Actions

Work Header

My Little Assassin

Work Text:

1922, Cork, Ireland.

The fading sunlight gave way to dusk as I lingered at the far end of the narrow street. The road was dim and deserted save myself and the few rats I spied scuttling about. I relaxed against the jagged brick of the dilapidated building behind me, awaiting the young lad's arrival with the utmost patience. I'd been observing him from a distance, long enough to be knowledgeable in the intricacies of his daily routine. The places he frequented, the company he kept, his preferred route of travel - they were all very familiar to me. I knew for certain he'd be sauntering along this particular road very soon, with that cocky little swagger that was distinctly his. It was really quite amusing to watch the lad, one could almost sense his delusion of grandeur. I found it difficult to suppress the venomous grin that threatened to creep across my face, as I imagined how much pleasure it would give me to watch his frail facade crumble. Surely, this would be the last day he pranced along the street, his youth and ignorance deceiving him, allowing him to believe he was indomitable.

I drew the weighty silver watch from deep within the pocket of my black trousers, and held it reverently in the palm of my hand. My initials had been engraved across the cover...a gift from Michael. I traced a light finger over the fancy lettering, then flipped the cover open to check the time. Yes. My little friend would be along any minute now. I slipped the watch back into my pocket and tapped my boot clad foot on the pavement with mild boredom, whistling softly as a faint drizzle began to fall. The rain didn't disturb me in the slightest. I'd have waited in a steady downpour with just as much resignation, if that's all it took to bait the lad and lure him into the delicious trap I had prepared for him. A trap he, himself aided in setting with his own greed.

Keeping the lad's lust for money in mind, I'd taken great care in dressing that afternoon, in order to present myself as one accustomed to wealth. Beneath my long coat, I wore my best wool suit and a pure white starched shirt, my black boots shone, despite the rain, from a fresh shining. Even my lengthy dark hair, had been meticulously groomed and tied back at the nape of my neck to reveal the features of my face, my pale grey eyes. I'd done this deliberately, as I wanted my face etched in the lad's memory, if only to reappear time and time again in his most disturbing dreams.

Yes, from the moment I first began formulating my design, it was quite obvious to me, that money would be the key factor in making any plan a success. The lad, it seemed, could be bought...for a fair price. My only indecision, at first, being what type of revenge I wished to exact. Initially, I considered murdering the little monster. An eye for an eye, as it was often said. Yet the more I thought on it, death seemed too swift and light a punishment for his crime, considering the long term effect his actions would have on all of Ireland. It seemed only fair the effects of his punishment should linger as well.

I was still struggling with my uncertainty, when first I began trailing the lad. It was only by accident, upon observing him up close, that everything started to fall into proper order. He had been out late with a friend, loitering outside the local pub, when a group of knackered men came stumbling out the door. Upon seeing the lad and his companion, they singled him out and began pestering him. I could hear the loud, slurred voices poking fun at the lad, calling him such things as a faerie, and 'a pretty wee lass'. I watched, fading into the dense shadows and out of view, as their taunts evoked a temper tantrum on the lad's part. He stood beneath the glow of a street lamp, the soft illumination bathing his pale face, providing me with my first close view of him as he spouted obsceneties and made various threats. In truth, he was remarkably pretty, it was understandable why the other men would jest as they did. It struck me then, as he spat out the vilest of words, that there was something in his high-pitched voice, in his arrogant stance and effeminate mannerisms, that sent waves of heat coursing through my body. It was quite unsettling and unexpected. However, the encounter gave birth to a marvelous new scheme.

As I stood reflecting on the dawn of my malign plot, I caught a glimpse of the lad rounding the corner onto the street where I waited. As always, my excitement mounted as he neared. No matter how many times I beheld the lad, I was continually struck by his appearance - could feel the slow burn ignite in the pit of my stomach as the desire to consume him overwhelmed me. He was androgynous little creature, petite and lovely by any standards, with finely chiseled features and a lush pink pout - delicate and bewitching enough to make a lass green with envy, even with the scowl that seemed a permanent fixture on his thin face.

The callous little bastard that he was, he wandered along the road with a handful of stones and paused every few steps to take aim at a bird or gutter rat. With humor, I noted the lad's disappointment each time he missed his intended target. He was such a murderous thing. I knew he'd make the chore at hand all too enjoyable, that I would savor every second of his torment.

As usual, the lad was too engrossed in his small-scale genocide to notice me, presumably reliving his moment of eminence with each hit. Unlike the other times I'd observed him, this time I didn't take measures not to be seen. I knew he would eventually cast his eyes upon me. The moment he did, it was all too visible in his features; eyes widening, lips parting slightly, pace slowing down. I nodded a greeting, and he walked up to me, almost triggering an amused smile in me with his unwariness. However, I managed to maintain the long- practised deadpan and, as soon as he was close enough, greeted him with the words that would capture him in an instant, "Good job."

He smiled. This was almost too easy.

The lad arched his shapely brows, unable to extinguish the lingering grin. "Who are you, if I may ask?"

"Let's just say, I'm someone who is rather pleased with your disposing of Michael Collins." *Your* disposing of Michael Collins -- he liked that, it was obvious. "Plus, I'm someone who might have a job for you."

He frowned and hesitated for a moment. "What's it about?"

"I will tell you soon enough."

His frown intensified. So he was actually worrying. Remarkable. I had to suppress a sneer. "You will understand that I cannot tell you about it on the street."

His face straightened, then he glowered at me once more. "I'm not some cheap lil' assassin, you know."

This one was just too comical. Of course you are. "If that was what I thought of you, then I wouldn't be here offering you this job."

Again, he could not contain his smile. Pleased, obviously, and by now in the right condition for me to ask him home. "It will be best to discuss the details at my place."

The lad bit his lower lip, reflecting briefly and wiping a strand of damp hair from his forehead, before nodding his assent. Almost embarrassingly simple.

"Come along then, let us not waste time dawdling here in the street. There is much for us to discuss." I made a faint motion with my head to indicate the direction in which we should proceed. Confidently, I began to walk. The tiny lad scurried alongside me, trying to keep pace. It was an effort on his part, as I towered above him and my gait was much wider.

We walked in silence, our footfalls echoing on the wet pavement, through the desolate neighbourhood, past the decrepit buildings. I could hear the boy's laboured breathing beside me, until finally he spoke up.

"Are we almost there?" His tone was anxious, and he suddenly reminded me of a spoilt young child.

"Be patient lad, it's not much further now."

When we finally arrived at the duplex I'd rented especially for this sacred occasion, the lad wrinkled his nose with distaste. Such a little sissy.

"Ah...here we are." I produced a set of keys and jingled them before his eyes as I stepped up to the heavy, worn door.

"This is where you live?" His disgust was apparent in his voice. To be fair, the building was truly in a terrible state, yet I'd been able to rent it at little cost and had made certain that I would be the only tenant.

"Don't be silly, child. Of course this is not my own residence, this is merely where I conduct my...business affairs. I would hardly invite a hardened assassin like yourself into my own home, now would I?" I forced a warm smile as I swung the front door open and stepped over the threshold.

"Oh. True, I hadn't thought of that," he hesitated. I could sense his mounting distress and let it fill me with a sense of twisted glee.

"Will you be coming in then, lad? Or shall I find myself another man for this job, perhaps someone with a bit more experience in such matters? Surely, with the price I'm willing to offer, it wouldn't be difficult." I paused, waiting for him to make his decision. It hardly took long.

"No! I'm not having second thoughts, and I'm plenty experienced for anything you have in mind." The lad scowled and hurried in. I was seized by irony of his overblown statement, for I most sincerely doubted he was "experienced" in the acts that would soon transpire.

Once inside, I led him to the staircase that plummeted into the bowels of the edifice, grasping his hand in my own as I lead the way down the darkened steps. The sensation of his delicate hand, wrapped in mine, a reminder of my superior strength and size. I couldn't help but imagine how easy it would be to crush his dainty fingers with one rugged clasp. The thought was exceedingly tempting, and though his palm was sweating profusely as we neared the bottom, I regretted having to relinquish physical contact when I dropped his hand.

Once our descent was complete, I reached overhead to pull the switch on the bare light bulb that dangled from the ceiling of the crude cellar. It was a thoroughly forlorn, dejected looking space in which the musky smell of damp earth, garbage and mold overwhelmed ones nostrils, yet it suited my needs perfectly. The foreboding atmosphere enhanced this particular situation splendidly, and the dense shadows easily hid the apparatus I'd recently installed.

I gestured toward the battered table and chair set I'd arranged and shrugged off my heavy coat and suit jacket, tossing them over the back of one seat. When the boy didn't immediately sink into a chair, I grasped the back of one, and pulled it out for him.

"Be seated." It was more a demand than a request. The lad blinked as if a bit dazed, and slowly settled down, swallowing hard. I drew a chair of my own and placed it uncomfortably close to his. I straddled it casually, folding my arms over the back and leaning my face in very near, so near that the sweet scent of his breath caressed my skin. Narrowing my eyes, I regarded him coldly, until a slight shiver gripped his body. He would have to learn to conceal his emotions better in order to succeed in the business, I thought to myself.

Without further preparation, I named the price I was willing to offer for his service, enhancing the effect of the rather extraordinary sum. The way his eyes broadened with surprise, made me look forward to his reaction to the revelation soon to come.

"Am I right to assume that we can agree on this price?"

He nodded faintly, obviously trying to regain the composure that had momentarily slipped away, as it often seemed to.

"Then let us proceed then. My first name is Kelvin, and you should address me as such. My last name is of little importance right now. When I feel the time is right, I'll provide you with more specific details with regard to myself," I offered him my right hand, and he shook it, apparently still benumbed.

"Now the following might appear peculiar to you, but it is a necessity. I need you to remove your shirt."

"What --" he spoke up, but I silenced him with a gesture.

"This particular assignment, I daresay, cannot be done by merely anyone. I have to see if you are physically capable of all the aspects involved. You see lad, you have a very....slight build and though I realize you're cunning enough to execute this task, I have yet to see any evidence that you're fit enough to carry out what I have in mind."

"What strange kind of job is this, anyway?" he protested with a slight pout, again reminding me of a spoilt child.

I laughed. "What did you expect at this price? Do you think I'd waste my time with petty affairs and pay such sums to have them executed? I was thinking a man who could assassinate Michael Collins would be able to follow through with this, but obviously you are looking for less demanding chores. "

His resulting panic, revealing itself even easier than previous emotions, was the droll testimony to his being hopelessly trapped, without the slightest doubt about the accuracy of my statements.

"No, no, I was only... wondering... I haven't --"

"Alright then," I cut into his attempt at damage limitation and got up from the chair, walking towards the installed apparatus, which had gone unnoticed thus far. Without turning around, I motioned for him to follow me. Behind my back, I heard the legs of his chair scraping over the firm ground and then his uneasy pace, closing in on me. When he was beside me, I turned my head, seeing with great pleasure that he had followed my command and taken off his shirt. I scrutinised his body, lean, as was to be expected, yet muscled. Raising an eyebrow, I declared, "You have better muscle tone than I had imagined, but still, I will need to test your endurance. Don't fret, this won't take but a moment. I will tell you all the particulars as soon as I know you are indeed suited."

The young boy nodded, his rising tension apparent in his creased brows and set jaw. It occurred to me offhandedly, as I reached for his arm, the lengths that greed could drive one to. It was almost sad, when you paused to consider it.

I clasped hold of the lad's arm tightly, my long slender fingers digging viciously into his tender flesh as I guided him to the apparatus. The contraption was merely a heavy chain that I had strung over a support beam in the ceiling with iron shackles fastened at each end.

When his eyes first beheld the device, I heard the lad draw a sharp breath, "surely you don't mean to bind me in those." His voice wavered as he spoke and he shot me an incredulous glance.

"Why, of course I do..." I replied calmly, yanking him harshly into place as he fought to free himself from my grasp. I was much larger than the wispy lad, and by far the more powerful man - it was with little difficulty that I pinned his frail wrists above his head and shackled each in the cold irons.

"Argh...no...Kelvin, let me OUT of these at once! I don't like this..." I stepped back and observed the spectacle with enjoyment. The lad was twisting in his chains, appearing very near tears. I folded my arms across my firm chest and inspected the lad's body with calculating grey eyes, drinking in his rare beauty; his creamy white skin and narrow torso. With his thin arms strung up, body slightly stretched, his abdomen appeared concave. The hunger to reach out and touch the smooth hollow was staggering, but I resisted, feeling my cock twitch in protest between my legs. I couldn't help but find it a shame that one so ravishing was filled with such wickedness.

"Hush now lad, I wish to speak to you." I commanded, the timbre of my voice bitter and raspy.

The lad quieted and ceased his senseless writhing, his chest heaving as he glared at me angrily.

"I told you I'd reveal myself to you...when I felt the time was right. Well, I do believe, that the appropriate moment is upon us." I paused for effect and glared, "my last name is...Collins. Michael, the man you murdered in cold blood, was my dear cousin."

As I watched, the lad's bottom lip began to tremble and his eyes widened with fright. I narrowed my own eyes again and moved in close to him, reaching out to stroke the velvety skin of his cheek. With one hand I cupped his face and ran my thumb over his ample lips, my other hand sought one of his pale pink nipples. Upon finding the hard little nub, I plucked and pinched it ruggedly between my fingers until he gasped.

"Don't...please...don't." The lad's eyes welled up with tears, yet I felt no pity - only this warped craving to possess and degrade him. Had I ever felt such a yearning before? I found myself pondering the question over and over again. No, I couldn't recall another moment in time, that defiling someone had ever been this appealing. Yet here I was, treasuring every last second as I snaked both my hands down over his chest. Upon reaching his meager waist, my skilled fingers unfastened his trousers with ease. He whimpered softly as I tore them down around his ankles. I could see him quivering in the chill basement air, exposed and mortified as I reached between his legs and palmed his heavy balls. I cupped their weight in my hand, feeling their heat and sweat as I fondled them without a trace of gentleness. He winced noticeably at my touch, tears streaking his angular cheeks.

"Now, I suppose it's quite obvious that, unlike Michael, I've never been much of a pacifist," I gave his balls a rough squeeze, "I suppose it's quite unfortunate for you, no?"

The lad turned his wan face towards me, trying to read the expression on my face. Our eyes met for a long moment and I could sense the struggle for composure behind his blank stare as I continued, "Mick was just an idealist I suppose, a bit of a fool really...with more heart than common sense."

"Sir, I did not know your cousin, it was simply a job. Be merciful, I am but a lad, trying to fend for my impoverished family." He pleaded with me to no avail, the pitch of his voice rising until it sounded shrill, and I could no longer be an audience to his infernal lies.

I drew back my hand and struck him forcefully across the face, sending his slight form reeling in the hefty chains. While he was still stunned and staggering about, I gathered up the thick leather strap that I'd concealed behind a box of rubbish and stalked back over to him, brandishing my strap, holding it directly in his view. He blinked at me in confusion, the stricken side of his face displaying the first hint of a bruise.

"Liar!" I bellowed, frowing and rounding him much as a vulture circles its prey.

"No! It's true! It might not seem an excuse to you, but my mother...she is ill...and I am desperate." His voice cracked and words jumbled as he rushed to finish, "please... please...whatever you're considering. Don't do it. Pardon me...in the name of God, Sir. Grant me your forgiveness."

"In the NAME OF GOD, you say! You slaughter a gentle man...a national hero, and then call on God!?" I slapped him across his backside with the leather strap, just hard enough to redden the tender flesh and cause him to yelp like a wounded puppy. Inspired by the sight of his splotched bottom, I let loose with a vengeance and began flogging him harshly, letting the leather bite and sting his fair skin as I decorated his body with bright red welts. His bony shoulders, flawless ivory back, tender ass and thighs...nothing was left unblemished once my rage was unleashed.

"No. FUCK...no...this isn't happening...it's not...happening...God help me...please," at the sound of his cries and with each slap of the leather, I felt myself becoming increasingly aroused, my hostility mingling with an indescribable lust.

By the time I'd finished the first round of beatings, blood trickled from his mangled wrists and he was nearly choking on his sobs. I tangled my fingers in his dark, cropped hair and yanked his head back, so I could look into his contorted face, "I want you to repeat after me, do you understand? I want you to say...I am a filthy little whore."

Panic merged with pain in the lad's eyes. "I'm not... I'm not saying --"

Having expected this foolish attempt at resistance, I lowered myself onto my knees behind the lad's fragile, and by now rather bruised figure, taking hold of his slim hips. He writhed increasingly beneath my grasp, his uneasiness showing in every slight movement he was able to perform within his restraints. I let my tongue reach out to his arse and lick along his sweaty crack, before I slid it up into his tight hole. Relishing the flavor of his body around my tongue, I moaned against his flesh, then pulled away abruptly before I lost my self control. "Say it," I ordered.

"What are you doing --"

I sniggered. "That should be fairly obvious, shouldn't it? Then again, you don't seem to be of the quickest kind when it comes to deductions."

A few quiet sobs were all I received in answer. I lapped at his hole again, deeper than before, triggering delightful responses; faint, helpless cries and indecipherable mutterings. When I withdrew this time, he whimpered with trepidation.

"Do you want me to go on?"

For a few moments, there was silence except for his heavy and irregular breathing, then he whispered, "I...I don't...please...I beg of you --"

"Come now...don't tell me you aren't enjoying this! Does it NOT feel good, lad...my tongue moving inside your arse? Now SAY it. Say you're a whore. A filthy little slut."

"Please, don't make me..." His voice was faint and broken.

"I can make you do anything I please. And you know that, don't you?"

"Yes...yes...I know," the lad answered without hesitation in a thin voice...a voice that reflected his increasing fear.

"Now SAY IT!" I spat out the command as I stood upright. When there was still no adequate response, I brought my strap against him yet again, striking the flesh of his thighs. His screeching was like music to my ears.

"I'm...I'm...a filthy whore." His frail body convulsed with weeping and ragged breaths, his spirit beginning to shatter. I knelt behind him once more, grasping his bright red bottom with harsh fingers as I spread his cheeks wide apart. I buried my face against his smooth skin, inhaling his musky scent as I licked at his constricted pucker. My tongue lunged past the resistant band of muscles and ventured deep into the heat of his canal, the moist walls enveloping it as I stroked the pungent membranes mercilessly, tasting him until finally, I heard the lad curse out loud, "stop it...fucking stop...anything but...but....THIS."

He panted shamefully, confused and desperate as I withdrew my tongue and climbed to my feet beside him.

I pressed my body against his side, my lips brushing his ear as I whispered, "Why do you insist on begging? It's really quite irritating. I mean, come now child, do you think I'd allow a murderous pig like YOU to go unpunished? Hmmm...you know better than that, don't you my little friend?"

The lad rested his head on his upstretched arm and gazed at me helplessly, his pale blue eyes silently begging me not to violate him. Ignoring his beseeching stare, I trailed my fingers down over his marred back, wriggled a single digit between his cheeks and rubbed it against his saliva- drenched orifice. He lurched forward in a futile attempt to resist my probing finger, but I persisted, knowing I would have my way. With a forceful shove, I drove my slender finger well into his virgin hole, watching as he winced and drew in a sharp breath. Holding him in place with one arm, I reached far up inside his narrow passageway to massage his smooth gland. The lad's head rolled back and he bit down sharply on his lower lip to stifle a whimper.

"Yes. That's it lad, cry out...you like being fucked, don't you? I knew it from the first moment I laid eyes on you that you needed a good hard arse fucking. Mmmm....and it's so tight in there," I wiggled my finger around inside his feverish hole for effect, "I can hardly wait to stab my cock up in."

I dropped the arm I was steadying him with, lowering it so my hand could grasp firm hold of his swollen cock. When I wrapped my fingers around his shaft, I nearly gasped at his involuntary arousal. His length was slick with the warm streams of pre-cum that seemed to leak, against his will, down over the reddened tip. I breathed against his ear, "oh...my...but your cock is so stiff...almost as hard as mine. Now, let me see those narrow hips of yours buck and ride my finger. Show me what a whore you are...how much you like being fucked. Yeah...that's it...good lad...move faster...yes..yes...that's very good..."

Fresh tears sprang to the boy's eyes as he submitted and sought to move his narrow hips in rhythm to my thrusting finger and brutally stroking fist. To see him dissolve into such a pathetic state caused a stirring between my own legs, I wanted to penetrate him, to stretch and tear him just as he'd ripped out my very heart by taking Michael from me. Leaving my finger far inside the lad's hole, I reached my other hand downward and released my swollen dick from the confinement of my trousers, letting them slide down my legs until they were wrapped around my boots.

My lips danced lightly over the lad's bruised cheek, my tongue gently licking his salty tears as I pressed my bare cock hard against his bony hip, grinding my rigid organ into his sweaty flesh as my finger moved inside him again, "I believe your body wants this, lad...even if you think you do not," I whispered, returning my hand to it's previous task of pumping his engorged shaft while I used my other hand to fuck his ass; adding one more finger, then another, and another...until I was stretching him wide open with the width of four fingers.

"Ahhh...you're hurting me...fuck...oh god...stop..." He screamed, though his body was too weak to put up much of a struggle. My only response, was to fuck him all the harder - to drive my fingers deep inside him with ruthless force. I felt nothing for his discomfort and considered shoving my entire fist up his arse, then decided against it, only because I wanted him to remain somewhat snug, until my cock was finally enveloped in his heat.

"Well," I moaned, nuzzling against his face, "I suppose you won't be quite as tight now..." I kissed his cheek softly and pulled my fingers out of his slackened hole, realizing immediately that they were soiled with blood and feces. Grimacing, I wiped the mess from my fingers over his abdomen, "dirty little thing, aren't you?"

The lad glanced down at the filth I'd smeared across his taut stomach and cringed, his eyes full of shame, his face reddening with embarrassment. Watching his humiliation excited me more than I ever imagined it would. Though he was one of the lowliest little rats I'd ever beheld, I couldn't help but find myself stirred by the power I felt over him. It was like a shot of pure adrenaline coarsing through my system.

I kicked my trousers the rest of the way off and moved behind the lad, crushing my cock against his arse as I spoke in a hoarse voice, "I'm sure you want to be fucked now."

He jerked away, the pitiful distance that was possible to him, and made an attempt to turn his head and glare at me.

"Do you?" I asked, nipping at the back of his neck as I imagined how exquisite it would be to bury my cock inside his hot little hole...to feel him squeezing around me like a vice. The very thought made dick weep as I thrust against his arse, smearing his wounded skin with my pre-cum.

His voice was barely audible when he finally whispered the most ludicrous words possible in his situation, "No. Please...don't. Kill me...I rather you kill me than rape me..."

"Please don't, eh?" I mocked him, feigning a frightened whimper before breaking out in a hearty laugh, "not much of a fearless assassin now, are you lad? And why shouldn't I rape you...you little bastard...when you've raped all of Ireland by murdering one of her patriots?"

"Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you." He ranted, near hysterics, before a resigned calm stole over him. He sighed heavily, "be done with it then." The lad buried his face against one raised arm, "just...just...get this over with." His voice was flat and drained of all emotion. I blinked with surprise, overcome by a fleeting moment of sympathy. Yet I refused to walk away from the course of action I'd first set out take. Instead, I circled around to face him, wanting to look into his eyes and observe his expression. Firmly, I grasped him beneath the chin and tilted his face up toward mine, he was reluctant to gaze upon me, but I insisted.

"Give me what I want...willingly...and I'll no longer be such a brute," I traced his cheekbone with my thumb as I spoke, slowly gliding over his milky white skin, down to his lush mouth. His full pink lips trembled beneath my touch. To show that I could indeed, be a bit more tender, I inclined my head towards his face, wishing to place a chaste kiss on that luscious mouth of his. Before I could make contact, the hard edge was back in his eyes. He scowled at me with renewed hatred and spat in my face, "fuck me, if that's your wish...go ahead, Sir. Do it and be done with it, but you won't find me willing. I'd rather die."

The snarl on the young boy's face amused me, yet instead of allowing myself a chortle, I closed my hand into tight fist and belted him across his slender face, "you've made a terrible mistake wee lad, I'd have gone far easier on you, if you had only agreed to play along," I sighed dramatically, "it matters not, I'll have my way with you in any event."

Still stunned from the blow, his breathing rapid, the lad spoke through clenched teeth, "then you had best make sure you kill me when you're through."

At those words, I laughed spiritedly, knowing full well that he was in dire fear of experiencing any pleasure I had to offer. Still grinning, I fell to my knees before him and with one swift movement, devoured his erect cock with my mouth. I held fast to his slender thighs as I sucked up and down on his length, lapping at his bulging veins with my tongue, feeling the thickness of his shaft expand even further in my mouth and I drew him deep into my throat. I could feel the lad's struggle as he grew increasingly disturbed by his own physical response to my ministrations. He swore beneath his breath as his pre-cum dribbled out over my tongue. His body tensing as he fought off the favorable sensations. When I finally drew back, his cock was red and glistening wet, "very impressive for one so petite." I muttered, giving the cushiony head one last lick around the rim and then dipping the tip of my tongue into his leaking slit, listening to the hushed tone of his whimpering.

Having waited long enough, I was ready to make him feel every inch of my rigid organ. I wrapped one arm around his sweaty, filth strew waist and kicked his legs further apart, grasping my cock at the very base, "You'll never erase this. Once I'm inside you...I'll always own a piece of you."

"Go to hell."

"I'll see you there, then, " I whispered against his ear and lunged my cock inside, spearing past his swollen pucker with one savage thrust. I licked at his neck, as his high pitched scream pierced the dank basement and my teeth sank into the flesh of his bony shoulder. I never paused to let his body adjust to my ample girth, but instead, began shoving inside him with fast, hard jabs. Even after having all my fingers up inside his arse, he remained somewhat constricted, tight enough to clench around my shaft deliciously.

True to his word, the boy was filled with protest. His cries came loud and long as I stabbed inside him with such strength, his body bucked forward in it's restraints. Aggravated by his incessant noise, I sought to silence him, grabbing his cock in one hand as I wrapped my other around his dainty neck. I continued ramming into his arse, while my fingers closed around his neck, cutting off his supply of oxygen. The boy tried unsuccessfully to gasp for air, until finally his head lolled backward onto my shoulder and his thick cock pulsed in my sweaty grasp, spurting ropes of hot cum out over my fingers and onto the floor.

I released the lad's neck, feeling his body grow limp just as my own organ exploded deep in his gut, filling his sweet young arse with my hot seed till it trickled down his battered thighs. The orgasm left me dizzy and weak in the knees, clinging to his frail body.

Once I'd gathered my wits about me again, I pressed my fingers against the lad's neck, checking for his pulse. He was well enough, he'd only passed out from lack of air. I was thankful of that. Death would have been too kind for my little assassin, I wanted him to live long and remember this hour for all the days of his life.

As I dressed myself, I watched the lad in his sleep-like state, naked and limp, dangling in his shackles like a rag doll. I didn't believe I'd ever seen a sight more satisfying, or more beautiful.

While he was still unconscious, I released him from confinement and allowed him to collapse in my arms with a muted groan, giving his face a few light slaps to bring him back around. When his dark lashes fluttered open, he was still in my embrace. The lad appeared dazed and a bit befuddled as he tried to focus his eyes. He blinked, the recognition of who I was and what had just transpired, sinking in. He twisted his body in an attempt to fee himself of me, and I did not make an attempt to hold on to him this time. Instead, I let him drop onto the cold hard ground. Watching him on his hands and knees below me, I could see the muscles of his bludgeoned back tense as his stomach heaved thick vomit onto the basement floor. Did I feel guilt? I did not. I watched him with mild fascination, but with a sense of detachment.

The lad's body quivered as he fought to stand upright, swiping at his foul mouth with the back of his hand, "I'm not afraid of dying."

"If I'd wanted to see you dead, lad - I'd have already done the job. But don't go thinking me the merciful sort, it's just that death would be too kind for the likes of you," I tossed his clothes at him, "now get dressed."

As he fumbled with his clothes, I glanced over his scant form, noticing the many bright pink welts covering his ivory skin. A few bled and stuck to the fabric of his shirt as soon as he slid it on. So bruised was his gaunt face, that even his own cringing caused him discomfort. He wobbled unsteadily as he tried to step back into his worn trousers, his legs streaked with tracks of dry blood and semen.

Impatient to be on my way, I leant him assistance with his pants, as he appeared far too weak and pained to manage the task of dressing by himself. When he was put together fairly decent, I escorted him up the staircase by his arm and dragged him toward the door. He shuffled along, each step slow and uncomfortable.

"Don't worry lad, the pain in your arse will go away in a mere day or so and the abrasions will fade," I snorted lightly, then leaned in closer, "worry more about the fact that you enjoyed it...much more than you'd ever like to admit...remember how you came for me like a proper little whore."

"Bastard," tears welled up in his spiteful eyes as he sobbed in tight voice, "you'll regret this day. I promise you that."

I laughed as I opened the front door and pushed him out into the dark street, finding him such an amusing, ignorant child.

Epilogue:

I had returned to Ireland for the funeral of a favored relative after residing in America for a stretch of ten years. Although the occasion for my return was supposed to be one of great sorrow and mourning, I found myself unable to be filled with melancholia. The day had been bright and warm, despite the bleakness of the burial. Spring was in the air, and my heart felt light.

It had been so long time since my eyes last beheld Cork, the place in which I was born and raised, that I found myself overwhelmed with nostalgia. Instead of returning directly to my brother's home after the ceremony, as I'd originally intended, I found myself walking idly down familiar streets, reminicing about childhood adventures, revisiting favorite haunts, until the sky turned into a dusky blanket above me and the air grew chill.

I was contemplating whether or not to start back to my brother's, lost so deeply in my thoughts and memories that I failed to notice the lanky figure approaching me. Even when my eyes first fell upon him, there was no immediate spark of recognition. He appeared merely another young man, bustling down the walkway. A strikingly handsome gent with a lean build and long windblown hair framing his angular face, his dark wispy bangs falling into his eyes, his lips full and pouting....

And that's when I knew it was him. After all this time, here he was, fulfilling the prophecy we wrote together, long ago. By the time I recognized him, it was too late. His lithe body was already pressed against my chest, the sharp metal of his knife burying it's way up under my ribs. He stared me dead in the eye and twisted the blade, his features never registering even the slightest flicker of emotion. I gasped, holding his steel-blue eyes with my own, clutching his skinny shoulders to steady myself. He withdrew the knife then plunged into my abdomen, this time forcing it upward, as if to rip me open and gut me like a fish. I could feel the hot, sticky blood gushing from my fatal wounds and knew very well that I was approaching my own demise. Yet, I looked into this young man's hardened face, so sullen and full of hatred....and I grinned, pressing my mouth against his full cushiony lips, just as I had wanted to all those years ago. He didn't flinch at my the gentle touch, but continue to glare at me with the cruelest blue eyes I'd ever seen, still working the steel blade that pierced me. I groaned faintly, a creeping numbness overtaking my body, pleased that his passionate hate had festered within him for so long, "ahh...lover...you haven't forgotten..."

My little assassin had grown up, and after all these years, he had remembered me. In the end, nothing else mattered...I had what I wanted most.

Fin.