Breaking up the act by Intrepid dalex1@att.net Cleopatra uses someone unusual weapons when she fights kidnappers The kidnappers who had abducted her sister made it very clear what their demands were. Cleopatra's sister would be returned unharmed, they said, so long as Cleopatra had an attack of "amnesia" on the witness stand, or better yet, refused to testify against their boss at all. It was a major drug trafficking case--cocaine and lots of it-and the boss was facing twenty-five years or more. Surely she would see it their way. She didn't. Cleopatra was infuriated by it all--the abduction, the brazenness of these people. They were the lowest insects on earth and they would pay for messing with her family. She had stumbled across the drug buy accidentally. Cleopatra was a decent, law- abiding woman who worked hard and hated crime and drugs. Her beloved younger sister was all the family she had. Now she mulled over her options; she could hold her own in a fight, but was no bodybuilder. A black woman, proud of her heritage, she stood 5"8" and weighed 135 pounds and was built voluptuously, not athletically, but was large- boned, full and firm, with long legs that featured very solid, attractive thighs, quite ample buttocks, and powerful hips. Physically, her most dangerous asset was her 44 inch bust--she had used her breasts as weapons before, to devastating effect against a guy who made an ill-advised attempt to date-rape her. Back then she administered a methodical double- barreled pounding to him that left him fleeing into the night with his pants around his ankles. She smiled at the memory. But this was different. These were drug guys--mob types. And she had no gun--had never even fired one. Nor did she have any schooling in the martial arts or any of the exotic forms of self-defense. What she did have, however was determination, cunning, a heart-stopping face and body, and above all, rage. Discrete inquiries by Cleopatra enabled her to piece together the probable venue of her sister and the thugs who were holding her. It was a large old warehouse not far from the railroad tracks that was once a bustling industrial area. It was also a likely holding area for large quantities of illegal drugs. There were a lot of shady activities near that area, especially prostitution. It was this particular activity that gave Cleopatra the cover she needed to infiltrate the building. She decided to dress like one of the girls- -provocative-ly. Considering her extraordinarily well-endowed form, this would serve as a distraction if she could get away with it, for the idea was to get past the guards and avoid any confrontation if possible, but above all to get her sister out. On the evening of action, she was ready with brass knuckles and a small canister of pepper spray in her purse, into which she also had strategically placed some round, smooth rocks. She had practiced swinging her purse in all directions and it felt balanced for maximum effect. Yet she knew that she really wasn't a born fighter and was operating on sheer force of will. If anyone, anyone, got between Cleopatra and her objective, she would turn every available weapon, especially her ready-to destroy body, loose and would show no mercy. Dressed in especially eye-catching attire, a pink, scanty tee shirt, skimpy powder blue shorts and fishnet nylons with high-heeled boots, this woman went beyond gorgeous. She exuded feminine power which was mesmerizingly seductive, blatantly physical and tan-talizingly psychological. She had never felt so vital and energized, so removed from the mundane, the commonplace. She was going to carry out the most important mission of her life, and would not be deterred. Walking jauntily away from the Strip, after turning countless male heads and bringing cars with solicitous would-be customers to a screeching halt, she stole away unnoticed toward the warehouse. There were lights blazing all through the structure. Steathily peering through a small window, she knew it was the right place at the right time. The local criminals were there, all right. They were all known to be admirers of the old-time Chicago mobs, and were dressed like they had just stepped off the set of a B-gangster movie--ridiculously tacky double-breasted suits, 1920's--style fedoras, some with feathers. Cleopatra rolled her eyes. If these guys ever go legitimate, she thought, they could model for Madame Tussaud's Wax Museum. She saw three of them at first, and noting their movements in and out, tried to determine how many more there were, and where they were. But she knew she had to get in, and went all the way to the back of the buidling to gingerly try each door, all were locked, but wasn't very secure. She gave the door a terse, quick tug, up and to the side, and she was in. Probing around, she found a maze of aisles, doors, catwalks, wide open spaces, and cramped vestibules of industrial machinery. The place was almost byzantine. She could hear men's voices echoing eerily about. It was impossible to determine where they were coming from. She climbed up one catwalk to get a better look. She saw a few guys walking around, stretching their legs, yawning. She continued up the catwalk, silently unlatched a trap door overhead, and made her way up and in. Second floor. More doors, rooms and aisles. And a lot more stuff strewn about, everything from wooden pallets to old bathtubs. Cleopatra was exploring the place when she encountered her first bad guy. He was standing with his back to her, rifling through a large cardboard box, apparently searching for something. As she was looking around to see if he had any company, he suddenly turned and faced her. He could scarcely believe what he was seeing. A scantily clad black prostitute with a face and figure that could launch a rocket into orbit. "Wha-what is this?" he stammered. "Who are you, lady?" "Didn't you know some of us make house calls?" she replied, with all of the call girl mannerisms she could muster. "I understand that you guys only wanted ladies that can give you some serious action, yes?" She smiled widely and thrust her chest forward so that her luscious cannonballs practically fired away at him. Before he could think of what to say, she pointed at an old wooden canoe oar and asked him, as if perplexed, "Oh, is that a big soup ladle?" The guy blinked and swallowed and was still at a loss for words. He was staring at her heavy, fulsome breasts as if there was nothing else in the world. She picked up the oar and began making swishing motions with it. "I'll bet you can stir a lot of soup with this, right?" Cleopatra stepped up to him and swung the oar flat into his midsection. The guy grunted and bent forward, his posterior ideally prepped for the obvious. She quickly walked around him and said, "That's right. Assume the position." She whacked him flush on his butt and watched amusedly as her hapless victim barreled straight into the cardboard box with his feet hanging out. She reached down and lifted his head, turned him around and slapped his face repeatedly and rhythmically, left, right, left, while he futilely tried to turn away from her onslaught. But there was no hiding from her blows, and he sagged and was thoroughly licked. After whacking him on the jaw to keep him down and out, she turned him around once more and shoved him inside the box. Cleopatra stood back and admired her work. She had become intensely aroused as she happily and lovingly whupped the ne'er do well into abject submission, and she couldn't resist the urge to stroke her swelling, hardening breasts. Her first victorious confrontation left her feeling vibrant, strong, a formidable female ready to kick male butt. She wouldn't have to wait long before more action came her way. She heard the sound of two more plug-uglies ascending a stairway just down the aisle. She positioned herself to get a running start, and as the men, one directly behind the other, just caught sight of her, she put her head down and launched herself, head down and with outraged female fury, into the first man's stomach. He pitched backward into the second man, and both went tumbling back down the stairs in a heap. Cleopatra laughed out loud, both at the absurd tangle of bodies rolling, and at the ease with which she had dispatched two guys at once. Both men lay motionless at the foot of the stairs. It was obvious that something was up. Cleopatra heard shouts and feet shuffling down on the first floor, followed a moment later by the piercing sound of klaxons signaling trouble. Now Cleopatra knew that avoiding any more violence was not possible, and she was resolutely ready to do battle. Fortunately, hiding places were abundant, and Cleopatra was well concealed by the time the others arrived. She could see and hear them perfectly from her vantage point behind rows of old storage lockers. The crooks tried to assess the situation; it seemed they thought that rival gangsters were invading their territory. Handguns flew out of holsters, revolver cylinders were checked and loaded. The men's voices were agitated and strained. "All right, you guys! Split up and cover every square inch of this place. Find them!" The others scurried away, leaving one guy behind, trying to extricate the mug she had dumped in the big cardboard box. Silently she approached him from behind, and struck him squarely on his rear end with her rock-fortified purse. The guy yelped and grabbed his rear, whereupon Cleopatra thwacked him again. With his hands numbed and useless, he turned and staggered toward her with a look of utter amazement on his face. A black, buxom female? She was the intruder?! No time for answers. She grabbed him by his tie, and with all her strength spun him through one of the numerous doors. He landed chin- first and slid a good six feet. When she inspected her latest victim, she found, to her delight, that she had tossed him into a bathroom. It had an old-style commode, with a hanging pull-chain used for flushing. Rather than expend precious energy to lift him up, she let him struggle to his feet, then put a hand on his chest and propelled him backward. He plopped onto the john in a sitting position, like a rag doll. She brought the raised lid down on his head a few times. "Time for your potty training, you candy-assed wimp!" she hissed at him. She sat on his lap and wiggled, pressed and ground her awesome ass against him until his rear end was completely submerged in the water. Then she stood up, reached for the chain and flushed the toilet again and again. The water pressure of the toilet was tremendous, and the bowl filled up completely. She placed her high-heeled boot against his chest and stuffed him down until he was hopelessly wedged in the bowl. By now the victim's body was halfway submerged under water as she quickly bent over and rendered him unconscious with a butt slam to the face. Then she yanked the chain down as far as it would go and tied him up with it. The toilet kept on flushing and flushing. The water overflowed up and all over the guy and onto the floor. Cleopatra was having great fun watching her vanquished male foe being inundated with toilet water. The guy was shivering, sopped, moaning and routed. She walked away in elated triumph, stopped, turned and took a last look at her humiliated opponent and smiled broadly. "Now that's what I call a flushing defeat," she joked. Having left her last adversary all wet, she became the huntress. Cleopatra began to feel that she may not need her brass knuckles and pepper spray after all. She was gaining more and more confidence in her abilities. She had laid out four enemies and was just warming up. She promised herself that she would try her damnedest to be more creatively brutal with these creeps. But her top priority was finding her sister. When she wasn't looking out for bad guys, she kept her eyes and ears open for any sign of her. Cleopatra opened up door after door, whispering her sister's name---Tara, but on the second floor at least, she was not to be found. I'll find you, baby, thought Cleopatra. Stay brave. I'll find you and take you away from here. At the same time she marveled at the sheer amount of stuff to be found in this place. She was in a room filled with laundry equipment--washers and dryers, boxes of detergent, soap and cleansers when she heard footsteps-running, not walking, and saw one of the fools waving his gun around, searching frantically for whatever or whoever was picking his pals off. Cleopatra eased herself behind a rack of cleaning bottles piled many feet high and waited. This guy was checking inside the washers and dryers! He stuck his head inside each one, looking for gremlins. But he couldn't open the door to one particular washing machine, so being thorough, he plugged it in and started it up, just to make sure. While it filled with water, he checked the rest of the machines. Cleopatra knew this was when to make her move. The washer was noisy and she was able to sneak up on the unwary simpleton undetected. He had finally managed to open the reluctant washer door when she pounced on him. She gave him a kick in the butt that sent him sailing onto the washing machine, his gun flying away. Cleopatra grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and flung him to the floor. He kicked out at her and almost got to his feet when she threw herself on him with a crushing thud. Desperate, he broke away and crawled, lickety-split, to get some distance from her, but he wasn't fast enough. Cleopatra grabbed his ankles and pulled him toward her, then stood him up and trapped him in a headlock. She secured his head squarely against her armpit, and squeezing him pitilessly against her sumptuously powerful breast, she reached for a ten-pound mop hanging over the noisy and vibrating machine. Tightly holding him in place, she opened the washer lid and stuck the mop inside--the washer was nearly filled with water-- to get it nice and sopping; her foe was making increasingly desperate attempts to extricate himself--suddenly she let him go, watching him pant and puff with bewilderment and impending defeat. Now she squished the dripping mop right into his face and pushed him onto his back and mopped him. She turned him on his stomach and mopped him some more, then flipped him over to mop up his ass. Then Cleopatra resoaked the weapon in the washer and poured thick, gooey liquid soap all over the waterlogged and prone wretch who five minutes ago was her "fearsome" enemy and gave him a second helping. She forced the mop down his pants and fiercely lathered and slathered the drenched, angry, pregnant mop exhaustively on his groin, roughly and thoroughly soaping and foaming. She was careful to completely engulf him in wet, bubbly suds and raked the heavy, turgid mop over the rest of him with smooth back and forth motions. She took care to be most meticulous so as to deliver the maximum physical insult to this fiend. Cleopatra soaked the mop yet again, mopped him up and down, head to toe. She used the mop to tumble and roll him side to side across the floor with wet, sudsy thrusts. She was literally mopping up the place with him! The poor guy was whimpering desperately by now, pleasing Cleopatra so much more. Her titanic tits swayed vigorously, and she did a delightful, rhythmical bump and grind with her bountiful hips. She felt a delicious burning sensation between her legs now, and her panties felt moist. No man had ever made her feel this good! Having mixed business with pleasure so satisfyingly, she administered the coup de grace by wrapping the mop around his face and neck and dragging her limp and barely conscious adversary to the large, windowed clothes dryer behind her. "Time to take you for a little spin, honey," she purred. Cleopatra deposited the man inside the machine and treated him to a five minute tumble dry cycle --no heat. She applied a light coat of her favorite purple lipstick to her brimming, ripe lips and watched with relish as the increasingly crumpled crumb-bum rather balletically and gracefully whirled and tumbled inside the dryer. She couldn't resist another little pun. "Guess I really took you to the cleaners!" she cracked. Having notched her fifth victim, she was running on all cylinders now. She made her way down the stairs to the first floor, keeping her eyes on the huge oval mirror perched on a corner of the wall. Two more bad guys were coming her way, guns in hand. They were still oblivious to her as she ducked behind a pile of sandbags. Behind her was a high-pressure hose. More water? she thought. Cleopatra yanked the hose off its hook, aimed and opened the valve all the way. The hose's two-inch diameter opening spewed a torrent of cold water at the two cretins, knocking them backwards and sending their guns airborne and out of sight. The strong sexy female put the hose between her thighs, raised her arms over her head and wiggled the hose from side to side, spinning each guy around in turn and slamming them against first one wall, then another and another. They looked like pathetic puppets as she dashed them to and fro. Cleopatra was pure dynamite with a loaded hose! She got one guy squarely in the ass and sent him headlong into a pile of stacked plywood. Focusing on the target area, she got the stream right under his crotch and flopped him up and down as she wriggled and thrust her satiny legs again and again. She pulled the hose away, and he dropped straight to the floor, out for the count. The other guy was still conscious and tried to crawl away, but kept slipping on the wet surface and fell to his knees again and again. She loved this slapstick aspect of her victory and snickered contemptuously at his comically vain attempt to get safely away. She turned the water off and quickly stood over him. Cleo gave him a firm shove in the behind with her boot, sending him sprawling into the sandbags that had concealed her. She picked up the hose once again and shoved it down his pants. "Where are you pricks holding my sister?" she demanded. The gangster looked up at her with a withering look. He had been humiliated to the core and felt it was being rubbed in. "Kiss my ass, bitch!" She turned the water valve a quarter turn. Gobs of cold liquid splattered up and around the poor devil's genitals. She pushed and pulled the hose against her helpless prey. "Tell me now or I'll turn you over and give you an enema you'll never forget!" Realizing that she had him, he whimpered, "No, no, please, d-dont, don't! I'll tell you. I'll t-tell you. But no more water! The basement. She's in the basement! In a room there. Number 5. Room number 5. And sh-she's okay! We didn't hurt her, I swear!" "How do I get there?" "The elevator. Th-there's an elevator up this corridor. Room 5 is on the right as you get out!" She turned the water off and pulled him to her. Shaken and beaten, but believing himself to be out of danger, he kept staring fixedly at her huge jugs. How could anything so seemingly soft be so deadly? "You like these, baby?" she whispered sexily. "Want a closer look? Here." She grabbed him by his hair, holding him steady, with orgasmically silky satisfaction as she thrust her divine but killer tits at his face. She aimed them one at a time slowly and methodically, watching his head snap back and forth animatedly. Then, holding his head up, she gave him the same treatment with a side-to-side pounding. She shook him, jug- pounded him, shook, pounded, again and again. She thought about releasing him, thought again, and pummeled and beat, throttled and smacked him more and more. Pulverized and left virtually senseless by the toughest tits ever, he melted away into supplicating male jelly, trying to beg for mercy until he collapsed, out cold. She took her rightful place on him triumphantly, astride her foe, one high-heeled boot on his back, the other on his ass. She jumped up and down on him a few times, just for funsies. She reached for his hair, lifted his head up and whispered in his ear, "That's what we ladies think of kidnappers!" With two more so-called menaces laughably and enjoyably subjugated, Cleopatra set out to rescue her little sister. The clunky, creaky elevator brought her to the basement. As the door opened, she held it so there would be no tell-tale sound. Cleopatra stepped out and checked around. Looking to her right, there was room number five. There was nobody else around-Cleopatra had wiped out all of the other guards by now.. Cleopatra tried the door-locked. She called out to her sister. "Tara-TARA-are you there?" "CLEO-CLEO-ITS ME! GET ME OUT OF HERE---PLEASE!" Cleopatra, silently thankful at her good fortune for finding her beloved younger sibling-she was only fifteen-- slammed against the door, pushing, pulling, trying to pick the lock-nothing worked. "Tara," she pleaded. "Are you OK?" ""I'm all right," Tara sobbed. "But you have to get me out! Please, please help me!" "Baby, I'll have you out of here fast. Just keep still and you'll be with me soon! I." The chilling sound of a door slamming shut cut off all talk. Cleopatra darted away and awaited the inevitable bad guys behind a pile of old books. They quickly stepped up to Tara's cell and quickly unlocked the door. "Time to move you, you little black bitch. Now get going!" "No, no, no!" I'm not going! Leave me alone!" "Looks like the little sambo needs some persuasion," cackled the goon. His partner nodded in assent. He roughly pulled Tara out of the makeshift cell. The poor girl was sobbing and trying her best to resist, but the thug dragged her face down across the floor. His partner leered and cursed at her. "Don't sweat it, kid. We'll try to get you some nice watermelon for ya. Your types like that a lot, eh?" Cleopatra flew forward as if fired from a cannon. The racial slurs and the sight of her kid sister being roughed up combined to set her ablaze with womanly fury. Tearing her blouse off, she went after the two goons topless. With vengeful anger and lightning speed, she kicked their guns away before they could begin to react. Forgetting their prisoner, the shocked and surprised crooks made straight for Cleopatra. The first guy threw a series of dreadfully misplaced roundhouse lefts and rights that missed by miles as the second man made a clumsily amateurish attempt to kick his feet at her, martial- arts style, but like his comrade, he was pathetically unsuccessful at landing any blows. Cleopatra ferociously seized the two by their collars and dashed them to the floor. As they raised their heads to shake the cobwebs loose, she stood over them and grabbed the guy who made the "sambo" remark first. She rammed his face squarely into her deadly buttocks. Then with her other hand she pulled the other one to his knees and slammed his mug into her full, solid breasts. She held the men firmly in place as they made pitiful smothery noises, "mfff," "ugh" and the like. The sounds were straight out of the comic books. Tara watched with tearful pride as her big sister made mincemeat out of her former captors. Cleopatra kept their faces steadily and solidly against her furious tits and rollicking ass for ten or fifteen seconds, then literally gave them a breather, letting the pair slowly sag to the floor, panting and gasping for air. She wanted them conscious and alert for what she had in store for these two who had dared to rough up her teenaged baby sister. But she wanted to tie up some loose ends first. Seizing her victims by their ties (she was a pro at this by now) she pulled them to their knees, then forced them both to crawl on all fours in a circle, first in one direction, then reversed them in the opposite. They looked like little leashed pets as Cleopatra nudged and pulled them by their loud neckerchiefs. "Tara, baby, it's time for you to kick some ass!" Little sister was only too happy to oblige. Fifteen year old Tara lifted her leg and thrust her foot against each man's butt with vengeful joy, again and again. She made sure that she put all her weight behind each strike, and made her feet pound as savagely as possible. She kicked their asses as furiously as she had ever done anything in her life. Taking time out during her merciless fusillade, she groped and squeezed their testicles, not painfully but rather daintily. "Kootchy, kootchy, koo!" she chirped triumphantly. The two guys cravenly and desperately begged the girls to release them, they would go away and never be seen again. "Sorry, boys," smiled Cleopatra blissfully, "but the fun's not over yet!" She let them out of her grasp once more, and the hapless pair lazily sank back to the concrete floor, bruised, smarting and addled. They probably wished they were unconscious, for Cleopatra, her topless form aching for more action, seized them both and roughly yanked them back to their feet, then released them yet again She watched them amusedly as they swayed drunkenly about with goofy looks on their faces. Tara laughed boisterously at the staggering, wobbly duo as she felt the delicious sensation of sweet revenge in her loins. Cleopatra pulled her shorts down and flung them away, naked except for the pink panties and fishnet nylons hugging her exquisite form. She reached out, snatching the two guys by their necks simultaneously and held one in front of her chest and the other to her rear. She again proceeded to bash their faces into her tits and ass respectively, first one, a brief pause, then the other. She changed the two around at one point, ensuring that each would get an equal helping of her ample weaponry. She devastated them again and again, feeling warm, luxurious vaginal juices making their way down her thighs. The fierce black female warrior powered their faces into her together now, and what a sight to behold! Tara was beside herself with joy, and held her clenched fists in front of her, egging her big sister on. With each smash, the arms of the two nitwits flopped ridiculously upward and outward. Cleopatra let them have it for five solid minutes, then let them plop dumbly to the floor once again. Cleopatra walked to the water fountain, got a drink and stretched her legs. She threw a few cupfuls of water at the hapless clowns to let them regain a semblance of alertness before she returned to her play. She also had to adjust her panties, now warmly and deliciously soaked. Making merry, Cleopatra took the two up once more and pressed their faces against each hip. Standing confidently, exuding femininity and strength, with back and forth motions, she battered the two men into her hips repeatedly and with gusto. Her hips were truly packed, and she swayed from side to side as she repeatedly and relentlessly drove her enemies into her. She didn't let up for a single second as she used the hammer of her hands and the anvil of her hips to devastating effect. She adjusted her tempo, clobbering them in waltz time, one-two-three, bam! one-two-three, bam!, then switched to swift, staccato-like jabs, with plenty of variations in between. The thugs were making silly noises again, "Oomph," and "Whumpf." Cleopatra derisively mimicked their anguished sounds and was gamely toying with them. She held one up. "Hey, make a 'whumpf!'" she demanded, and crashed him against her hip. Sure enough, he gave up the sound, right on cue. "And let's have an 'oomph' from you!" she taunted the other one as she let him have it. What was left of him obsequiously obliged. She was whapping them lustily and bustily, the only way. She stretched her arms all the way to her side to get more velocity and rammed her targets home. At one point she must have knocked the air right through one of the guys, as farting noises erupted from his anus. Both of the girls laughed uproariously. "Hip, hip, hooray!" Tara giggled with glee. Cleopatra decided it was time to finish them off. She rubbed their faces vigorously against her hips so that the lines from her nylons were etched on their mugs. She shook the two guys, crashed them together, and let one drop to the floor, fast asleep. She dropped the other battered and insensible criminal right on top of the first, so they were lying snug against each other. Cleopatra looked over her pathetically routed and prostrate victims with satisfaction. "My, my, but don't they make a lovely couple!" she laughed disdainfully. Then the two sisters embraced each other with tears. Little Tara thanked Cleopatra again and again for saving her. Cleopatra tenderly stroked Tara and kissed her on the forehead. "It's all right now, baby," Cleopatra reassuringly soothed her beloved young sister. "You know I'll always love and protect you, little one." Cleopatra donned her clothes and brushed her hair. A little dab of lipstick and she was ready to go. Delicately taking Tara's hand, they departed from the warehouse together, a family happily reunited.