Zero Woman

>>>>>

When I regained consciousness, things got worse. I was bound to a maple chair, my arms duct-taped to the arms of the chair. My thighs were separated, the knees forced to go outside the arms of the chair. My ankles were rope-tied to the feet of the chair. The air conditioner was at full blast ad the cold air from the vent blew directly at my bare back. My naked body twitched and shook uncontrollably.

The only part I could still control and move voluntarily was my neck. I turned until I could see Oily Hair standing behind. He was standing at the sink, washing his hands. When he saw that I had regained consciousness, he snapped his head around.

"You're awake, that's awesome." He sounded like he was planning some kind of celebration.

"What's the matter with you?" He stood in front, his crotch inches away from my face. "Are you giving me the silent treatment?"

"You said not to say anything until you asked a question. There wasn't an inflection in your voice after the word awesome." I said in a matter-of-fact way. It was as if we were in a corporate conference room, negotiating over the fine print of a contract. The only problem with that imagery was that I was completely naked and he was wearing only a pair of jeans.

"We are alone now, just the two of us. I want you to enjoy your quality time with me. What kind of foreplay turns you on? Or should I say whoreplay?"

"You asked two questions. Which one should I answer first?" I decided to push the envelope.

"Trying to be cute?" He whacked my face as he spoke those words. White and black spots exploded in front of me, like watching July Fourth fireworks on a black and white television.

"Is this the only way you can fuck a woman? Tied up and unable to reject you?"

He punched my rock hard stomach, moving the chair a few inches backwards. The chair rocked back and forth but did not topple. My hair hung over my face.

"You don't ask the question. I ask the questions. Understand?" He took a plier and used it to twist my left nipple, pulling it a few inches until he could hear a long guttural scream.

"Yes, sir." Blood flowed back to my tits when he released his death grip. This was not the time to act tough. I had to buy time until Don could realize I had been captured. He would have time to disappear and lie low.

To emphasize his power over me, he inserted a battery-powered dildo into my vagina and used the remote control to make it vibrate and rotate inside. "Next time you try to be funny, it will be with a screwdriver inside. Understand?"

"Yes, sir." I sat up straight and answered military style.

"You know why I'm so happy now?"

"I do not know, sir."

"You see this phone?" It was the iPhone 5.

"Yes, sir. I can see you have the latest iPhone."

"I have programmed it to play my favorite song every time it rings."

"What is your favorite song?"

"I love Katy Perry's Fireworks." He had forgotten I was not supposed to ask questions.

"I love Katy Perry too." If we could have a conversation, he might start to think of me as a human being and stop thinking of me as a job. I could get an opening if he let his guard down.

"Sing with me, will you?"

"Yes, sir. Anything to help you relax." My plan was working.

"Baby, you're a firework...come on show them what you're worth...make them go oh oh oh..." I sang along and moaned the words. His sense of timing was good, remembering each word perfectly.

He relaxed and removed his jeans, freeing up his trapped cock. It sprang up and grinned at me. His foreskin rolled back smoothly, like the doors of an elevator.

"Come closer," I purred. "Let me kiss you."

He bent his knees and lowered himself, closing his eyes as our lips touched. His tongue tried to enter, but I had moved to lick his right cheek. He turned sideways to encourage me, his eyes still closed. My breath was hot and rapid, melting into his face.

My wet tongue skidded until it touched his ear lobe. He stood up to relieve the muscle and joint strain on his knees and thighs.

"Free my legs so we can stand and do this." I spoke in as feminine and soft a voice as I could manage. He raised his eyebrows. "My hands are still secured to the chair. Where can I go?"

He nodded his head and went down on one knee, untying the ropes on my ankles. Not only had he forgotten I was not to ask any questions, I was effectively giving him instructions on what to do.

A minute later, I stood up and managed to loose the dildo by pumping my hips. Although my legs were separated by the arms of the chair, I was tall enough to stand lip to lip with him. We began with the same routine, lips touching briefly, and then my wet tongue slid up to his ear, his eyes closed for maximum enjoyment.

Time slowed down for the next few seconds. After licking his ear lobe, I sunk my jaws on his ear lobe, crushing the soft cartilage and tearing it out before he realized what was happening. His piercing screams came a second later. By then, my forehead had rammed into his nose, the tempo of breaking bones combining with his soprano screams to form music in my ears. He staggered backwards, completely caught by surprise.

I shuffled along with the chair that was still taped to me. Moving backwards, I hammered the chair against the fridge with all my strength. The chair broke into half a dozen pieces, a loud cracking sound exploding, as if providing the soundtrack for an action movie. My arms were still glued to the chair, but my legs and most of my torso were completely free.

Oily Hair had recovered and was holding a knife. He charged at me furiously. I pivoted sideways and smashed the remnants of the chair against his forearm. He yelled in pain and dropped the knife. I kicked the knife along the floor until it was out of range.

I moved backwards and hit the chair against the fridge again. This time, only a few splinters left the chair. A part of the chair had also hit the lever of the ice dispenser, shooting out ice cubes.

I jumped on top of the sink, using only my legs. I was on high ground. Oily Hair tried to do the same. But he stepped on an ice cube. The looked on his face was comical as he tried to stay upright. The more he tried, the more ice cubes he stepped on, sprinting and spinning his wheels in a futile way. The ice cubes spun and slid away from him in all directions. When he went down with a thud, his head bounced off the refrigerator. He was out cold.

Alone in the basement, I found the knife, cut through the tape, and was completely free of the parasitic chair in less than five minutes.

He was still unconscious when I tie a rope around his neck, his hands duct-taped behind. Sooner or later, he was going to tell me who he was working for.

>>>>>

Oily Hair was tough and not easy to break. Worse, I did not have much time to work with. I had to find out what he knew. And I had to find out quickly so I could warn Don.

It was dangerous to interrogate him in the basement. His goons might show up anytime. But I had no choice. I locked the door and hoped that luck was on my side.

I kicked his ribs to force him to come around. When he opened an eye, I pulled the free end of the rope around his neck until he was forced to stand up. It did not take much effort because the rope ran straight up, through a pulley on the ceiling of the basement.

I kept tugging on the rope until he was forced to stand on his toes. He swayed unsteadily, straining and twisting his head sideways to take the pressure off his neck. His hair was no longer pony-tailed, but hung sideways, partially concealing his mutilated ear.

I pushed a stool neared him, careful not to be within reach of his legs. I pulled the rope again, forcing him to stand on the stool. I pulled the stool away from him until he could stand only with one leg on the smooth top of the stool.

"Tell me who you work for and you will live to tell the tale." I secured the free end of the rope around the legs of the refrigerator.

"How do I know you will not let me hang even after I spill the beans?"

"You have no choice but to trust me." I pulled one leg of the stool slightly away. He stood precariously on his left toes, head twisted at ninety degrees, his eyeballs sticking out, a vein on his neck pulsating.

"Okay, lady. Let me sit down so I can think and give you the whole story." His voice was rasping like a chain-saw.

"No deal."

I tipped the stool at an angle. His big toe struggled to stay on it. His breathing was so loud and so rapid it sounded like he was having a seizure and heart attack at the same time. Still, the tough SOB motherfucker would not say a thing.

I increased the tipping angle until he completely slipped off. I had tied the rope around his neck so he would not immediately strangle, and there was no drop, so he would suffer for a while. His face turned reddish-blue, then purple. The pulsating vein on his thick muscled neck glared at me, still defiant.

I had to push the stool back under him again until both his legs stepped on it. He would soon be dead if I did not do that. I was frustrated that this was not working. I needed him alive and he knew it.

I pulled down his jeans to his ankle. He lifted up one leg, then the other so I could pull away his jeans. I left him standing butt naked on the stool, his neck still attached to the pulley.

I picked up a knife and used it to slice through the pair of jeans into two halves. I wrapped one half under my armpits and around my body, tying a knot between my breasts. I tied the other half just below my hips, the knot barely covering my pubic area.

Next, I released the rope so he could step off the chair. Before he got any ideas, I swept his ankles from under him so he fell headlong to the cement floor. His hands, taped behind, made a frantic and unsuccessful effort to break the fall.

"Are you going to suck my cock now? You are sexier now that when you were naked." His nose was bleeding when he said that. This man was thinking with his dick.

I picked up the knife under the sink and held it against his neck.

"Talk, or you will suffer the death of a thousand slices."

He laughed so loudly the building seemed to shake. He was clearly not afraid to die. Neither death by hanging nor death by knife worked on him.

It was time to try another thing. I kicked his hip until he rolled over with his face up.

I pointed the knife at his manhood and noticed he was not circumcised. I rolled back the foreskin, and then pressed the flat part of the knife against his purplish penis head.

"Let's see who will have the last laugh." This time, he was trembling. I had found his weak point.

I rolled forward his foreskin until it was partially restored, then slid the tip of the knife between the foreskin and the glans penis. He was shaking so badly there seemed to be an earthquake.

"Stop shaking or I might accidentally cut you." I ordered.

He was no longer defiant. His eyes were flooded with fear.

"Who?"

His mouth moved as if he was trying to say something, but no words came out.

"Give me a name." I said slowly. There was no need to spell out the threat.

"Please move the knife away."

I complied with his request. The knife glinted as I put in down carefully on the floor. I dragged him to one corner, sitting him against the wall.

"Promise me not to get mad when I tell you the truth."

"I'm listening." I sat down on the floor facing him, making sure my ears were at a safe distance away.

"It's Don." He whispered.

"Don who?"

"Don, your partner."

I connected my elbow with his nose. Fresh blood flowed, pooling on the cement between his legs.

"You're lying." I said in as even a tone as I could.

"Don said he was sick and tired of taking orders from a woman."

"Now I know you are lying. We were equal partners. Nobody took orders from nobody."

"Don did not feel equal because you took 80% of the money and paid him only 20% commission for arranging the hits."

His words struck me like a category five hurricane. I looked into his eyes to figure out if he was lying. It was hard to read. But nobody except Don and I knew about our 80/20 split. It could only have come from Don.

"What else did Don tell you?"

"He was happy working for your dad even though it was the same percentage because your dad taught him everything. But Don taught you everything."

"It seemed you and Don are close. Did you guys fuck?"

"No, no. Don loves ladies."

"Did he tell you how often we fucked? And how much he enjoyed it?"

"Don told me his biggest failure in life is that you rejected him. His biggest wet dream is to get inside your panties."

Everybody in the criminal world taught we were lovers. Oily Hair must be telling the truth. I have one last hit to carry out.

>>>>>

It was almost midnight by the time I got to the outskirts of Las Vegas. The entire city was before me as I turned a corner, the lights laid out beautifully like a gigantic spider web. How could a city that was so beautiful be so filthy and sinful? Even its suburbs like Boulder City housed an evil liar, a man low enough to betray my trust. Such evil deserved to be punished. I pondered how I should go about killing him.

I pulled over at a small unmanned gas station without a supermarket. The car's empty gas symbol had been flashing for the last ten miles. I inserted Oily Hair's credit card in the slot, pressed the button for the lowest grade of gas, and refilled the tank. The total came up to sixty dollars, all charged to Oily Hair's account.

I lowered my head to make sure the overhead security camera did not capture my face. I was wearing Oily Hair's leather jacket, which reached down to my thighs. My hair was about the same length as Oily Hair, so the low resolution monochrome camera should confirm that it was him at the gas station, corroborating the evidence from the credit card swipe.

After closing the lid to the gas tank, I fired up the engine and drove to the back of the gas station, where the only toilet was located. There was another car in front, so I killed the engine and sat in the car, patiently waiting. I looked around to make sure there were no cameras at the back of the gas station. Oily hair had an old-fashioned revolver in glove compartment, which I held between my legs.

It had only been a few hours since Arizona, but the shock of his near-hanging ordeal must have loosened his bladder muscles. I did not want the naked Oily Hair, bound and gagged in the trunk of his own Ford Taurus, to mess up the car. It would distract law enforcement from coming to the easy conclusion that Oily Hair, an obvious criminal figure, had murdered Don.

A tall skinny man, wearing torn jeans and a sleeveless shirt, emerged from the bathroom. He had his keys in his hands, and was about to enter his car when he saw me from the corner of his eye. He walked to the side of the Taurus, tapping the window, rotating his arm, simulating what he thought was necessary to wind down the window. I pushed the button on the side of the driver's window.

"Yes?" I hid the gun under the leather jacket, pointing sideways at him.

"Lady, the bathroom is blocked. I could not flush after I did my business." He leaned over to look inside. He did not have a weapon, and the one inch gap did not allow him to reach inside. The doors were locked.

"Thank you for telling me."

"If you're heading into the city, the next gas station is just ten miles away."

"Okay. Thanks for letting me know."

"Or you could come to my place, which is only one mile away, in the foothills of the Mount Wilson Wilderness area. I have a large and very comfortable bathroom." He winked as he spoke, his eyebrows moving up when he completed the sentence. He had seen my face and I was trying to decide whether to squeeze the trigger. There were no witnesses except Oily Hair in the trunk. He did not see anything incriminating, and even if he did, he would make a bad witness in court.

"How bad is the blockage in there?" I decided to give him a chance. It was against my personal code to kill innocent bystanders. I did not believe in collateral damage.

"Come out here and let me show you." He turned his back and started walking to the bathroom.

I placed the revolver back in the glove box, took the keys, and followed at a safe distance. The winds in the desert were surprisingly strong, slicing into my bare legs. I walked barefoot on the sand, avoiding the sharp stones.

He was inside the one-person stall. "Look, there's too much paper stuck inside." His voice echoed off the concrete walls.

The steel door was half way opened. When I looked in, his hands surrounded me and touched my breasts. I spun around at lightning speed. In a blur of motion, I twisted one of his arms behind him, kicked the back of his legs, and forced him to kneel.

"You bitch, teasing me by wearing nothing under the waist." He turned his neck sideways to yell at me.

I pushed his wrist up between his shoulder blades. "Does that make it right for you to attempt to rape me?"

"Of course, you're asking for it."

He reached back and grabbed my hair with his free hand, forcing me to kick him between the shoulder blades, landing him face down. I sat on his neck, using my full body weight to grind his face into the hard concrete floor. Seconds later, I released the pressure slightly, allowing him to turn sideways to breathe. It was a trap. I jabbed the sharp end of the key into his left eye. Pain shot through his system so sharply he was too shocked to scream. Capitalizing on his split second weakness, I dragged him forward and muscled his head into the filthy toilet bowl.

Choking on the floating debris, his hands swung wildly in all directions. I slammed down the steel toilet cover and jumped on top of it, crushing his chest and breaking a couple of ribs. I kept jumping on the cover, the cracking sound of his ribs popping like fireworks, his screams smothered by the swirling mixture of human deposits and toilet paper. It took a full minute before it was over.

Exhausted, I crawled back to the car, drove it to an abandoned construction site, and fell asleep.

An hour later, I woke up to the urine stench from the trunk. I had forgotten to let Oily Hair out and he had wet his pants. I drove to a quite side street, popped the trunk, and dragged Oily Hair out.

"Pee." I ordered the naked man.

His hands were bound behind, so I held his penis. Only a few drops escaped from him.

"Please, don't kill me," he pleaded. "I didn't betray you. It was Don."

"We are going to Don's house. If I find out you are lying, you will wish you had never been born." I rolled up his foreskin, flicked the penis head with my index finger, and rolled it back.

"I'm not lying, I swear."

"Don't raise your voice, or I cut you here." He walked back, climbed into the trunk, and folded his body into the tight space.

It was three in the morning when I parked a block from Don's house. I disabled the alarm and climbed the fence into his backyard. The house was dark and quiet.

I inserted and twisted a wire into the keyhole of the kitchen door, easily unlocking it. The glass door slid sideways silently; Don had maintained his house well. I took a knife from a kitchen drawer.

I recognized his snore from the open door of his bedroom. Unzipping the front of my leather jacket, I tiptoed quietly until I entered the bedroom. From the street lights, I could see he had no company. Good.

I removed the jacket, dropped it to the floor, and eased into his bed, naked. Pressing my breasts against his bare back, I nibbled his ear lobe, resisting the urge to sever it. As usual, he slept raw.

"Don," I purred. "I escaped and killed them all. Let's celebrate."

"Ashley, are you sure you want this?" He twisted his neck to look at me. "I'd fantasized about this ever since I first set my eyes on you." Before he turned his shoulders, I climbed on his back, hooking his legs with my ankles and spreading them apart. "Why now?"