My Wife The Assassin

As we were carrying the weapons and ammo to the car, my wife said, "By the way, I have two other secret stashes out in the desert. One is north of town and the other is to the southwest. I'll tell you the directions of how to get to each. Memorize them because they can't be written down anywhere." I memorized them quickly. At least that was something I was good at.

Debbie popped the trunk open and we put the submachine gun, crossbow, and ammo inside. She handed the pistol to me. "Brett, I want you to carry this with you at all times until I take out the guy who's behind all this." I took it a little nervously - I still wasn't that comfortable with guns - and put it in my pocket. She still had her own pistol in her dress pocket. It was nice that they made formal evening dresses with pockets.

I was silent in the car on the way to the hotel. The full magnitude of what had happened was finally sinking in. Deep down, I had always known that my wife's profession could put me in danger someday, but I had never really given much thought to it, probably because it was something I feared. But there was no getting away from it now.

We pulled up to one of the big casino hotels downtown (the closest thing to a high-end hotel in this town - such is life in Reno). Soon we were in a large suite on one of the upper floors. The large weapons and ammo we managed to smuggle into the hotel in a couple of big bags. Finally (relatively) safe, Debbie bolted and chained the door, put a chair in front of it, then sat on the bed next to me and looked into my eyes. "Are you okay, Brett? Are you *really* okay?"

"Yes, honey. The shock's finally worn off. Mostly."

"I'm sorry I got you into this. If you weren't married to me..."

"No!" I cried out. "Don't say that. Being married to you is the best thing that could ever possibly happen to me. I'll happily take everything that comes along with that. Including the danger. I'd much rather be married to you and have my life at risk than be married to some non-warrior woman and have a perfectly safe life. Don't blame yourself for what happened."

She kissed me, gently. "That's why I love you. You may be a shy and quiet man, but when you feel passionately about something you always stand up and speak out." She began undoing her hair, which was still in a bun. "You know, we're here together and we have this nice suite. And we need something to take our minds off what happened..."

I got an automatic erection in my pants. She noticed and laughed. Motioning for me to remove my clothes, she kicked her shoes off and took off her dress. She stood there dressed only in red panties - because of her exceptionally firm and perky breasts, she didn't wear bras, except for sports bras when she worked out. Her nipples looked like they could cut glass.

She wrapped her hand around my erect cock and applied pressure. The muscles in her big forearm became even more defined. The slightest movement she made with her arm always caused the muscles to start rippling. I moaned in pleasure, then in pain as she increased the strength of her grip.

"Sweetie, you know your superhumanly strong forearms turn me on immensely and you're probably strong enough to crush it, but please don't," I gasped out.

She relaxed the pressure. "Sorry hun. Better?"

"Mmmm yes, Miss Debbie."

She began moving her hand in a rhythmic and steady up-and-down motion, sending new waves of pleasure through me. It was not long before I came hard, shooting a large load of semen onto her wrist. The white cum sharply contrasted with the darkly tanned skin of her forearm.

I wiped it off with some tissues (no, she's not one of those women who makes her man lick it off), then kissed her clean wrist in tribute to the powerful muscles that could give so much pleasure...or pain. She smiled seductively, then sensually removed her red panties, sitting there completely nude. Her dark brown pussy hair was neatly trimmed.

She stood up and turned around, then launched herself into a powerful standing back tuck, her well-developed thigh and butt muscles propelling her high into the air. She landed neatly on the bed and motioned for me to lie on my back. She then performed a cartwheel into the splits, landing her splits perfectly centered right on my face. Her wet pussy was right over my mouth and I eagerly began going down on her. She grinded down hard as I plesured her with my tongue and I knew that my face would be bruised tomorrow. Soon she had a powerful orgasm, screaming "Yes! Yes! Yes!" as she came all over my face.

As I was wiping the sticky girl-cum off my face, a loud banging came from the opposite wall. The suite was available with one or two bedrooms. We just needed one, and when not part of the suite the second bedroom was sold as a separate room. Whoever was in there now was making the ruckus. A man's angry voice shouted, "Why don't you fuckheads keep it down in there!"

Debbie giggled. "Cranky bastard, ain't he? Well, let's get back to business." With that, I lay down again on my back, my cock now hard again and pointing straight up in the air. She giggled again when she saw, then mounted me in a reverse cowgirl position. She fucked me dominantly and hard. My earlier release, courtesy of her handjob, allowed me to last much longer this time. She came hard and first, then had an equally powerful second orgasm, moaning and shrieking in pleasure all the way. Finally I came, shooting my load deep into her. She climbed off me and we lay in the bed next to each other, breathing heavily.

Suddenly the banging on the wall started again, louder this time. "I thought I told you motherfuckers to keep it the fuck down!" came the angry voice.

My wife's eyes got that mischievous sparkle and she got out of bed. Putting on her panties and dress, she said, "I think I'll teach that asshole a lesson." Noticing the worried look on my face, she added, "Don't worry. I won't do any permanent damage."

She walked over to the connecting door and opened the one on our side. I put on my clothes and followed several feet behind her, my heart pounding.

Debbie suddenly did a lightning-fast high kick, the slit on the side of her dress enabling her to do it without damaging the garment. Her foot crashed into the other side's connecting door with extreme force, splintering it and knocking it down.

The man inside, who was dressed in a button-down shirt and boxer underwear and had been furiously typing on a laptop, jumped up and turned around, a look of fear and anger on his ugly face. His mouth dropped open in shock when he saw the remnants of the kicked-down door...and my wife standing in the doorway.

"How...how are you strong enough to..." he gasped.

Debbie laughed. "I get that a lot."

She advanced on him. He was about my height, so my wife was a good four inches taller than him. Her muscular, tanned body looked powerful and dominant next to this scrawny loudmouth, whose pale, weak legs were showing. He cowered in fear.

Her fists moved, first one and then the other. There were two loud impact sounds and one cry of pain. He now had a broken nose and black right eye. She kneed him hard in the stomach. He doubled over, unable to breathe. She grabbed him and tilted his head up, looking straight into his frightened eyes.

"My husband and I have had a very rough day and we're trying to enjoy each other's company," she said coldly. "And we don't need you giving us any shit. So take this as a lesson in manners." With that, she headbutted him with all her strength, knocking him down and unconscious. She turned to me and winked, then walked over to her victim's pants, which were lying on the bed.

When the loud jerk woke up, Debbie was standing over him, her muscular arms crossed in front of her. She smiled icily down at him. "Okay, asshole, here's the deal. You're going to keep quiet for the rest of the night. And you're going to tell the hotel that YOU broke the door and pay for it yourself." She pointed to his pants pocket. "While you were out, I looked in your wallet and memorized the address on your driver's license," she continued. "If you try to give us any shit or don't do as you're told, I know where you live and I will pay you a visit. Is that clear?"

"Y...yes," he stammered, shaking like the coward he was. The biggest talkers always crumbled the fastest when faced with real strength.

"Are you going to be a good boy and do what I told you to do?"

"Y...yes," he stammered again.

"Good." She tossed her long beautiful brown hair and smiled. "Sleep tight, sucker."

Once we were back in our room and the connecting door was closed, she turned to me, laughing. "That was fun."

"And we needed it," I said.

"That's right." Her elegant face became serious. "Let's try to get a good night's sleep. We have a lot of work to do starting tomorrow. There are going to be a lot of bad guys after us."

"May the odds be ever in our favor," I said. My wife giggled.

The next morning, after a room service breakfast, we were both sitting in the living room of the suite. I was on my spare laptop (which, luckily, I had had in the car) trying to trace the email Debbie had gotten from the would-be assassin. My wife was cleaning her pistol.

"This isn't an ordinary email," I said as I typed away. "It's got a lot of encryption and extra security. But I'll find out where it came from. It's only a matter of time." Debbie smiled, came over and gently kissed me on the forehead, then went back to cleaning her gun.

"Do you have any idea who might be behind this?" I asked.

"It could be anyone. I've killed many targets and the friends of any one of them could be the ones who put the bounty out. But I thought I covered my tracks well enough each time. If it does turn out to be one of them I need to find out how they found out it was me so this doesn't happen again."

I continued pecking away at the computer. Finally, about fifteen minutes later, I shouted excitedly, "I got it! The email was sent from a company computer at a place called Dyno-Novo Industries."

"Jesus Christ," Debbie swore.

"What is it, honey?"

"Dyno-Novo. They were one of the organizations that HIRED me. A few months ago they paid me half a million to whack some industrial espionage guy who they said was stealing secrets from their company. It looks like they want to keep their secrets so well guarded that they feel the need to have me 'cleaned up' Jack Ruby style." She got up and stood behind me, looking at the computer screen. "Can you find out which individual sent the message?"

"I'm afraid not. It's a company address not matched to any one person. It could be anyone who works there."

"Fuck. So we have no way of knowing who's involved or how high up the corruption might go. Unless..." Debbie's blue eyes lit up as she explained her idea.

She reached into her purse and took out a makeup case. She then lay down on the floor. Following her instructions, I applied red makeup on her forehead to look like a bullet hole, complete with what looked like blood trickling down from the wound. I then got my cell phone and used it to take a picture.

As I uploaded the picture to the computer, Debbie stood back up and grinned wickedly. "Now those fuckers will think I'm dead," she said, wiping off the phony blood. "How long will it take you to hack into Mr. Failed Assassin's email account?"

"Just a couple of minutes. His doesn't have the security that Dyno-Novo's did."

"Good. Tell them that you don't want any records of the money, so you want to be paid in cash. Ask for a meeting."

I quickly hacked into the dead thug's email and typed the message my wife wanted. I attached the picture of her and clicked SEND.

"Now we'll find out who the guilty ones are," Debbie said. Her voice and look were passionate but cold. I was glad this lethal beauty was on my side.

"Come on," she said. "We'll go nuts just waiting. Let's go downstairs and do a little gambling."

We came back to the suite a couple of hours later. I had lost about $200 on the slot machines, but Debbie had won $1000 on roulette and another $2000 at poker. She's really good at reading poker faces.

I immediately went to the computer. Sure enough, there was a response from Dyno-Novo. "They want to meet tonight at nine in a warehouse," I reported. "Here's the address."

"Good job," she said, kissing me. "Let's have an early dinner, then around seven I'll head out there so I can be there by 7:30. That should be enough time before they show up to set up an ambush."

"You're going alone?" I asked. Truth be told, I didn't really want to go. I'm not used to dangerous combat situations and have no desire to get a lot of experience in that area. But the desire to be near her and watch over her while she was in danger, plus my desire to see her in action, pulled my thoughts in the opposite direction.

"It's going to be extremely dangerous," my wife said. "I don't want anything to happen to you."

"I know. I just...I just don't want to feel like a coward."

She came over and held me. "Trust me, Brett. I've never thought of you as a coward and I never will. There's nothing cowardly about someone with no real combat training staying out of a danger zone. I really think it's best if I went alone."

"All right, Debbie. If you think it's best."

She smiled, then led me towards the bed.

After an afternoon of lovemaking, followed by dinner in one of the hotel restaurants, we went back up to the suite so Debbie could change into her combat outfit. When she was ready, she was wearing tight black pants that showed off her muscular ass, black boots, black leather gloves, and a tight black top with three-quarter length sleeves that emphasized her perky breasts and slim waist, and which showed off her big forearms. She wore the crossbow on her back and had the Uzi slung across her chest. Her pistol was on her hip. She put on a long coat to cover the weapons.

We stood by the door as she prepared to leave. "I don't think anyone will find you here, but just to be safe make sure to keep your pistol on you, especially if you go downstairs. And if you do go downstairs make sure to hang the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the door. Try to relax and have some fun while I'm gone. Don't worry about me too much. I'll call you as soon as the action's over at the warehouse." She kissed me on the lips. "I love you."

"I love you too, Debbie. Stay safe and kick some ass."

After my wife had left, I tried to distract myself by watching TV, but I couldn't concentrate on any of the shows. I then decided to go downstairs and play the slot machines some more. Maybe that would work.

But the slot machines couldn't stop my worrying either, even though I was winning this time. I looked around at all the happy (and some sad) people gambling, talking, laughing, crying...all oblivious to the dark forces my wife was up against.

I decided I couldn't take it any longer. I couldn't be one of those oblivious people. I had to be with the woman I loved in her hour of danger. Even though I was not the kind of man who was capable of protecting her, I had to be man enough to try. I looked at my watch. It was 7:40. There was still time. I went outside and stood in the taxi line.

"Are you sure this is the right place?" the taxi driver asked as he pulled up to the warehouse. "There isn't anybody here at this time of night."

"Yes, this is it," I said. I paid him and climbed out, watching as the vehicle disappeared in the distance. Completely alone now, I shivered. Was I doing the right thing? Patting my pocket to make sure my pistol was there, I headed for the warehouse entrance. It was only a little after eight and the bad guys shouldn't be here yet. I would find my wife and we would wait together.

I looked at the front door, then paused. What if the bad guys had come early and were watching the door? I decided instead to head around the side of the building. Finding an unlocked window, I climbed inside, my heart pounding.

I made my way cautiously though the dark warehouse. Suddenly, a tall figure popped up right in front of me. I almost wet myself in fear before recognizing the feminine shape of my wife.

"Dammit, Brett, what are you doing here?" she whispered. "I heard someone sneaking in the side window and thought it was one of the bad guys."

"I'm sorry," I said, hanging my head. "I just couldn't stay away."

"You're definitely not a coward, but you just may be a fool," Debbie said, in a tone that was angry and loving at the same time. "If you want to stay safe, go out the way you came and go down to the next block. I'll call you when..."

She suddenly stopped when we both heard the sound of someone climbing in the same window I had come through. A second later, we heard the front door of the warehouse open.

I paled in fear. My wife's face kept its tan color, but there was a look of alarm in her blue eyes. "No time," she whispered. "Hide!" She pointed to a space surrounded by piles of boxes on three sides.

"Whatever you do, stay here and shoot anyone that isn't me," she whispered. Trembling, I nodded and pulled out my pistol with a shaky hand.

Debbie spotted a platform about nine feet above the warehouse floor. She leapt upward, grabbing the edge with her leather-gloved hands, and used her upper-body strength to pull herself up. She positioned herself and took out her crossbow. Inserting a steel bolt, she waited.

From the direction of the side window, two men appeared, both in work clothes and both carrying pistols. Then from the direction of the front, two more men appeared. One wore a trench coat and carried an assault rifle. The other was dressed in a business suit and had a pistol in his right hand and a briefcase in his left.

The man in the suit uttered a sharp command and the two men in work clothes moved in opposite directions, taking up positions in the shadows. The other two men remained where they were.

Debbie took aim at the workman nearest her. In his position, he was not directly visible to any of his comrades. She fired, sending a bolt straight through his heart. Before his corpse had hit the floor she was already reaching for another bolt.

The body hit the floor with a THUD. "What the fuck was that?" came from the man in the suit. The thug in the trench coat raised his rifle.

Debbie fired another shot from her crossbow at the second workman. This time, her bolt impacted her victim in the head, causing it to erupt in a fountain of blood and brain matter. Another THUD and another curse.

The man with the assault rifle opened fire wildly. Whipping out her Uzi, my wife fired two quick but expertly aimed bursts. The first put half a dozen holes in the shooting man's chest, dropping him stone cold dead. The second burst sent another half dozen bullets into the other man's legs. He fell to the floor, screaming in pain and dropping both gun and briefcase.

Debbie backflipped off the platform, landing neatly on her feet on the warehouse floor. She hurried over to the wounded man, keeping her submachine gun trained on him. She kicked his gun across the room.

"How the fuck are you still alive? Where's Ziggy?" the thug groaned, recognizing her.

"I'm guessing Ziggy is the would-be assassin who failed to kill me last night. He's dead. My husband and I played a trick on you and you fell for it hook, line, and sinker," she smirked.

"Dammit, bitch, how could you have..."

Debbie stomped hard on his face with her big black size 10 boot. "I'll be asking the questions now, asshole. Now are there any more of you guys here?"

"No," he gasped out. He was bleeding quite badly.

"You'd better not be lying, cocksucker," she snarled.

"I swear, it was just the four of us! Please!"

"All right. Now tell me the whole story of putting a bounty on my head. The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth." She aimed her Uzi at his groin threateningly.