Secret Service Slaughter

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Бренд: High Heels

Уникальный код: B-631

Mixed boxing, 180 pictures 1920x1080 (Full HD), partially CFNM, no blood.

Natasa was given sole charge of case 702. This case concerned a man, Prisoner D, or Azil, whom the secret services were detaining for preparation of acts of terrorism, and he was in the cells in the basement. One thing Natasa had to establish was whether Azil’s wife, Fatima, was guilty as well. Also, by questioning her, Natasa hoped to gain essential information about Azil’s contacts. But it wasn’t easy questioning someone who was covered from head to foot.

“Now,” Natasa began, “Fatima, did you know anything about your husband’s activities, who came to the house, his friends and so on?”

“Please don’t hurt me,” Fatima implored.

“No one’s going to hurt you, I promise,” Natasa gently answered. She believed Fatima was innocent, and kept in complete ignorance of Azil’s activities, “And, please, don’t be frightened. Why are you so scared?”

“Because, whatever happens, I always get hit,” Fatima started to cry.

Natasa stood up, put her hand on Fatima’s shoulder, and then left the room for a moment. When she returned, she said, “Here, drink this.”

“What is it?”

“It’s wine.”

“It’s a sin to drink it.”

“It’s not exactly sporting to conspire to murder. Go on, drink it, it’s nice. Hey, you’re really pretty!” Natasa declared, as Fatima removed her face covering to drink.

Fatima blushed. “Really?”

“I’ll say! Lovely!”

Fatima laughed, took a big slurp of wine, and Natasa topped her glass up. “Now,” she began, coaxingly, “When your husband received people in your house, did you meet them too?”

“No, he locked me in the bedroom. He said that if I ever told anyone about it he would beat me to death. If he knew I had no face covering now, he would beat me too,” she blurted out. “I used to see women out in nice dresses, and if he caught me looking, I knew when we got home I would suffer horrible pain.”

Natasa realised this was going off-topic, but she had to ask her next question. “Did he ever beat you for no reason?”

“Oh yes,” Fatima swallowed more wine, and Natasa topped her glass up again. “He says women need a good beating from their husbands sometimes. He especially likes to punch.”

“Tell me,” Natasa began, “Would you like to see a woman give your husband a beating?”

“Oh, such a sight would give me huge pleasure!” Fatima beamed, clapping her hands.

Natasa nodded, continuing, “And if the woman wore make-up, and showed off her body, would it make it worse for him?”

“It would! He would be outraged and shamed! I would delight to see such a thing!”

Natasa pressed a button on her desk.

“Ma’am?” A voice answered.

“Take Prisoner D to the gym, will you? And when you’ve done that, please bring another bottle of wine for the lady in my office.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Natasa stood up and took off the long jacket that she had been wearing, causing Fatima to gasp. She was wearing her favourite fighting outfit of leotard, tights, and thigh-length boots with stiletto heels. She turned her computer round so that the large screen was facing Fatima, and pressed a couple of buttons. Then she glanced at the screen, satisfied. It showed the ring in the gym.

“I’ll leave you for a little while now. Please keep looking at the screen for me. My name’s Natasa, by the way.”

Fatima watched the screen, and presently she saw Azil being taken into the gym by a guard, who gestured to him to enter the ring, before leaving. He was just wearing shorts. Even in Natasa’s office, Fatima couldn’t help getting that feeling of trepidation that she got when he seemed to be in a bad mood. A few moments later Natasa entered the gym. “No!” thought Fatima. Even when Natasa had taken her jacket off, she hadn’t realised that she would be the one to give Azil his beating.

Fatima felt her heart beating faster as Natasa approached the ring. She had been kind to her, and she didn’t want her to get hurt … and she knew how spiteful Azil could be.

Natasa went nimbly through the ropes and into the ring.

“So here’s the brave wife-beater!” She declared.

“That’s none of your business,” responded Azil.

“Oh but it is. She and I have been talking for about half an hour. Even if we forgot about the terrorism charges, you would be locked up for repeated acts of domestic violence. As it is, you’ll be going away for life anyway, so you won’t be punished for beating your wife as well, unfortunately. Except, that is, by me. Right now.”

“I do not accept any combat with a woman.”

“Oh, you will, Porky!”

“Aieeee! Filth!” Azil lashed out at Natasa with his right fist; she ducked and avoided it, and caught him nastily with her own right in his kidney area. Straight away, she had scored a good point, she could tell by his face. Without giving him time to recover, she punched him full and hard with a straight left, leaning all her weight into the blow at precisely the right moment, and he fell back against the ropes.

Fatima breathed out deeply in relief. There was no sound on the screen, but she saw the action clearly, and was thrilled to see Azil bouncing against the ropes after Natasa’s punch.

Meanwhile, that same lady pressed home her attack with a right hook. It caught Azil on the mouth and nose and shot his head to his left. Now she was in low at his stomach with her left. It was another telling blow, and Azil doubled forward, exactly as Natasa had planned. She clenched her right fist, and brought it smashing into his chin. The uppercut sent him reeling into the corner on his right. Natasa sprang to it, drew her right fist back again, and hammered it into his face in another straight punch. It was every bit as good as the straight left before. In fact it was Natasa’s favourite punch. She knew she looked great delivering it, because she had seen footage of her fights. It showed off her breasts, her narrow waist, and curvy bottom, splendidly. Because she had an audience, she maintained the pose just a little longer than was strictly necessary, so that she was still “holding” the punch while Azil lay on the canvas.

“Hooray, hooray! Bravo, Natasa!” came a cackling voice over the speaker system. Natasa was far too professional to register any reaction; but Azil, wounded as he was, jerked his head towards the sound. Fatima noticed, so she realised they could hear her.

“That’s my wife!” he declared as well as he could, through battered lips.

“Umm? Oh yes, she’s in my office watching this and drinking wine. She can’t hear us.”

“Wine? Evil!”

“Piss off.”

“Pull his shorts off, Natasa!” Fatima implored. “Embarrass him!”

“No!” Azil protested, vehemently.

Natasa knelt down, and Azil sat up, grabbing the waistband of his shorts. But Natasa punched him in the face, forcing him back down, and whipped his shorts off. Then she stood up.

“Fucking wanker! Get up, pussy!” (Natasa began to wonder if it had been a good idea to turn the sound on.)

Azil stood up shakily, and put both hands over his manhood. Natasa accepted the invitation, and cracked his mouth and nose again with a left hook. He was once again at the ropes. His hands went up to his face, so Natasa accepted the second invitation, and kneed him in the balls.

“Yes! I’ve been wanting to do that for years! Right in the nuts! Lovely!”

Azil groaned in pain, and relied on the ropes to support him. Natasa now surprised and disappointed Fatima, by taking 5 steps back into the middle of the ring. Azil looked up, questioningly, and she beckoned him to attack her. He took a few deep breaths to recover, and began to glare at Natasa. Fatima shuddered, because she knew the look well. He now charged at Natasa, roaring like a bull. Fatima couldn’t look; but when she did, she saw Azil clutching his side and Natasa withdrawing her fist. She had waited until the last moment, when she had moved to his side, and punched him in exactly the same spot in his kidneys where she had first struck him. She waited for him again, and once more invited him to attack.

This time Fatima watched, and was glad she did. Azil repeated the charge, preparing to grab Natasa. She seized his wrists, swung him to the side, and planted her elegant, pointed foot straight in his balls. Having roared in anger, he now roared in pain. Fatima could see this, even though she couldn’t hear it. He stood, swaying. Natasa moved in, drew her left fist back, and let him have it right under the chin.

“Bravo Natasa!” Fatima yelled. “You’ve knocked him down again!” From not being able to watch, she now couldn’t remove her gaze, and was thrilled to see Natasa hauling Azil back up to his feet. “See, he has an erection! Dirty bastard! He likes getting beaten up by a woman!”

Azil shook his fist at the camera, distracted by Fatima. Natasa took advantage by savaging him with another classic straight right. Fatima put her arms in the air and cheered, as the ropes sagged with Azil’s weight, before returning him to an upright position … and a right fist in his stomach. As he lurched forward, a sizzling left fist shot his head to the side. Then a right jerked it to the other side. A left uppercut had the ropes sagging again; then a right hook had him staggering and holding onto the ropes to stay on his feet.

Natasa looked at her victim for a moment, gasping and clutching the ropes for support. What a bruised, discoloured, mess she had made of him! She gripped his chin, and moved him into the centre of the ring. He was so helpless he just allowed himself to be led. She clenched her right fist and regarded him with displeasure. Another loser with a raging erection! What was it about these men you fight?

“Punch him Natasa! Knock him down again!” Fatima sounded as if she was jumping up and down.

Natasa smiled, drew her fist back, and a magical punch shot him down on the canvas, where he lay flailing about. Disappointed not to have knocked him out, Natasa followed him down, sat on his middle, with his rampant erection against her buttocks, and laid about him with her fists.

“Careful Natasa, he cums really quickly,” warned Fatima.

Sure enough, as she delivered what turned out to be her last punch, he grimaced and his body writhed in orgasm. Natasa stood over him, fists still clenched, one stiletto heel between his calves, and the other outside, and surveyed him with distaste. Yuk!

“Hooray! Natasa’s my friend. We get pissed together! Come and have some wine, Natasa!”