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Thread: The Super Beautiful Sex Idiot

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    Dec 2015

    The Super Beautiful Sex Idiot

    The 18-year-old PSI girl in a cyber duel with a clone of Helmut Berger. The dashes signify telepathic communication.


    In order to push my motivation the CIA has transferred 100,000 bucks to my offshore account. I would receive another 300,000 for each successful operation against enemy PSI agents. Such cash tops the standard fees for pro killers by far.
    So I´m motivated.
    The crème de la crème of the lab has gathered in a special combat room in order to watch the fight between Julian and me live, Brandon, Whitman, Cole and several men which I don´t know personally. One of them, a cold-looking eminence in a black suit and with three doctor titles, is most important because he´s Carrigan, the supreme Caligula of the lab.
    They all are sitting on chairs in front of a mega 3D wall screen. In a corner of the room stands a treatment table with medical equipment in case of heart failure of a combatant.
    Julian is already sitting in his cabin and watches me on my way to my cabin which lies three meters across from his one. He´s in his mid-20s, appearing with his glasses and his plain haircut more like a model college student than a forthcoming My-Name-Is-Death CIA superagent.
    Two assistants put the transmission helmets on our heads which will connect us to one another and to the simulation program. We don´t know the scenario we´ll be thrown in, what anyway wouldn´t be possible for it will be chosen by random selection at the start of the simulation.
    A scientist at the control panel glances at Julian and me.
    "Let´s begin the show," his voice comes from a mini speaker in my helmet. "Give of your best."
    For one second I´m environed by an electric haze, then I enter the mental world. The first thing I perceive is a soft pillow where my face is pressed in. I raise my head and see me lying naked on a bed amid a windowless room. At one of the wall stands a hifi equipment with giant boxes and a CD rack.
    In an armchair some steps distant from me a man sits.
    Uuh, and what a man!
    Some clone of Helmut Berger with black curly hair, no idea...
    He wears 1000&1-night stuff and is more beautiful than every man I ever seen. It must be Julian or rather, the form he has assumed here. As I know from Selena and from Brandon´s thoughts this is his outstanding talent: to form a mental body completely independent on his own physical appearance.
    "Hi sweetie," Julian says smoothly. "I´m glad to welcome such an attractive and, what is more, naked lady in my salon."
    He stands up and makes an elegant bow to me.
    "I´m quite confident that we´ll pass the next hours in a pleasurable way."
    For some among the spectators the sun would rise with this announcement because they see and hear everything what happens in this room. As to me I´m less enthustiastic. Behind his worthy real appearance Julian is a sadist who combines killing with sexual pleasure. In his view an exhibitionistic girlie like me constitutes an ideal object.
    He comes closer.
    I decide to make short work. Taking a swing with my fist I dash towards him. At the next moment I find me back on the bed, gasping for air.
    Hell, Julian´s kicks aren´t slower than those I´d given to Milla. Moreover it´s obvious that I act below my normal capacity, surely due to Julian´s appearance the beauty of which is dazzling me. Who the **** has told him that I´m an ardent Helmut-Berger-fan since my childhood? Whatsoever, Julian has calcutated the incapacitating effect on me, no doubt.
    "How cute," he purrs and sits beside me on the edge of the bed. "Seriously: no lady couldn´t yet resist me. You would be the first..."
    His hand nears my face.
    "... what I would regret very much."
    Instead of rapidly tackling his task he performs a sado show, certainly not only intending to satisfy his mad desires but also to impress the CIA and to push up his future fees.
    "**** yourself."
    I beat his hand aside.
    He rises and opens his Arabic garment. His dong stands vertically and has, with a comparative good look, 28 centimeters at least. In sum, not my cup of tea, secondly because of the size, firstly because Julian wants my death, maybe even during a coitus.
    So I´ve to take my chance. The testicles are a useful target. I push me with all my might off the pillows and dong below the dong...
    That is, I try.
    Again Julian is faster. My punch misses the target. The way things stand I can´t get the better of him by means of speed. I haven´t pulled back my fist when I feel a hammer-like slug against my temple.
    I fall senseless...
    Regaining consciousness I find my wrists SM-like tied to the backside of the bed and my legs spread with the feet bound to the edges. To make the binds Julian has torn a sheet into strips. ****... according to the rules he´s won the fight by knocking me out and bonding me. However, as long as the show goes on the fight isn´t finished what is probably an agreement between the jury and Julian at the request of the latter in order to demonstrate that he is able to treat the second best trainee just as he likes. This must immensely push up his value for the CIA.
    My value would certainly be pushed up even higher if I would succeed in killing him in the present situation, what seems highly unlikely.
    Fiercely tugging at the bonds has yet no damn use. Against Julian I´m simply not able to develop my potential to the full as I could in the Milla fight when I even overturned the program rules. I´m sticking in the headlock of a super beautiful sex idiot with an undiminished hard-on.
    Hence I´ve to play my exclusive demon joker.
    —What should I do?—
    —There´s only one option left—, Selena thinks, of course following the fight. —The log-in. But wait till he´s close enough to you.—
    —Close enough?—
    —Let him rape you and then do for him.—
    —Hey steady...—
    —Heed me. Doing him in as with Itchy isn´t possible in a simulation.—
    I roll my eyes and focus on Julian.
    "Wanna rape me now?" I grumble.
    He rubs his erection.
    "What an unpleasant word."
    He sits again beside me.
    "You´re right," I say. "I would be silly not to take this chance for a hot screw. Why don´t you loose my bonds, so I could show you how good my fingers are."
    "Yeah, quite!"
    Julian grins and smacks the back of his hand across my face. Blood shoots out of my nose.
    "So good are my fingers," he says smoothly. "No, you remain nicely strapped in. We´re expecting violent turbulences, you see. But you´ve another choice: would you prefer listening to Bach..."
    His fingers whirl across an imaginary keyboard.
    "... or to Muse?"
    He plays an air guitar chord.
    Warm blood runs down my lips.
    "Neither nor, man. I´m just in the mood for Marylin Manson."
    "He isn´t..." Julian points at the CD rack. "... on hand here."
    "Well, then Bach, man."
    "Superb. A true connoisseuse."
    He puts a CD in which he had prepared during my unconsciousness, and starts gesticulating like a conductor. Instantly and with earsplitting loudness the ´Toccata and Fugue´ rings out.
    "A version by Jean Guillou from 1968," Julians shouts into the noise. I will surely fare like Alex-Boy did in ´Clockwork Orange´, it´s just that the Toccata´s affected and not Ludwig´s Ninth, what is the least of my worries.
    "Turn it down!" I exclaim since I need maximal concentration for the log-in. "Don´t you want to hear my moans?"
    There´s nothing to beat a good argument, so he doesn´t think about it a lot but reduces the volume. Then he lies on me and jerkily penetrates me. I´m naturally anything but wet but can´t resist the pressure. It hurts like I´ve feared.
    Julian pokes faster and faster, beginning to groan like an idiot.
    —That´s the right moment—, Selena thinks.—Log in!—
    Grinding my teeth I get into visual contact to Julian what is easy because he is permanently staring at my face. I revolve about his pupils, using them —as Selena puts it— as ´mental objects´ in order to merge with them.
    I center my awareness upon these objects.
    Everything else fades into meaninglessness.
    I strengthen my concentration up to the climax.
    For some seconds there exist only these pupils.
    I see myself lying beneath me... I´m looking now through Julian´s eyes. Even more: i´m identical with Julian´s figure and I´m just raping myself. Like a goddamn tsunami I get overflooded with pleasure feelings from my virtual penis.
    If I would fight this now, any control of the figure would be impossible. Hence I identify with this rapture the best I can. Nevertheless I mustn´t waste time but have to make Julian unfit for fighting for some seconds.
    So I bite strongly into my, that is, his tongue...
    ... and retreat immediately into my own virtual body.
    Above me, Julian´s face distorts to a howling grimace.
    —Tear the bonds!—, Selena radios with vigour. —You can.—
    The concentration must have multiplied my strength because I easily rip the strips round my wrists and feet. Then I hit out at Julian´s face with my fists. The drumfire shatters his nose, breaks two teeth und crushes one eye. Blooding and groaning he tumbles from me and falls on the floor.
    His dong is yet still erected.
    I look chop-chop around for something like a weapon but nada and niente, I have to do for Julian by hand and feet. So I jump towards him and blast a series of kicks against his head that would have bumped off each figure I have yet been confronted with.
    However, not Julian.
    He grabs his boner and shakely directs it at me.
    There´s a sound like a shot...
    I feel a burning pang in my left shoulder...
    That is brainsick... he has shot with his dong at me...
    Swaying I feel my left arm getting lame...
    Again Julian trains his gun on me and fires...
    Like lightning I get out of the way...
    The bullett —it´s actually a gun bullett— sails past me and penetrates the door behind me. Before Julian´s able to reload I´m over him and kick into his bollocks.
    Again he howls, again a shot goes off but hits the wall behind him. I jump up, push myself with my fit arm off the ceiling and ram my heels into his ribs.
    Spitting blood and almost as blind as a mole he makes a grab for my legs.
    Again I jump up to the ceiling and push myself off downwards.
    There´s an ugly crack as Julian´s skull breaks under my feet.
    —Rule No.1—, Selena radios. —Whatever you do, do it carefully.—
    With all my force I hammer my heel into the deformed skull.
    The brain splashes out like the interior of a tomato.

    Last edited by Tammuz; 03-19-2017 at 12:27 PM.

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