Ritual Of Deception

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Even the sexy, blond stripper masturbating herself over my cock didn’t merit cracking a smile. By all accounts, I should have been filled with glee, downright fucking jovial. I just wasn’t. She rode my lap like a saddle, her thighs gripping my legs tightly, as she humped and writhed on my pants-covered cock. Nude, except for her stiletto heels and a black thong pulled to one side, I watched her back-muscles flex as she moaned and grunted on my shaft. Her pussy juice left wet trails on my pants, glowing in the strip club’s black light. She leaned forward, assaulting my cock with vigor and verve, her hands gripping my knees.Although my mood was foul, I had to admit that she had one of the best asses I’d seen in recent memory. I’d won the day in court, a huge win for our firm, the mobsters that run this town, and a victory for me, personally. I was primed for a shot at the big kids’ table, a full partnership on the horizon if I played it right and kept my mouth shut.I sipped my drink, top-shelf booze, and watched her get off in my lap. The musky aroma of her sweat and cheap perfume mingled with the stench of the rotting city that permeated the club. My mindset mirrored the ominous thunderhead hovering over the decaying filth of the corrupt city. Although we won the case, I was morose, fed up with the moral decay that infested everything and everyone.“Take me home tonight, Dar,” she moaned to me, throwing her head back. “You can cum on me anywhere, even on my face.” Any other night and I’d take her up on her offer, just not that night.The filth of society even permeated the Grindhouse, the club I was in. In this town, the rot and filth penetrate everything. The stink of hedonism and empty souls sticks to everything like grease that just won’t wash away, the stench ever-present. You could feel the grimy film of society’s decline on the tables, and the fetid odor washed about the club along with the billowing clouds of smoke and the waft of cheap booze.The justice system, my line of work, had nothing to do with justice. It’s all about money, power, and getting what you want. Sure, I played the game, damn well, but I wasn’t the poster child for corruption. I’m no paladin, but I’m also not the villain type. At least in here, everyone stopped pretending to be upright and moral; pleasure ruled, no false airs in the Grindhouse.The writhing blond reached the point of no return, her ass humping back and forth over my shaft with frenetic fury, her moans and contractions telling me that she just orgasmed in my lap, the smell of her arousal mixing with the odors of the club and the stench of the city.Sergio, the club’s owner, looking as mafioso as ever, and Josh, a partner in my firm, sat a few tables away, drinking and drugging themselves into a stupor. The mobster types that ran this city were our primary clients. Because of that, we got VIP treatment pretty much wherever we went. Here, we weren’t just some saps to pump for money. Hooking up with one of us big-city lawyers was a form of hypergamy; as far as the girls that worked the Grindhouse were concerned, we were in cahoots with the criminal types that run this town, run the club. I wasn’t involved in anything shady, but I did defend those that were. Think what you want, but it made me rich. The politicians were far worse. At least the mob gave the people what they want: gambling, sex, and entertainment.“Com’ere,” Josh slurred to me. “Got something for you.” He reached inside his suit jacket, producing a swollen, white envelope.I removed the sexy blond, Tiffany, from my lap and went on over. Tiffany’s offer was tempting, but I just wasn’t in the mood. I’ve had my share of the strippers here, even dated a few of them on and off, mostly fucked them. I was just fuming from the morning’s case and didn’t feel like putting up with the bullshit.In the firm, they call me “The Detective.” I have a knack for digging up the dirt on anyone. Most plaintiffs backed off when threatened with exposure. Because of that, most of my cases never went to trial. The morning was an exception. I’m fine in court; it’s just another type of fight. If you do your homework, you can ambush your foe, put them on the defensive, and cut them down.The judge, a low-life womanizer with a drug habit, thought it’d be apropos to interrupt my opening statement. As soon as I said, “my client,” he interjected with, “we know exactly what sorts of clients you represent, Mr. Murphy.” That spurred me into attack mode. I dropped enough thinly-veiled innuendo to let the judge know that if he got in my way I’d go right for his jugular. He kept his mouth shut after that, but he didn’t make my Yuletide list.However, the judge, the foul weather, and the urban decay of the city cinched my mood for the day. I was pissed off and looking for an outlet. It was Josh’s idea to come to the titty bar and blow off some steam. He was kicking up his designer heels; I just needed to vent.I knew what was in the envelope before my friend told me. “Your bonus for a job well done,” Josh slurred. “The Capollis send their gratitude. Promise me you’ll blow it on booze, sluts, and drugs.”I took the ill-begotten cash and stowed it. I have no qualms about taking dirty money; it’s all dirty money. From the top on down, everyone has one hand out and another reaching for your pocket. No matter what side of the law you pretend to be on, it’s all the same. I’m a damned good defense lawyer that does his detective work. That garnered me a nice spread overlooking the city, a fine art collection, and enough cash to live how I saw fit. I knew how the world worked; don’t ask why or dig too deeply and grow rich. There was probably ten grand in under-the-table cash in there. “What’s in it for me” is the name of the game. My answer was ten large above our already-exorbitant fees. If you want to play in the major leagues, corruption comes with the territory. Along with it comes profit, if you’re willing to see right and wrong as mere points of view.“Thanks,” I said, trying not to sound too dour. “I think I’m going to head home.”“Fuck that judge,” Josh slammed his fist on the table, rattling more glasses. “You gave that piece of shit what he deserved. That’ll teach him to fuck with Detective Darwin, huh? Stop being a gloomy Gus party-pooper and let loose.”“Thanks, but I’m cutting out. See you in a few days.”“Murphy,” he choked on some foul weed he was inhaling. “Darwin. Enjoy your vacation; you earned it.”When I emerged from the Grindhouse, Tiffany’s cum still dewy on my suit pants, the thunderheads chose that moment to break into a nominal rain, a fog rolling, but at least hiding the urban desolation. The entrance let on to a parking kocaeli escort lot, rundown bars and late-night restaurants lining the edges. The streetlights cast a sickly, jaundiced glow over everything, turning the rain piss-colored to match the city’s urinal stench. Various denizens of the night milled about, some late-night revelers, others plying their nefarious trades. I had no quarrel with the crooks, hookers, and pushers. They knew better than to fuck with me. Unless paid or provoked, I don’t take any shit, and I don’t give any shit; I’m not in the fertilizer business.Enjoying the coolness of the impending storm, I popped the trunk to my black Lexus and dialed the combination to my briefcase—667, the neighbor of the beast—and tossed the money in, right beside my Ruger nine millimeter. That’s when I saw her and the scumbag she was with. She was a looker, that’s for sure.While I consider myself an ass-man, her body, enticingly displayed by her skimpy attire, was drool-inducing perfection. Long, flowing, red hair, sexily matted and tousled by the rain and her struggling, fell like fiery waterfalls over smooth, vibrant skin. Her breasts were high, round, firm, and swollen, two perfectly-rounded balloons ready to burst. The rest of her was just as exquisite. Tiffany in the club was instantly demoted to the second-best ass I’d seen, recently. Her clothes, a wispy, light, short skirt, and thin halter top, were already growing translucent from the rain, exposing taut nipples set atop puffy areolas. She was struggling to free herself from the grasp of some sleazebag, her assumed boyfriend, and her movements exposed her lack of panties as well as proving that she was a natural redhead.The guy she was with was as greasy and sinister as she was hot and sexy. He had slicked-back, shiny, black hair showing off a neanderthal’s forehead. Beady, dark eyes, locked in a squint, detracted from his crooked, thin-lipped sneer. Like a typical low-life, he was decked out in a black trench coat, despite it being summer, dark clothes showing beneath it.“Let me go,” she was screaming, along with some colorful obscenities.He had one hand clamped on her bicep, refusing to let go. Unless paid to represent, I don’t typically stick my nose into other people’s business. In this town, that’s a good way to get it broken or worse. I did, however, lean against my open trunk to watch their little domestic dispute unfold. She was insisting that she was leaving for good; he very physically demanded the contrary. Her boobs bounced amazingly as she tried to escape his grasp.Their struggles brought them near. I could see that she had piercing eyes, the color of a lake after a storm, full lips, and that look of wild passion about her that just made your dick hard. I couldn’t even look at her without imagining slamming my cock into her. Her flailing resistance was mesmerizing to watch. While the best strippers in the best club in town couldn’t get a rise out of me, her ass, hot pussy, and bouncing tits gave me major wood.“Do as I tell you,” he sneered, vilely. “You know what will happen if you don’t obey me.”One of her meek attempts to free herself resulted in a punch to rat-face’s chest. The cave-dweller backhanded her across the cheek, sending her sprawling to the asphalt, landing at my feet. It appeared that my foul mood had just found its outlet. I’m not the knight in shining armor type, but even I have a point where I feel compelled to intervene.The little punk was in mid-kick, about to use her head as a soccer ball when I interrupted him. “Leave her alone, or you’ll regret it, tough guy.” My tone let the day’s annoyance drip from every word.He stopped and sneered, showing yellowish teeth. “Looks like we got ourselves some sort of crusader.”Woman-beater struck a comical pose, letting out a wail that reminded me of a tortured cat. Before I could react, he jumped into range with a “Kee-ya” and landed a surprisingly powerful blow that sent me reeling into a complete one-eighty. I caught the edges of my open trunk, coming to a stop facing inward, staring down at my open briefcase and the handgun nestled inside.“Kung-Fu from China,” he laughed. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”I pondered shooting the greasy bastard. I could get out of any chargers easily enough. Something else caught my eye, though. I grabbed it and spun around.It was a foul blow, roughly four inches beneath his skull belt buckle.“Mmmph,” he managed, doubling over under the incapacitating pain as I walloped his family jewels. I swung my weapon up and around, a satisfying thud ringing in my ears as the metal slammed into his right arm.“Crowbar,” I countered. “From the hardware store.”Laughing-boy leered at me.“Now beat it before I decide to not be nice.”He made the usual threats, penciling in a future appointment with regret, but showed me his heels, splashing away. The woman was cowering near my rear fender; soaked from the rain, her clothes adhering to her perfect figure, still radiating horny arousal, even her terrified countenance made my heart thump.“You’re safe, now.” It was cheesy but all I could manage. “I’ll walk you to your car if it will help you feel safe. He’s gone.”She blubbered, making crying sounds. Her tears mixed with the rain. “I don’t have one. I don’t have anything or anyone. I’m all alone and scared!”She launched into a long, sobbing soliloquy, lamenting that her greasy, scumbag boyfriend, Klaus, was a control freak. He kept her in fear, held dominion over her, and dominated every aspect of her life. She ran from him, trying to escape when she and “Santa Klaus” interrupted my night. She had no car, only the clothes on her nubile body, no place of her own, and not even any money for a hotel room. According to her song, she was one step above his slave, a plaything. She had my sympathy, but we’re all the architects of our own disasters. Sympathy can be found in the dictionary, right between Shit and Syphilis.I knew better. No woman that hot is anything but trouble. I didn’t know Klaus other than recently trading some tough love, but I knew the type. Guys like that are insecure, little boys that get their rocks off beating on women. My mind told me to stay away, but my cock wanted her. She was bad news with emotional baggage. I could just leave her there to fend for herself; it wasn’t any of my business. I could slip her some greenbacks, some of my mob-money bonus, and feel good about it.Instead, I invited trouble. “Get in, then. You can crash at my place until I figure out what to do with you. Try not to ruin my leather seats.” Like a sap, I helped her up, trying not to be too obvious about admiring her body.She sighed and embraced darıca escort me, pressing her soaked, shivering body against mine. I could feel her tits against my chest, her nipples poking into me. Her pussy radiated heat like a furnace, despite her trembling. I wanted her. Feeling chivalrous, I closed my briefcase, slammed the trunk shut, and opened the passenger door for her. Climbing inside, I blasted the heat, letting her warm up a bit. A gentleman would have offered her his suit jacket to stave off chills. I’m no gentleman; I’m a lawyer.The ominous fog billowed its way into the city streets, hiding the litter and decay. Cutting it with fog lights, I headed out of the city, towards my cubist’s wet dream of a house. “Murphy,” I introduced myself, “Darwin Murphy.”“My savior has a name,” she said. Her voice oozed honey-coated sex, heightening my arousal. “I’m Amber.”I must have a masochistic streak; I asked, “So, how does a nice girl like you get tangled up with a bottom-feeder like that Klaus character?”Amber, all sexuality and invitation, launched into a tear-filled, trite story of her youth, her upbringing, and how she had come to her fate. A typical, abused runaway, she fell in with the wrong crowd, addicted to the excitement and sense of freedom. I heard all about low-life Klaus being so charming at first, then showing his darker nature. It was a typical tale of woe, like everyone else in this town. I only half-listened, mostly watching her body. All of me wished I hadn’t offered her a ride, wished I had earplugs. Then she dropped a doozy.“But he got into some really nasty business, bodies everywhere. You’ve heard of the Satanic Slayer? That’s Klaus.”Everyone had heard. Some would-be serial-killer had been on the rampage, knocking off some ill-fated victim every six months or so. It was always the same; the body was found near the abandoned park, bled out with Satanic symbols, drawn in blood, on their bodies. If I could believe her, some friends of mine on the force would pay handsomely for that tip.“Even worse,” she continued. “He’s big into the occult, a priest, and was going to offer me up as a sacrifice to the Dark Horned One.”“You mean a human sacrifice?”“Yes,” Amber sobbed. Her whimpers sounded like hot sex. I wondered what kind of noise she made when she cums. “I have to willingly enter the circle to be offered as a blood sacrifice. My death would increase his power from the blessings of the Dark Lord.”“You mean that little twerp is the Satanic Slayer?” I immediately saw the loophole in her mystical debacle. “Why didn’t you just refuse to go willingly?” Defending the seedy underbelly of this city, I thought I’d seen and heard everything, but, apparently not. Klaus had just earned himself top-billing on my shit-list. I’d need to do something about him.She snuggled up against me, hampering my driving a bit. I didn’t object. Her body was cold and clammy from the rain. “I tried! I told him that, earlier, tonight. When Klaus heard that, he said that I was of no use to him, and he’d just have to kill me to keep me quiet. That’s when I went to the bathroom and crawled out the window to escape. You know the rest.”We eventually arrived at my place, which I call The Bunker, leaving the rotting heart of the city far behind. Some “artiste” decided that slapping cubes of thick concrete on top of each other made for a fine abode and some post-industrial, artistic statement. I didn’t care about such things; my concerns were that it was spacious, luxurious, automated, and far enough from the filth of the city that I didn’t get any on my pajamas. I had a scenic view, a place to park my cars, and plenty of stony wall space to hang my art collection.I let her inside as she “oohed” and “awed” over my spread. Swinging back and forth like a pendulum, one second she was bubbly and grateful, the next shivering and terrified. I turned on the fireplace for ambiance and warmth and poured us both a couple of stiff ones.“Devil’s blood,” I held out the whiskey. “It’ll warm your bones.” She sipped the drink; the glowing firelight silhouetted her figure through her very thin, alluring clothing“I’m cold,” she stated. “And so dirty.” I don’t think she meant the kind of dirty my mind latched onto, but a man can dream.I knew better but decided worse. She looked so sexy, so vulnerable, and so perfect with her wet, matted hair, erection-creating figure, and uninhibited nature that I couldn’t help myself. The wiser, more cynical part of my brain told me to kick her to the curb before I was in over my head. She was neck deep in mire, bumping uglies with killers and thugs. Sure, she played the victim, but, in this town, everyone does. Chivalry, in the form of a hard cock, vanquished common sense.I pointed at a door beside the stairs, adjacent to the one leading to my spacious, affluently-decorated bedroom. The bathroom door opened inward, a full-length mirror in an ornate, antique frame dominating most of its facing side.“That door, the one with the mirror, leads to the master bath. Take a shower and get yourself cleaned up. There are two doors in there. One leads to my bedroom, the other, to my closet. Pick out anything you want, so you’ll have something dry to wear.”She opened the door, whistling at the spaciousness and decor. “This place is huge. Mind if I leave the door open? My nerves are fried, and I’ll feel better knowing you’re there to protect me.” I just grunted approvingly.Amber left the door open at a wide angle. From almost every vantage, I had an unobstructed view of the bathroom. I could see my rain shower, the sinks, and most of the room. Either oblivious or uncaring to the fact that I could see, she stripped out of her clothes. Uncovered, her magnificent breasts were epic. So plump, high, and round, those perfect nipples still standing out, the strippers at the Grindhouse would have been green with envy. Shirking off her skirt, I had to revise my prior opinion. She had the best ass I’d seen in my entire life.She bent into the shower, the view of her puffy pussy sticking out from between her legs making me choke on my drink. I watched, hungrily, as she cleansed herself, wishing I were the suds that were oozing all over her body. When she poured the body wash over her chest, the white tendrils running over her tits made me wish that it was my cum on her chest, not soap. I may get sappy, but I’m no sap. I divided my attention between watching her, drinking, and doing some of my infamous detective work.As suspected, Klaus was easy to find. The bottom-feeder had a record a mile long, typical low-tier, hood stuff. His recent mugshot was the fifth one I looked gölcük escort at. Assault, larceny, extortion, drugs, theft, and enough domestics to fill an ocean, his latest arrest, hot off the presses, gave me his address. As it turned out, Amber hadn’t lied about him; he was heavily involved in the occult, a quasi-Satanic cult that called themselves the Golden Orb. Another drink, a quick search, and the exploits of the group shone on my screen.The Golden Orb was a cult for those that found hardcore Satanism too warm and fuzzy. They were all about personal power at any cost, and damned be he that opposes them. Klaus was cited as a “Priest” in some of the articles, a person of interest in the police files.It seemed that for the past few years, right around the solstices, some poor soul was discovered in the dilapidated, abandoned park where the Golden Orb was known to hang out. The cops knew, just couldn’t pin it on him. In the real world, that translated into Klaus and his merry band of morons being protected by somebody higher up the food chain. That made sense. Low-level thugs like that were used as brute squads and foot soldiers by the movers and shakers, just like the police are foot soldiers for the other side.I knew at least one cop that was vying to get him cuffed, not because he was killing taxpayers or because it’s right, but because he was bucking for a promotion, and bagging the Slayer makes for good brownie points. Checking the victims’ list, the names surprised me. Businessmen and a few lawyers seemed to dominate the list. At first, it was vagrants, but it seems that the Dark Overlord liked his sacrifices to have some money and influence. I wouldn’t lose any sleep over the list of bled-out lawyers. Lawyers are scum; it takes one to know one. What was evident was the fact that Klaus and his motley misfits were under somebody’s protection.That was fine by me. I didn’t want to topple the empire; I just wanted him to back away from Amber, so I could get some. I found my dirt, and he’d get his “come to Jesus” speech tomorrow. A kind word and a nine-millimeter go a long way in this town.Two good deeds in one day; I was becoming a regular, fucking boy scout. Karma being all about balance, I evened things out by watching Amber rub her hands all over her body as she showered. She exited the shower, choosing a lucky towel to dry herself off, and wrapped the rag around her hair. She saw me watching her in the mirror’s reflection as she crossed the bathroom. She winked at me, smiling. A gentleman would have averted his eyes, not me, though.“Wrong door,” I heard her say. “Please tell me that you don’t sleep alone in that huge bed,” her distant voice resonated with dismay. I chuckled at that. I only sleep alone if I want to, usually. There was, however, what I wanted and what would be. I would’ve liked to bed her, but she’d been through quite a bit, and that was a little too crass for even me. I heard my boudoir door close and the closet door open. “Mmm, cedar,” her voice was muffled.I spread out some grub, pouring more whiskey, triples. The thunderhead chose that moment to break, a violent storm erupting. The wind howled, lights flickered, and lightning flashed. Rain and hail crashed against the roofs and windows like muted machine gun fire. Shadows danced all over the stark, concrete walls, reminding me of an impressionist’s nightmare done in shadow. Living on top of the hill, overlooking the city, has advantages, but it also leaves you exposed to the elements.Amber gasped, startled by the cacophonous storm. “Sorry,” she apologized. “I’m still scared that he’s out there, waiting to kill me…” She emerged from the bathroom wearing one of my white workout t-shirts. I wondered if she’d borrowed some of my shorts, but her first few steps revealed that she was wearing only the shirt. I’d never wanted to fuck somebody that much, before. I damned myself for having enough morality to not take advantage.Ignoring her comment, I said, “sit by the fire and have something to eat.”I ate in relative silence; Amber filled my lack of conversing by chattering double-time. She ate as if she’d never had a warm meal in her entire life, erotically sucking the meat’s juice off her fingers, and sucking on the vegetables before savoring them. I’d never been turned on watching somebody eat before, but I used to be a virgin, too, and that got better. Every time thunder would clap or lightning would strike, she’d jump and quiver, sidling closer and closer to me.I struggled, but valor won over my hard cock. When it was time to sleep off the booze, I took her upstairs to my guest room, not that I ever had any guests. At Amber’s request, I left the door open, so she could scream if she needed anything; she was terrified of her junior psychopath, Satanist, murdering, recent ex-boyfriend. I didn’t mention that I was already working on that and that Santa Klaus would soon get the North Pole shoved up his ass. When she climbed into the bed, her ass completely exposed, her juicy pussy showing, I almost jizzed in my pants.Climbing down the stairs, I noticed that there was a finger or two’s worth of whiskey left in the bottle. I didn’t want the booze to get lonely, so I sent it all down the hatch before I hit my bed. I listened to the storm rage, mentally debating whether I should go upstairs and fuck her or go the fuck to sleep. Counting the seconds between the lightning and the thunder kept me occupied while I made up my mind. I was already on the road to Hell; I just needed to figure out if it was paved with good intentions or lusty desire.The decision was made for me. During a particularly violent squall, my bedroom door opened, the dim light from the hallway haloing her perfectly-proportioned, well-endowed, nude figure.“I’m scared.” Her voice dripped with sexual honey. “May I sleep with you?” Taking my silence as affirmation, she closed the distance and crawled under the covers.I figured she’d just lie there, but Amber had better ideas. She crawled right to my crotch, making a low, guttural growl. Her hot hand grabbed my cock and started stroking it, her other fondling my sack. Some do-gooder part of my psyche told me not to take advantage, but that demon was quickly exorcised. Before I could protest, her wet mouth plunged over my glans, her lips slamming against my pubes.Without missing a stroke, her voice making “mmngh, unngh, mnng” sounds as she fucked me with her mouth, she swiveled around, climbing over me, shoving her cunt in my face.Pulling her mouth off my shaft with a sucking pop, she moaned, “finger my holes and lick my cunt. I like it rough. Abuse me.”Her face slammed down on my cock once more, taking all eight inches of it like a pro. Her mouth was a volcanic vacuum, both hands squeezing my balls. I’d seen women get wet before, but they all paled in comparison. Her pussy was soaked, visually pouring, sexual honey dripping onto my face and running down her perfect thighs.

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