kettle. I throw the evil old woman. Needs must as the devil drives. Anything to block the stairs. The old woman screams in pain.

“You’re a dead man,” snarls a heavy as he finally breaks through the door and tries to clamber up the stairs. The old woman tries to clamber out. He pushes her back in.

“You first.” I say drawing the blade. He disappears.

The barrel of a shotgun appears instead. Shit. In the nick of time I dodge out of his line of sight. A shot rings out. The Goddess screams and cowers in a corner. Sun bronzed thighs, heaving chest…dreamy eyes. Well, we all gotta die for sometime.

How long has it been?

“Come out, come out wherever you are,” says the shotgun wielding slaver. He has to climb the stairs and turn a corner to shoot me. That’s where I’ll stab him and he knows it.

“Come and get me…I’ll carve a hole where your dick was and fuck it with my fist.” I tell him.

“Just you try!”

“Yeah, keep talking punk…the cavalry is coming.”

“You’re a dead man.”

“Why don’t you come up those stairs a little faster? You shy?” The adrenaline is pounding through my veins. My heart tries to rip itself from my chest. It’s me or him. No messin’.

“You got one move before I blow you away,” he says. He’s not wrong. One of us will die here.

“You have no moves whatsoever.” A woman’s voice. Mary. “Drop it or I’ll shoot you in the back.” A shotgun clatters to the ground. “Hi Jack.”

“Hi honey.” I remember a night that should never have happened. Tying Mary to a table, dripping candle wax on her naked back. Bethany would’ve turned in her grave.

“I suppose you want me to write a report that says we’ve being tracking them for months.”

“Yeah.”

“And you don’t want your woman to know the details.”

“Not really.”

My girlfriend knows I play away. With men and women. But details, no, she’d rather not know. She’d said so. I look down, Mary has raven hair, gorgeous, sorceress, just like her sister. Pistol in her hands, just like her sister would have done. There’s more than one Goddess in this dump.

“Looks like you’ll have to come for a coffee with me,” Bethany says. No, Mary says.

“Now,” Mary says.

We both know it’s not coffee…

More about that tomorrow xxx

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9 comments on “The Whore, the Rent Boy and the Sex Slave: Part 3

  1. Harley
    December 21, 2014

    :O WHAT HAPPENED TO BETHANY !?!

    Like

  2. brittiedazzle
    December 22, 2014

    This is really good

    Like

    • dragonslut
      December 22, 2014

      Thank you 🙂

      Like

      • brittiedazzle
        December 22, 2014

        No problem, the rent boy and sex slave can’t stop thinking about it.

        Like

  3. Dhriti Chhabra
    December 22, 2014

    Amazing :O

    Like

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This entry was posted on December 21, 2014 by in desire, Happiness, love, passion, sex and tagged , , , , , , , , , .
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