Executive Solutions Chapter Five
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Executive Solutions Chapter One free porn video
Executive Solutions
By
Michele Nylons
Chapter One - Amnesia
She felt the sting of the needle and then her world went black.
Later... Strange voices coming to her like from a dream, she couldn't move
or open her eyes.
"Did he fuck her?"
"What?"
"Did he fuck her? We need to make it look like he fucked her."
"I doubt they'll run any DNA given the evidence we're going to leave but
if they find a few different semen samples, it will collaborate that she's
a hooker," the man grunted as he unbuckled his belt and stepped out of his
pants.
"Roll her over and pull down her panties."
She felt the man roll her over so that she was face down on the bed, lift
her dress and pull down her underwear. She couldn't move a muscle or
utter a sound.
The bed creaked as the man climbed on to it, he opened her legs and knelt
between them.
"She does have a great ass," he chuckled as he improved his growing
erection.
"Not my type at all but I'll make my contribution." The other man pulled
his penis out of his trousers and began to masturbate as he watched his
friend position himself between the woman's shapely stocking-clad legs.
"Oh yeah! She's fuckin' tight!" The man pushed his erection against her
sphincter and slowly penetrated the woman.
She wanted to scream. The man's penis was unlubricated and her anus was
tight; the pain seared through her body but she could do nothing.
"Gimme that!" The man pointed to a tube of lubricant on the bedside table.
He extracted his penis and liberally coated his erection with the viscous
jelly.
This time he slid in easy and he enjoyed the feel of her tight anus
clutching at his cock as he thrust back and forth.
The woman was relieved that most of the pain had stopped but was still
distressed that the man was taking her anally while she was comatose. The
man's cock slid easily in and out of her back passage and she heard him
grunting with pleasure and felt his cock get harder.
"Oh shit!" the man cursed as he ejaculated deep in the woman's anus.
"Jesus, that wasn't half bad. Imagine how good it would be if she was
awake?" he said as he extracted himself.
He wiped his dripping penis on the woman's buttocks.
"Move!" the other man gasped.
"What?"
"Move or you'll get this." The other man was furiously masturbating and
his angry cock looked ready to explode.
The man leapt out of the way just as his accomplice sprayed his issue over
the woman's thighs, buttocks and back.
"There! My contribution." He zipped up while his partner pulled up his
pants.
"Ok let's get this shit done. Let's take some pictures for the boss and
get the fuck out of here," the man said.
"Roll her back over while I get the gun."
The accomplice rolled the woman over, face up on the bed. He left her
dress hiked up and her panties draped around her ankle. The other man put
the silenced nine-millimetre pistol in her hand and placed his gloved hand
over hers and put her finger inside the trigger guard.
"Look out," the man said.
He pointed the weapon at the wall and pulled the trigger twice, pressing
the woman's finger against the trigger.
The weapon made a 'phut' sound when it discharged; it was nearly
noiseless.
"There'll be plenty of GSR on her hand and wrist," the man said, carefully
lowering the woman's arm onto the bed, ensuring that the pistol remained
in her hand.
The woman moaned.
"Fuck! How can the bitch still be alive?" the accomplice whined.
"Gimme the kit," the man said.
He took a syringe out of the little black bag and carefully checked the
dose of the drug. He searched for the small pinprick in the crook of her
left forearm and inserted the needle into the tiny wound and pressed the
plunger.
"That's her gone. Let's check everything one last time, get the pics, and
get the fuck out of here."
The woman passed into oblivion.
Much later... The woman groaned.
She felt herself floating, still semi-conscious. She forced herself back
into consciousness and opened her eyes.
The ceiling was coated with white textured polyurethane paint common to
most cheap hotels. It was flyspecked and stained with the residue of
thousands of cigarettes. Her sense of smell began to function. Stale
cigarette smoke, stale booze, a faint hint of disinfectant, a scintilla of
semen, and ominously, gunsmoke.
The woman tried to think. She couldn't remember her name or anything
prior to the two men violating her. Besides her amnesia she just didn't
feel right; it was like she was wearing the wrong skin.
It took her nearly an hour before she regained any motor skills. She was
able to move her fingers and toes and then she was able to wriggle them.
Once she was able to move her extremities, her controllable bodily
functions quickly returned.
She turned her head and saw a bedside table. On it was a cheap clock
radio, a tube of personal lubricant, a foil of condoms, and a roll of
banknotes. She turned the other way and saw the interior of a decrepit
hotel room with cheap faded curtains pulled closed against the windows.
She looked down and saw that she was clad in a red sequined evening gown
that was split to the thigh on one side. The dress had been rucked up
exposing her legs clad in what appeared to be expensive hosiery; a pair of
black satin panties hung from one ankle and her feet were clad in red
high-heels.
It still didn't feel quite right. She let go of the pistol and rubbed the
small sting on her inner elbow; it itched.
She summoned all her efforts and was able to sit up. Nausea and vertigo
immediately hit her but she fought the urge to lie down and rest. She
reached down and pulled her panties up her legs. It was only when she got
them to the top of her thighs that realised why she felt so perplexed.
Between her legs was a full set of male genitalia.
Was she a woman or man?
Her thoughts were feminine but she also felt some maleness. She shook her
head and tried her hardest to think, but try as she might she was unable
to remember anything.
"Maybe when the drugs wear off," she said, surprising herself.
Her voice was sultry; feminine but dusky. Sensuous, she thought.
She was able to rise and sit on the edge of the bed. She eased herself up
and slid her panties into place and pulled down the hem of her dress.
Then she saw the body.
The man was heavyset and balding; naked except for a pair of boxer shorts.
He lay on his back staring at the ceiling.
She kicked off her heels so she could maintain her precarious balance and
took a step closer. The man had a neat hole in the centre of his
forehead. There was a pool of coagulating blood blooming from the exit
wound soaking into the carpet.
The woman immediately snapped her head around and looked at the pistol on
the bed. She had awakened clutching it and she vaguely remembered the man
forcing her to fire it. She quickly found the two bullet holes in the far
wall.
She looked around the room. There was an opened bottle of Jack Daniel's
on the coffee table and two glasses of the golden liquid beside it; one of
them stained with lipstick. There was a small mirror with white powder
arranged in small lines, and a pill bottle had spilled its contents onto
the table. Little blue tablets. The ashtray was half full and two
packets of cigarettes sat beside the liquor. One Marlboro Red the other
Marlboro Menthol Lights. Did she smoke?
Her mouth tasted rancid and she detected the taste of bourbon and
cigarettes and something vaguely medicinal.
"What the fuck is going on? Who am I? Why am I here?" she murmured.
There was a sofa and two lounge chairs adjacent to the coffee table and
the woman carefully picked her way between the body and the table and fell
into a chair. An expensive looking suit and a shirt and tie were draped
over the back of the other chair. She instinctively picked up the menthol
cigarettes and lit one up.
She studied the glowing tip of the cigarette.
"I guess I'm a Marlboro Menthol girl?" She giggled dementedly.
"But I'm not a real girl am I?" she frowned and tried to make sense of her
surroundings.
She coughed, the smoke burned her throat and she was about to stub out the
cigarette but then she realised that the smoke had soothed her, provided
her with some sense of clarity.
She walked over to the full-length mirror and looked at herself. Her
makeup was professionally applied but garish; dark eyeliner and long
mascaraed eyelashes, turquoise and mauve eyeshadow, bright red lipstick,
rouge highlighted her cheekbones. She was attractive in a slatternish
sort of way. Her dress hugged her lithe figure, her breasts were small
but the swell of them filled her decolletage.
She put her hands there and found she had a small but well-defined bosom.
Her skin was smooth and soft, her legs long and shapely. She thrust her
leg out. She was wearing sheer hold-up stockings. Her hair was coal
black worn shoulder-length with cerise highlights. It was straight with
bangs.
She looked like a high-class hooker.
She rummaged around in the man's trousers and found a wallet devoid of any
identification other than a single business card. It was printed on
expensive card stock. She read it: 'Executive Solutions, Kelsey Reka' and
a phone number. Blue raised font on a crisp white background. Seeing the
phone number on the card gave her an idea and she searched the area around
the coffee table and found an iphone on the floor. It was locked.
"Shithouse mouse!" she hissed.
She put the card and the phone on the table. She saw a small silver
clutch purse on the floor beside the bed and her heart skipped beat. If
it was hers it might provide her with the answers she needed. First off;
who was she?
The clutch was empty except for some tissues and a hundred dollars in
twenties. No ID, nothing.
She drew on her cigarette and surveyed the scene. She crushed out her
cigarette and thought hard. If someone entered the room and found her
dead or comatose on the bed what would they think?
She surmised that she was supposed to be found lying on the bed. A
recently fucked transsexual hooker, her anus and body bearing traces of
semen, a gun in her hand. Two wild shots in the wall and a third that had
killed the man. The booze, the cocaine, blue tablets that were likely
Viagra, a roll of banknotes and a dead man naked except for his boxers.
They would have found gunshot residue on her hand.
The hooker and the man had fallen out over something. Had the man had
become violent? Was it a robbery gone wrong? Was it a sting or a scam?
Either way the logical explanation was that the hooker had shot the man
after having sex with him.
But the woman knew the scene was staged. Her recollections of the two men
manipulating the spectacle in the room supported her thesis. If only she
could remember something about herself. Anything!
She heard the sound of approaching sirens on the street outside and
although the sirens could mean anything they spurned her into action. She
picked up her clutch and stuffed the roll of cash from the bedside table,
the cell phone, and the business card into it. She went over to the
coffee table and picked up the menthols and a bic lighter and stuffed them
in the purse. She slipped on her high-heels and scanned the hotel room
one last time.
She cracked open the door and saw that the corridor was deserted. She
took a deep breath and stepped outside and closed the door behind her.
She made her way to the elevator and twice had to rest against the wall to
catch her breath. The powerful sedative that she had been administered to
her was still affecting her coordination and clouding her thoughts. She
pressed the call button and breathed deeply as she waited for the car.
The elevator pinged and mercifully it was empty. She pressed the button
for the ground floor.
The foyer was also deserted except for the receptionist, a dishevelled
looking fat man thumbing through a girly magazine; and a black man wearing
a suit smoking a cheroot sitting in a lounge chair reading a copy of USA
Today. Both men looked up at the woman as she carefully stepped from the
elevator car and purposely strode across the foyer.
"Hey honey. Hope you enjoyed your stay." The receptionist chuckled
lewdly.
He watched her every step, studying her swaying buttocks in the tight
dress. Under the desk he rubbed his erect penis through his pants.
The black man glanced up at her and then he went back to studying his
newspaper.
The woman made it outside and gulped in the cold air. It was night and
she was obviously in the seedy district of whatever city she was in. She
looked around and tried to force herself to remember where she was but
nothing triggered her memory. The streets were wet from drizzle, the
neon signs advertising X-rated movies and cruise lounges reflected off the
pavement. People either scurried along purposely or drifted aimlessly.
It was a tableau of desperation and she felt no affinity to the
surroundings.
Where did she go now? She didn't know who she was or why she was here;
she certainly had no inkling of where she lived.
The obvious choice was to get a cab to somewhere more civilised, somewhere
less depressing. Hookers in hotpants, miniskirts and tight leggings
offered their services to the occupants of slow moving vehicles cruising
the street and dealers plied their wares on the street corners.
The woman knew that hanging around the fleapit hotel was the least
desirable course of action and she turned right and walked as steadily as
she could along the sidewalk. She kept her eyes down, only glancing up at
the approaching headlights hoping to snag a vacant taxi.
"Shit bitch! I tag you the best John you gonna get in a week and you walk
past me like me like I don't exist." The black man from the foyer gripped
her wrist and began to pull her along.
The woman tottered on her heels as the man half dragged her into an alley.
It was narrow and dark and the man pushed her against the cold brickwork.
"Come on sugar; I know you scored up there. That guy's watch was a gold
Patek Philippe and his suit must have cost at least a thousand dollars,"
the black man had her pinned against the wall, his face inches from hers.
The woman tried her hardest to think who the man might be. Was he her
pimp? Was she a prostitute?
She thought quickly and put her hand in her clutch and found the roll of
bills. She hadn't even looked at their denomination but she stripped off
a handful and held them up in front of her. The man snatched them from
her and stepped back a pace and counted them in the gloom of the alley.
"Sheeit momma! That's nearly a grand! I know you some fine looking pussy
but you must be some hot shit for fatty to pay you two grand. Half of
your take was the deal right?" the black man was handsome, he looked a
little like Denzel Washington, his teeth gleamed in the gloom.
The man stuffed the bills into his pocket and stepped forward again so
that he was face to face with the woman.
"And don't forget the other half of the deal," the man grinned.
The woman had no idea what he talking about.
"Sheeit! I ain't got all night. Get to giving me what you promised," the
man pushed the woman down on her knees in the filthy alley.
The woman was too surprised to react and fell to her knees looking up at
the black man.
"Sheeit! I gotta do everything?" he cursed.
The man unzipped his flies and his long thick cock fell out of his pants
at eye level with the woman. He pushed her face into his groin and guided
his cock to her lips. The woman instinctively opened her mouth and began
to suckle the proffered organ.
The woman had no idea how she knew this was the right thing to do or where
she had learned her fellatrix skills but she suckled the man's glans and
used her hand to stroke the shaft. When he was fully erect the man began
to fuck her mouth and at first the woman began to gag but intuitively she
began breathing through her nose while she sucked the black phallus with
the bulging purple glans.
She slavered at the man's glans and then ran her tongue up and down the
shaft; she worked her tongue on his fraenulum and was rewarded with a sigh
of contentment from the man. She fellated the man for about five minutes
before he dragged her to her feet.
"Hot damn woman; you are the best cocksucker I've ever had but I want my
piece of pussy," the man moaned.
Still not certain what she was supposed to do the man spun her around and
pushed her against the wall. He lifted her dress and pulled down her
panties. He prodded at her sphincter with his large cock and the woman
knew what was about to happen. She remembered the man doing the same to
her while she lay drugged on the bed.
She struggled and tried to extricate herself but the man pushed her hard
against the wall.
"Come on sugar, a deal is deal," the man panted as he fumbled behind her
trying to find a way into her rectum.
"Ohh!" the woman gasped as the man's cock slid inside her.
Mercifully for her she still retained some of the semen and lube from when
the man had fucked her on the bed in the hotel and this provided
lubrication. The man's cock was huge and it stretched her anus and she
grimaced with pain.
The man began to fuck her with long slow strokes and the woman realised
that resistance was futile. She concentrated on relaxing her sphincter.
The man pulled her close to him and kissed her on the neck and his hands
found her breasts, he squeezed them through the material of her dress and
her bra.
The woman found some sort of defensive response mechanism deep inside her
psyche; something learned or ingrained. She somehow knew the best way to
conclude the assault on her was to capitulate and participate willingly.
The woman placed her hands on the wall and pushed out her buttocks so that
the man could fuck her deeply. The man grinned and gripped her hips and
thrust himself in and out of her tight ass.
The woman ground her buttocks against the man and got into rhythm with
him, pushing back to meet his thrusts, gyrating her soft ass against his
groin.
A strange thing happened. The man's penis began to sexually excite her;
his bulbous glans was pushing on her prostate and its girth stimulated her
sphincter. The woman felt a deep sensual awakening in her anus spreading
to her groin and she began to become erect.
"Oh my!" she gasped.
"That's it sugar. You enjoy what daddy is giving you," the man moaned.
The man penetrated her deeper and pulled her against him. She found the
presence of the man's body against her and the feel of his groin pushing
on her buttocks as he fucked her comforting as well as arousing. She
sighed and surrendered to the inevitable.
The man fucked her harder and faster and she gasped and rutted in concert
with him. He twisted her face sideways and kissed her and she kissed him
back, her tongue slurping on his, their lips crushed together.
"Oh yeah honey! You're my honeysuckle!" The man drove himself deep
inside her and shuddered.
The woman felt his cock convulse inside her anus and instinctively her
hand found her own penis and squeezed it. Her own issue dribbled from her
erect penis and splattered on the filthy pavement as the man ejaculated
inside her.
The man howled and she shuddered with a paroxysm of lust as he climaxed.
They clung to each other as they orgasmed, the man pulling her back to him
and she gripped his thighs, pushing back and grinding herself against him.
They stayed like that until their lust was sated. The man extracted
himself from her and spun her around and kissed her amorously.
He looked into her eyes.
"Damn bitch you know how to strike a bargain! Nearly a grand in cash and
the best tranny fuck I had in a long time! You ever need a short-time
pimp and lookout again I'm your man." The man pushed his deflating penis
back into his pants and zipped.
The woman was still dazed and confused. She pulled her panties back into
place and smoothed her dress. The bump of her penis showed at the front
of her sheath dress and she pushed it between her legs and hitched her
panties tighter to keep it in place.
"Ok girl. You stay safe now you hear." The man began to walk away.
"Hey!" the woman called after him.
The man stopped and turned around.
"Do you know who I am?" she beseeched the man.
"Sheeit no bitch! That was part of the deal!" The man shook his head and
continued on his way.
The woman exited the alley and mercifully found a yellow cab with its
vacancy light on cruising the street looking for a fare and she flagged it
down.
She climbed into the back seat.
"Where to?" The Pakistani driver looked at her in the rearview mirror.
"Is there a Holiday Inn in this city?" she asked.
The woman was perplexed. She knew nothing about herself but she knew
about hotels? She needed somewhere to think.
The driver dropped the flag and accelerated.
They left the decrepit part of the city and entered a well-lit commercial
district. The woman saw a shopping mall and an illuminated Kmart sign
advertising twenty four-hour service.
"Pull over here and wait." She handed the driver a twenty from the roll
in her clutch purse.
"I'll double that when we get to the hotel," she said.
The diver nodded. He looked perplexed but forty dollars for a fifteen-
dollar fare was not to be passed up.
The lights in the store were bright and garish and she looked out of place
in her evening gown but she paid no attention to the stares of the
customers.
She bought cosmetics, toiletries, and in the ladies clothing section, some
leggings, a top, underwear and a pair of flat shoes. She also bought a
small suitcase.
For a short while she wondered if she should be buying men's clothes, but
she was obviously not presenting herself as male, even though she had male
genitalia.
She figured she had made enough purchases to make a start, she obviously
couldn't go out tomorrow in her evening down.
She stopped at an all-night liquor store and bought a fifth of Jack
Daniel's and a carton of cigarettes. She somehow knew that these were her
drugs of choice and it seemed logical as both were present in the hotel
room where she had regained consciousness.
The taxi driver raised his eyebrows at her as she piled the bags
containing her purchases onto the back seat.
"Fuck off Apu, just take me to the Holiday Inn," she hissed, she was
tired, confused, and in no need for a confrontation.
The taxi driver stopped out front of the Holiday Inn and with the offer of
a further five-dollar tip on top of the doubled fare he helped her inside
with her purchases.
The foyer was bereft of customers at this late hour and the woman strode
to the counter where a young man was stifling a yawn whilst sliding his
finger absentmindedly across his cell phone.
"I'd like a suite if you have one," the woman said fanning three fifty-
dollar bills on the counter.
The man worked the keyboard and then slipped a registration card onto the
counter.
"We have one suite available madam, if you could just fill this out." He
looked her up and down like she was dogshit on his shoe.
The woman knew that she looked like a poorly used hooker and didn't resent
his attitude. She knew that she had nothing in her possession that she
could use for identification but scrambled around in her purse in the vain
hope that she might have missed something that identified her. She found
the 'Executive Solutions' business card and dropped it on the counter as
she continued to rummage around in her purse.
The young man immediately became alert when he saw the card.
"I'm so sorry ma'am. I'll have your bags bought up to the Ambassador
suite." The young man looked alarmed.
He pushed the bank notes on the counter back at her; mystified at the
change in attitude she stuffed the notes back in her clutch purse.
"Please enjoy your stay." He swiped a room key to activate it and offered
it to the bemused woman with a shaking hand.
He picked up the house phone and uttered some words and a bellhop appeared
out of nowhere and picked up her purchases and guided her to the elevator.
The elevator stopped on the 'Ambassador Floor' and the bellhop escorted
her to a luxury suite.
The woman showered, still perplexed that she had a woman's body but with a
man's genitalia, and changed into a pair of fresh new panties and satin
full-slip. She opened the Jack and poured a generous amount over ice.
She opened the sliding door to her balcony and enjoyed a cigarette. She
was tired, confused, abused, and suffering from amnesia, but she felt
safe. She slipped under the covers of her king-sized bed and was ready to
sleep but her mind was racing. She clicked the remote for the TV and
selected an all-news station to provide some background noise.
A pretty Asian reporter sat on a stool, her short skirt showing a lot of
leg.
"And in breaking news, alleged Mafioso Capo, Franco Delgado, was found
dead in a downtown hotel room tonight. Early reports are that he was shot
dead by a prostitute and that drugs were found at the scene. CNN
contacted his wife for comment but she refused to respond. Stay tuned for
updates."
A recent picture of Franco Delgado was projected on the screen. It was
the man the woman had found shot in the head in the sleazy hotel room.
"Who the fuck am I?" the woman sobbed.
To be continued
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