To Kill an Assassin by Longshot (f, qs, mast) I sigh softly as I push against my entrapment again. Soft, wet sticky quicksand. I'm trapped to my neck, and I'm sure I'm going to die soon. It's sort of ironic, one of the best assassins Pentex has, and I'm dying this way, in a natural trap, and not even one set for me. My name is Diana Frost, I'm an attractive woman, sandy blonde hair that falls to my shoulders, soft blue eyes, five three, one hundred and two pounds, a build that men would die for, and sometimes do, but of course that's my job. A soft pop, and a bit of mud splashes on my cheek reminding me where I am. Sinking to my death, one even I can't escape. I suppose one might wonder how I got here, I'm not really sure who I'm telling this story to, it's not like there's anyone around to hear. But it's probably just to keep me from screaming like a little girl because of the terror I feel in my gut. I haven't ever felt this helpless in my entire life, at least not that I can remember. Well that's sort of a pointless statement since I don't remember my life before I started working for Pentex. They tell me I don't want to, they rescued me from something terrible, and gave me a better life with them. I can't say really I can argue that point. My life is great, well except for right now. What I do remember is I woke up in a lab, naked. I felt different, I couldn't explain how, but then how can you really know what different is, when you don't remember what it was like before. A man told me my name was Diana Frost, and that they'd found me lying in an alley, half dead. It sounded like a reasonable enough explanation to me. No one's ever come looking, or acted like they knew me. They told me they'd made me better. I guess I am, most people can't do half the things I can, and even those big fuzzy freaks of nature can't stand up to me. Well you'd probably know them better as werewolves. They're trying to stop progress and technological advances as we know it, green peace type stuff, real nasty characters. It fills me with pride knowing I got to take a few of them down before I ended up here. I'm digressing again. Anyway I woke up in this lab, knowing nothing about who I was, except what they were kind enough to tell me. I suppose I should be grateful they spared me the details. I have enough nightmares about my life before as it is. If they're any indication, I'm better off not knowing. Now, I'm powerful, I can become invisible at will and I have the power to stun someone just with the force of my mind. I'm silent as a mouse, I can see in the dark, and when those furballs pop into that were form it doesn't phase me. Most people wet their pants in a best case scenario, and running screaming usually follows. I see them as the big fluffy targets they are and take them out with no problems. Of course all this has it's price, I want sex a lot more now, well ... I can't say that I didn't want it before. I know it got me into trouble here. Ya know it's sorta hard to concentrate on escape when one of the softest, smoothest touches you've ever felt is sliding it's hands all over your stocking clad legs. I mean yeah the boss is good, he has some magic fingers and all, but this ... this was beyond belief. Not much distracts me, but this quicksand - it made my boss look like an amateur. Then I got carried away. Lust crept up, and I just wanted more. I guess you can't blame a girl for knowing what she likes. But I'll spare you the details, lets just say it was some of the most amazing sensations I've ever felt. Well enough about that for now, I'll get into a little more detail when I get to that part of the story. Because I'm such a good assassin, I've earned myself a little rank at Pentex. I get nice quarters, good food, a wardrobe filled with most anything I want. Course my preference is my working clothes, great for all occasions, a black full body stocking. Covers everything from the neck down, great for stopping those nasty fingerprints, and well, when I take the rest of my clothes off, the boss is happy. Anyway over that I usually wear a black jacket, and skirt from a business suit. Sometimes a white blouse if the boss says be dressy that day. I don't keep much in the way of casual, because, well, I have everything I need. Sex, a job, power, I couldn't ask for much more, but if I needed it Pentex would give it to me. So anyway, as I said I'm an assassin, and well I'm one of the best in Pentex. I was the prototype for a new project, a new breed of Formor. And let me tell ya I got off easy, I've seen some of those poor guys. Extra arms sprouting out of their back, deformities you don't wanna believe, some of em go downright nuts and they have to keep em in little steel boxes. Me, I kept my beauty, I got powers, and all I lost were some painful memories. Sounds like a fair tradeoff to me. So in exchange for all this, I do jobs for them. I don't ask questions about why I'm killing these people. They probably deserve it. I mean, Pentex wouldn't just be killing people for jaywalking. They're trying to make the world a better place. So anyway I get handed this folder. The boss tells me that I'm to go kill some Janet Lockhart, a real bitch. She's a furry, a werewolf, and been causing a lot of problems in one of our swamp draining projects. Currently, I'm all for draining this swamp. I can make a safer mud puddle to play in at home, this one is getting a little to grabby even for me. But they tell me she's killed a few of our operatives and has to die. Usually I work alone, sometimes they team me up with a few amateurs, but I end up having to clean up after them when they almost screw up the mission. This is one of those times I wish I had some of those amateurs. At least then there'd be someone to pull me out. I headed out to this woman's cabin, and as luck would have it it's right in the middle of the aforementioned swamp. I don't guess that's lucky, considering where I am now. Getting in is no problem. I make myself invisible, and there's no way anyone can spot me. Even their little powers can't save them once I get in. I took off my heels, cuz well, my foot pads that help make me quieter don't work real well when I'm wearing heels, sides, I like being barefoot better. Well stocking foot I guess, but something about the feel of the soft ground on stocking feet really turns me on. Then again, I guess there's not a lot that doesn't turn me on. I'm a sex addict, oh well, makes life more fun. Anyway I pad along and slip into her cabin. The lock was easy enough to pick, and there's no real security alarms. I couldn't have asked for an easier job, or so I thought. I sit in one of her chairs, and wait. Waiting is something I do well, they taught me to meditate and focus my thoughts. It helps a lot in those long waits. I don't know how long it's been when a light turns on in the room and my eyes pop open. I wake up outta my trance, my target is home. I listen a while and hear her and someone else talking. Padding into the kitchen reveals she has someone else with her. His misfortune. Probably one of those people those wolf type call Kinfolk. Something about being related to em but but being furballs. It really doesn't matter, he'll die too, my contract says her, he's a freebie. I position myself with my gun at her head. It's loaded with silver bullets so it should kill her quickly. I activate my mind blast. He's up and at her side as she falls to her knees screaming. No big ugly wolfiness for you sweetie. I pull the trigger and her brains are now the new motif for her kitchen. I think it's a massive improvement. The problem is that now he can see me. Invisibility's only good as long as you aren't attacking anyone. It's why you make the first shot count. He lunges at me calling me a bitch. I sidestep him easily and pull the trigger a few more times. Another of the nice things about me, I have the agility of a gymnast and the reflexes of a cat, not to mention a mind that moves so quick it's not funny. I'm not smart but in a short quick situation I can usually outthink someone. I wish quicksand thought sometimes, or I could shoot it or somehow kill it and make it let go of me. But unlike the werewolf, it doesn't have a thought process. Anyway I didn't bother with the clean-up. That wasn't my job. My job is to kill them, leave no evidence I was there, and get out. I don't waste time with that. I found out there's a bomb in my head, and they can set it off anytime they want to. I guess I can respect that, I mean they made me, it's their right to kill me. I don't have to like it. But it's another of the small prices to pay. Besides it's their insurance policy I won't try and kill them one day, or if I screwed up that I can't be linked to them. It's all about covering one's ass. I can respect that. I was a little miffed he'd gotten blood all over my favorite body stocking. My fault for standing behind him when I shot, but it made me careless and not watching where I walked. The ground had been soft and muddy the whole way anyway. I'd made sure to get it off my feet on the way in, but it didn't tip me off when the mud closed over my feet. I just noticed that suddenly, I wasn't walking forward anymore. They'd never briefed me on quicksand I guess they assumed either it'd never be a problem or assassins should be smarter than that. Either way, I learned the hard way that struggling makes you sink, fast. The stuff kinda reminded me of Putty buddy at first. It's a neat little toy Pentex makes. It's kinda squishy and comes in an egg, and one of it's more entertaining uses is copying comics and ink. Great for copying documents, and even people's faces. Another neat thing about it is if you throw it at someone, it becomes sorta active and wraps itself around them. It's a great safety net if my target somehow escapes my initial attack. Well this stuff was doing a similar number to my legs. The more I pulled the deeper I went. The problem with it, is it began to feel nice. If for some reason I'm not in the mood or my boss just wants me right then one of his favorite things to do is to rub my legs. It's an instant way to make me want it right then. Well you can see where it lead. I have this mud rubbing both my legs from the knees down simultaneously. Fear turned into pleasure, and I began pumping my legs. As it rolled over my thighs, I thought I was going to scream, and then it slid up my skirt, and I was trapped. I think I actually at one point blacked out, I don't know. I do know I suddenly realized I was almost chest deep, my arms were buried up to their elbows in sticky mire, and I felt the most sexually satisfied I had ever since I can remember. Which actually isn't that long. I noticed somehow my jacket and skirt had come off, and I could see my jacket floating behind me. I felt that soft touch on my breasts and I shook my head. I had to resist, that's what had gotten me here. I knew if I was going to get out of this trap my arms would have to come free. Not knowing how else to go about it I tried to pull them directly out. My muscles strained but, I got no where. Well I take that back, I did. As I turned my torso trying to free my arms I buried myself deeper. My breasts and then my shoulders disappeared into the quicksand, leaving me where I am now. Head tilted back, staring into the sky, and wondering if there's any chance someone might notice me before I'm gone. I lay there breathing softly. Since I started telling my story I sank a little deeper. My hair's spread out around me, and I can see a nice view of the stars now. Little pops and splashes of mud on my cheeks remind me where I am, as if the slow caressing of my entire body wasn't enough. It's hard to focus my mind and block it out, it's a wonderful feeling I'd love to give into, but giving in means I die. I remember I have one chance. The Putty buddy, because of what it is, I can make it work by will alone, the problem is, it's in my jacket, and I haven't seen my jacket since it sank into the mud. Pentex has told me there's some superior spirit looking out for me, that it might help me sometimes if I really need it. I wish it would now, because my future's looking real bleak, and I don't know how much longer I have. Pushing back the pleasure and the terror is draining me, and I just felt mud ooze into my ears. Then as if something heard my wish I feel a brush against my hand. I waste no time in grabbing whatever it is. My jacket! I actually feel tears come to my eyes. I can still cry, how novel. It's not important now, I have to hope that the egg with my putty buddy is still in there. The grab cost me and I feel the mud taking more of my face. I press my lips tightly together and squeeze my eyes shut in the faint hopes the mud won't get into my mouth or eyes. I'm sure it doesn't taste good nor will it improve my vision. My hand searches wildly for the pocket, there, I slip it in, feeling more squishy mud. My nose is clogged now, I can't breathe, I have to hurry, sinking means nothing now, it's all blackness. The ooze is all over me, and i can't fight much longer, maybe I can have one more orgasm before my breath gives out ... As desire overtakes me my hand works as if of it's own will, opening the egg and extracting more squishy stuff, I just hope it's not mud as I will it to become a rope, and latch onto anything. I spent the last of my will and my muddy lover overtakes me. I gasp as the sensation rushes over me, terror and pleasure mixed, I doubt anything will ever feel so wonderful again. I swallow mud, I was right it is terrible. I feel something wrap around my waist, then I fall unconscious, my final thought, it was worth it ... It's a struggle to open my eyes the next morning. Morning? Was it a dream? Just one of my nightmares, no ... a deep earthy smell greets my nose, and there's a taste in my mouth like I've been eating mud pies. I reflexively spit it out. Then I realize I feel dirty, and I remember where I've been. It explains that sensation of being caressed I still feel on my legs. The putty buddy only pulled me out as far as my waist. I don't expect it to be intelligent. A spirit drives it's actions, and follows my commands. In my delusional screaming I must have told it to do this, and it's just held that way waiting for another command. I can't help it, I take advantage of my situation for more playing. I'm a sexaholic, and I'm not in danger of dying. Besides I'm already dirty, what more can happen to me? This stocking is ruined, but I have clean ones back at the apartment. Another amazing orgasm washes over me, and I'm exhausted. I finally pull myself out. I almost feel sorry to, but I have to. Besides if someone had come looking my mission could have been compromised. Actually, I'm surprised I'm not dead already. I drag myself up the putty rope and into the tree. I command it to return to normal and it's back as a little glob of putty. I love this stuff. Then I hear it, a police siren. Shit ... no one lives out here why are cops out this way. Maybe I can look like some helpless woman who got trapped in the swamp and barely escaped with her life. It is partially true, and since I lost my gun in the quicksand, and most of my clothes, I can go for rape victim. I drop out of the tree and stumble towards my car, only part of it is an act so it's not hard to keep up. I trip and fall into the mud not far from the cop. Yeah sure it was on purpose. He doesn't radio what he's doing, good it's an overconfident rookie, perfect. I might live through this yet, with just a minor scolding. He rushes over to me. "Miss? Are you alright? What happened to you." People are so trusting. I look up at him groggily, then scream, acting like anyone would terrify me and break into sobs. It's not much of an act sadly, it's really what I want to do, granted for different reasons than I plan to tell him. He picks me up and tries to clean off my face. "Miss, what happened to you? Where are your clothes?" I'm sure he took more than one look at my tattered body stocking. The quicksand did a number on it. Silk is not meant to have mud squished into it. "Drug ... out here ..." I sob. "Tried to rape me, sank into quick ... quick ..." More crying. I dunno it feels good to let it out, something in me wants it, and I just let go with the waterworks. I luck out he's one of those soft-hearted romantics. He takes me into his arms and cuddles me promising everything will be okay. Yeah it's against procedure, but he can explain it to his superiors. Mine will be pleased he didn't suspect me of anything more than being a victim of the murderer. He doesn't question how I got out. He just gets a blanket and wraps it around me, and gives me his uniform shirt to cover myself with. He's a big guy and it falls down to my knees. "Is there someone you can call to come get you?" It's one of those days I'm glad the car is stolen, and I lost the keys with my jacket. I shake my head, calling the company would be paramount to suicide. My shoes are in the car, shit. Maybe he'll leave me here, I could kill him, and dispose of the shirt and blanket later. Options run through my mind, then he turns to me. "I'm gonna check out the house, can I leave you here a few moments?" It's my lucky day, he's a rookie and dumber than toast. I nod, acting scared, well I am scared, and pull the blanket tighter around me. He's cute, even sexy in the white t-shirt. Muscular and young, like the boss. As he wanders into the house I make it to the car and open it. I thank whatever god is watching over me that it's not locked. I grab my shoes and throw them into the swamp, then huddle back down like a scared female, leaning against his car. He comes back. "Did you see who drug you out here?" I shake my head. "Do you know the people that live in that cabin?" I shake my head again. Better to play stupid. He nods. "What were you doing out here?" I whimper. "I ... don't know ... I ... I was grabbed off the street and ... I woke up out here dressed like this ..." More crying. He shakes his head and cuddles me again, telling me it would be okay and trying to be comforting. He take my statement and an address and name I make up. He tells me he is gonna take me home. I give him my real address saying my friend lives there and I didn't want to go home right now. He seems to accept that and drives me there. I ask that he not involve my friend, she has enough troubles without detectives questioning her. He accepts this and promises not to. He informs me that officers may come by and question me about things later. I beg for him not to. Pentex has told me I don't have to make a statement or answer questions unless I'm a suspect. I guess I did better than I thought of playing the victim, because he lets it go as a coincidence that I was even there, and I'm not much of a sweet talker. I stumble into my apartment, using the spare key I keep hidden in a convenient little hidden compartment. Actually Pentex put it there, I just discovered it, I guess they want it just in case. With a bomb in my head I can't imagine why they'd need a key to my apartment on the premises, but since I don't want to let onto me knowing about it, I put it back. The cop takes his shirt and blanket back once I'm inside, and leaves. After my shower and just putting on a fresh body stocking as I get ready to make my report my boss shows at my door. I smile. He accepts things so much easier in bed. I'll get out of this after all.