Outfits – Christie: DOA 5 off-white leather catsuit w/black mesh and snake image running up body, exposed black bra, buckle boots, leather belt, matching gloves and choker
Helena: Blue-and-gold tailcoat w/blue vest, matching laced shorts, pair of sandal boots and silver dangle earrings w/loose hair
Chamber loaded.
Hammer pulled.
Finger on the trigger.
It happened so fast for Helena. It was all supposed to be easy. Satisfying. Liberating.
Helena had her biggest foe right where she wanted her; all alone with a revolver aimed at Christie's slim stomach covered by one of her favorite catsuits, zipper normally opened showing her favorite black-laced bra as the assassin had her hands up and back to the wall. It was the ideal scenario… one that was perfect for the French blonde to exact revenge on her mother's killer.
Helena had a clear picture of how this would end; from the nuzzle of her revolver pressed onto the Brit's flat stomach… to the sight of blood. Smoke from the firearm, the same one Christie pulled on Helena's petite maid Marie Rose in the past. Burning flesh from what should've been the corpse of the serpent assassin, holes riddled with bullets long passed through her lifeless body on the ground at Helena's feet as the aristocrat aimed the gun at her foe with the coldest look of contempt on her face.
Helena kept telling herself… "It was supposed to be easy."
And yet, here they were… In a reality that was every bit a living nightmare for Helena.
The reality now was Helena feeling Christie's devilishly luscious lips crashing and mashing her own with desperate struggling from both women, feeling Christie's teeth sinking into Helena's glossy-lipped flesh, making out feverishly with the enemy.
The serpent's tongue assaulting and twirling around the aristocrat's mouth with ravenous intent, feeling Helena's tongue tangle with her own in the oral fight for control. Both bodies of the European ladies endlessly mashing and rubbing against each other in their favorite clothes, experiencing the heat inside themselves rising with each passing second as their breasts squished repeatedly together.
And the moans elicited from both women, for better AND for worse, mixing the desperate display of pain and pleasure turning them on. Christie enjoyed it while Helena hated it… but she couldn't fight the shameless feeling of her body loving their desperate duel. Helena's mind, however, loathed the moment, spiralling out of control from the sexual pleasure.
Maybe it was the fact Christie was on top of her as both women laid on the floor in Helena's Freedom Survivor bedroom, an all too familiar position Christie relished in with lovers that wound up victims… but it was especially thrilling when the Brit was on top of Helena, closely violating the French woman's personal space and curvaceous body.
Maybe it was the assassin's gloved hand gripping the back of Helena's head for dear life, almost lost in her loose hair, long set free from her favorite black bow by force in the earlier fight… making Helena feel every hard tug and pull from Christie as if she was trying to rip the golden locks off the struggling French goddess's head, like disposing a tightly-glued weave from the Aristocrat's scalp.
All the while forcing their bodies to press together in an uncomfortable space for Helena… but just as exhilarating for Christie, making her smile and laugh in the kiss at times hearing Helena's struggling, failing, desperate rebellious sounds.
Maybe it was the fact Helena was losing control of the gun she swiped from Christie earlier in their scuffle losing her bow, as their arms stretched out at a distance in a desperate duel for possession of the firearm…A duel Helena was losing with each passing second, feeling Christie's fingers dance over her own more and more getting her revolver back.
"It's all wrong. It was supposed to be easy." Helena thought. One of many that zipped through her mind like a fired bullet as she felt herself losing the battle. Physically… and mentally.
Helena's mind raced at a breakneck pace in the endless lip lock. She thought of how much it hurt. How much it all hurt. How the bitch on top of her was still alive, pushing her own living body on Helena's restlessly.
How embarrassed she felt if her mother saw them. How ashamed her father would be, making out with the enemy even if it was against her will. How wrong and backwards everything all felt. How much she wished she got away from all of this… from her, the one person Helena detested more than anyone in life, especially in their current position.
She kept telling herself this is not how things should be. Not with Christie, of all people in the world. How a world could contain such sick, twisted, heartless souls with no compassion… no mercy… no remorse… and here she was, making out with her enemy in a desperate duel with both girls' lives hanging in the balance, neither wanting to pull out of the kiss for their own reasons.
It was all so wrong, Helena felt and thought.
Helena wanted to end it all so quickly and desperately… if only she had control of the gun.
These events were the last thing the aristocrat foresaw when her day started. How badly she wanted to change the way things led up to this moment raced in her mind, too, as she felt her resistance slowly fade away. Her will to fight lessened and the will to submit grew.
Helena felt so violated in all kinds of ways: her security and sanctity of living on the Freedom Survivor, the ship that was her home away from home, shielding the DOATEC CEO from all danger was broken after Christie somehow tracked down and found her way onto the ship. Her personal space invaded as Christie continued to keep her catsuit-cladded body close to Helena's elegant, refined appearance, now sullied remaining on top of her archenemy in Helena's private bedroom. How disgusted Helena felt Christie was having her way with Helena's body in all the sadistic manners the Brit loved to employ as the self-proclaimed "dominant, alpha predator" of the world.
Helena felt Christie's lips pull away from her own for only a moment, giving Helena little time to act, breath in much-needed air or even beg if her pride allowed her to for her safety. Instead, she felt Christie dive back into her mouth, ravaging the French goddess's mouth again with a desperate, hungry need behind the assassin's force.
Helena felt Christie's hand let go on her hair, dropping Helena's hand to the ground and go down quickly to move between their magnificent chests, squeezing Helena's breast as hard as she could. Helena moaned loudly, her body tensing and leaning closer to Christie's while her face scrunched with tight eyes. Christie smiled, feeling Helena's lips tighten from her grip before she let go, allowing Helena to breathe as both ladies did heavily through their noses over and over again.
Christie moved her hand to grip Helena's crotch, making Helena moan loudly in the lip lock again, closing her legs while slightly bending her knees and curling her toes from the Brit's squeezing hand. Christie enjoyed asserting herself, smiling and laughing in the kiss before letting go, making Helena relax from the horrifying touch before Christie gripped the back of Helena's hair again, pulling as tight as before while somehow fighting the urge to grope Helena's marvelous ass next.
Instead, Christie used her knee to drive into Helena's sweet spot hard, striking the blonde's pussy with as much as she could. Helena groaned loudly in the kiss, bringing her legs together around Christie's knee, feeling the assassin grind her limb onto the sensitive lady parts of Helena. Helena groaned endlessly, whining with tightly-shut eyes from Christie grinding on her as her hatred for Christie's tactics grew with each second, despising the depraved, desperate actions of the Brit.
But to Christie, how could they be so desperate if they were effective.
Christie bravely broke the kiss again, immediately going to Helena's neck, leaving rough bites on the aristocrat's neck while keeping her hair tightly held. Helena slightly turned her head, hooking her arm underneath Christie's as she moaned loudly from pain of Christie's teeth biting her skin. She moaned louder and louder from each bite, bucking her hips with more force onto Christie as her face scrunched from pain. Helena hoped her cries for help would alert anyone who happened to be close enough in the premises, but after a bit she felt her head forcibly turn back straight and her mouth invaded by Christie kissing her again, tongue and all in another toxic intimate fight for their lives.
Everything felt like it was moving so fast for Helena's frazzled mind to comprehend. So much happened for Helena to keep her attention focused on any one part of this hated-fueled romance… That it surprised her feeling the nape of the gun barrel under the French blonde's chin.
Helena's body mildly jumped at the cold steel, instantly understanding how dire her situation had become. Christie kept pushing herself and Helena closer all the while as Helena's entire being shuddered from the steel touching her skin. Christie felt proud she could fulfill this secret obsession she had for Helena's body, spawning from the morbid curiosity that plagued the assassin after she spent so long chasing Helena, seemingly for fun. The British assassin spent years of her life stalking her rich prey that could deliver the silver-haired serpent her biggest payday ever... but she kept her game alive on purpose for some sick fascination that held Christie back, admiring her target from afar for so long.
Helena badly wished she could rewind time with her eyes shut tight from the forced kiss as both girls squirmed about, begging to whatever God she believed in she could start the whole ordeal over… All the events that happened in the comfort of the bedroom on her very own private yacht... and even beyond, stretching into the European ladies' fairly-distant past.
To be continued...