Author's Note: If you hate spoilers of any kind please skip this note.
This chapter contains homosexual themes, pegging, noncon/reluctance, female domination; if any of these a turn-off for you, probably best to skip this story.
This chapter was an interesting one to write, it kept wanting to go off its own way. Thanks everyone for reading, and as always, any feedback is welcome.
Miss Masters, Ch.3: The Assassin
Once again, Miss Masters was sat in the back seat of the black sedan, being chauffeured by Special Agent Dutch Taylor. But this time the passenger seat was empty, and the young agent was delivering the sexy gangster to a destination of her choosing.
The remarkable lady was trying to puzzle out the previous day's events, but no matter how she arranged the pieces, they just wouldn't come together for her. The police weren't behaving as they should, and neither was the Bureau. She was always careful not to leave loose ends, so why had they suddenly decided to arrest her - none of it made sense.
When they arrived back in the city, she had Taylor drive her down to the waterfront. If there was any talk in the city about what was going on, then her man at the docks would have heard it. She pointed out a decaying building at the end of a one-way street and instructed Dutch to pull up at the front.
There were two huge men at the door, who bristled noticeably at the car's arrival. Both men moved forward, intending to tell the driver of the car that he'd better leave now while he had the chance. Then Miss Masters stepped out.
Both hoodlums, instantly recognised their employer's boss, they glanced worriedly at each other, before rushing to open the door for her.
Miss Masters looked left and right at the two men. "Which one of you is the brains?"
There was a moment of glancing back and forth, then a little head-scratching before the taller one raised his hand, whilst the other one sheepishly pointed at his partner in agreement.
She looked at the nominated genius. "Fine, then I'm dealing with you. Is Donnie here?" She asked, in no mood for dealing with these two.
"Y- Yeah, Mr. Kirkland is inside." Answered the taller brute.
She glanced back at Dutch in the car and then back to the two gorillas. "Take my friend inside and sit with him. Don't let him wander off. I'll send
Mr. Kirkland
down with further instructions soon. Understand?"
"Don't let him wander off." Said the shorter man, trying to show, that even if he wasn't the smart one, he had also been listening.
Without a further word, she simply walked straight past them as if they didn't matter - which of course, they didn't.
Miss Masters and her lieutenants talked for hours, but nobody had any useful information about her arrest. Then the news broke about the ruthless murder of Senior Special Agent Jack Blake by the nefarious gangster known as 'The Lady'. It was all over town, and the fact that it wasn't true didn't seem to stop the story spreading.
Realising that by morning she'd be on the front page of every newspaper in the city, Miss Masters decided to make for her own private bolthole and lay low. She gave her instructions to Kirkland, telling him to keep Dutch nice and safe, since he could testify that Blake was still alive when she left.
Aware now that she would soon be the focus of a state-wide manhunt, Miss Masters was keen to get off the streets. She sent for her own private car and when it arrived, she got in and tapped her personal aide on the shoulder. Without a word, he drove off, careful as always, not to give his mistress an uncomfortable ride.
The sexy gangster nestled her head into the sumptuous leather seat and closed her eyes, it was a short enough drive but any rest she could get was welcome.
As the white car headed towards its destination, unseen by anyone, a car started its engine and began to follow them. The mysterious car drove with its headlights off, shadowing Miss Masters along the dark rain-soaked streets.
* * *
The lady's car drove through the large wrought-iron gate and then up the pristine white gravel driveway that led to her private mansion. The grounds were bounded on all four sides by a twelve-foot-high wall. Once the car pulled up, her aide got out and opened her door.
"Thank you, Ramon." She said, taking hold of his huge hand and stepping out of the car.
Ramon was a tall, swarthy Hispanic man, who towered over his mistress. He rushed to the entrance before Miss Masters and opened the door of the large house. She walked into the hallway, her heels striking loudly against the black and white tiled floor.
In the middle of a white marble hallway, standing with their feet apart and their hands clasped behind their back, were two large men. Both were only wearing tiny, black lace-up briefs which looked much too small for them. The skin-tight undergarments left nothing to the imagination.
The first man, upon seeing his mistress, moved forward to take her coat. He was handsome, blond, tall, and athletic, with long lean muscles.
"Thank you, Erik." She said shrugging the garment from her shoulders for him to take.
The second man, Carlos, stood patiently waiting. He was shorter than his associate, but much more powerful, his body was swollen with round, defined muscles and his olive skin was covered with small dark hairs. He was older than Erik, his dark hair was highlighted by streaks of grey at both his temples.
Ramon closed the door behind him and instantly began to shed his chauffeur's attire. Once indoors, like all of Miss Masters household staff, he had to get himself into uniform. It wasn't long until just like his colleagues, the huge man was standing barefoot on the tiled floor wearing only the skimpiest of black briefs.
"You look tired Mistress, shall I run you a bath?" asked Ramon.
"No, I think I'll have a shower tonight."
"Very good. There are fresh towels and a robe in your room."
"Thank you, Ramon."
"And shall you be requiring anything else." Asked her large personal aide and driver. All three men stood motionless, trying to contain their hopeful anticipation.
"Not tonight boys, I'm a little tired."
"As you say Mistress." Said Ramon. His deep voice, barely concealing his disappointment.
"But you know me, I my change my mind later." She said, playfully blowing them a kiss and winking.
She made her way up the long-curved staircase to the upper floor and then proceeded into the east wing of the house towards her master bedroom. She threw the large doors open and went inside. It was a large, lushly appointed room, with its own connected bathroom, French windows that led to a balcony, and an enormous steel framed bed.
Miss Masters undressed carelessly, leaving her clothes in the bedroom floor - knowing that her housemen would collect her discarded garments while she showered. She'd been wearing her suit for two days and she couldn't wait to choose something fresh. Walking naked, the sexy gangster made her way into the bathroom and turned on the shower. As the room filled with steam, she smiled, remembering the night before.
She stepped under the powerful jets and let the hot water pour over her. It had been a difficult few days, and for a time she did nothing but stand with her hands against the tiled wall as the water pummelled her skin and invigorated her limbs. She lowered her head, letting the water hit the back of her neck and then run down her spine. Enjoying the sensation of the hot water running between the cheeks of her ass and then down the inside of her thighs.
Eventually, she reached for some creamy coconut scented soap and began working it carefully and slowly over her soft supple skin. She worked the bar over her ample breasts, circling the soap over her proud nipples, before sliding the bar down and washing lazily between her legs, enjoying the sensation of the slippery bar as it slid over her mound and then through her lips. The hot water continued to pour down as Miss Masters sensually massaged her pussy with the soap, stopping just short of playing with herself.
Finally, she rinsed the sweet-smelling coconut lather from her body, letting the powerful stream of water reveal her deliciously tanned skin. Finally, reluctantly, she turned off the shower.
Miss Masters stepped out and slid her lithesome frame inside a white, luxuriant robe and then tied the oversized belt around her slender waist. She picked up a towel and began to gently dry her hair. She was about to walk back into her bedroom when out of the corner of her left eye she caught sight of the white curtains billowing in the wind.
"I don't remember opening the French windows."
