The Assassins Gambit: She Who Has The Amethyst Eyes free porn video

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…

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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.



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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.


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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 that is, the sharpened edge facing up towards his body.

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.


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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.


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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.


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

Revenge 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” game; the terror would cause his heart to stop on the spot.



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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 language of hand motion; if all goes well, they will need to move quick.


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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.


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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.


*********************
*********************
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.


*******************
*******************
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 dumped head first into a cauldron of boiling oil, one inch at a time.

Her friend Darius was 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 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.

======
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 the wonderful gift:

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

Ironic indeed, 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, and then this gift came for her a short time afterwards.

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, such a prize can bring a kings ransom or more from its grower…

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.


*************
“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,” he said with such coldness, voice devoid of all emotion, that the entire patrol was chilled 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 p