Phantom Assassin Male Perspective

If you compare newborn infants that disappear from their cribs in a nursery, along with the emotionally crushed mothers and the angry fathers; you notice a trend. Every year more women than men go missing. This has always been attributed to females being more favorable raised as sex slaves, but the truth is quite askew. A collection of women “adopt” these children, and raise them in an alternative lifestyle. To be assassins; A league as old as Adam and Eve, the veil of sisters is not a myth. For it to be a myth, it would need to not exist. None know the numbers of these murderess, only that their targets are random and with a purpose only the veil shall know.

In the future, long after the veil had been forgotten, one sister kneels beneath an altar, ready for her mission. Mortred procures a scroll of papyrus and scribes a short note before tucking it underneath her cloak.

Thunder cracks and booms through the clouds. Flashes of light ripple across the grey sky. A small drizzle turns into a downpour as everyone retreats into their homes. Doors shut and candles flicker through panes of glass. The entire town sleeps, waiting for the storm to subside. I pull a shawl over my head and begin a dreary journey home.

The pitter patter of rain dampens my footsteps as I wander to and fro through the alleys. I walk past a coughing man, bundled up in his tattered clothing.

“Please, do you have anything for a cold, homeless brother?”

I hand him my coat, and drop some change in a tin cup next to him before resuming my walk; His blessings and thanks fade in the distance as I depart. I take a deep breath, savoring the cool air and exhale. My breath turns to a fog before bleeding out into the air. I feel a hefty tug around my neck as I am pulled back by a mugger. A sharp dagger threatens my spine.

“I have no coin, no valuables. Hardly cloth to keep me warm. All I have is a life. Why me?”

I feel the blade press harder against my back. An effeminate voice whispers in my ear:

“Why you? Why anyone? The sisters desire no coin. No valuables. All we take is that which needs to be taken. Every candle burns out eventually. Between two damp fingers or to its last drop of wax. It matters not. If not now then later. Now, what is your final wish?

“My tears are lost in the rain. Do the heavens cry for me? No. I lack the temperance to be pitied by any divination; but you. You ask me what my final wish is. I imagine people who fell to your dagger wish for the impossible. Gold… Mercy… Pity… All I ask is to enjoy my final moment on this mortal coil.”

“Cut to the chase before I run you down!”

“A kiss is all I want.”

The blade eases from my back, letting me regain my poise. I turn to see the face of death and see a woman no older than twenty. Her legs are covered in leather pants fastened by a triangular buckle around her waist. An armament of daggers and weapons line her waist underneath a tattered, dark cloak. A thick breastplate is intertwined with steel scales line around her waist and back. A hefty blade hangs from her shoulder pieces. Her pointed helm holds back a long flowing ponytail, but does not hide her face. Two green eyes look at me with anger and a bitter resolve.

“You wish for love?”

“No.”

“Damn boy! Don’t toy with me!”

The assassin slaps me across the face with her steel cuff. I feel my head go fuzzy. She turns from me before looking up to the clouds.

“Fine.”

I feel the assailant reach around my hair, before pulling me in and giving a quick peck across my lips. Her breath feels ice cold against my skin. Time falls still as I gaze into her eyes, save the rain running down her helm and eyes.

“Are you… Crying?”

“Dammit! Why did this happen? Why you? Why anyone? Why me?”

She is emotionally stirred. Sobbing uncontrollably, she pulls off her gauntlet. The woman slaps me again, but it is much gentler than last time. I grab her shoulders. She looks at me with her soaked face and helm. I pull her close. She grips my shirt tightly. I make an advance, locking my lips with her own. This is no peck on the cheek. I give her my all, and she in return. Our mouths run with heated anticipation over each other. Our tongues dart in and between, savoring all they can taste. The rain runs down our faces, merging with the kiss. She presses her forehead against mine, panting heavily before going back at it. It would be a crime to use the word “passion” for what we share.

We walk back and around the alleyways, only breaking our kiss to breathe. We bump against walls in our reckless love, oblivious to all around us. It doesn’t take long before I fall back and pull her down with me. Her armor lies heavily on top of me. She is quick to remove her heavier garments before coming back for another taste. She gently bites my lip before saddling atop my legs. With haste, she unbuckles my belt and tugs on my trousers. A thin, wet set of pantaloons is all that holds a flaccid cock from the thin air. My shape and girth are all clear under the pitter patter of rain.

“What is your name?”

“A name means what you give it. The only name I know is Mortred.”

Mortred presses her palm against my garments, feeling my member between her index and middle finger. She twirls her palm over and around, pulling my shaft with it. I feel myself engorge for this woman as blood rushes to my groin. The assassin starts copping a feel for what pleasures me. She grabs my cock with one hand and massages it like dough. I fall short of breath from her sublime technique. The gloves come off as she pulls down my pantaloons. With my member fully exposed, she hastens her work. Mortred runs her palms together over the head making my back arch with an electric sensation. The water only enhances the feeling, lubricating the passionate love-making.

That familiar sensation in my shaft starts to well up. Mortred senses my reaction and massages with fervent speed. My hands clench as I cum, shooting my seed through her fingers. Wave after wave, the climax flushes my system into her waiting palms. The assassin cups her hands together, staring at the white orgasm between her hands. She cups my seed to her mouth and drinks deep, swallowing.

With a satisfied sigh, Mortred gazes up at the clouds feeling the rain douse her spirit. Her hands continue their previous work, bringing my member up to speed for another round. She gives me a kiss on the cheek before moving to my chest, my hips, and finally to my groin. Mortred runs the erection across her face, feeling its warmth with her cheeks. She closes her emerald green eyes and gives it a peck. The assassin continues to kiss my shaft with her supple lips, making contact with every square inch.

Mortred removes her helmet, letting her hair flow loosely over her shoulders. Coming back to my aching cock, she gives a long, slow lick across the shaft. I try to buck my hips, but her weight keeps me pinned. She gives a smirk at my struggle, and shows mercy by giving a gentle suck. Helpless to her evolved desires, I fall slave to lust. I beg for more, and she does not hesitate to oblige. She brings her hands back into play and massages the base with her nimble fingers. Mortred pucks what isn’t being toyed with into her mouth and gives my member a better taste. Her nimble tongue licks my frenulum, sending ecstatic sensations through my whole body. No way is this woman an amateur.

Her hands and maw swap positions as she sucks the base of my cock while rubbing the head with her fingers. That red hot sensation shoots through my body again as I ready another load. I can feel my body lose control as my muscles thrust and my toes clench. In one spray, I release my nectar. It takes her by surprise, and paints her cheek and brow. The rain washes Mordred’s face clean, but that does not stop her from suckling whatever is left from my spent member.

I regain my strength just as Mortred loosens her belt, letting her leather pants slide from her petite hips. Her nethers drip with rain and need. She uses two fingers to spread her entrance wide. Mortred sits on my crotch, not enveloping my cock, but feeling it over with her lips. Her juices are unmistakably thick, painting over my shaft as she thrusts over every inch. Her cheeks flush red with lust as she feels over me.

Impatience gets the best of Mortred. She raises her hips, poised for penetration as she readies my well lubricated phallus. With a struggle, she takes a few inches of my shaft but none more will yield. Frustrated, she presses down, trying to force more in.

“Relax…”

The assassin takes a moment to poise herself, breathing gently. I prod at her entrance with my fingers, using a thumb to gently sway her love button back and forth. Mortred bites her lip, moving her own hand downward to assist me in her pleasure. With a hefty gasp, she yields further and I watch Mortred impale herself deeper on my member. She turns her head back and forth, lashing at the wild sensations. I feel her legs shudder. She lifts her quivering knees up, pulling off my throbbing cock.

I grab her hips and spear hilt deep into her gaping love hole. She cries out not with pain, but with a deep, newfound pleasure. She rubs her light frame across my groin, and I feel through her entire canal. Every wall and crevasse is rubbed and prodded. Mortred discards her brazier, leaving her stark naked save her cloak. With her free hand, she rubs her exposed figure. The more she pleasures herself, the tighter she gets.

The thorough fucking hastens as she loses her patience and resolve. Adrenaline shoots through my system as the coup de grace of all climaxes rushes as strong as a tidal wave. A flood of semen engorges her canal as Mortred’s cervix fills. Juices still flow, pushing her to ecstasy. Her knees clench as she falls back, losing control of her body. Our bond breaks as my erection subsides, coated in a mix of both genders. Mortred’s canal lies agape and spills my juice onto the cobblestone below. I lie back, feeling the rain patter over my eyelids.

I take a deep sigh of relief. My words are cut short by Mortred however.

“I am truly sorry love…”

I feel something slide into my chest. I open my eyes to see the assassin poised with a dagger buried inside me. Even through the rain I can see tears slide down her face. Everything goes warm, and I feel wet inside. That heat quickly subsides as it turns to cold and my vision turns feint. I accept my death with no regrets.

“One fraction of an inch and that man would be dead. Who knows when he’s going to wake up from his comatose though…”

I rub my eyes, hearing this absurd expression. I look around a hospital room, seeing a few doctors here and there.

“Welcome back to the living boy!” You’re lucky to be alive. Some woman dropped you off in front of the hospital without saying a word. Guardian angels are easy to overlook eh?”