An Assassination Attempt Gone Wrong?

No one likes to get dragged out of bed by a random stranger in the middle of the night. Neither do I. But that was exactly what had been happening to me on a Monday night a few years ago. And to make things worse, it just was the kick off for some fundamental changes in my life.

When I got woken up in the middle of the night back then, I had no clue what was going on. Even before opening my eyes I was thinking what to hell on Earth. I didn’t really wanted to open my eyes to figure out what was going on. Roughly thirty eight year old me wanted only one thing: Falling asleep again.

But the thing that woke me up had different plans. Very different plans, and me falling asleep again, it was definitely not a part of those plans. So I eventually gave in, sat up in my bed and opened my eyes. It took them a few moments getting adjusted to the light, and when they did so, I was everything but pleased with what they were seeing.

There was another, to me totally unknown person in the room with me. A person fully dressed in some tight sitting black clothes, definitely female, wearing heavy military looking leather boots and a balaclava on her head that hid everything but her eyes. So far, so good.

It all could have been a prank, the gun in her hand pointing towards me could have been fake, or at least without live ammunition in it, it all could be some of my mates sending me a midnight surprise, so nothing was lost yet. Despite being more than just slightly annoyed, I kept my cool. The weapon in her hand definitely helped with that too.

I kept on looking at her, she kept on looking at me, nothing was really happening at all. For what felt like an eternity, but most likely only were a few seconds in real time. It was me that broke the silence with five, considering the situation, very polite words: “How can I help you?”

It was then that a muffled, as mentioned above, her mouth was covered by the balaclava too, yet very dominant and commanding voice began to ask me questions. Questions that clearly aimed towards confirming my identity. Once the woman standing in my room, very likely a cleaner, an assassin, was sure that I was the one that run half of the drug business in town through a totally legit fruit import company, she told me to get out of bed.

I did as I was told to do. I got out of bed very slowly. I carefully thought about every move that I made, I also thought about the loaded gun inside my bedside table, but I came to the conclusion that her loaded gun, at least in theory, because so far I wasn’t sure if she was the real thing, would most likely kill me before I would reach it. All together it took some time until I was standing next to my bed, wearing nothing but a comfy T-shirt with a band name on it and a pair of boxer shorts.

The assassin then once more checked me out from tip to toe. Maybe to make sure that I had no weapon anywhere, or more likely, because she felt like doing so. While looking at me from tip to toe she only stopped once: “Seriously, is that a hard one?”

I looked down on myself, then I shrugged my shoulders: “By the looks of it.”

My words were followed by the cleaner letting out a very deep breath. Then she asked me another question: “Are you getting turned on by this here?”

That question of hers made me come to the conclusion that she was the real deal, that she most likely was here to kill me, because if she would have been sent by my friends, she wouldn’t have asked a questions like that. So I didn’t had much to loose at all. I once more shrugged my shoulders while telling her the truth: “Yes, I am into things like that.”

Now the female assassin left out a very very deep breath before she gave me another order: “Downstairs, into your basement. And don’t try anything funny.”

For a brief moment my brain was thinking about giving her a “yes, ma’am” for an answer, but luckily that thought left my brain unspoken. We then went downstairs together, I took the lead, she followed after me, with her gun continuously pointing at me. Not a single word was spoken during our descent.

Down in the basement they lights were already turned on, she must have been down here before heading up into my bedroom, and a chair was standing almost in the middle of a perfectly ordinary open old inner city town house basement: The room had a section to do laundry, a utility corner with a boiler, a heating unit, an aged folded together ping pong table that had already been here when I moved in and plenty of different sized shelves with different sized mostly dust covered stuff sitting on it.

Back to the chair: It was a very sturdy wooden chair, that might have had people tied to it in an uncomfortable position once or twice before. It were those kind of people that knew things, but that needed to be properly motivated to tell me those things. And by the looks of it, now it was my turn to sit on that chair that normally stood in the darkest most remote corner the basement had to offer.

The assassin telling me to sit down on the chair, it wasn’t really needed at all, because I knew what would happen next. I had been in her position as mentioned above too, at least once, maybe twice, but for sure less than twenty three times. So I slowly sat down, looked at her gun for some time while she grabbed a few roles of duct tape from one of the shelves.

After getting the tape from the shelves, the female cleaner threw two rolls at me: “Tape your legs to the chair. One leg to one leg of the chair, and use one roll of tape each. And no hastily moves.”

I nodded, then I did as I was told to do. Or at least I thought that I did. When I bowed down to tape my first leg to the leg of the chair, the assassin told me to stop: “Spread your legs as much as anyhow possible.”

It took my brain a few seconds to come up with a possible reason for her order. Despite I should have actually been fearing for my life, or at least should have been doing so because there might have been some very intense torture laying ahead of me, it was my inner horny animal that got the upper hand and threw some very naughty images onto my mind. Images that let me get hard again, and drove all the fear out of my body. The assassin clearly noticed the once more established hard one between my legs, because I still was wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts.

Once I was done taping my legs to the chair, I actually used a roll of tape for each leg, the assassin told me to cross my arms behind my back, and behind the back of the chair. She then slowly walked behind me, her gun always pointing towards my head, and taped my arms together and to the chair.

Taping my arms was a very tricky situation for the cleaner, because it was then that I might have been able to overwhelm her, and get the upper hand. The chance to do so and succeed, according to my own experience, there might have been a few people in the past that tried to pull a similar stunt on me and my people, was there, but it was a very tiny one.

To make things worse, people trying to escape made my people and me very angry, what led to what would come after became a little bit more intense for the person sitting on the chair. And that getting information out of them became by far less important than teaching them a lesson, and setting an example for others to don’t act up. So I had my reasons to just do as she told me to do.

After I was fully taped to the chair, I was barely able to move, I wasn’t sitting comfy at all, the assassin stepped in front of me again, holstered her gun and then she took her balaclava of her head. She revealed her definitely everything but unattractive roughly forty three year old face to me while her hair fell down over her shoulders.

While looking at her attractive face, while hearing her cursing that her hair band had come off with her face mask, one thought shot into my mind: “She has shown me her face, I am dead.”

Again, it was my personal life experience that made me come to this conclusion. Because I had been on the other side more than a few times. Dealing with competitors can get a little bit nasty when you are, like already mentioned above, in the drug import and distribution business. So I began to make peace with myself. And no, I didn’t began to beg for my life. Pointless when you are dealing with a professional.

Once she was done fixing her hair, she knotted it together on the back of her head, it made her look even more attractive, at least in my eyes, I had the assassins full attention again. She once more checked me out from tip to top, it felt like she was undressing me with her eyes, something I actually had no problem with at all, before she pulled a knife out of her left boot and closed the gap in between the two of us.

Then her knife touched my skin for the first time ever. It drove an exited shiver through my body, adrenaline shoot into my blood stream, cold sweat began to run down my forehead, my body was preparing for what I assumed would come next: Blood running out of some cuts in my skin while she would ask me one question after the other.

Her reaction onto my reaction on her knife touching my bare skin was the following one: “If you answer my questions, it will be over soon.”

I nodded, I tried to swallow, but there was no saliva in my mouth. I really struggled to get the following words out: “I won’t tell you anything.”

My words put a smile onto her face: “Oh believe me, you will. So far no one has made it through an interrogation of mine.”

Then there was the surprisingly loud sound of a knife cutting through cloth. The assassin quickly cut my T-shirt and my boxer short into pieces, and then she tore them off my body. Once I was mostly naked, parts of my legs and my arms were covered with tape, and my rock hard dick – yes, I totally have a thing for situations when she is in total control and threatening me – was set free, she put her knife back into her boot.

To my own surprise one of the assassin’s leather glove covered hands then reached for my hard one and she began to jerk me off. She knew the spots she had to hit, she knew how to make me a happy man, it shouldn’t take long and I was fully enjoying myself while totally forgetting about the in theory somewhat life threatening situation I was in.

When she reached for my balls my moaning was already filling out the basement. Every time her hand went up and down my hard one it felt better and better. It was her squeezing my balls gently, then harder, while continuing jerking me off, that made my eyes run in circles. Fuck, her doing, me being taped to a chair in my basement, her attire, the whole scenario, nothing but hot.

The cleaner then brought me closer and closer to an orgasm. One stroke, one hard squeeze, a slightly harder, slower stroke, an even harder squeeze, my dick was more than just leaking pre cum as my brain turned off more and more, as my inner horny animal finally took over control of me.

And my inner horny animal wanted just one thing. It wanted the assassin to keep on going, to eventually reach an orgasm. The experienced women knew that, and she also knew that keeping me on the edge, keeping me close to an orgasm but denying me what I needed to climax, was they way to go. The way to get every little piece of information out of me.

Orgasm craving more than horny me told her everything. I answered all her questions, just to make her keep on going. To make her keep her hands on my dick and my balls and to eventually make me cum.

Up to this day I have no clue how long her hands were on my genitals, how long she has kept me on the edge back then. But there came a point where she stopped asking questions, and where she gave me what I wanted, what I needed and what my body more than craved: An orgasm.

After a few last very hard and well paced squeezes and strokes I came. My whole body trembled while my cum shot out through my more than rock hard dick onto one of her gloved hands. I even blacked out a little bit. I think the assassin just had given me the best orgasm I had so far in my life.

Once I had returned into my body, the cleaner was still standing next to me, with a huge smile on her face. Then she sucked my cum off her gloves in a very sexy way while making sure that she didn’t miss the tiniest drop. Once her gloves where clean, we looked each other in the eyes. It was then that she said the following words: “Thanks for the information, and I will spare your life for the time being. See you soon.”

The assassin then gave me a kiss onto my forehead, put her balaclava back on and left the basement and my house to disappear into the nightly city. I kept on sitting in my basement, taped to a sturdy wooden chair, having one of the happiest moments in my life: What an awesome fuck, and by the looks of it I just had survived a real assassination attempt.

But that happy moment didn’t last forever, there came a point where I calmed down, and realized that I was sitting in my basement, taped to a chair, not being able to move at all while sitting in an uncomfortable position. Luckily I knew that someone would show up at my house in the following morning.

So it just was a matter of time until someone would free me. So I sat there, waiting, thinking and coming up with a strategy to make the information I had given to the assassin worthless, to hunt her down and then figure out who actually had sent her to my place to interrogate and then assassinate me.

*The story continues* [*over there*](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0GXC64QVF) *or* [*over there*](https://books2read.com/u/3y8LZL)*. Enjoy your read!*