Lioness’ Legacy IV—Torment

by Valerie J. Long

  “Hey, claw!” a male voice called behind me. “Ay, shortie!”

  Should I answer or ignore that? I’d feel foolish if I turned around only to notice that I wasn’t addressed at all.

  Then I had to stop anyway to let a larger group of young people pass, so I could glance around.

  Two boys smiled at me. Athletic-muscular legs were covered by skintight leggings that rather stressed than hid, especially their slightly swollen cocks. What did it matter that their sweat shirts and sneakers appeared somewhat worn?

  The two looked like twins, with short blond locks, dimples and funny flashing eyes, but most of all a winning smile. Truly cute, even if they could hardly have been twenty. My goodness, they could have been my children!

  “Ay, claw,” the left one with the dark red sweatshirt repeated. “How are you?”

  “Hello, Red. Where’s the action tonight?”

  “What’s on your mind?” He pointed to his side, and then reached out his hand. “Mo. I’m Greg.”

  I took and shook his hand. “I’m Velvet. What about live music?”

  I didn’t care for the music, but I wanted to go where people were to listen around first. Company was quite welcome, before I’d have trouble with the wrong people. My mission was too important and too urgent to start a brawl about a little sex with some drunkard.

  “Sure, we have an idea. Um.”

  “Yes?”

  “You’re alone?”

  “I get along. I won’t be in trouble easily.”

  “Um—no, because—we’re two. Mo’s my brother, you know?”

  “Oh, as long as you get along together well, I don’t have an issue going out with you two cuties.”

  Greg didn’t seem to have expected such an open-minded reply. Fair enough, when I had been at his age, I hadn’t been so relaxed, either—not regarding the fact that I already had worked in Eva’s classy brothel for years by then.

  Their smile widened. “Easy, claw—Velvet. Dragon cool name. Matches your suit.”

  “Thanks. So, which way?”

  “Straight up the street, two blocks.”

  “Go ahead, Greg.”

  He hesitated.

  “So that I have a better view on your hot ass.”

  He laughed. “Yours doesn’t look bad, either.”

  Others were interested in my ass and tits, too—in any case, some of the Asian shopkeepers took a second glance when I passed their windows.

  “What are you doing job-wise?” Mo asked.

  “I had a job in a car repair shop, over in Manhattan. Didn’t work, though.”

  “You don’t exactly look like a wrench.”

  “What do I look like then?”

  “Well—oh—yes. Like—hum.”

  “Like an athlete?”

  “Yeah, exactly!” I could hear his relief.

  “Or like a hooker?”

  “Hum.”

  Greg came to his rescue. “Surely not. They don’t have your class. But you have a great body.”

  “I know. And what’s your business? Football?”

  “Exactly,” Greg confirmed. “On the college. We’re still studying.”

  “Which subject?”

  “Mo’s in physics. I’m doing biology.”

  “Okay—and today’s for field studies?”

  “Can’t do harm—oh crap!”

  A group of four guys in yellow leggings and leather jackets came around the corner right ahead. As opposed to Greg and Mo, these four seemed to have heard of me before and to recognize me from my looks alone—they immediately produced their knives.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  “Girl, get away. Mo and I will talk to them.”

  “Don’t be stupid, Greg. They only want me.” I held him back at his shoulder, pushed myself forward and focused on the foremost knifer with the goatee. “So?”

  “You’re Velvet.”

  “Right. And you?”

  “We’re the Skins. This is our territory, and it’s no place for stray cats. You come with us.”

  “You want to earn the bounty? I warn you—this kitten’s got claws.”

  His partners were already encircling me. One of the four threatened Greg and Mo with his knife, so that the two couldn’t help but back away. Luckily, my cavaliers were more smart than heroic, although they probably hadn’t figured out what it was about.

  “Come on, don’t chatter. Face to the wall and hands on your back.”

  In lieu of an answer, I turned my back to the wall, slightly bent my knees and spread my arms. This way I could cover the entire area before me. “Who’s playing first?”

  Angry about his threats’ failure, Goatee yelled, “I stab you!”

  His knife hand shot toward my right arm.

  Did the “No!” come from Greg or Mo? No matter. A quick strike of my claws—great, how fast I could bring them forward now!—cut deep into his hand, so that his knife dropped to the ground. He screamed in pain.

  Two more knives came for me from both sides—one claw strike to the left, one kick to the right, and two more hit Skins jerked back.

  One left—he saw his injured partners, saw the blood-stained, golden-gleaming claws at the unhurt woman’s fingers, computed his odds, and ran away. The other three, unable to fight, bleeding, without support, turned away and hurried after him.

  I watched them until they had taken the corner, then I collected the three left-behind, blood-covered knives, drove one after another into a gap in the wall and broke the blades off. My claws disappeared, like all the blood that covered me or my nano clothes.

  Where were Greg and Mo?

  The two hesitated to advance again until I smiled at them. “Come over, you two. The bad boys are gone.”

  “That was incredible. They had knives!” Mo remarked. “And you just so—whack—took them out. How’s that possible?”

  “I’m good at martial arts,” I explained.

  “Did you know the four?” Greg asked suspiciously.

  “No.”

  “But they knew you? One called you Velvet.”

  “They’d heard of me.”

  “Yes—and we didn’t. What did we miss?”

  The question made me smile. “A lot. This way or that—as I’ve heard, the Syndicate placed a thousand-dollar bounty on my head.”

  “Oh crap—why?”

  “I must have buggered some Bloods. So—let’s go on?”

  “Hum—wouldn’t you want to get away before they return?”

  “That’s what we’re doing. Come.”

  Chapter Forty-Six

  “I still don’t believe it. Are you so cool, or are you pretending? The entire Syndicate’s after you, and you’re running around alone at night?” Greg emptied the rest of his beer and looked for a waitress.

  “I think you had enough beer.” He would protest, but I placed a hand on his thigh and stroked some way up- and inward. “You want to be strong.”

  He panted, but his cock reacted positively. Fine. I wouldn’t be disappointed if our evening didn’t end with sex, but the boys deserved value for their invitation—and if so, I wanted them strong and not drunk.

  “The Syndicate isn’t after me yet, only their street gangs. And those shouldn’t think I’d leave them alone outside of Manhattan.”

  “What do you want to prove by that?”

  “That their claim for power is no longer unchallenged. It’s time for a change.”

  “And you’re doing that all alone?”

  “You know how it goes. The Syndicate rules by spreading fear, uncertainty and doubt. I can play that game, too. I’m ensuring that the gangs fear Velvet—and the Syndicate bosses, too.”

  “They’re sitting safely behind their barriers in the Financial District. You won’t have a chance.”

  “I’ve already been there.”

  Greg flinched. Then he searched my face for hints of joking.

  “Velvet goes anywhere. Into the ZONE, to the Bronx, to the Financial District. Into the Syndi
cate headquarters.” I patted his thigh. “Into the bed of two cute college boys. Or not?”

  “What are you up to?”

  I waved his brother closer. “I want to spend a romantic night with two buff boys. I want to be spoiled by you. I want to feel your lips and your hands on my tits and my ass. I want to scream in lust when your tongues play with my clit. And then I want your hard cocks to bathe in my wetness, so that I can sample my own juice when I’m giving you the blowjob of your lives. And while I’m serving one, I want to feel the other inside me, hard and fast. And then I want you two together, in my pussy and in my ass. All you can give, and then once again more!”

  Greg smiled at me happily. He was lying on his back before me, his cock still slick from the last penetration. A white drop appeared at the tip. I reached out my left hand, took his sperm with my index finger and then sucked it clean.

  “Oooh!” he only made. “Mercy!”

  Mo’s hand gently stroked my right breast. I was lying on my left, he in spoon position behind me, and his cock was still in my ass, only slowly shrinking out. Until now, both had bravely persevered, so I granted them a break instead of stimulating them anew.

  Both had made the greatest effort to fulfill my demands. I had had to show them the way, but they had quickly learned to treat the female body like a precious thing—and they had no reason to complain about a lack of their own pleasure.

  I felt good. After the previous night’s gangbang that had rather been a way to mitigate frustration than to increase my lust, this ménage had recalled the feeling of being valued as a woman, not as a sex object.

  “Do you know what that reminds me of?” Greg asked.

  “No, how could I?”

  “My uncle once told me something. Before the Invasion, there was a chain of high-class brothels all around the world—here in New York, too—where sex was celebrated as a kind of art. For good money, you would have experienced outright divine bliss there. I didn’t believe him—I had thought, what else could there be to sex? Now I know what I’ve missed so far. Velvet, you could start there right away if those still existed.”

  “Been there, done that.”

  Mo’s strokes on my breast stopped. Greg jerked up and rested on his lower arm. “What do you mean? You’ve been there? But that was ages ago.”

  “I mean that I’ve worked there. I’d been one of the best.”

  “But you—”

  “I’m over forty. Doesn’t show, right?”

  “Naaah!”

  “For that age, you have quite firm boobs,” Mo commented from behind.

  “Oh crap—you could almost be my mother!”

  “That sheds quite a different light on the term motherfucker, doesn’t it? Come, can you do it again?” My fingernail ran along his shaft, and he trembled.

  “I don’t know, but I want to, or, Mo? Velvet, you’re our love goddess!”

  Part Five—Recruitment

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  The mayor’s office was a hard nut to crack, due to the stupid park around. I had a choice—would I leave clearly visible footprints in the grass, or had I rather walk the path where the gravel could crunch under my feet with every step?

  One should be able to fly.

  Why not? I looked around. Yes, there were plenty of jumping points.

  It shouldn’t be a problem to maintain my camouflage during the flight, at least not at night, and if I was careful during landing, nobody should notice. Let’s go.

  The deserted building’s main entrance—the writing over the door said 233 Woolworth Building—offered no resistance, nor did the fire staircase door. How many floors would that be now? Twenty? Fair enough, that couldn’t harm my fitness. Sprinting.

  Contentedly, I noticed that I didn’t have to breathe much harder when I arrived on the roof. I was in optimal shape, which was only appropriate for a campaign against the Syndicate.

  However, reconnaissance came before combat. Who were the key figures, and what were their current plans? That’s what I had wanted to find out from the beginning—that I meanwhile had become active as Velvet didn’t change this necessity.

  I stepped to the building edge. The wind plucked at me, and the abyss yawning before me caused a queasy feeling in my tummy. But I had jumped from higher buildings before, so I’d get it done here without hesitation, too.

  Probingly, I spread my arms. Immediately, the wind tore at the membranes that spanned in the triangle between wrists, shoulders and hips. I wouldn’t truly fly with them, but it would rather be a controlled drop where I could change my direction within tight limits, like a flying squirrel. Moreover, the membranes would help me to limit the speed of my drop.

  I let my nanos form a soft cushion under my feet. It felt a bit like walking on clouds. In exchange, I had to do without sideward grip.

  Once again, I checked the reactor emission sources, then I made a determined step to the edge and let myself drop forward.

  A gusty wind had just come up—I had to correct my drop if I didn’t want to land in the garden, but I went down fast. The camouflaged armor suit with his micro fusion reactor stirred—had he noticed something? Too late—concentration—touchdown!

  The cushioned feet came down gently on the town hall’s roof, I bent my knees, balanced with my arms, remained crouched, and let my nanos do their work. Membranes and cushions would only inhibit me inside.

  What did the armor suit do?

  He walked toward the street, the gravel crunching under his feet. At the property’s boundary, he paused for a while, and then he slowly came back. Had he noticed something? A reflex, a shadow, an interruption when my camouflaged silhouette had passed a brighter spot? Or had he heard the inevitable wind noise of my fall?

  But he didn’t find anything, and why should he guess that an invisible woman had just sailed over him?

  After an appropriate waiting period, I decided that he hadn’t been able to notice me and continued my mission. How well were they prepared for unwanted visitors?

  Almost not at all, I found out. Cameras, motion detectors, and spotlights secured the ground access around the building, two visible guards at the entrance didn’t take their task seriously, and the invisible suit probably suffered from boredom, too—who in New York would dare to pass the death strip on Canal Street?

  The nearest roof window was locked, but didn’t offer serious resistance. My nano claws cut the bolts like butter. After having glanced around and sensed the emissions, I pulled the frame open, slipped inside, and let it silently drop close over me again. My claws ran through the cuts a second time and made the metal grow together again.

  In the worst case, that would delay my escape for a few fractions of a second—but if I had to run, I’d probably not use this roof window.

  I had come hoping for two things—that the offices would be deserted at night, and that the Syndicate-employed city administration wouldn’t make special efforts to protect their records. In both, I wasn’t disappointed. Folders were openly lying around on the desks, the computers ran in standby mode and woke up when I poked the mouse. So I had free run for a long and boring night, at the end of which a short sail-jump from the roof would carry me out again.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Rodrigo’s Concierto de Aranjuez belonged among my favorite guitar pieces. The Fool played it so sensitively that it caused me goose-bumps.

  He played for himself. His last listener had already left us half an hour ago, and I hadn’t unveiled my presence yet. I had preferred to wait for the cops passing the small square for the second time and leaving southward.

  The last note faded. I rose from my hiding place and applauded, then stepped before him. The Fool flinched briefly, but then relaxed when he recognized me. “Oh, it’s you.”

  “Hello. How are you?”

  “I’m getting tired. It’s been an exciting day.”

  “Yes? I thought this was a dull place.”

  “People come here when they have something to t
ell, and when they want to hear whether there’s more news. These days, there’s a lot of news.”

  “Indeed.”

  “You’re not a little to blame for it. You messed up the Skins in Brooklyn?”

  “Two nights ago, yes. Actually, I only wanted to have a beer and some food. Someone must have given the innkeeper a hint, so that he put knockout drops into my beer.”

  “Nobody told of knockout drops.”

  “They didn’t have the intended effect. When the bruisers came, I was wide awake.”

  “Tell me more.”

  “Yes. I was sitting at the counter, pretended hardly being able to keep my seat, when they lined up behind me. The guests to my left and right quickly saw to get lost. I waited until they were out of the way, then I turned around on my stool and gave the Skins a friendly smile. That moment, they recognized how wrongly they had assessed the situation. Too bad.”

  He showed a shiver. Had I grinned so meanly?

  “They produced their knives anyway. They couldn’t or wouldn’t withdraw in front of so much audience. That wouldn’t have been good for their reputation. It was the wrong decision, though. I took their knives away, served them some slaps, and then I pulled their trousers down and threw them out.”

  The Fool grinned. “I haven’t heard that part, either. What happened next?”

  “We'll, I sat down again, smiled at the innkeeper and said, I think my beer’s stale, it’s got such a funny taste. He only looked at me and didn’t know what to do. Then I said, okay, I’ve caught you with your pants down, now tap me another beer. Actually, I meant it figuratively, but he really took his pants off before he served me another beer. Perhaps he was just irritated by the way I juggled the four knives.”

  “Didn’t you fear the Skins coming back with reinforcements?”

  “They did. They quickly summoned eight groups. By then, I already had emptied my beer and was outside. I started to run, passed between them, and then they chased me all around Brooklyn.”