Girl With Gun 2: Horrible Boss

Lissette was having a good day.

Mostly because it was Sunday, and she didn’t have to work. She had slept in until about 9:30, then gone out for a three-mile run. After that, it was workout time in her basement, lifting weights and practicing her punches and kicks on the big bag she had hung down there. Next came a filling and delicious but healthy brunch, followed by an appointment with her hairdresser to get her long black hair coiffed.

Now she was at the shooting range, practicing with her trusty .45 pistol. Taking aim, she imagined that her target was her asshole boss who had lied to his boss and tried to blame her for a mistake that he had made. She fired five rapid shots, paused and adjusted her aim, fired five more rounds, and ejected the now empty magazine. She reeled in the silhouette target and smiled with satisfaction. Five perfect shots to the heart, five perfect shots to the head.

She saw a couple of male stares out of the corner of her eye and smiled to herself. Although she was used to getting male attention almost anywhere she went, it was particularly common at the range, since so many guys were into girls with guns. Lissette had a model-like, high-cheekboned face, large dark brown eyes, a deep Latina tan, and a slender, athletic 5’7″, 120-pound figure. Although she was a tomboy and loved masculine things like shooting, football, and kickboxing, she knew how to be graceful and feminine as well. Her new coiffure, along with her outfit of a long, elegant, sleeveless red dress and knee-high black leather boots, emphasized her beauty and femininity.

She turned towards the men who had been staring at her. They blushed and quickly looked away. She giggled. The good thing about being hit on at the range was that the guys were always polite, respectful, and cautious to her there. Sometimes too cautious. When she was in the mood for a little flirting, sometimes she found herself having to make the first move.

Lissette swiftly and expertly loaded a fresh magazine into her gun and chambered a round. She went back to shooting, going through four more full magazines, each resulting in the same deadly accuracy on her targets as the first one. As she was leaving, she noticed that many of the men there were giving her looks that were a combination of sexual attraction and intimidation. She simply walked out with a calm and confident smile.

After a quick stop at her house to clean and put away her gun and wash up, she headed out to the local sports bar to meet up with her friends, watch Sunday Night Football, and enjoy beer and various deep-fried foods. Three hours later, as the fourth quarter wound down and the Green Bay Packers (once again) celebrated a victory over the Chicago Bears, she and her friends cheered. Yes, today had been a good day. If only tomorrow could be as good, she thought to herself as she drove home. Tomorrow it was back to work. Back to her obnoxious boss.

But it didn’t have to be that way. It didn’t have to be bad. She thought back to that moment with the road-rage asshole who had chased her. She remembered how good it had felt when she pulled her gun on him, when she slowly closed the trap around him as he begged for mercy, when she finally finished him with a shot to the head. The thrill, the rush, the feeling of pure power. Not to mention the feeling of delivering justice to someone who had been arrogant and abusive to everyone around him his whole life.

Her feelings were not without some caution. After killing him, she had been paranoid for several days, wondering if she would get caught, wondering if anyone knew, wondering if there would be a sudden midnight knock on her door. But after weeks had passed with no sign of the police, she had allowed herself to feel more confidence. She had gotten away with it.

It wasn’t that she disliked who she had been before. She was Lissette the athletic tomboy with a feminine streak, Lissette the ex-cheerleader, Lissette the intelligent, ambitious young woman with the degree from Stanford. She liked being all those things. But she had always wanted to be something more. And when fate had placed her in that situation with the road-rage asshole, she had discovered it. Now, she could be Lissette the skilled assassin, who could still blend into mainstream society. She could go from charming saleswoman in business attire to gun-toting badass in two seconds. She could be the kind of woman who performed better than any of the men around her, whether the situation was having the best sales numbers or surviving a zombie apocalypse.

As she parked her car in her driveway, she took a deep breath. Did she really want to go through with this? She had done one killing and escaped detection. She could quit while she was ahead. But then she would just go back to being Jane Doe instead of Sarah Connor. She would be fair, she decided. She would give her boss one last chance to repent and admit he had been wrong. If he didn’t…

Satisfied, she nodded to herself. No matter what, she would get a good night’s sleep tonight.

Monday morning found Lissette and her boss, Kirk, meeting with Kirk’s boss, Aurora, to try to resolve the situation. Lissette scowled as Kirk told his side of the story, continuing to lie and blame her for causing a client to cancel a large order, when in reality it had been all his fault. Well, she had given him his fair chance and he had blown it. Now, she would feel no guilt about taking the Sarah Connor path.

When it was her turn to speak, Lissette calmly defended herself, holding in her anger at her asshole boss. She went on to question why Kirk had been promoted over her in the first place, pointing out that her sales numbers consistently had been better than his, and wondering if maybe, just maybe, the fact that the company’s executive vice president was Kirk’s uncle had anything to do with it. That brought an angry shout from Kirk and a sharp warning from Aurora. “Quiet, both of you.”

Lissette looked over at her. Aurora was known as a tough but fair supervisor with a very rational, non-emotional personality, much like Juror No. 4 from Twelve Angry Men.

Aurora sighed, running her fingers through her hair. “Listen up. I hate this part of the job. I hate playing referee, especially when all I have is a he-said-she-said situation with no real proof of anything. So here’s what I’m going to do. I’m not going to hand out any punishments. I’m going to trust both of you to do the best you can in dealing with our clients. Any talk of business lost or gained will wait until the next quarterly review. I think we’re done here.” Aurora stood up and walked out of the small conference room without another word.

Lissette gave Kirk an icy glare. “You know what you did.”

He simply smirked. “Yeah, but they don’t, and that’s what counts.” Snickering, he exited the room cockily.

Left alone, Lissette clenched her fists, causing the muscles in her slender but muscular forearms to ripple. He was going to pay. He would pay the ultimate price.

That afternoon, Lissette knocked on the door of Kirk’s office. “Come in,” he said. He scowled when he saw it was her. “What do you want?”

She gave him her most seductive fake smile. “Look, I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier. I really like this job and I really want to do well. If you could give me a good evaluation, I could do something for you in return…” As she spoke, she undid the top button on her white blouse, giving him a tantalizing partial view of her small, firm, darkly tanned 34B tits. The scowl on Kirk’s ugly face was immediately replaced by a look of sexual attraction, and a bulge appeared underneath his pants.

“Sure, I can do that,” he said, lewdly licking his lips. Lissette resisted the urge to roll her eyes. He was so predictable. So fucking easy.

“How about tonight at your place?” she asked. “I want the two of us to be completely alone. I don’t want anyone to disturb us or find out what we’re doing.”

“Oh, trust me, we’ll be alone. I’ve got a lot of ideas I want to try out.” He turned to look out the window, pumping his fist in what he foolishly thought was victory. She took the opportunity to roll her eyes for real.

“I’ll be there at eight then. Make sure to bring that with you.” She pointed at his bulge, causing him to look down and blush with embarrassment. Buttoning her blouse back up, she smiled in triumph as soon as her back was turned to him. He had no idea that he had only a few hours left to live.

Lissette examined her reflection in her car window one last time. She was wearing thigh-high black stockings, black ankle boots with razor-sharp stiletto high heels, a black miniskirt, black leather gloves, and the white blouse she had been wearing earlier. Her long, slender, muscular killer legs were on full display. The sleeves of her blouse were rolled up to her elbows, showing off her slim but well-muscled, heavily developed, tanned brown forearms with prominent veins. The top button of the blouse was once again undone to display her cleavage, and she wore neither bra nor panties. Her trusty and lethal .45 pistol was securely strapped to her right thigh underneath her skirt. Satisfied with her looks, she grinned wickedly to herself. This was going to be fun.

She walked to the front door, making sure no one saw her, and rang the bell. Kirk opened the door. His eyes bulged out when he saw how Lissette was dressed. Something else lower down bulged out too. “Come in. Wow, you look amazing.”

“Thank you,” she replied with her best fake smile. “By the way, on the drive here I was just thinking…I know this great makeout and fuck spot on a bluff overlooking the lake. I discovered it when my high school sweetheart and I were looking for a new place. It’s completely secret. No one else knows about it. I think it would be so sexy to do the naughty there…”

“Wherever,” said Kirk. “Just as long as I get some of that tight pussy.” His erection was straining to get out of his pants. Girls in thigh-high stockings drove him wild.

She tried to hide her disgust. “Great. Get in my car and I’ll drive us there.”

Thirty minutes later, Lissette parked her car on the deserted bluff. Kirk had tried to fondle her breasts on the way over, but she had successfully stopped him by saying she didn’t want to get in an accident. She got out and stood on the grass, the moonlight illuminating her beautiful body.

Kirk was debating whether to demand sex from her on a regular basis in exchange for continued positive evaluations, or simply use her sexually for one night and then betray her by not following through on his promises. Although the continued sex was tempting, he still resented her for standing up to his bullying. Fucking and dumping her would make him feel like a big man for once.

Although Kirk drew a reasonably good salary, his unattractive looks, lack of athletic ability, lack of intellect, and ultra-obnoxious personality made him highly unpopular with the opposite sex. He tried to pretend to his coworkers that he was a “player,” having loud phone conversations with imaginary girlfriends, constantly boasting about nonexistent hot dates, and other lame tactics. Once he had seen a couple of sexy stewardesses at the mall, doing a promotion for a new airline and posing for pictures with passers-by. He had gotten the idea of taking a picture with one of them, then showing it to everyone at work and telling them she was his new girlfriend. But the hot flight attendants had somehow known exactly what he had been planning to do. Not only had they refused to pose with him, they had also loudly announced his failed plan to the entire crowd of people there. He felt his face redden as he recalled the public humiliation. Sometimes he feared that his coworkers knew he was bullshitting. (His fears were justified).

At least he wasn’t a virgin, he told himself as he tried to cheer himself up. Even though no girl had ever actually agreed to have sex with him. Kirk’s mind wandered back to his only sexual experience. At a college party, a group of basketball players had drugged a girl’s drink, then taken her upstairs and gang-raped her. After they had finished, he had snuck upstairs and “lost” his virginity by raping the almost unconscious girl. He was incredibly insecure about his lack of sexual success, and he constantly replayed the disgraceful sexual assault in his mind. In his twisted way of thinking, it was the only thing he had. Even the basketball players would have beaten him up if they had found out what he had done.

He looked over at sexy Lissette. Finally, an incredibly hot woman was throwing herself at him. After tonight, he would finally be a man. She looked back at him, her dark brown eyes seeming to pierce right through him. Although at 5’10” and 165 pounds he was bigger than her, with her three-inch high heels her eyes were on the same level as his. In addition, he could see how muscular, athletic, and tanned her body was in comparison to his flabby, out-of-shape, pale one. That fact gave him a strange mix of insecurity and sexual attraction towards her.

She smiled at him seductively. “Close your eyes,” she whispered. Thinking she was going to strip and reveal herself to him nude, he obeyed.

He felt her place her hands on his shoulders. Then, suddenly, a fiery pain erupted in his groin. His eyes flew open and he collapsed to the ground, clutching his badly brutalized family jewels. Sure enough, Lissette was standing over him, her stocking-clad left leg still raised after her devastating knee to his crotch. “Uggghhh…what the fuck?” he groaned when he was finally able to speak.

She glared down at him. The phony warmth had vanished and was replaced with cold, icy hatred. “Are you seriously that fucking stupid? Did you really think I would EVER have sex with a vile, disgusting creep like you? You thought you were going to screw me? Well, you’ve screwed me over for the last time. I lured you out here where there were no witnesses, and you fell for it hook, line, and sinker. Now, I’m going to have my revenge. Now, I’m going to screw YOU. But not in the good way.” She viciously stomped on his face with her razor-sharp stiletto heel, leaving a deep, bloody wound on his left cheek.

Kirk stumbled to his feet. All the air seemed to have rushed out of his body. Once again, a beautiful woman had tricked and outsmarted him! Once again, he had to be reminded of how undesirable he was to the opposite sex!

His shame turned to anger. Arrogantly, he thought that the mere fact that he was a man and she was a woman meant that he could defeat her in combat. “Bitch,” he growled as he swung a punch at her face. She blocked it easily with her slender but muscular forearm, then drove her right fist into his flabby gut. As he doubled over and lost his breath, she punched him in the face with her gloved left. The impact from the rough leather opened up a bloody cut on his right cheek.

“Wimp,” she taunted him. “I’m more of a man than you could ever be.” She bounced up and down in her trained kickboxer’s stance, knowing he didn’t know how to fight, knowing how easily she could dominate him.

“Fucking cunt!” he roared, finally getting his breath back. He swung another wild punch at her. She danced out of the way easily and kicked him in the chest, knocking him backwards, her heel making a small but painful hole in his torso. The pretty Latina then became a brunette blur as she executed a cartwheel, kicking him in the head with both feet and knocking her victim down with the force of her exotic cart wheel kick. She kicked him hard in the side as he was down with the toe of her boot, breaking one of his ribs.

As he looked down at his bleeding chest and felt the pain from his broken rib, an icy chill came over Kirk. Slowly, he was realizing that this thin, hot chick was fully capable of killing him. For the first time, his brain began processing the cold fact that he was in mortal danger. He had to escape. He got up, grunting and cursing, and began to run.

Lissette smirked. Spinning around, her long black hair flying behind her, she began doing a series of standing back handsprings towards her fleeing opponent. Each time she was upside down, her bare crotch with its pubic hair neatly trimmed down to a landing strip became visible. She was slowly catching up to him, elegantly backflipping with a skill, grace, and speed that would make any Olympic gymnast jealous.

Kirk looked over his shoulder and was puzzled to see the attractive brunette back flipping towards him instead of running. Still, she was moving incredibly fast. He tried to turn on the jets and increase his speed. Unfortunately for him, he was already a slow runner, and his injuries slowed him down even more. The distance between them shrank slowly but surely as Lissette continued to execute her back hand springs, her muscular wrists and booted feet rhythmically landing on and pushing off from the grass. Flick-flack, flick-flack, flick-flack. She caught him after fifteen hand springs, crashing into him and knocking him down.

She sat on him, wiggling her ass, rubbing it in, humiliating him, and laughed. “I’m a girl and you’re a man, and I was doing back handsprings and you were running. And I was still far too quick for you!” Despite his fear and shame, Kirk felt his rod stiffening in his pants. He had always had a fetish for girls who could do back flips, much of it motivated schmoe-style by the knowledge that he could never be athletic enough to perform moves like that.

Lissette felt his hard-on underneath her and glared down at him in disgust. “You fucking pervert. Don’t tell me you’re also one of those douchebags who has a fetish for gymnast girls! I had enough trouble with those types when I was a high school cheerleader practicing my flick flacks.” She punched him in the face several times with her leather-gloved fists. When she was done, her helpless victim had two black eyes, a broken nose, and three loose teeth. Lissette used a kip-up to athletically get back to her feet. “I bet that’s another thing a woman can do that you can’t,” she mocked him.

Sure enough, Kirk got up with a slow, clumsy stumble. As soon as he had finished standing up straight, she unleashed a devastating cheerleader-style high kick to his face, ripping a long, bloody cut from chin to forehead with her high heel and sending him to the grass once again. She spread open the fallen male’s legs, then kicked him in the groin with her booted feet several times with all her strength, sending his testicles back up somewhere into his body.

Kirk had passed out from the sheer, vicious power of her brutal kicks. Smirking in triumph, Lissette yanked down his pants and underwear, then flipped him over, leaving him on the ground with his vulnerable ass exposed in the air. Reaching underneath her miniskirt, she drew her .45 pistol and waited.

Kirk awoke with a moan. He began trying to turn over, but stopped cold when Lissette pressed the barrel of her gun into the back of his skull.

“I love guns,” she said casually. “I love the feeling of power I get when I fire them. I love knowing that I can beat most guys easily at a shooting competition. And I love knowing that I can use them to solve problems.” At that last sentence, a shiver ran down Kirk’s spine.

“Please, Miss Lissette,” he begged. “I’m sorry for everything I did to you! I’ll give you anything you want. I’ll resign from my job and let you have my position. Just don’t kill me!”

“You have your phone with you?” she demanded.

“Right pants pocket. My iPhone’s in there.”

She took it out. “Give me your email password. Your job for your life.” He recited a series of letters and numbers, which Lissette entered into the phone. She nodded as his email inbox opened up. “Don’t bother with writing a resignation letter, I’ll write it for you.”

“Okay. You got what you wanted. Are you going to let me go now?”


“WHAT?! But you promised…”

“I lied.”

“You bitch, how could you…”

She hit him in the face with the gun, hearing the satisfying crunch of a facial bone somewhere breaking. “Spare me your self-righteous bullshit, cocksucker. First of all, we both know that if I let you go, you’d immediately run to the cops and try to get me arrested and your job back. And second, not that I was ever going to do it, but if I had given you sex, I have a feeling that you would have betrayed me and not kept your end of the bargain.” The guilty look that appeared on Kirk’s face confirmed her suspicions.

The defeated male quivered. “What are you going to do to me?”

“What you were going to do to me.” With that, Lissette suddenly shoved the gun barrel up his ass. Kirk let out a soulless scream of terror.

“Scream as loud as you want,” she cooed. “There’s no one to hear you for miles.” She used her considerable strength to force the weapon further in, ripping and tearing his rectum, taking sadistic pleasure in his cries of agony. Past instances of sexual harassment and crude, lewd behavior from guys flashed through her mind. Now she was getting revenge for it all.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to use me to try a bunch of different sexual things?” she sneered at her victim. “Did you want to fuck me up the ass? Well, now YOU know how it feels to get fucked up the ass. After screwing so many people over at work, it’s fitting that you’re now learning what it feels like to get screwed.” She thrust the pistol in and out as she spoke, simulating an ass fucking.

“Oh my God, baby,” she taunted. “I just can’t hold it back any longer! I’m going to shoot!” Kirk’s eyes went wide with terror as he prepared to meet his maker.

Lissette pulled the trigger ten times in rapid succession. The large-caliber bullets did devastating damage, ripping through his internal organs, destroying everything in their path. Her strong wrist easily handled the recoil as she fired the weapon one-handed. When the gun finally clicked empty, she withdrew it with a squishing sound and turned the body over. All of the bullets had gone completely through him and he now had ten large, bloody holes in his torso. Three of the rounds had penetrated his heart. His dead eyes were still frozen in an expression of pure fear.

Lissette felt her heart rate slowly return to normal. She scanned her surroundings carefully, looking and listening for any sign of another person. Nothing. Sighing in relief, she looked at her gun, now covered in blood and shit. She quickly cleaned it with water and paper towels she had thoughtfully brought along. She would do a more thorough cleaning later, at home. She then swiftly and expertly reloaded the weapon, just in case she ran into any trouble. She looked down at Kirk’s corpse. “So was it good for you too, baby?” she couldn’t resist saying.

Getting back to business, she took out a bag and a short length of rope that she had also thoughtfully brought along. She placed the dirty paper towels in the bottom of the bag, then collected several rocks and loaded them into the bag as well. Finally, she tied it securely shut and used the rope to tie the bag to the body. Dragging it across the grass, she shoved Kirk over the edge of the bluff, watching as the weighted corpse swiftly sank into the lake.

She picked up the phone and quickly sent an email to Aurora supposedly from Kirk, stating that it was his screw-up that had led to the client canceling his order, he had lied and wrongly blamed Lissette for it, he was resigning effective immediately and wouldn’t show up to work again, and he wanted Lissette to have his old position as atonement for his sins. After sending the message, she tossed the phone into the lake.

Reholstering her pistol underneath her black miniskirt, she took one last look at the cold, dark, unforgiving waters of the lake, then climbed into her car and headed for home. Kirk had been such an asshole that he had no real friends. No one was likely to discover that he was missing for weeks, maybe even months, and even then they would have every reason to believe that he had just gone off to start a new life somewhere else after his mistakes at work. No one would suspect that he had been killed.

The next day at work, Aurora called Lissette into her office. “I got an email from Kirk,” the older woman informed her. “It seems you were telling the truth and he was lying. He’s the one who screwed up the order, and he confessed to falsely blaming you for it. He said he felt so guilty about it that he’s resigning.”

Lissette, an excellent actress, looked surprised. “Well, I’m glad he finally decided to come clean. I hope he’s more honest at his next job.”

“Yes,” said Aurora. “Anyway, there’s now, naturally, a vacancy in the manager position that Kirk occupied, and on his recommendation I’m promoting you to it, effective immediately. Congratulations, you’ve earned it. Your sales numbers have always been excellent and you’ve consistently shown strong leadership skills.”

Lissette’s heart was beating rapidly with triumph, but she kept her true feelings well hidden. “Thank you,” she said calmly.

“Kirk said that he didn’t want to come back here, he was so ashamed at what he’d done. Do you mind moving his stuff out of his office so you can move yours in?”

“Not at all.”

“Great. Well, congratulations once again and good luck in your new position. I know you’ll do well.”

As soon as she had exited her boss’s office, Lissette pumped her fist in victory. She had gotten away with a kill. Again. Another notch on her belt.

But if she could have seen the suspicious look on Aurora’s face as she stood alone in her office, Lissette wouldn’t have been quite so happy…


Girl With Gun: Road Rage

Lissette was having a bad day.

It had started that morning, when she had woken up with a terrible headache. Then, going outside to pick up the newspaper, she had stepped in a pile of poo. Some asshole had let his dog take a shit right in her driveway.

It hadn’t gotten any better at work. At noon, she had opened the refrigerator to discover that some jerk had stolen her lunch. When she had gotten back to her desk, she had found that her stapler and scissors had also disappeared. And at a quarter to five, she had checked her email and found an angry message from her boss’s boss. Apparently, her boss had fucked something up and rather than own up to it he had instead blamed HER for it. And to top it all off, her headache had not gone away despite all the medicine she had taken.

So naturally, when Lissette got in her car for the drive home, her fuse was short. The unusually heavy traffic on the freeway didn’t help matters.

After a wearying hour-long drive, she was finally almost home. Two more exits and she could get off this damn freeway, then it was just three blocks to her house. In anticipation of getting off the freeway soon, she was in the far right lane. The traffic in every lane was slow, moving at about fifteen miles per hour.

Suddenly, she heard the roar of a car traveling at high speed. She saw a silver Pontiac Grand Am zooming along the shoulder of the road. She shook her head at this reckless and illegal behavior. The car went by her on the right, slowing down, and tried to cut right in front of her.

On any other day, she would have let it go, decided it wasn’t worth a fight, and let the driver in. But not today. She had had it with assholes getting away with shit.

She kept very close to the vehicle in front of her, not giving the silver car any room to get in. The driver, a fat, swarthy, obnoxious-looking man, glared over at her. He began pounding the horn with his right hand while giving her the finger with his left. All the while, swear words and threats were flowing liberally from his mouth.

Keeping the gap tight, she slowly moved past him, giving him the finger back as she passed by. His threats and curses became louder, and he was still honking his horn. Finally the noise became fainter as she passed him. As she approached her exit, Lissette leaned back in the seat, feeling better. She smiled as she broke loose from the freeway traffic and sped onto the offramp.

Suddenly, she heard the roar of a familiar car engine. She looked in the rearview mirror. Sure enough, the silver Pontiac was behind her and coming up fast. As she made her way onto the surface streets, the asshole driver kept right behind her, still swearing and giving her the finger. A wave of anger swept over her. This jackass had started the whole situation, and was now following her in a fit of self-righteous rage.

She was approaching a fork in the road. She knew that not far down the left fork was a police station. She could drive there, and be safe, and…

And what? Run and hide like a stereotypical girl and wait for a man to save her? Let the asshole driver most likely get away, or at best get a fine and a slap on the wrist, and let him do it again and again to other drivers? And surely he wasn’t an asshole only on the road. Guys like him were exactly the kind of jerks who let their dogs shit in other people’s driveways, stole people’s lunches and office supplies, and blamed others for their own failures. She felt her rage grow as she thought of the other bad things that had happened to her that day. Her headache increased in pain as well.

She knew two other things. She had a gun in her glove compartment. And the fork on the right led to an isolated area. A very isolated area.

On any other day, she would have taken the left fork. But today was not any other day. She took the right…

She drove along the road, watching as the houses thinned out. She drove fast, as if she was frightened and trying to get away. Glancing in the rearview mirror, she smirked. The silver car was still following her.

Soon, there was nothing but trees and bushes alongside the road. Lissette put on a burst of speed, whipping her car sharply to the right and onto a dirt turnoff. The turnoff dead-ended after a couple hundred yards. She stopped the car and reached into the glove compartment. She put on a pair of black leather gloves and took out the .45 pistol waiting inside. She chambered a round and flicked the safety off. She also kept a thigh holster in there and she now used it, quickly and efficiently putting it on and strapping the compact but lethal handgun to her thigh underneath the skirt she was wearing. She then got out of the car, face expressionless but heart pounding.

The silver Pontiac appeared. The driver smirked to himself when he saw Lissette trapped – or so he thought – at the dead end. Turning his car sideways to block the only way out, he screeched to a stop and climbed out. The look on his face was one of self-righteous rage. At 5’10” and 220 pounds, looking like the thug he was in his torn jeans and dirty wifebeater, he arrogantly thought he could have his way with this slender, pretty young woman. Her elegant yet professional outfit of a black miniskirt, knee-high black leather boots, and white blouse accented her 5’7″, 120-pound figure nicely and stood in sharp contrast to his trashy appearance.

“Suck my dick, bitch,” he growled as he advanced on her.

She smoothly pulled out the gun from underneath her miniskirt. He froze and a look of pure terror appeared on his face. Sweat dripped down his brow. “What was that?” she asked. “Say it again.”

His mouth opened, but no words came out. He took half a step backward.

“What’s the matter? Don’t want me to suck your dick anymore? Cat got your tongue?”

He managed to squeak out, “Please…I’m sorry, I’ll go…”

“You’re not going anywhere,” said Lissette, aiming the gun right at his head.

He raised his hands. “Please! I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have done that! Please have mercy, I’m begging you!”

“Shouldn’t have done what? Driven illegally along the shoulder? Tried to cut me off? Given me the finger? Cursed at me? Threatened me? Chased me? Boxed me in here, thinking you’d trapped me?” She began advancing on him, keeping the gun aimed right between his eyes.

“Yes, all of those things! I was wrong on all of those things! Please don’t kill me!”

Lissette shook her head. “No, you’re only sorry for one thing. You’re only sorry you got caught.” Now she was almost upon him. She suddenly did a cartwheel, one-handed, her other hand still holding her gun, impacting his face with her big black boots one after the other and sending him to the dirt. Landing elegantly, she kicked him in the side, cracking one of his ribs. Her thighs, although slim, had visible muscle tone from her years as a dancer, and her kicks were very powerful.

“I know assholes like you all too well,” she said, kicking him again, in the head this time, giving him a terrible headache. “You think you’re better than everybody else. You think the world owes you everything. You think you don’t have to play by the rules. And you always blame others for all your own problems.” She kicked him hard in the back as she finished speaking.

Rolling on the ground in pain and clutching his cracked rib, the man began begging and pleading again. She simply stood over him and waited for him to finish his whining. She made a show of rolling up the sleeve of her white blouse to look at her watch, a silver man’s Rolex that hung loose on her slender wrist and stood out nicely against her darkly tanned forearm.

“Oh, you’re begging me now. That’s interesting. I wonder what things would be like if I didn’t have this.” She waved her gun. “I wonder what you’d be doing to me if you’d trapped me for real. I wonder if you’d listen to my pleas.” They both knew what the answer to that would be. He hung his head in shame.

The road-rage asshole was now quivering with fear. Begging wasn’t working. Running wouldn’t work. Fighting wouldn’t work. The sickening feeling of finality began to sink in. He was out of options, and out of time.

“On your knees,” she ordered.

He obeyed, trying to plead for mercy with his eyes. She ignored it. “Open your mouth.”

He opened his mouth. She approached him, holding her gun, still aimed at him, right in front of her crotch, as if it was a surrogate phallus. He wet his pants as he realized how it was going to end.

Shoving the barrel of the pistol into his mouth, she spoke the four words he knew were coming. The words he knew would be the last he would ever hear.

“Suck my dick, bitch.”

She pulled the trigger.

Lissette discovered that her headache was now gone. She looked dispassionately at the blood pooling from the corpse. She scanned the dirt road to make sure no one else was there, then collected the spent cartridge from the ground. Reholstering her gun underneath her miniskirt, she bent over the body, fishing in the dead man’s pocket for his car keys. Still wearing her black leather gloves, she moved the Pontiac to give her enough room to get out.

Putting his keys back in his pocket, she gave the body one last glance before heading back to her own car. As she started the engine and unstrapped her pistol from her thigh to put back into the glove compartment, she thought of the trouble she was in at work and her asshole boss who had gotten her into trouble.

She looked at the gun in her gloved hand, and smiled.


The Flagpole

Monica, a professor of history at the local university, sat in her office, pecking away laboriously at her computer as she worked on writing her next book. Across the small room was her graduate assistant, boyfriend, and now fiance, Todd. The shy graduate student had had a crush on Monica for a long time and had eagerly said yes when she had asked him to marry her. Todd was currently busy grading the papers written by the students in Monica’s undergraduate Spanish history class. The two of them periodically looked up from their work to smile at each other.

Monica’s cell phone rang suddenly. As she answered it and listened to the voice on the other end, a frown appeared on her elegant face. Todd looked up with concern. “My mother was just in a car accident,” she said as she hung up the phone.

“Is she okay?” Todd asked.

“She’s fine. But I’m still going to need to get out there.” Monica glanced out the window at the darkening sky. It was late Friday evening and the sun was setting. “Do you want to walk out with me? You can leave those papers for Monday.”

“Thanks, but I think I’d better finish these,” Todd answered. “Midterms are coming soon and there’ll be a whole lot more to grade. I don’t want to let the stuff pile up.”

“Good point,” said Monica as she stood up and grabbed her purse. “I’ll leave the office key on my desk so you can lock up. When you’re done, come over to my place. I should be done taking care of my mom by then. I’ll have everything in the bedroom warm and waiting for you.” She winked.

Todd got an immediate erection. “Thanks, Prof- I mean Monica. I’ll see you soon.”

The two scruffy-looking young men furtively approached the Social Sciences building of the university. One of them took out a wire and went to work on the lock on the main door. “The way I figure it, Rusty,” he said as he picked the lock, “is that a lot of students are worried about the upcoming midterms, and they want some reassurance. And we can provide it to them. We break in, steal the answers to all the midterms, and sell them for twenty bucks a pop. The students pass their tests and we rake in the green.”

“Good thinkin’, Jimmy,” said Rusty. Rusty and Jimmy were a pair of twentysomething punk kids who had formerly attended the university but dropped out due to laziness. Now they shared an apartment in the college town, and spent most of their time playing video games and smoking weed. They also liked coming back to loaf around the campus and look at attractive girls. They worked occasional odd jobs, some legit, some criminal, for money, but they always seemed to be short of it. This operation would get them out of the red for a long time.

The door clicked open. With smirks on their ugly faces, Jimmy and Rusty walked into the building. “We’ll start on the top floor and work our way down,” said Jimmy.

With a ding, the elevator doors opened onto the top floor of the Social Sciences building. The two young thugs got out and started down the hall…then stopped short when they saw a light coming from one of the offices. “What the fuck?” said Rusty. “You said there’d be no one here this late on a Friday evening.”

Jimmy paused. “I don’t hear any voices. Must be someone working late alone. We can take care of him.” They walked quickly but quietly down the hall until they came to the office with the light. Jimmy peeked in and grinned when he saw only the small, scrawny, and oblivious Todd seated inside, still busy grading papers. Jimmy gave a thumbs-up to Rusty and both men stepped into the office. “Good evening, buddy,” said Jimmy.

Todd whirled around in surprise. “Who are you?”

“That don’t matter,” said Rusty. “What matters is we have a job to do, and you’re in our way.” He strode over to a visibly frightened Todd. Rusty was far bigger than he was, and even Jimmy, though not as large as his comrade, had a decent height and weight advantage over the small grad student.

Rusty suddenly punched Todd in the stomach, causing him to double over in pain. Struggling to stand back upright, he swung his fist back at his opponent, but Rusty dodged it easily and laughed, then punched Todd in the jaw, stunning him. “Tie him up,” Jimmy directed.

“With what?” asked Rusty, looking around the small office for something suitable.

“Use his shirt,” said Jimmy. Rusty ripped the shirt off of a still stunned Todd, then used it to tie his hands behind his back.

“Where should we put him?” Rusty asked.

A sudden smirk appeared on Jimmy’s face. “I’ve got just the thing.” He whispered something into his friend’s ear.

Rusty grinned evilly as he heard Jimmy’s plan. “Guess what, you nerdy little wimp,” the big thug announced to Todd. “We’re going to attach you to the flagpole with your pants. Then we’re going to hoist you up so you’ll be dangling there in your underwear.” Both goons laughed loudly.

Rusty grabbed Todd roughly, while Jimmy began yanking his pants off. Todd struggled and cursed until Rusty shut him up with another punch to his face. Once Jimmy had Todd’s pants off, Rusty began frog-marching him out into the hall and down the stairs. Jimmy followed, still carrying Todd’s pants. They had gone outside and reached the front lawn where the flagpoles were when suddenly a female voice called out, “What the hell is going on here?”

Monica stood there, looking beautiful but dangerous. The sexy female professor was in her mid-thirties, but easily passed for younger. She stood at 5’6″ and 140 pounds, with shoulder-length brown hair, dark brown eyes, and a deep golden-brown tan. Her low-cut pants showed off her athlete’s hips and slim waist, and the sleeves of her white blouse were rolled up, displaying her thick, muscular forearms. Her wrist measurement was over seven inches, and the slightest movement was enough to make her superbly well-developed forearm muscles ripple.

“None of your business, bitch,” growled Rusty.

“Yeah,” added Jimmy. “Now get out of here if you know what’s good for you.”

Monica stood her ground. “If *you* know what’s good for *you*, you’ll release that…Oh my God, Todd!” she shouted as she recognized her man. “That’s my fiance you’ve got there,” she snarled. “Now I’m really going to put a hurting on you assholes.” She raised her fists.

Rusty laughed. “A little girl like you?” At 6’2″ and 215 pounds, he towered over Monica. He dropped Todd on the grass and kicked him in the head to knock him out. At that, Monica let out a growl of fury. With a high-pitched warrior cry, she launched her muscular body into a tumbling pass towards him, starting with a roundoff and then going into a series of extremely fast back handsprings. As she perfectly executed backflip after backflip right at him, Rusty froze like a deer in the headlights. Monica plowed into him, her booted feet kicking him in the face and knocking him down.

Jimmy picked up a fallen tree branch and began sneaking up on Monica from behind. Although at 5’9″ and 170 pounds he was larger than her, he could see that her massive forearms were bigger than his. But with the branch, he could…

“Oof!” Jimmy grunted in pain as Monica suddenly fired a perfectly aimed donkey kick into his stomach. As he doubled over, she turned to face him with her leg raised, kicking him in the head as she spun. A wicked one-two combination of punches from Monica’s leather-gloved fists broke his nose and blackened his right eye. Laughing at her ability to dominate men physically, she headbutted him, knocking him to the ground. As he fell, he dropped his branch, which began rolling away.

Monica performed a front tuck somersault to take herself over to Rusty, who was just getting to his hands and knees. She kicked him in the side, breaking one of his ribs. Cursing with pain and anger, he finished standing up and tried to punch her, but she blocked the attack easily with her thick forearm, then punched him in the face, her leather-gloved fist creating a cruel, bloody cut on his cheek. A spinning back fist nailed his other cheek. Balancing on one leg, she kicked her victim in the face several times with lightning speed with her other, sending blood spraying with each impact. A cartwheel kick from her booted feet nailed his head and knocked him down.

Monica heard Jimmy getting up and approaching her from behind. She calmly waited until he was at just the right distance, then did a perfect standing back handspring, viciously crashing right into him and sending him to the grass again. As he was down, she stomped on his face with her big black boot. She followed that up with a savage kick to his stomach. Leaping on top of her helpless victim, she punched him in the face several times with her big fists, knocking him out.

Rusty was just getting up again. Monica used a kip-up to get back to her feet. She smirked at him and beckoned with her finger, taunting him to attack. He obliged with a growl, charging at her. Monica elegantly pivoted and stopped his charge with a side kick to his chest, laughing as he ran into her outstretched leg. Before he could move, she broke another of his ribs with a roundhouse kick. She then punched him twice in the stomach and once in the jaw, sending new waves of agony through his midsection and knocking two of his teeth loose.

“This is for my fiance,” she said quietly but coldly. With that, she drove her knee into her opponent’s crotch. Rusty let out a high-pitched scream. As his hands flew to his pulverized testicles, she cheerleader kicked him in the face, knocking two more of his teeth out.

“And this one’s for me.” Monica performed a perfect spin kick on her victim. Her booted foot impacted the side of his head and sent him to the ground, unconscious.

Monica grinned wickedly as she looked down at her brutal and bloody handiwork. She ripped off the shirts of both men and used them to tie their hands behind their backs. She then untied poor Todd, who was just waking up. “Are you okay, honey?” she asked.

Todd sat up with a groan. “M…Monica. You’re here.” He felt his head. “I think I’ll be okay.” Looking around, he saw Rusty and Jimmy out cold and tied up. He looked back at his fiancee. “Wow. I wish I had been awake to see you beat the crap out of those assholes. You’re such an amazing fighter.”

Monica blushed slightly. “Thank you, sweetie. Come on. I’ll help you stand up.” Todd got back to his feet, leaning on Monica. He put his shirt back on, then retrieved his pants, which were a few feet away from the unconscious Jimmy, and put them on too. “So what happened?” she asked.

He told her the whole story. “I guess they busted in to steal something. They said they had a ‘job’ to do. Then they…they …” Todd’s voice began to shake.

“It’s okay, hun. I’m here for you.” Monica squeezed his hand.

“They ripped off my shirt and pants and tied me up. Then they …they said they were going to hoist me up the flagpole in my underwear!”

Monica’s dark brown eyes flashed with rage. “Those fuckers.”

Jimmy groaned and opened his eyes. Monica, noticing, approached him with a determined look on her high-cheekboned face. “Todd told me about your cowardly attack on him,” she growled. “Now you’re going to tell me why you broke in.”

“Like hell I am, bitch,” he sneered.

Monica rammed her knee into his face. Blood sprayed out, staining her pants. “I’m going to keep kneeing you until you tell me what I want to know or lose the ability to talk…permanently. Your call.”

He simply glared at her. Monica kneed him again, the blow landing dead center on his nose. More blood sprayed out. She began raising her knee a third time.

“No! Enough! I surrender!” Jimmy cried out. He confessed his plan for stealing the midterm answers and selling them to the students.

Monica looked at him with disgust. She had a very low tolerance for anything that disrupted academic integrity. “You and your buddy are going to deserve everything that you’re about to get,” she snarled.

“Should I call the cops?” Todd asked.

“Not yet,” said Monica, a cold and determined look on her face. Jimmy trembled in fear.

Rusty chose that moment to wake up. He tried playing the tough guy for about five seconds, but a punch to his face from Monica’s big, leather-gloved fist shut him up. “Todd told me what you assholes were planning to do to him. Well, now we’re going to do the exact same thing to you.” With that, Monica quickly ripped off Jimmy’s pants, then did the same with Rusty’s. Both men began begging and crying like the cowards they were. A snap-kick to Jimmy’s head and a stomp on Rusty’s face shut them up.

Monica then dragged Rusty over to the big flagpole that normally held the American flag. Attaching him to it with his pants, she hoisted him all the way up. When Rusty was at the very top, dangling there in his underwear, she moved over to Jimmy. Picking him up in a firewoman’s carry, she attached him to the smaller flagpole that held the state flag and hoisted him up too. Both men dangled in their underwear, crying and humiliated for all the world to laugh at.

“Now you can call the cops,” Monica said to Todd.