The Assassins Gambit: She who has the Amethyst Eyes

[snowleopard3200]

"Assassin," the term itself brings to mind the common thug on the street, killing for robbery or fun; the professionals of Mafia fame and infamy; the cloak and dagger of spy stories or of the great James Bond and his efforts to stop the very villian he often winds up seducing (if a lady).

Yet the assassin as a professional covers many lands and times; bringing an interesting question, what would happen if a band of assassins has gained control of a town; only to be challenged by those of another culture?

In a challenge of knife and poison; shadow and silence to bring death and gain life; in the endless game played for control and vengence long denied, who will win?

This is the story of one such figure, a woman who simply is She who has the Amethyst Eyes and her companion.

Come with me as the tale unfolds part by part; to answer the ultimate question, in the clash of cultures who will win and who will die...

Who shall emerge victorious in the Assassins Gambit...

[snowleopard3200]

Just outside the town of Providence, four figures close upon their target – an old, battered household that is battered by the raging storm that conceals their movements. Biting winds drive the fierce, chilling rain almost horizontal, blocking all spoken communications between the four until they reach a small sheltering grove of woods.

The leader of the four, Finneous, motions instructions to his associates in the silent sign language used by the Assassins Guild; though they already know their goal, no mistakes will be tolerated this night, the contract must be fulfilled…no survivors and no evidence is to be left behind.

On that the Grandfather of Assassins, the true ruler of the guild and of Providence is clear.

Silent as death, they move between shadows illuminated moment by moment as lightning dances across the sky. Here one darts to a tree, then to lay behind a small shrub; there one dashes between flashes to the shelter of a low wall surrounding the house.

All too easy, everything has been prepared to perfection for such an easy kill.

Even the cities Constables, the law enforcement agents of Providence – of course all are under guild control – arrange to be ‘elsewhere’ at this hour. The plans of the house, down to the smallest detail, were secured by yet another band of guild agents, allowing for precision planning…

All too easy, nothing can possibly go wrong.

Finneous though will take no chances, for dumb luck has on more than one occasion interrupted his plans. He gives a hundred count, making sure no movement occurs…

Seeing, sensing and hearing nothing he motions with one hand to his companions. Of the three, Cinnius heads to cover the back door with his small crossbow, Gordon and Gerald move to the side entrance of the pantry and kitchen.

Between flashes of lightning and echoing roars of thunder they go; undetected, they reach the house of the banker betrayed by his partners. Swift and efficient they enter, and in less than five minutes the whole affair is complete, leaving the family dead and the house aflame from front to back. No survivors, that is what they had been charged to do, and thus they have achieved.

An easy night of work; eliminate an entire family, torch the house to cover the crime.

Save for one potential complication – one young girl, the middle member of the children, was not at the house. All four of them agree to say nothing more, knowing the extreme death waiting for them if the Grandfather of the guild finds out.

Besides what problems could one stripling of a girl alone in the world honestly cause them…

**************************

The gentleman known as Shan Tiel to everyone in the area watched the fires as they consumed the house; from the shadows he had seen the four assassins enter and exit with exceptional skills. Not one of the four had seen Grandfather when he approached within four feet of their path coming and going.

“Amateurs,” he declared softly, disdain for these so-called ‘professionals’ of the West.

If not for the charge he has been entrusted with by the now deceased banker, he would have finished this band of idiots just for the sake of pragmatism. They give a bad name to what it means to be a true assassin.

He could just envision how the battle would take place, brief and absolute in its finality…

Emerging from the cover he would take the last in line with a quick, flat edged hand chop to the throat, instantly crushing it and sending him into a gurgling death…

Twin, envenomed knives would take the middle two in their hearts; the quivering spasms of death wracking the expressions of shock and horror on their faces…

Their leader in front, the one he knows as Finneous from past dealings, would fall in a personal matter…his iron shod staff smashing bone and crushing organs in close up battle; or if the coward flees then he would send the throwing stars into his back – each one with the same deadly venom as his knives hold…

Tonight he cannot give in to the desires…

Giving a quiet two hundred count while still concealed by his tiger striped cloak, bits of foliage aiding in the disguise of him being a part of the tree and shrubs, he listens with ears keener than many. He moves nary a bit, even as biting insects crawl over him.

He knows when dealing with fellow hunters like the assassins, there is only room for one mistake; of course being from the Far East, HE is the true hunter in this game.

He slowly eases into a half crouch, then to a full stance as he looks about, listening, sniffing the air, all to make sure the quartet of assassins have indeed passed beyond the area.

In his sheltering arms is the little girl, the one with the amethyst eyes and muted voice. Her terror filled death hug lets him know just how scared she truly is, though still young and small for her age, he will make sure that no harm comes to her…

No matter what he will make sure no harm comes to her; her fathers desperate plea with him, to pick one out of the twelve kids to be saved raked his heart raw, having given the warning of the coming hit by the guild. So it was he swept her up, out the door and into hiding here just ahead of the assassins.

So there was nothing he could do, to prevent the slaughter of his son and grandchildren.

He could save only one, yet there will be justice delivered, if not by him then by another.

He keeps his firm grip on the little girl who hugs him in a terror filled death hug; her eyes filled with amethyst fires. When her father had come to meet him, only the girl was with him; then the father had rushed back to save his family, too late to do little more than die with them.

“You need a new name now,” he told her in the melodious accent of the Far Eastern lands, “what do you wish to be known as my granddaughter?”

Very slowly the girl extended her coat clad arm, gloved fingers tracing a series of moves into his hand. Indeed, mute that she may be, the ease of her ability with the sign language of his family’s profession – fellow assassins like himself – demonstrating the intelligence that lies behind those wonderful eyes.

He nodded approval.

“So be it, so you shall be called my granddaughter; understand this much though, for now, you must remain silent with your new name and forget the old. To the rest of the world, you are only known as granddaughter, one of many orphans I have raised over the years,” he said.

“Due to your eyes few must know of your existence; so life will not be easy for you, yet there is something I will teach you to do,” he said with a determined look on his face.

He calculated the time that passed since the quartet of assassins left; then figured the observers for the guild of assassins will be along shortly – to make sure the contract was carried out in its entirety.

“We must go now. I will teach you from today to become a hunter of your own. You will not bring terror to the innocent; instead you will hunt the hunters and their agents; to teach those who use terror what it means to be subject of terror in turn."

So it is the two depart into the hills, far from the city to the place they call home.

Neither of them look back at the old life, the end of a family for her.

Yet the two of them, the old man and the young girl with the amethyst eyes know the books will be balanced in time.

The assassins consider their hunt completed, just one of hundreds the quartet has carried out to success.

They have made their one mistake.

[onehandedtypist]

I'm liking what I've read so far. Hope there will be more soon, snowleopard

[ELaken-Palmer]

Very good as per usual. I remember you writing another story along these same lines. I really liked this beginning and the promise of the story to come from it.

[snowleopard3200]

Originally Posted by ELaken-Palmer

Very good as per usual. I remember you writing another story along these same lines. I really liked this beginning and the promise of the story to come from it.

You are correct ELP, this is the second assassins gambit story; the first one was a relative brief one in lenght; this is a full story to be told, and hopefully enjoyed by many.

Needless to say in this game of East vs West, there are a few suprises in store.

I hope everyone enjoys.

[snowleopard3200]

Grandfather just smiled with delight as he looked upon her, lying next to him on her stomach on their bed; his fingers moved with soft, feather gentleness across her bared skin. He began with her one bared cheek, her head turned his way and those wonderful eyes dancing with such humor, life and love for him.

Moving in a slow spiral outward from the center, he soon reached her lips and playfully caressed them across the top and then the bottom, exploring each portion of them in turn. The feel of her warm breath upon his fingers brought a tingling delight to his mind, his old body still up to the entertaining of a young lady, one who is no longer a girl – she reached her majority a week ago, and asked for this night as her gift from him.

He slips his finger into her mouth, caressing the inside of her lips and stroking against her teeth, taking delight in the growing blush upon her cheek. Moving back to her upper lip, he continues his fingertip exploration, up to her nose and around each of her eyes – especially along her brows, bringing a soft shudder to her body as her eyes gently close for the moment.

His fingers begin to massage around her brows and then back along her exposed ear, drawing forth a smile on her ruby red lips as a content little sigh escapes past them. She draws her hands up under the pillow her head is resting upon, while her bared skin shines with the moonlight flowing in from the twin sliding doors that are open to the outside world.

Her one arm flickers for just a moment, the hand setting more secure under the pillow.

Grandfather moves along the back of her head with his fingers, caressing and massaging her neck along the sides and back, cupping them along the front so all of his hand is on her skin. He then begins in soft, circling and kneading moves; she gives another soft sigh of contentment, her shoulders sagging ever so slightly as she begins to relax more and more.

His eyes look up as he picks up the faintest of movement through the floorboards, a vibration and a soft sound so subtle most would assume a mouse had scampered across the room.

Running his hand down along both sides of her spine, he uses the other hand to support his leaning form; this move also brings him closer to one of his hidden throwing knives – envenomed of course – to deal with any unseen attacker…

The young lady turns her head away from him, muscles on her back twitching in delight from his caressing touch. Once more there is a soft sigh that escapes her lips.

Bending down he places his lips on her skin, kissing inch by salty tasting inch from mid shoulder to the lower back; all the while his eyes watch for the next shadow to move, ears listening for the next sound to be made as the unknown intruder approaches.

His fingers flow to the side of her abdomen, drawing a constant, squirming, squiggling motion from her.

A faint sound comes forth through the wall, telling him the exact location of the intruder.

It also provides the information to another as well…

Faster than a snake’s strike her arm shoots out, hand releasing the slender knife into the throw.

The sharp, cracking retort of the blade biting through the wood is heard by both of them.

Burying itself to the blades hilt, she sees that her aim has been true. She then resumes her comfortable position on the feathered matting, hands back under the pillow, waiting for Grandfather to continue his ministrations.

======

The intruder, the man of mystery from the Far East simply known as the Associate – and designated helper for the one with the amethyst eyes, calmly stands in his place, one leg in half stride, foot prepared to step across the walls frame to another small joint projecting slightly outward.

Such a move on this outer wall, along the structures fourth floor and some three hundred feet over a cliff to the jagged rocks below would be child’s play.

He wanted to see the gift being given by Grandfather to the young lady.

He has to remember, as of today he is HER Associate, despite her name being forbidden to him, as he has denied his own name until the stain on his and the family honor has been expunged. Normally he would work alone to have his revenge, yet Grandfather – to whom his family owes an old debt – has him working with her.

He had regarded her as nothing more than a plaything for the old man; even as quick witted and concise as the plan she has developed for their job in Providence…

He gently swings his body around 180 degrees, pivoting on the toes of his other foot, then begins the climb back the way he came; he will never underestimate her again.

His gaze is drawn back to the point of a blade extending a finger length through the wood; the gleaming poison on its shiny surface clear to his trained eyes…and the fact her aim was such that she missed his manhood by a hairs breadth.

Deliberately missed - the sharpened edge of the blade turned upward towards him.

No more curiosity for him, he will now focus solely on the mission, and the justice long denied to him for the crimes committed by the guilds Grandfather of Assassins.

The fate he has planned for that one will be most enjoyable indeed.

[ELaken-Palmer]

Tit for tat and she almost nipped his tat at that. Surprised me that SHE threw the knife when I had expected it from her grandfather. You never know.

[snowleopard3200]

ELP - at least Associate got the point without getting the point or anything else, dont forget the blade tip was poisoned as well as sharp.

Imagine having to explain that to a doctor:

"Yes Doc' I got cut there and the poison...Doc? Why are you drawing straws to see who deals with the poison?"

[snowleopard3200]

Grandfather just chuckled as she rolled onto her back, those lustrous amethyst eyes alive with humor; his delight in her actions is obvious as she holds her arms out for him, the invitation loud and clear in their unspoken dance of love.

Easing his robe off, he carefully lies across her body, supporting the bulk of his weight upon his slender, old and iron strong arms while she parts her legs, sliding them gently around his hips, and begins to move them in caressing movements along his own.

He begins to kiss her lips, which she returns with fiery intensity, the glow of her cheeks deepening with each passing moment. Kiss after gentle, pecking kiss embraces her cheeks and then along the jaw to her chin, her smile concealing a barely visible gulp while one hand moves to stroke her neck; generating a small shudder and twitch of her body, a silent giggle parting her lips while arms and legs writhe in joyous, frantic bliss.

One small tickle follows a second, then three more, resulting in greater and greater gyrations from she with the amethyst eyes. Tears of joy welled in those eyes, flowing down cheeks to the waiting mouth of grandfather who pressed his lips gently on each drop – his grin shows to her how he savors each salty one.

For her, she absolutely loves the swirling scents of Grandfather while he is so close; often she has been next to him in slumber, but never in such a manner as this…the thought of what is to come so soon filled her with a bit of dread and expectation of ecstatic bliss…the final mystery of mysteries to be explored.

Her eyes closed as his hand cuffed the back of her neck, supporting it with great strength and gentle, warming touch; the small vibrating motion of each finger muscle told of his iron control of the body, massaging and finding each sensuous nerve in the area, bringing an unexpected surge of euphoric heat from deep within and down below, where she feels the beginnings of a wetness build…

Then he shifted his hand away, teasing her with a gentle tickle…

One fingertip of his free hand began to explore, resting at first upon the very base of her ribs, to flow upward in a narrow, focused, undulating trail that sent a cornucopia of feelings surging into all portions of her mind.

Sharp and sweet, tart and tangy, dull and dense; words without form for feelings that cannot be described but only imagined in a harmony like a series of streams forging into a mighty river as all join together. One sharp intake of breath bringing a heavenly profusion of scents – the lingering steam and droplets of water from the bathing room nearby; the slightest trace of old cologne and musk, of earthly rich men smells, and forest heathers of women who have been here in the rooms many centuries of existence.

The fingertip became a flattened palm, easing along the edge of her breast, slowly tracing the edge while swirling in small, gentle circles. One circuit became two, then four, and moved to the other breast to do the same. Twice more this looping symbol of infinity proceeded; the hand caressed and massaged more and more area of each breasts.

She heard and felt her breath quickening, her head making a small circle as electrical charges of pure bliss tingled their way up in her body; each one in turn unleashed a pleasant surge of energy, invigorating and easing, the raw potential of life made reality. Stroke by gentle stroke the infinite pattern flowed, kneading and shaping her breasts until they crossed the erect nipples; that first gracing contact sent a coursing pulse of passion along all the paths of her body, surging and rebounding until it returned a hundred fold in intensity that almost became overwhelming.

Her back arched as shoulders thrust back; both hands quickly clenching the covering of the bed they shared, all but pulling it inward due to the sheer bliss dominating her body; muscles twitched and squirmed, nerves firing in delight and demanding they be touched to give her even more pleasure than she has ever experienced to this point in her life.

Unto its journey the hand continued, seeking out with almost desperate haste the other nipple; its trail a clear path illuminated by fires of bliss as it moved along my skin. Pulse after beating pulse surged in this journey to flow outward as the ripples on a pond, yet with the force of a cascade among a mighty river.

Just short of contact her body could take no more, pushed to the edge faster than even Grandfather had figured as her body moved in excited, euphoric motion; one silent cry of primal passion after another expressed on her parted lips until her climax hit, being released in one moment of uttermost Nirvana bliss.

She signed him not to stop, to finish her requested gift for the night, while she still was ready. Nothing was to interfere from here on out…nothing if she could help it at all.

Her hands slide along his back, teasing and caressing, until they meet with the fingers entwining to hold him securely in place. She closes her eyes, neck arching slightly in response to the kisses he now places along it, while a series of soft sighs escape her lips that open and close in silent calls of building lust.

When he enters into her womanhood, she grabs him tight as a surge of pain passes from the sundering of her virginity; no matter how gentle he can be; she feels like a blade has entered her gut, delivering pain for a moment like none before in her life.

Her face scrimped in pain as he continued to press inward…

He had warned her it would come, and pass just as quickly.

From his gentle and firm action, move after move, she begins to feel a fiery bliss flow up her body like a river of molten metal; the heat and intensity redoubling with each inch it passes unto her brain. Her breath quickens as she lays there, ears listening to the gentle, steady breathing of Grandfather.

She kisses him on the neck, a sloppily wet one followed by a second and a third.

All too soon the wonderment of this time of pleasure comes to an end, as he reaches the limit of his body’s endurance and restraint, sending his life seed deep into her body.

“I’m sorry it did not last as long, or would be as enjoyable as it should have been Granddaughter; the first time for any man or woman is the most awkward, until the mystery is passed and the world widens for them both,” he explained to her.

She bent forward enough; her flexibility would excite sheer envy from any contortionist, and looked with a bit of wonder on the traces of his seed coming out of her womanhood.

Her hand came up to his cheek, gently caressing it in thanks and with love.

His hand encompassed hers, allowing him to take delight in the softness of her skin, the slight perspiration on the surface.

“So you and your Associate leave for Providence soon?” he asked.

In their shared, silent sign language she explains that they depart in two weeks.

She looks upon the one who she loves so much with wonder, hoping to share so many more such moments as this night before the hunt begins.

For the last ten years he has raised her, teaching her languages and writing, the art of alchemy belonging to the assassins of the Far East. The way of the sword and the bow, the throwing stars and daggers; many weapons for all situations she may encounter…and so much more.

The greatest weapon she has, as he once challenged her to guess, is her mind.

Yet he taught her so much more than to be a ‘living weapon;’ she loves to dance with him under the stars, to fish and hunt, to play chess, and so much more.

In short, he taught her how to live and enjoy life day by day.

Two short weeks before she heads to Providence; two weeks she intends to enjoy to the fullest with her new lover, making love as much as he will permit.

Contently she rolls onto her side and slowly drifts off to sleep while he serenades her.

She dreams of their time together in the two weeks to come; now that she has become a woman, she will do more than just pleasure his manhood with her lips and tongue, all he would let her do for some time now. They will make love from dawn to dusk and into the many nights they have left.

Her dreams recall those times, from the first taste of grandfathers manhood on her lips, his seed spilling into her mouth and his apologies when she choked; to the way he explained what to do…

Yes indeed, their remaining time together will be wonderful.

When she awakens with the coming of dawn, she learns that dream is eternally shattered.

======

Her Associate stands silently off to the side of the small shrine where Grandfathers ashes have been laid to rest, the two horses he holds, their mounts, remain silent as if paying respect to the old man as well as she with the amethyst eyes.

He just shakes his head, amazed that the one he is to work with shows such a range of emotions; he made the promise to never underestimate her again, yet the sheer display of skill in her plan – and the contingencies for events and opportunities that may arise, is the work of a true master.

Only the slightest glimmer of a tear shows as it flows down her cheek; the only weakness he has seen in her during the time they have come to know one another.

Crazy as it sounds, he wonders if there is a chance for them; once the hunt is done, to have a relationship with each other…

Let the future come as it does, right now other matters need to be focused upon…such as the pets he needs to purchase once in town; secure their shelter and make sure they are sufficiently hungry for when the time comes to have his revenge…

He can almost pity the fate in store for the Grandfather of Assassins…almost.

“I just hope he screams loud and long when he meets his fate,” he says to himself.

[ELaken-Palmer]

Some of the best descriptions of physical and emotional love I have ever read. Breathtaking writing here.

[nicelymoistly]

What an enchanting story and wonderfully written, please dont leave it too long for the next chapter.

[snowleopard3200]

ELP - thanks.

Nicely - the chapters will go up about every three days. I make sure to double check them before posting each one and after posting while any editing needs to be done.

Glad your liking the story so far; soon enough things get deadly.

Wait until the Sister in Blue makes her apperance in the next chapter.

[itsagirlthing]

I like it!, wonder what's her plan for revenge..:D

[SW1]

Excellent, I'm captivated.
SW

[snowleopard3200]

In the depths of a vacant shop, one long boarded up, shelves thick with dust and cobwebs the only sound to be heard is the deep, rasping, moaning gasps of an older man. Dressed in a well tailored suit, most would assume him to be a servant for one of the rich merchants of Providence; yet if they knew his true position, they would run off screaming…to an early, pain filled death as they were hunted down and slaughtered before their kin, who would then suffer the same fate.

He is the butler and right hand man of Master Gordon of the guild of Assassins, not to mention being a deadly killer in his own right.

His hands grip the shops dusty counter that pushes into his back as he fights to remain upright; waves of giddy, pulsating, undulating heat and electrical like sensations of pleasure flow into his mind; too many years have passed since he has felt this way, and now to have such a lady as this take such interest in him, for such a fairly cheap price as well…

One of the legendary Sisters of the Blue, a small gathering of courtesans renowned for their mastery of the erotic and tantric arts, showing interest in HIM!!!

Truly the legends of their abilities are justified, and then some.

One raspy breath after another passes his lips, chest heaving in and out like a bellows, one shudder after another causes his body to flex and flow about, as he feels like his brain is now turning to slush before a furnace, about to flow away completely in a cloud of steam.

Gently, gracefully and teasingly the Sister’s lips play along the length of his manhood; pausing to kiss and swirl around the sensitive base of its head. With a whirlwind of small, precise strokes of her tongue she induces wave after soaring, roaring, cascading wave into his body along the narrow ravines of his nervous system; one wave upon the other; building into a tsunami of force and lustful fires, threatening to crash his mind; with oblivion coming then and there from excitement matching that of a wild stallion proclaiming victory for dominance of a herd of mares.

For the first time in years he feels so FREE and TRULY ALIVE!!!

Where such a woman as this could be trained in such matters?

He has to find out?

Grunt after grunt echoes around the empty shop, his fists commence to pound upon the counter as he strains to hold back the growing pressure upon his manhood. He understands that for so long he has been an oxen, who by choice and confinement in the mansion of his boss, been effectively bound and castrated from enjoying such fine carnal pleasures as this…

Oh the heady perfume she wears, soft and gentle yet being hard as iron and unyielding as the deepest stones in the earth; elusive as a ghost while being here and now as a moment of time that is eternal.

She eases one hand upward, gently teasing and tickling his twin set of chestnuts just below his manhood, while being unaware of the small surprise lying just within her fingernails edges. If this man dares to draw the hidden set of blades or the fine wire garrote up his left sleeve, then the poison will kill him within seconds, thus forcing a small change in her plans for the near future.

His laughter grows from a small series of chuckles to wild, manic, hysterically insane sounds carrying loud and long outside the shop; though no one in the area dares to pay attention – ignore such sounds that may mean guild business is going on and you stay alive for today…maybe…

He feels like his eyes have crossed over into the opposite sockets, his strength being drawn out of him by the constant, heat flowing, headiness of her actions. Oh if he only could get his wife or the other girlfriends and mistresses he has – each convinced they are ‘his true love’ – to do thus to him, as well as or better than she.

For the second time he counts his blessed fortunes at having a Sister of the Blue come to HIM for so low of a price; one simple transition and future meetings such as this will become ever easier to arrange.

Blackmail can be so fun of a game sometimes; especially if she desires to remain in one piece, not to mention alive for some time to come.

He wonders for a bit how much he can charge his associates for them having their intimacy with her; and not risk being sold out to Master Gordon or the Grandfather of Assassins…

Yes, such a low price to pay for gaining leverage over this one, as any true assassin would do…

Of course his master may not see it that way, yet what he does not know will not cause him to slaughter the butler in the most vicious of means possible…if he was lucky, being flayed of all skin, doused in vinegar and then covered in cheese to be fed to rabid rats would be a true blessing.

But that will not happen, his master may be a powerful figure in the guild, yet HE, the butler, controls the day to day events at Master Gordon’s estate – no one will know, just as he has smuggled and embezzled millions of gold coins, gems and artwork over the years, others paying the price for his actions…

He easily could have afforded one of the Sisters at their normal, outrageous fees of ten or more year’s wages for a normal worker, just for one hour of ‘entertainment’ by them. Some people have become so indebted to them, that they in turn become servants of the Sisters, forever.

The two things that give the sisters such power aside from their mastery of the sexual arts, is the sheer beauty of each one – plus the sheer sapphire blue eyes they have (hence the ‘blue’ in their title); AND the fact that each one is mute from birth, thus all secrets told in their presence can be kept safe from revelation.

Those who control the Sisters make sure they never learn to communicate in any means, reading, writing, or such save by a limited sign language centered on the sexual arts. Though they are free in how to pleasure and please their clientele, they shall never be free of the powerful influence and control of the guild that dominates their entire lives.

Secrets and boasts safe with the Sisters; so be it.

The Butler spends some time explaining to her as she gently strokes his manhood, rapt attention paid to him as he tells story after story about the guild and their waves of terror and murder used for control; her smile shows the excitement brewing deep in her body, seeing him as a champion of champions against those who dare to oppose the way things are – the Guild of Assassins rules, nothing else can replace it.

Or so he assumes.

Gently she teases the very tip of his manhood with the tip of a fingernail, drawing him to the edge of madness and back again and again; her smile of wonderful bliss combined with rapt attention to the pigs constant stream of false heroics masks the uttermost contempt she feels to him…

And wonders if it would not be better to simply scratch a bit too hard, jump back and watch as the poison goes into effect…no not yet; the time for such petty matters is not at hand.

Her hands take hold of his manhood and begin to stroke it, fast-slow-fast-faster-slower, the speed changing enough to build him up, back down some and then build up again.

His rasping breath continues to deepen, eyes crossing as he nears his peak.

She slides his manhood back between those moist, soft, commanding lips and continues onward, until with a half-grunted shout he hits his release spilling his life seed into her mouth.

His roar of triumph is matched by the sudden, unexpected blow he delivers to the side of her head, sending her sprawling to the floor.

“Just a reminder of who you are dealing with lady, the first hint of betrayal at all…” he finished with a motion of his hand across his throat, fires alight in his eyes.

She resumes her position on her knees, pretending nothing has happened at all.

As per their deal, she opens her mouth to show his entire life seed is there, and then swallows it down.

She smiles at him, happy to have given him such pleasure; while on the inside she steams at having to put up with such a brute of an animal, castration would be too good for him…give him over to a band of wild women, wielding knives and they will have him as the main course at a banquet…

Only the fact of the reward for dealing with him keeps her temper in check; even though she will be spewing her guts out for the next couple of hours when she gets home, the overall gains are worth it.

Revenge against this man will come soon enough.

With a smile wider than he has displayed in years he carefully hands over a trio of half-bloomed roses wrapped in paper.

“My dear Sister in Blue, the next time you wish to have more roses, let me know. I will gladly bring them to you for an ‘exchange of services’ such as you provided tonight,” the butler stated.

“Just remember,” he angrily said, suddenly grabbing her by the throat with enough force to leave bruises upon her skin.

“The first time I feel you have betrayed me in the least, your death will be most enjoyable for me,” he stated.

Both of them depart the vacant shop, one of many properties the butler’s employer owns, and thus he has keys to for such ‘business matters.’

The butler heads off now on other matters; specifically the owner of the new flower shop, the girl known as ‘Clairice,’ the one who is friends with the madman that makes the gadgets for the guild.

She has expressed interest in the newest roses Master Gordon has been developing, ones like the three he has given to the Sister in Blue. Yes, he shall make his demands known soon enough, and may have another one to add to his mistresses – or he may just kill her outright, depending on his particular whim of the moment.

Yes life is good and Master Gordon will never know of the missing flowers being by his own hands.

The game he is playing with the roses has endless possibilities…

If he understood the role he unknowingly plays in the 'Sisters' larger game; the terror would cause his heart to stop on the spot.

[ELaken-Palmer]

Great sexual situations and murderous innuendo on display here. I really loved this line... He feels like his eyes have crossed over into the opposite sockets... brings a vivid word-picture to mind. Very good writing here.

[snowleopard3200]

Originally Posted by ELaken-Palmer

Great sexual situations and murderous innuendo on display here. I really loved this line... He feels like his eyes have crossed over into the opposite sockets... brings a vivid word-picture to mind. Very good writing here.

Thanks ELP

[SW1]

The plot build as you add another erotic layer to the story. "One of the legendary Sisters of the Blue, a small gathering of courtesans renowned for their mastery of the erotic and tantric arts"...
I look forward to folowing the adventure and learning more.
SW

[snowleopard3200]

Originally Posted by SW1

The plot build as you add another erotic layer to the story. "One of the legendary Sisters of the Blue, a small gathering of courtesans renowned for their mastery of the erotic and tantric arts"...
I look forward to folowing the adventure and learning more.
SW

Just remember that within the gambit, nothing is as it seems; the world of the assassin has secrets within secrets.

[snowleopard3200]

Finneous just strolled along on the main fair-through of Providence, taking in his ever expanding empire of buildings and shops he secretly owns. His wealth over the last ten years has grown exponentially, all of it due to his cut of the fees paid to eliminate one banker and his family.

Indeed, ten years is a long time, now he had power, rank and wealth known only to a few; those who part ways to let him pass, his rank clear by the finest of black suits encompassing his iron-trimmed muscular frame. For the suicidal who may challenge him, the small crossbow bouncing at his hip – always loaded with a envenomed bolt – is ready.

None dare to challenge him, for he is one of the Masters of the Guild of Assassins; one of the finest and of the deadliest, only rivaled by Gordon, Gerald and Cinnius his old associates…and of course the Grandfather of Assassins and his ever shifting plots within plots…

…no that one he will never challenge, preferring the luxury of life to the finality of death after hideous amounts of torture…

The thought of the last execution he had seen, a man covered in molten cheese and lowered head first into a pit filled with hungry, rabid rats…even for one as hardened as he; the screams gave him nightmares for weeks afterwards…as the Grandfather of Assassins intended, a warning as well as punishment…

Yes here in his domain he is safe, based on his ability to control others by their fears – of death, pain, and of punishment or fierce skill in blade, knife and a hundred other weapons. By controlling their fears, he has control of all those around him.

He forgot one rule though, ancient and absolute: What happens when one who does not fear is a hunter as well?

“Oh it feels so good to be a king within my own little domain here in the city…” he chuckles to himself. Yes it is good to be king over a small portion of the world.

======

Two sets of eyes watch as Finneous heads down the street, following the same pattern each day. Same time, route, movement, and such…predictable, and thus vulnerable; in becoming predictable, he has become so very vulnerable…

Without anyone else noticing the two have a quick conversation, using the silent hand language; if all goes well, they will need to move quick.

======

Two soft, gentle eyes watch as the assassin heads down the street; day after day he follows the same set route, no deviation and secure in his own personal domain. Indeed in this area of Providence he is a king, and true to style, the watcher here has a gift for him.

They play this same game each day just as he passes the doorstop leading into her home; she hopes the gift will be especially pleasing to him today. Already a gentleman had purchased one of her half-blooming roses for his girlfriend. Old men can be such romantics she figures, and the girlfriend must be so fortunate to have him as her friend.

======

Finneous passes by one of the few privately owned shops in the area, the small stone building is home to a new florist, who also deals in odds and ends she trades for from other merchants. Such is the budding reputation of her work that many people of influence and power, not to mention members of the guild, visit to purchase her creations.

Her only known companion is that old and completely insane toymaker Darius; his genius for making gadgets and mechanical contraptions is just as legendary, as he has the golden opportunity to behold first hand.

Darius shows the girl…lets see, what her name…Clairice is, yes Clairice, which is her name…a small, egg-sized ball in one of his hands that slowly move and shifts. Gradually it becomes a mechanical canary that starts to sing.

So sweet and true is the song that many real canaries in nearby trees join in the song.

She silently claps her hands, her voice long muted by a vicious cut she took to the throat – he has seen the scar personally under the scarf that covers it constantly.

Heading over, he gives a soft cough to make his presence known, and indicates the mechanical bird with one hand. He offers a ridiculously low sum for the creature; Darius bristles until the girl locks him in place with a truly stern gaze, thus saving the assassin the need to kill him for a minor insult.

Clairice agrees on the price, obviously not wanting to risk offending the assassin.

When he gives her the coins for the purchase she bows to excuse herself then goes back into the shop. Darius just shrugs his shoulders and heads off on whatever business his madness holds, his deep blue robe covered in weird mathematic symbols flowing about him in the breeze.

As the assassin heads down the street he knows he is being watched; his expression feigns interest in his newest toy while actually keeping track of each person moving about him. Soon enough he discerns the one who he has been waiting for – on time and for once holding something of great interest to him.

======

The two who watch the progress of Finneous up the street have another quick conversation in the silent hand language; the second of the two bows slightly, then proceeds to deliver his ‘gift,’ knowing that there will be little time as things come to a head.

The first continues to watch Finneous, seeing him feign interest in the mechanical bird, and the true interest he shows in the ‘game of ambush’ both play each day; not to mention the special ‘gift’ that goes to him today as well…these assassins, such amateurs…

======

As on each day, the ‘ambush’ occurs right on time, the little girl with the soft eyes steps out in front of him with her arms filled with flowers. “Good sir, would you like a flower today?”

“Of course Jesmine,” he selects a beautiful rose that is in half-bloom.

“Now then, you be sure to take this money directly to your father.”

He counts out a handful of silver-coins, many times what all of her flowers are worth. This is his means of paying his own agents, and helps to keep them in line with the unspoken message of fear – betray him and not only will the agent die, so will all their family and kinfolk.

As Jesmine runs off to give the funds to her father Finneous hears a ruckus down the street…

Much to his amusement he sees the old toymaker Darius arguing with a pair of trees. He seems to be trying to get them to buy a mechanical device that will gather water for them. A clear lesson in the fine art of insanity; madman he may be, the guy can make wonderful toys.

His mistress will absolutely love this mechanical bird.

A second glance at Darius shows he is trying to dance with the trees, and doing so badly. When a bunch of leaves fall over his head, he begins to argue about some ‘slight of honor from the forests of the world’ and then challenges each tree to a duel of honor…a true lunatic indeed.

Yes this is a truly beautiful day.

The flower smells so wonderful; the rose is sweeter than any other he has found before, and figures it must come from one of the big estates his friends have nearby. Probably Gordon and that new line of roses he has worked ten years on.

“I will have to find out.”

Too bad he never got a chance to find out.

======

The gathered crowd parts for the approach of the Constables; no one has come to the aid of the fallen man, and the patrol of the Constables blanches when they see whom it is. Doubled over is the assassin, his crossbow still loaded and at the ready next to his hip; the mechanical bird lying atop the half bloomed flower, singing away as it was designed to do.

“Go and get the duty captain,” shouted the patrol sergeant to his aide, “tell him what we have here at once, the rest of you secure the area, five paces out and no one touches anything; when the Grandfather of Assassins finds out about this we may have major problems.”

Thus has passed Finneous, master assassin, fearless king of his own domain who made only one mistake; he became predictable; thus he became vulnerable; and thus dead.

All hail the king for he is now dead.

One has fallen, three more left.

[ELaken-Palmer]

He was done in by flower power, correct? I thought that he had his eyes on the assassins around him and was secure in his world.

[snowleopard3200]

Originally Posted by ELaken-Palmer

He was done in by flower power, correct? I thought that he had his eyes on the assassins around him and was secure in his world.

ELP - flower power is one part of it. More shall be revealed as the story unfolds. I will offer one clue already laid out...what was traded to the Sister in Blue for 'services rendered' to the Butler?

Besides recall the opening of the story; and that one is now dead, three remain. Lets just say, the gambit unfolds in style and soon there will be a final BOOM in life for one of them.

I got to have way too much fun writing this story.

[snowleopard3200]

The cities police force – the Constables have searched everywhere for Jesmine and her family. Everything in their house is intact, no signs of disturbance, trouble, foul play or anything. They have just up and completely vanished. Their last prepared meal, still cooling down from preparation, remains uneaten on the table plus an expensive wine bottle chilling in a bucket of ice…

There were only two oddities to be found - a half-bloomed rose on the table, and a bundle of papers hidden away in a hollowed out book.

Most of these were of business transactions for the family; one was very, very odd…

Make sure that Finneous has access to these flowers during his morning walk, one is to be sent to his mistress as well; remember I will tolerate no more mistakes. If per chance he does ask where they are from, tell him directly they come from my estate gardens, in honor of our ten years of mutual silence – Gordon.

Quickly this note made its way into the hands of the Assassins guild; the leaders waiting to see what their best examiners could find, which for the most part appears to be nothing…until by the backlighting of a lantern a series of smaller, invisible writing emerges from the slight heating of the parchment.

A special, hidden code known only to a handful of the guild – used for those who need to flee the city instantly, and with complete safety…

Safe house prepared, flee when Finneous given flowers, no hesitation, follow directions to the letter on pain of death for everyone - Gordon

“Round up everyone who may be remotely connected to this matter, and turn them over to the Constables for the interrogations. Make sure they are reminded to stay quiet, no questions, no mention of guild business at all under pain of death,” ordered the Grandfather of Assassins.

Turning to the leader of his personal bodyguard detail he gives one explicit order, “Find the ones who run this network of ours, who have betrayed us…no it may not be Master Gordon, a power play seems to be brewing, and so those traitors have only one last task to perform…food for my collection of tigers in the dungeons…and make sure they die slowly…I want to hear their screams.”

Most likely this is a power play, a series of eliminations of rivals and senior ranked members to open the way for lower ranks to be promoted – that is the way of the guild, to advance you dispose of those above you or die in the process.

The Grandfather decides a little talk with Master Gordon could not hurt. Just to make sure he is aware that if he is seeking to unseat him, it will come to a bad ending for Gordon. And if he is not plotting against Grandfather, then it will alert him another is plotting against Gordon himself…possibly…

Among the assassins there is one rule – you have no friends; never. Friendship implies weaknesses to be exploited and thus leaves you vulnerable; and with the assassins, vulnerable almost always means you wind up dead.



There is no trust, no honor to be found among the members of the Guild; with assassins there is grudging respect for their superiors mixed with ambition to succeed them after a well placed blow that finishes them, if possible.

Indeed, give them the respect they are due for the danger they present, eliminate them when the time comes.

Upon receiving the summons from the Grandfather of Assassins; Master Gordon starts to shake in mortal terror, wondering what was going on…Finneous is dead, a letter he supposedly wrote according to the messenger after a nice bribe, plus the first whispers on the street of people inquiring more and more about his home and habits in life…looking to see where he has become predictable, and thus vulnerable…Gerald? Cinnius? Another who plots…his butler?

Plots within plots, move and counter move; that is the lot of anyone who is a member of the Guild…HIS life, the accumulation of power and control until eliminated by a rival from below…or possibly from above…

Maybe the Grandfather of Assassins fears HIM…

Despite assassins not having friends, they always have two companions present – paranoia, and fear.

[Hornycountryboy]

Originally Posted by snowleopard3200

Despite assassins not having friends, they always have two companions present – paranoia, and fear.

That line right there is true for a lot of people. Great story I like your way with words for describing what's going on, can't wait to see where this is headed.

[snowleopard3200]

Clairice had to admit, being interrogated by the Constables was different than her initial expectations; by far it is different.

Here she is, laying back on a couch, those soft doe like eyes closed, head turned to one side as her lips silently open and close from waves of lightning like pleasure surging with power and force up her body, to crash with thunderous retorts in her mind.

Those gentle hands grip the back and side of the couch with vice like intensity, fighting to hold off the force of each shudder, arching of her back and wiggling of her hips from the attention being given to a particular part of her body…

Just the thought of it, not to mention what is going on causes her already deep blush on cheeks, brown and nose to deepen further; so intense is it that anyone watching would feel waves of heat and desire shimmering off of her skin in waves, threatening to consume all who dare to venture near.

One massive shudder of her body, her hips instinctively thrusting upward as if by their own will, causes her to cover her face in sheer embarrassment; any thoughts of modesty have flown long ago as a bird flying with the wind.

As if she had any real choice but to submit to the interrogation anyhow…

The one who is conducting this unique style of ‘interrogation’ is the Chief Investigator Kimberly, who takes her time to ‘investigate’ and ‘examine’ each part of Clairice’s womanhood. Each and every inch, fold and hidden depth she kisses, licks, or plays with via her fingers; time after time she manages to bring Clairice to the very edge of climax, threatening to drive her over the edge only to bring her down and then back to the edge.

Kimberly’s cruel smile shows as she playfully and forcefully teases them across one sensitive are of Clairice’s womanhood, drawing out a stream of convulsive hip thrusts and arching of her back, legs squirming about as she covers her mouth with both hands clenched into fists.

The men in the room, those who work under Kimberly’s absolute, unrelenting and utterly sadistic authority smile wickedly; unleashing a continual torrent of insults, jabs, ribald gestures and a ‘running commentary’ on how they feel that Clairice should just relent to the examination.

None will comment on the techniques used by Kimberly, nor on her bared body; her bronzed skin, perfectly formed face with those cruel gray eyes and cherubic expression – complete with a sprinkling of freckles, and her massive, perfect breasts any man would suffocate between with happiness on his final expression, makes a perfect model any sculptor would be proud to have created.

Yet the bronze death masks of the last twenty men to so comment hang on the wall nearby; each mask showing the absolute vision of horror their faces had attained at the moment of their deaths in the most heinous of ways one could imagine…chewed on by rats, boiled in oil, crucifixion, death by 500 lashes of a whip, and even more sadistic means.

None of them will dare lay a hand on Clairice either, nor make any form of threatening move; the fate of those who do is unknown save for thus: the day after they made the final mistake in the presence of Kimberly their manhood was found in the streets near their homes, and no other remains.

Amazingly though, rumors to abound out of Kimberly’s hearing of one man, a high ranking member of the Guild of Assassins has won her heart….if that is even possible…

The squirming and thrashing of Clairice on the couch, causing it to bounce about some is the purest and sweetest of music to Kimberly.

Rubbing her fingers rapidly over the girl’s womanhood, she grins wickedly back at her men; then she moves back down again, playing her tongue across it in rapid, precise strokes and letter patterns of an A, H, X, D, and F, along with the fingers of both hands worming their way inside her tight folds.

“Oh how I love those girls who are still fairly innocent,” she declared.

“Davis, get over here and get inside of me…do me hard as you can...do not cum inside me though…”

Clairice just grimaced; she clearly recognizes that Kimberly is preparing an ultimatum of some kind – a new twist on her most sadistic of games.

She knows this woman is capable of doing anything; as on the way for her own ‘interview’ she had been shown a man who failed to provide the answers concerning Finneous’s death that they wanted – he was lowered head first into a cauldron of boiling oil, one inch at a time.

Her friend Darius had been whipped while tied to a wooden post.

The torturers though just could not crack his already insane mind; he continued to argue with the post, some matter of mathematics and mechanics. Each crack of the whip drew only a small slash on his exposed back, enough to inflict maximum pain, yet did not break him.

She watched as one torturer came around before Darius with a knife in his hand.

He commented that they would now remove the captives skin one inch at a time – yet when the torturer looked into the eyes of Darius, he suddenly lost his nerve and ran down the hall, screaming as if chased by the legions of the damned…


Shortly to be joined by the second torturer, many of whom never imagined could have his nerves cracked by the gaze of an insane man.


No one knows what happened, other than they gazed head long into the insanity of Darius; then smacked their arms as if bitten by some kind of insect...

Her attention returned to the here and now, and whatever her fate is to be.

Kimberly continuing her maddening efforts on her, determined to extract every bit of pleasure out of this little tart, continuing to deny her the release her body demands.

Again and again her hips thrust upward as waves of fiery bliss shoot along her body and threaten to collapse her mind. Waves of volcanic heat flow and ebb along every fiber of her being; surging and exploding with every type of blissful, pulsating, electrically energizing rapturous bliss!

A swirling, dazzling kaleidoscope of coloration swirl into being, parting and shifting with each new blissful moment sweeping up from her womanhood; to merge yet again into a new form and being, a cycle that is repeated over and over again, a thousand times for each passing beat of her heated heart.

One silent gulp followed by another and yet a third becomes a steady stream for some time as one particular spot is touched just so by Kimberly’s tongue; causing her pelvis to thrust up, back bending and bosom heaving with the sudden influx of air her heated, burning body is demanding…

The inspector’s hands move up and fondle her breasts yet again, not bothering to be gentle either; three times she draws silent screams out of Clairice. Twice more she crushes them, leaving bruises of her fingers and palm on each one, relishing the torture she can inflict on such an innocent and cowardly girl…

If she only knew how fast the fickle hand of lady luck can turn…

The animalistic grunts and slapping of flesh on flesh of David entering into Kimberly merged with her cries of pleasure, loud and wild like a pack of wolves. He showed no restraint, no hesitation in his every motion or desires to enjoy this moment in which he thinks he has complete control over the inspector Kimberly.

Of course, his buddies know better.

“Okay you little hussy, I will tell you this much…mhmmm…if you cum before David, I will let the rest of the men have…mhmm…their way with you…oh…ohh…”

Grinning savagely Kimberly went about her efforts on Clairice in a whirlwind of effort; probing and twirling her fingers deep in her womanhood while working every portion she can with her flickering tongue and lips. Faster and ever faster her efforts accelerated, determined to break Clairice once and for all; to show these men and the girl who is the true boss and mistress on the scene…

Then she will see about destroying the one called Darius.

Clairice fights with all the considerable discipline she has learned in her life, locking her bodies muscles and restraining the ever building, quickening fires of her pending release; she smiles inward with a small portion of her mind as Kimberly howls in frustration – no matter what the inspector does or tries, she just cannot make the girl hit her climax.

So furious does Kimberly become her hand that holds onto the back of their shared couch tears away a hunk of wood some two feet long!

Suddenly Kimberly pulls away from Clairice; head thrown back as her breasts dance with the pulsating rise and fall of her chest, howling delight escaping her lips as eyes roll up into her head…she hits her climatic release at the instant David, full of bellowing grunts and growls howls for all he is worth (and such would make any pack of wolves grin with pride), his release inside of Kimberly absolute and final.

His grin is from ear to ear, holding his fists in a wave of victory for another ‘conquest’ well done.

Moments after his big finish Clairice loosens up on her body, allowing the inevitable surge of final bliss to pour forth as an unstoppable storm, the force and fury of the earthquake, the great tsunami descending onto the coast of a continent from across the ocean…

Kimberly shook her head, clearly disappointed she could not break the girl…

“Well then Clairice, don’t let it ever be said I break my word once given. You lasted longer than this loser who is strutting like a cock-of-the-walk before a flock of peahens. Get your clothing on, you survived this time.”

Kimberly just looked at her with iron in her cold grey eyes, “There will be another though, and who knows; I may let my boys have their fun with you…”

“She is to be escorted home, if one of you so much as lays a hand on her, pray for a quick death from suicide; otherwise I will flay your skin one inch at a time, then soaked in vinegar, covered in molten cheese and tossed to a pit full of rabid, plague infested and hungry rats,” Kimberly informed them all.

Everyone quickly nodded in affirmation; knowing their boss is all too capable of carrying out that threat.

[ELaken-Palmer]

This just keeps getting better with each episode. Kimberly must have worn herself and her fingers out, on poor Clairice, but to no avail. Sex and violence and death as entertainment. Who would have thought?

[snowleopard3200]

HCB - all too true.

[snowleopard3200]

Originally Posted by ELaken-Palmer

This just keeps getting better with each episode. Kimberly must have worn herself and her fingers out, on poor Clairice, but to no avail. Sex and violence and death as entertainment. Who would have thought?

In the case of Kimberly the sadistic one, patience is all I can state; the tapestry has to be woven one portion at a time for it to be enjoyed properly.

"Sex and violence and death as entertainment. Who would have thought?" you mention.

Kimberly is one who is meant to be sadistic to a degree I was comfortable writing about; yet remember, in the game of assassins, there is more than meets the eye.

Excuse me if you will for gloating but I had way too much fun in writing this story.

[snowleopard3200]

As they gather Clairice’s clothing, gently handing it to her, backs and gazes now politely turned away; the Investigator prepares to give her newest recruit – David – a stern lesson in following orders. One thing David should have remembered is that each of the Investigators are women who absolutely loathe men most of the time, plus being high level assassins of the guild.

Without bothering to gather her clothing she saunters to stand behind Davis as he finishes lacing his britches; his smile of conquest turns to concern as he takes in the grins of his companions.

-WHACK!
-WHACK!
-WHACK!

Doubling over, eyes crossing and soft moans escaping his lips, David begins a slow, face first descent to the floor. One more victim racked up to the Inspectors well known move called the “Triple Nutcracker.”

“That is for you daring to think you are even worthy of releasing your seed inside of me David,” Kimberly growled at him.

Of course by now, laying on the floor while making soft, mewing and whimpering sounds, he is beyond any conscious thought or complaint.

Kimberly catches the subtle bemused smile and laughter of Clairice’s eyes; that is all the thanks the mute girl is capable of giving, she had seen the horrific scar upon her throat.

No, she and the old toymaker Darius had nothing to do with the death of Finneous.

Her duty is done though in this matter – orders from above in the guild told her to find out if the girl Clairice and Darius had anything to do with the death of Finneous. Pure routine, save for the fact that the torturers had run off for some reason – that had unnerved Kimberly completely for a moment or two; the girl should count what bit of mercy she has been shown, as many of the others brought in for the ‘investigation’ will never leave alive.

That is the way of the guild run Constables and their Investigators; they control the town folks through fear.

No, these two definitely know nothing…she shakes her head as the girl is led away to be safely delivered home.

Finneous appears to simply have died of heart stoppage.

Back in her personal office she examines the last, precious gift sent to her by Finneous…a last gift sent just a few hours before his death…and to just up and die from his heart stopping; not in mortal combat against another assassin or madman…

She smiles at that wonderful gift:

A simple, single, half bloomed rose sent to her from Clairice’s flower shop just before he died.

How did Finneous ever get one away from Master Gordon's gardens? That work of cunning makes it all the more precious in her book; a gift for her worth a kings ransom many times over...

The irony indeed - Finneous swindles one from Gordon, who probably has no idea what has occured.

Ironic indeed,

Almost as much as two of the most deadly of killers sharing one thing in common: A love for roses of all kinds.

In fact he had one near him at the time of his death, purchased and being admired before he just fell over dead; yet before that happened, he had what would be his last gift sent to her.

Taking it in hand from the crystal vase it arrived in, she looks at the flower in the soft lantern light; the promise of beauty beyond wonder hinted once the blossom opens to its fullest.

Bringing it to her nose she savors the heady scents that mix together – rose lips, cinnamon and clover; plus others that still defy her ability to identify.

Little wonder Finneous sent it to her...perfection among perfection as only he and her could enjoy in the fullest.

It takes over two hours before anyone who heard the crashing noise followed by absolute silence to build up the courage to enter her office, rightfully fearing for their lives.

Of course they quickly discern there is nothing to fear any more from Kimberly – being dead does give that guarantee; and she is deemed to have died from heart stoppage as did Finneous.

The celebration held that night in the Constables office for her passing lasted well into the next day; the moans and groans of the men and women coupling merged with the coupling of women with other women telling all who dared to listen just how the celebration culminated.

Thus has passed the sadistic one known as Constable Kimberly; late the lover of the fallen Finneous.

Thus has the game moved into a new level of play...

[ELaken-Palmer]

Because of her stupidity, Kimberly deserved to die. Even I knew better than to smell the rose that, she knew, was Finneous' last act. Now it was hers as well.

[snowleopard3200]

Originally Posted by ELaken-Palmer

Because of her stupidity, Kimberly deserved to die. Even I knew better than to smell the rose that, she knew, was Finneous' last act. Now it was hers as well.

So ELP how is that for 'flower power'? Hope you are enjoying the series so far; and does anyone want to guess what happened to the torturers who ran off screaming when in front of Darius?

ELP I honestly wish more people would comment; I have no idea how many actually like the story just based on the small number of reads (as compared to most other stories) it has garnered so far.

[SW1]

Shall we have the pleasure of meeting the next inquisitor, Kimberly's replacement.
SW

[snowleopard3200]

Originally Posted by SW1

Shall we have the pleasure of meeting the next inquisitor, Kimberly's replacement.
SW

We shall see, SW1, we shall see...

Look to the trail of clues in the tapestry woven so far; see if you can anticipate the next move in the gambit being played...

[SW1]

I'll set it aside and allow my subconscious to work.
Now, back to Grisham's The Partner for a distraction.
SW

[snowleopard3200]

Originally Posted by SW1

I'll set it aside and allow my subconscious to work.
Now, back to Grisham's The Partner for a distraction.
SW

Fair enough SW1...

[BabyBella]

A wonderful story, and your best work to date, in my opinion. Each chapter leaves the reader wanting more, and that’s always a good thing. You manage to bring this weird and wonderful world of assassins to life, and I’m not even going to try and predict what intrigues you have in store for the future. Keep up the good work, Snow, and I look forward to more soon.

[snowleopard3200]

Originally Posted by BabyBella

A wonderful story, and your best work to date, in my opinion. Each chapter leaves the reader wanting more, and that’s always a good thing. You manage to bring this weird and wonderful world of assassins to life, and I’m not even going to try and predict what intrigues you have in store for the future. Keep up the good work, Snow, and I look forward to more soon.

BB - thank you, that means a lot to me; go ahead and guess if you wish I would love to see if someone can put the clues together and come close to the next move of the gambit.

I have to say this much, paranoia may be a companion of the assassin, but I got to have way too much fun writing about them too.

Next part of the gambit will be out in a day or two.

Remember, one of the four is now dead; the gambit continues.

[snowleopard3200]

“Gentlemen you can put me down now, there is no need for the escort…”

As usual no matter what Darius said or did the Constables escorting him and Clairice to her shop paid him no attention. Its not that he minded the escort, nor having her as company during the long walk home; he is glad they did not ‘interrogate’ her fully by gang raping her as so many other women routinely are – the so called ‘law’ of this town lives by terror as does the Assassins who rule.

What really is bothering him is being carried hog-tied to a long pole carried between two Constables; they had the audacity to do so with his now cut up robes as well, leaving him wearing only a pair of thread bare britches in a deathly chill night.

“Okay guys,” said the patrol leader - Jambis, “we have done our duty for the night; now, leave her be and dump him…”

The two Constables carrying him summarily threw him into a heap of garbage and slime. To add further insult to injury, the patrol dumps heaps of garbage from containers, bags, and boxes on top of him; mocking him as a true madman.

“Well lads Master Gordon wanted him humiliated; so now he is humiliated. Understand Darius, the next time the master wants an order filled, get it right. One more mistake and the next visit by us will be a more pain filled than your demented nightmares could comprehend,” Jambis told him.

"Really, I look forward to giving you instructions in such nightmares some time then," those words so coldly delivered, devoid of emotion shook the patrol to their very bones.

“Mind you Darius, that is from me just because I can,” Jambis said.

With that he delivers three savage kicks with an iron tipped boot to Darius’s head.

Having finished with their business the patrol heads out, making sure no one pays any attention to their message being delivered to Darius. That is the rule of the streets – pay no attention to anything that is not your business and you then stay alive for another day…usually.

Even that blasted wretch of a hussy Clairice is gone.

“Smart girl, keep out of sight, and keep out of trouble. Let’s get back to Ragner; then we can have a night on the town with our payment…how about that new ale house? They say the apple-crisps are delicious…” Jambis’ voice fades away as Darius rolls on the ground in pain…

Or at the least, the feinting of pain; for they do not see him suddenly take full control of his body, his eyes set on their backs in a matter that promises death to each one of the patrol.

Only the opening of the shop door and a gesture of her with the amethyst eyes keeps his pursuit in check…

Not now, revenge will wait, and he has a better way of doing it – one that he will enjoy when the time is right.

======

Hours later in the cities crowded market one young lady casually strolls down the way; just a simple milk maid from the farms outside the town. No one pays her any attention, the much patched, homespun fabric coated in the daily grime of hard labor keeps most eyes from more than a glance followed by, for those of more affluent means, a disdainful snort of disgust.

She filled her basket with an assortment of fruits, day old bread and other goods for a small family of one; all that the vendors know she needs.

Friendly, but silent, the scar across her throat and left face indicate a horrendous injury that never properly healed due to lack of care.

Still with simple gestures of pantomime they communicate for conducting business; both official and otherwise, for one of the vendors passes her a small sack of fresh fruits, something she pays well to obtain due to their rare and scarce nature.

Back in the safety of one established hideout, she sees her Associate carefully undo the sack cloth to gain access to the note. He takes extreme care in doing this, to make sure the note is not trapped in some manner – say with a small, highly poisonous insect or a small snake.

“Have trust in your agents true my granddaughter; but take care in case one has been turned,” grandfather had warned her in a lesson so long ago.

In her small mirror, used to remove the makeup, false scars and other items of her disguises, she sees her currently green eyes turn back to their normal color…the twin orbs of amethyst fires…

“My lady,” her Associate says as he holds the note out for her to examine.

It is from one of her other agents:

Jesmine and her family are out of the city and well on their way to a new life.

For a moment her smile turns feral; her amethyst eyes dancing with pure fires from within.

She remembered the lesson Shan Tiel had taught:

The assassin controls agents through promise of wealth for success, and promise of death for failure. Find the object he threatens death to, the key to control over the family – once found, prepare the families escape. When the agent of the assassin no longer is controlled by fear, their fear now becomes a burning desire for revenge. Thus the assassin in now vulnerable, and when you are ready, he will die.

Finneous held power and thus had total control of the father by threatening harm to his precious Jesmine.

When the offer of freedom and escape from the fear of Finneous came, and understood to be legitimate, he took up the one task without hesitation. Hence the flower was delivered and the note left behind.

One assassin is dead, three more to go.

Along with taking down the greatest prize of them all; now the paranoia and the pressure will rise and rise until all comes down.

Four assassins of the guild took her family away in fire; now she and Associate will do the same, a hundred fold more in recompense.

He watched her cross the room to place the note among a small bundle of them, to be burned later on and the ashes scattered in the wilds. No evidence of them is to remain at all once committed to memory.

His mind registered each gentle sway of her hips, her covering robe of pink silk shining in the light of many lanterns; moving and shifting to tease him with a brief revelation of a leg here, a calf there, a possible sight of one portion or another in the near constant play of light and shadow. Not one noise did her feet make as they all but danced across the wooden floor, so balanced and ghostly is each foot placed; always ready for action on a moments notice…

Oh how he could contemplate what it would be like to feel his manhood being rubbed and tenderly teased to its maximum potential by them, the toes touching him just so here and there…he would in turn begin to kiss one foot, working to her ankle and then gently easing up, one inch at a time to her innermost thigh and seek out the one heavenly place she has, the one portion he loves on a woman to please and taste, to experience the luxuriant warmth of her flesh and…

-Whack!

“My lady if you will excuse me I am off to get some rest,” Associate said as he slowly eased his body around the knife hanging sharp side up, just a hairs breath beneath his aroused manhood.

[ELaken-Palmer]

Looks like he came very close to a penal trim... not a pleasant thing. This story just compounds the suspense as it moves along at its own pace. I am still very much enjoying this thriller and awaiting the next episode with baited breath (I had better take the minnows out of my mouth when I'm reading).

[snowleopard3200]

Originally Posted by ELaken-Palmer

Looks like he came very close to a penal trim... not a pleasant thing. This story just compounds the suspense as it moves along at its own pace. I am still very much enjoying this thriller and awaiting the next episode with baited breath (I had better take the minnows out of my mouth when I'm reading).

Indeed, Associate came close to losing it for a second time so far; its good to see you like the story, and I hope so do most of the readers, this one took me many a month to flush out in depth and rid it of most mistakes.

Interesting term you use there "baited breath" (not counting the minnows, dont swallow them either, not good for the stomach).


Soon enough there will be more who will wish to have such a breath, but enough said...

By the way ELP, consider this portion of the story and the lesson taught to her by Shan Tiel (in regards to those controlled by fear) and then the roses...see if you can guess what is yet to come...

[SW1]

As do most women, She has a way of making her observation known.
SW

[snowleopard3200]

Originally Posted by SW1

As do most women, She has a way of making her observation known.
SW

How true.

[SW1]

Originally Posted by snowleopard3200

How true.

Ah, Mr. leopard, its a quiet Sunday and I anxiously await your next instalment.
SW

[snowleopard3200]

Throughout the day, the patrol members talk of their deeds, screened by a small contingent of the best informed creatures to be found within any city: Street urchins, crawlers, lurkers, they go by many such names and almost all have one thing in common; they are the bottom of the social order.

The poor, homeless, orphans, madmen, and all such people who are desperate to make a coin or two for a decent meal; so it is that many in positions of power use them to watch any and all movement, any rumors or stories no matter how trivial. Few people pay them any attention save to keep hand on their money belts, or valuables, so they excel at the art of being invisible while in plain sight.

One other trait the lurkers, such as a young lad casually strolling along the streets a short time later, his hands deep in coat pockets, is a well honed instinct for survival. Otherwise he would have died long before now. Yet the fact is when he bumps into someone, he is the one knocked to the ground – landing next to a fallen basket of fruit…

A lady looks down upon his fallen form, the raven black hair done up in a flowing braid, blue-white hat tied to her head while sapphire blue eyes watched. Her blush-enhanced cheeks glistened in the sunlight, matching the gloss on her lips as her smile grew wide with poetic pleasure that many men, and some women, wished to explore with pounding hearts…

Her fine gown of deep sea green sparkled in the light, slit along one leg to flow enticingly about her calf and thigh, promising forbidden delights to those willing and able to pay the price. The soft vest of blue-green silk she wore clung to every one of her feminine curves it reached, save for a portion that shows a glimpse of her breasts, soft and pink of skin, as many an aristocratic man enjoys…

Folding her parasol, she bends down into a half crouch, the material of her gown conveniently flowing about her upper thigh to reveal the pearly luster of her skin; muscles honed to absolute perfection and hinting at the strength contained within – the better to wrap around their evenings consorts in the throws of passion, or so it is said.

She extends one hand to the lad, her glove flowing up to the elbow and dancing with glitter crafted of a mix of mother-of-pearl, emeralds, sapphires and such crushed, then glued with exacting care to the fabric.

The lad, his majority reached just two days ago does not move; he is still, despite a rough life on the streets that has left him gangly, short and suffering malnutrition, in absolute fear of this lady. His racing heart beats from the panic of her wondrous nature, the flush of heat deep in his body flowing fast and hard while his manhood demands his attention, threatening to tear his britches apart.

He looks upon her with awe and wonder; this lady is of the famed “Sisters of the Blue.”

Across the way, a quartet of the sisters pass by, stopping only long enough to see the actions of one of their own rendering aid to a street urchin. They show faces momentarily flushed with anger, then sniff and walk off in complete disdain…indicating this sister is something of an outcast from that elite group.

Understanding that he must be on his best manners, for the sake of his life – the Sisters are often said to be part of the guild of assassins, and under the personal command of the Grandfather of Assassins – the youths extended hand shakes with trepidation.

Sometimes facing a ‘legend come to life’ (in his mind, she is a veritable goddess of passion and pleasure that can never be approached by the lowest of mortals), can be more intimidating than the masters of death who are probably preparing their poison tipped blades to turn him into a hand basket…

“Ma’am I am sorry for knocking your basket out of hand,” accepting fault for the matter even when none is there. With utmost care and respect he hands the fruit basket back to her.

“I shall use more care in the future; have a good day ma’am,” he says until her hand rests gently on his shoulder.

Everyone watches in wonder as she takes him into the semi-private area of a general store; she uses pantomime to finally get the point across to the grocer, who shakes in near terror at the thought of causing the Sister any offense (being connected to assassins can cause this to happen a lot, the Sister thinks), to outfit the lad with a full set of NEW clothing, no second hand junk.

She pulls out a small number of silver coins to cover the cost and to buy some small goods that the grocer gives her a massive discount upon.

Through the shop door and windows the gathered crowd watches in jaw-dropping wonder as she sits the lad down next to her on a bench as the grocer goes to get the new clothing. Her hand playfully teases up his arm, and causes him to shudder like nothing. He fights to keep his eyes off of her, especially as she takes one of his hands into her own and moves it to the lower edge of her vest…gently guiding it up under the material and onto her breast beneath.

His jaw flaps open and closed repeatedly as the warmth of her flesh, the yielding softness of it, catches him by surprise – no lady has done this for him until now. She does this to let everyone know, assassins and the normal folks of Providence, that the lad is now a personal agent of her own; to harm or touch him in any way is to risk the retribution of the Assassins…maybe, as no one can really be sure who she works for…

The Sister in blue looks upon all the watchers with coyly pursed lips, eyes set in a wicked gaze that promises the lad untold passions to come and untold, absolute pain and death for anyone interfering with her chosen gift of recruitment for him.

The lad looks at her in near panic, until she gently kisses him on the cheek, nose and brow with a smile. She gently takes his hand away from her breast and readjusts her clothing while the grocer returns with the garments. Ushering the lad into a changing room to see the results, the grocer returns to putting her purchased goods in her basket; then hands it to her with a deep bow, nod of the head and a grand smile on his face.

So successful has the deception been, no one suspected the grocer passed a small bundle of papers her way in the basket; in turn she had passed instructions on as well, concealed under her vest for the lad to carry to others in her ever expanding circle of agents and contacts.

Before sunset comes, the leaders of her network of agents; begin preparations of their own; preparations for the massive strike once she gives the signal…as arms and armor are prepared; their grins are as of captive wolves about to destroy their tormentor.

[ELaken-Palmer]

Another very good chapter in this exceptional tale.

[snowleopard3200]

Originally Posted by ELaken-Palmer

Another very good chapter in this exceptional tale.

Thanks.

[snowleopard3200]

Later that night, her eyes read carefully the gathered accounts of all her own agents, details of those known agents and members of the assassin’s guild; their duties, patrol times, habits and so forth. Each detail that is gathered shows more weaknesses, more fuel for the pending firestorm.

Among all these clues, facts and information there stands out one portion – a chink in the enemies’ armor; the way one weakness can be so dramatically exploited.

How to achieve it with total surprise?

After a few minutes of contemplation she turns to her Associate, and via the silent hand language explains what is needed. His smile and nod shows the delight in her idea, and he has a fair idea of who to approach to craft the ‘gift’ that is needed.

As he looks into her eyes he sees the chemical mixture that allows her to change their coloration wear off; the fake sapphire blue reverting back to the true, lustrous amethyst fires he has come to admire so much. The mix used to make this happen is common in the Far East, unknown to these idiot assassins of the West.

One more edge for their side; and they need every one they can achieve.

His gaze flows over her lithe form, the silken robe enshrouding her partially open as she continues to read ever more of the messages; her bared skin glistens in the gentle light of the oil lamp, casting shadows and light that dance suggestively across abdomen and breasts, hiding and revealing in a dance of sensuality suggesting more wonders are nearby if he would just dare to explore…

Putting on his coat as slowly as possible, pretending that his arm is stuck in the sleeve, he drinks in the sight of her bared legs, crossed and curved to keep the sight of her womanhood just out of reach; yet teasingly he can just make out a bit of the soft, downy hair between her thighs…a prize he would love to explore if she just would let him do so…

How much pleasure he could bring forth from her unlike the now dead Inspector Kimberly – that one used the sexual for intimidation and domination; he will for her to be pleased and loved.

Bared breasts moves ever so slightly with each of her gentle breaths; dancing in a rhythm silent and steady, enticing with their nipples so soft, pink and fully erect as if daring him to move in and consider the impossible.

How he would love to please them, his fingertips spiraling inward from his caresses along the base, after placing countless kisses on each one, leaving no portion untouched. The taste of her body, changing as her body became more and more excited, sweeter and sweeter, mixing with the heady scent of that wonderful perfume she wears…

From her breasts he would move downward on her abdomen, teasing her stomach with constant little kisses to pull many silent sets of giggles and laughs as possible; then proceeding downward to her womanhood, by now so ready to be excited and her eyes would be dancing in anticipation…

Oh how he would revel in that sweetest of all tastes and smells; her bared womanhood, still so young and fairly innocent before him.

Each soft touch of his fingers and lips, the caresses of his tongue on those most sensitive of spots, natures gift to women, he would double his efforts on and as she increased in fulfillment towards her climax, bring her down a bit and then double the efforts again and again until she is pushed over the edge…

He imagines the wonderful reaction of her body heaving and gyrating as she hits her release, waves of bliss and fiery passion flowing across her body to crash to the one point of her mind demanding to enjoy each moment of the sensations.

She would look at him with those dreamy amethyst eyes, a silent invitation given and confirmed as her arms were held out to him, welcoming their union as one…

-Thunk!

“My lady,” he calmly stated, “if you will permit me I shall make due haste to secure the services we need for the next part of the plan…”

He gently moves forward a bit, making sure to clear the sharp side up blade stuck in the wall just a hairs breath below his manhood…her means of reminding him, once again, romance may come later, right now other things are priority.

She just shakes her head and smiles as he leaves; wondering how many more times she may have to do that to get the idea through his head – she does not want romance, not at this time, she needs just a friend. Grandfather was the one she loved the most, and it’s too soon since his passing…

[ELaken-Palmer]

She is just too quick with those blades and makes it a almost impossible task to sexually pleasure her. He should thank his lucky stars that his poor pecker is still intact. You do make her sound like quite the tempting, sexual prize though.

[snowleopard3200]

Originally Posted by ELaken-Palmer

She is just too quick with those blades and makes it a almost impossible task to sexually pleasure her. He should thank his lucky stars that his poor pecker is still intact. You do make her sound like quite the tempting, sexual prize though.

ELP - thanks for the compliment concerning her; all I will say on the matter of these two is that the future holds many possibilities as the gambit unfolds.

Right now the story is entering round two; one has fallen and three are left...for now.

[BabyBella]

Well, I’m all caught up now and it’s still as intriguing as ever. Poor Associate is going to bed every night with no relief. Maybe she should give him a bit of cash to spend on one of those Sisters In Blue. I’m sure they’ll take care of him and stop his balls being as blue as their eyes. Excellent stuff, Snow. Keep up the good work.