Madame Curry 
By Montrose
An assassin hires a delivery boy

It was an old building with names etched on frosted glass doors, a la Maltese Falcon. I 
expected to see Sam Spade any minute. But I wasn't carrying a statue of a mysterious 
bird. I was tasked with delivering a fat, brown envelope to one Madame Curry.  I 
expected either a scientist or a fortune teller.

As I trotted down the hall - it was near six, and I wanted to be done with deliveries - I 
began to hear pained grunts. Rhythmic, gasping, grunts. I used to live in a college dorm 
with thin walls. Sounded to me like someone was getting royally fucked, but good. Rode 
hard and put up wet. As I slowed at the door where the grunts were coming from (much 
louder now) my heart leaped. On the door was the name, "Madame Curry."

"Shit," I muttered under my breath. I raised my hand to knock. I wasn't going to let some 
dumb-twat hooker make me late for dinner. I might even get an eye-full.

Just before I knocked, someone cried out even louder from within. My hand drew back. 
Then I realized something strange about the grunts. They were male - a man. Normally, I 
associated that sound with a female voice - the recipient of the fuck. 

Then I heard another voice.

"Take it, bitch!" That was a woman. "C'mon, bitch! Yeah! Take it!" Definitely a woman.

"Holy shit," I whispered.

The male grunting grew faster, turning into sustained screams. Then sobbing and 
begging. The man was pleading for release. "Please! OH! PleeEEASE! OH! OH!" His 
words matched her grunts in cadence, for now the woman's voice was grunting, with 
effort - hostile - aggressive.

"Dear God," I gasped, stepping back, clutching the envelope to my chest. Images swam 
in my mind... frightening, backwards images. Horrifyingly erotic images.

"What are you?" snapped the woman. I jumped. Her voice was so close - just on the 
other side of that door.

"I'm your bitch!" wailed the man.

"My what?" She snarled and grunted like she was still humping hard.

"Your! bitch! PLEASE! I'M! YOUR! BITCH!" sobbed the man, obviously in time to her 
strokes.

"God! Damn! Right!" Then their was a thud, like a body hitting the floor. "Put your 
fucking clothes on, bitch. You run and tell Mickey I'm insulted, he sends a cheap hood 
like you. Out of town hitman my perky ass! More like a girl scout! Tell him, he better put 
his affairs in order."

I began to step away, then I remembered the envelope in my hands. I stepped toward the 
door. It burst open and I jumped back to the opposite wall. A man, a head taller than me, 
and well muscled, leaped past me and ran down the hall holding his pants up and carrying 
his shirt. He was crying and his face looked like he had lost a mean fight. There were also 
finger-shaped bruises on his neck and arms. He was barefoot. 

I stood frozen. A woman, also a head taller than me stepped into the hall and threw a pair 
of men's dress shoes down the hall, pegging the man hard, right between the shoulders. 

"HA!" she laughed as she straightened her bra strap. The man grabbed his shoes and kept 
running. He took the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator. We were 20 floors up.

This woman looked to be between 25 and 30, maybe six feet four inches, but she had on 
heels, which looked to account for three inches of her height. Given her broad shoulders, 
full chest and proud hips, I guessed her to be nearly 180 pounds. All of this out-did my 
five feet seven inch, 148 pounds, and 37 years.

She wore a form hugging red dress that didn't cover much leg - firm and well shaped, 
those legs. The dress was sleeveless, showing off buff arms. Her legs were long and bare, 
and her feet pressed into shinny black pumps. Her burnished hair was jet black, circled 
into a bun on the back of her head. Chop sticks stuck out of the bun as well as several 
stray tendrils - it was the only sign of being mussed that she showed. She had smooth 
olive skin and sparkling brown eyes. She panted a little, and glowed through an all but 
imperceptible dew of perspiration.

She started to close the door, then saw me. She stepped back out. "Who the fuck are 
you?"

I pushed the envelope forward. "Delivery for Madame Curry," I managed to whimper 
This monster of a woman had just... done something horrible... to a man much bigger 
than me.

She stepped back. "Come inside."

I wanted to run, but the half smile on her full red lips dragged me into her dark office. 
Once she had the door closed, she pushed me up against a wall with a big hand on my 
neck.  Her fingers were like iron covered in silk as they constricted my throat. She slid 
the envelope from my grasp.

"This had better be good news," she snarled down into my face. Her scent filled my nose. 
My cock responded, pressing into her thigh as it grew stiff. I prayed that should would 
not get mad about it. She didn't seem to notice, which was disappointing, somehow.

I also prayed for good news in that envelope. Truth was, I had no idea what was in the 
stinking envelope.

The woman ripped it open and pulled out a huge pile of $100 bills, plus a short note. She 
smiled. "This must be your lucky day!" she said stepping back from me. "How could 
news get any better than this?" She wagged the money in the air before slamming it down 
on her desk.

The desk was clear of all but the cash and a cruel strap on cock. Her phone, rolodex, 
calendar and a pile of books lay in a pile on the floor beside her desk as if they had been 
shoved off in a hurry. I could imagine why.

I started to edge toward the door.

The woman plopped into the swivel chair behind the desk and spread her legs. She wore 
no panties. "Where do you think you're going?" she purred.

I froze again. The sight of her wet clam peeking out from under her short dress was 
captivating enough. The "come hither" look in her big eyes was mesmerizing. I felt like a 
rat being toyed with by a snake. I felt my will melting away.

"Crawl to me." She purred.

I had never crawled to any woman. It jerked me back to reality to have it suggested now. 
I straightened my shoulders and looked her in the eye. I put a hand on the doorknob.

"NOW!" she shouted. One of her hands reached out and touched the strap on cock on her 
desk.

I dropped to the floor and crawled. A cold sweat broke out on my forehead.

She grabbed my hair in one powerful hand and twisted my head so that I was looking up 
into her flashing eyes. It felt like she was snatching me bald headed. Tears welled up 
from the pain.

"Do you have notions, little man? Do I need to prove to you what you are?"

"No, Madame Curry," I whimpered. "I'm your bitch, Madame Curry!" The other guy had 
said that and been let go. I figured it was worth a try.

She let go of my hair. "Smart boy. Good bitch." Then she pushed my face into her 
trimmed pie. "Serve me, little bitch-boy."

Boy? I thought. I must be ten years older than she... But that was neither here nor their. 
How delicious she was!

She smelled marvelous, too. The sting of insult gave way to desire. I ate her out, happy to 
be doing it and not getting anything rammed up my ass.

It took several minutes, but Madame Curry came like a champ, wetting down my face. 
She mopped her crotch with my face for a while, panting and moaning, almost 
suffocating me. She lifted her legs and made me rim her pink little asshole. Then, finally, 
she pushed me back. But she did not let me go.

She propped her two shapely calves on my shoulders with my head between. She leaned 
back and lit a smoke. She smiled down at me. "Your fancy tongue work saved you, little 
bitch-man. That and being the messenger that brings me what Big Tony owes me."

I remained silent. Big Tony? The mod boss? I had no idea.

"Go ahead, little bitch," she said. "You got something on your mind. I can tell. Ask."

I picked one of many questions. "Who was that big guy?"

"Him?" she picked up the strap on cock and fondled it's long, slick shaft. It was still well 
lubricated. I gulped. It was as thick as my wrist!  I hoped I wasn't next. "Just a poor 
unlucky sap sent here to bump me off. His boss wants to take my territory. But we can't 
have that, can we?"

"No Madame." I had no idea what she was going on about. Had she really just ass raped a 
200 pound mob enforcer and sent him off crying? Is that what she meant? My mind 
couldn't accept that. And was Big Tony paying her for... what? Protection? Services? 
What was her territory?

"Who do you work for?" she asked me, still holding the cock.

I told her the name and address of my employer - a cheap little messenger service - 
nothing big time. I offered to give her my bosses home phone if she wanted it. I would 
have told her about the office security system if she wanted it. Anything to keep her from 
taking me up the ass.

Instead she took down my cell phone number. "You work for me now, little bitch," she 
said. "When I call, you jump. Got it?"

"Yes, Madame. Yes. Of course."

"And, you are to tell nobody anything about me. I hear people talking up my name and 
saying they heard it from you..." She pointed the cock at my face... "There will be 
trouble."

"I would never!" I swore, looking cross-eyed up her shaft.

She stood over me. "You may kiss my ass and leave." She turned her back.

I popped my lips onto her asshole and slide my tongue around. Her buns nuzzled my 
face. Her asshole tasted like candy.

Then she pulled me out by my hair and stuffed a $200 into my pocket. "Fun time's over 
Romeo. Get out." 

I made a fast exit, before she changed her mind.



Two months went by. Nothing. My old employer gave me enough work to live on, but I 
took to hanging around outside her building, just in case she needed me quick, like to lick 
her clam or something. 

Nothing. 

I didn't dare go up without being invited.

I almost began to doubt she existed, or that she was as amazing as I remembered. It 
would have helped keep her alive in my mind to talk to some of my friends about her, but 
I didn't have the guts. Not even two months later.

Not even three.

Then, four months later I got a call.

"Hello?"

"Hey, little bitch. I got work for you."

I gulped. I was in a restaurant with a date.

"Uh..." I looked up at my date, a perky kid of 21 a friend of mine hooked me up with. I 
heard she gave monster head if you first gave her a good meal. I was on the good meal 
part of the evening. "Uhm..."

"Who's the adorable little cunt?" Madame Curry's voice whispered in my ear through my 
phone. "I wouldn't mind riding that sweet hole myself. Why don't you bring her along?"

I sat frozen.

"Is something wrong?" asked Jenny, the sweet hole I was having dinner with. "You went 
all white."

"I... uh..."

Madame Curry laughed in the phone. "Relax, bitch. I wont take your toy away from you. 
But ditch her for tonight and meet me on the street. I got work for you." She hung up.

"Damn!" She knew I wouldn't dare say no! I looked out the front window. There she 
was, smiling at me, wearing big dark glasses even though it was night out. She wore a 
neck to mid calf black trench coat. I wondered what she had on under it. I wanted to find 
out.

Jenny turned and looked. "What are you looking at?" she asked.

"Nothing, doll." I turned her face back to me. Her sweet young face looked all confused. 
She wasn't the brightest color in the rainbow, bless her. At 37, I was too old for her, but I 
was sooo looking forward to tea bagging her... "Listen baby..." I pulled six twenties out 
of my wallet and spread them on the table. "Enjoy your meal and take a cab home. I gotta 
go. Something came up."

Her eyes lit up at the sight of the money. "Sure, honey! Can we do it again some time?"

"I'd like that." I gave her a quick kiss and ran out the door.

When I came out, Madame Curry grabbed my shoulder and nearly threw me into a limo 
that just then slid to a stop next to her. She piled in on top of me and we drove off. She 
pressed me down onto the seat with all her weight, lying on me. For a split second, I 
thought she would kiss me. Then she slid up, sitting on my chest. She lit a smoke.

"Please!" I gasped. "Can't... breath."

"Shut up."

I shut up. After all, I could breath a little. Enough. Almost. She sucked on her smoke 
some more - a brown skinned, thin, twisted cigar of some sort. It smelled good. 
Eventually she held it over my face. "Open."

I opened my mouth. She flicked ashes into it. 

"Close."

I closed my mouth. It tasted terrible. She kept smoking like this, filling my mouth with 
her ash. Then she ground it out on my forehead. I bucked and screamed, but it didn't 
bother her.

"You know I own you, right?" she asked.

I hesitated. That cigar trick ticked me off.

Her gloved hand clamped around my neck. Now I really couldn't breath. My eyes felt 
like they would pop out. Finally I nodded.

"What?" she asked.

"You own me!" I croaked.

She let go of my throat. "I got a job for you. One that will prove what kind of bitch you 
are. You see, there are two kinds of bitches. One is the kind I can count on. Those I give 
presents to, and I let them lick my ass. The other kind can be found buried in pieces all 
over the greater metropolitan area." She looked down at me. "Which kind are you?"

"The first. I swear!"

She smiled. "We shall see."

"What can I do?" I asked. "I'll do anything!"

"I like you attitude. Okay, here's the job."



The job didn't feel any different than my day job. I just had to walk a box up to a door 
and deliver it. So here I am in a posh hood - mansions and gates with buzzers on them. 
My rusty Mazda stands out like a turd on an vanilla ice cream. 

Anyway, I know what to say at the buzzer so they let me in. Looks like a party is getting 
started - a wedding or something - lots of limos and fancy dress people walking in. I 
stand at the door with the box. A butler finally sees me in the crowd and takes the box. 
He closes the door in my face. No tip.

Fuckin' rich people. Not even tipping for a wedding present delivery.

It makes me feel better about the whole mansion exploding when I'm half way down the 
drive. Suddenly I'm weaving my Mazda in and out of falling bricks and bath tubs and 
organic matter draped in fine cloth and shit! I make it to the street and rip out of there. 
Alarms are going off everywhere!

I don't go home. I ditch my car in a public park on the north side and take a bus back 
south. The next day the paper screams about an explosion at the home of one Mickey 
O'Hare, an notorious gun runner and extortionist. It was at his house, the sight of his 
daughter's wedding.

Ouch. I remembered Madame Curry telling that big guy that Mickey should get his 
affairs in order. I guess she wasn't joking.

I'm sitting on a secluded bench in the zoo when my cell phone rings. I look at it. Caller 
ID is blocked. 

"Hello?"

"So far, so good, bitch."

I held my head in one hand. "Madame Curry, why didn't you tell me it was a bomb?"

There was silence. "Are you questioning me?"

I gulp. "No. Sorry."

"How dare you!? And don't you EVER use my name on a phone again. Got that?" I 
could tell she was boiling mad. "You will be punished, little bitch!"

"I'm sorry!" I got down on my knees right there in front of the bench. "Please forgive 
me!" An old lady walking past gave me a funny look.

"I will," Madame Curry said, "once I have punished you." Her voice was like snow down 
my back.

"Oh god," I moaned.

"Come to my office." She hung up.



It took all of my will to make myself knock on the door to Madame Curry's office.

"Come," she commanded from within.

I opened the door and stepped in. The sight of her took my breath away. She sat on the 
corner of her desk, wrapped in a tight, white skirt that barely covered her groin. Her top, 
just as tight and white, left a five inch strip of her firm belly exposed. There was a large 
diamond pendant dangling from her inny. The white contrasted nicely with her olive skin. 
Snug black leather boots rose almost to her knees.

"You wished to see me?" I whispered as I hung my head.

"Stand here." She pointed to a space directly in front of her.

Slowly I inched my way to the spot. I shivered with dread. She smiled tenderly. I relaxed 
my shoulders. Was she taking pity on me? I didn't see her arm move, but the force of her 
slap sent me sailing to the far wall. The side of my face was on fire and I tasted blood. I 
bounced off the far wall and landed at her feet.

"Get up."

I stood. My ear was ringing. "I'm sorry," I said again.

She spun me around and put her left arm around my neck, pushing my mouth shut. Her 
right hand clamped down on my mouth. I panted through my nose until her thumb and 
first finger pinched it closed. She held me tight against her warm, muscular frame and 
smothered me under her hand.

Instinctively, I tried to struggle free. Of course I made no progress. 

"I could kill you just like this. Just holding you," she whispered in my ear. "Or I could 
hold you until you passed out and let you wake up with my dick up your ass."

I struggled harder. I clawed at her powerful hand.

"But that would be the easy way," she said. "Too easy. No. I want you to beg me to take 
you up your ass. I'm not going to mount you when you're passed out. You are going to 
bend over and willing offer yourself to me. Only then will I know that you are truly... 
broken."

The room was beginning to spin. I was out of air. My lunges were on fire. When she let 
go I fell to the floor, gasping. 

She kicked me in the ribs. "Get up and fight." I turned my head to see her taking off her 
rings and setting them one by one on the desk. As I rose to my knees, I saw her pull on 
thin, black leather gloves. Then she made fists. "Prepare yourself."

I got to my feet. She popped me in the nose with a left jab so fast I didn't see it coming or 
going. I heard my nose snap and my eyes watered over.

"AHH!" I yelled in pain. There was blood on my hands. She had broken my nose! One 
punch and I'm already down a broken nose!

I punched her in the stomach. It was like hitting a side of beef.

"Please tell me you can do better," she sighed. She playfully slapped my face first on one 
side, and then the other. "Come on - get mad, little bitch. I wanna see some fight."

I swung at her head but she ducked it. She landed a blow in my ribs and I doubled over. 
She caught me in the eye with an uppercut. Blood from my nose sprayed up her white 
skirt and top. I was still on my feet, but staggering.

"Are you ready to beg me to fuck you already?" she asked, hands on her hips.

As a reply, I landed a combination left to her belly and a right to her chin. I managed to 
knock her back a half step. I prepared another blow to her face, but she landed one on my 
other eye that dropped me to my back. Again - never saw it coming.

She stood over me, no panties again, I noticed. Nice how she shaved down to a thin line 
of muff. She held down a hand. "That last blow was almost worthy of a schoolgirl. Get 
up and we can try some more."

I took her hand and she helped me to my feet. I almost fell back down, but she held me 
up until I got my legs under me. Blood from my nose dripped down her skirt and leg.

"I'm so sorry," I moaned. "The blood. Your clothes."

"Can't be helped, little bitch. In fact,"  here she grabbed me in a headlock. "Let's really 
get your juices flowing." With her free fist, she pounded my lips. Blood pumped out of 
my face, down her white top, down her rippled belly, making her diamond pendent glow 
red.

She let go of me and I dropped to my hands and knees. Blood pooled under my face on 
her floor. I spat out a tooth. She stepped over me and put me into a standing head 
scissors.

"I knew this would be easy, but this is ridiculous," she said as I choked between her 
knees. I clutched at the black boots to no avail.

Just as I was about to pass out, she pulled me to my feet by my hair. She walked me 
around to her desk. She opened the middle drawer and placed my fingers inside of it.  I 
was a rag doll in her hands. 

Then she kicked a leg over so that she was straddling my hands with her thighs pushing 
the desk drawer shut on my fingers. The pain was unbelievable. I was sure that at least 
one finger bone was crushed already.

"Please!" I begged.

"Please what?" she asked calmly, stroking my blood and tear streaked face.

"Please get up! My fingers!" 

She seemed to consider my request. "No... I don't think I will get up."

"Oh GOD! I'm begging you!" I fell to my knees with my fingers trapped in that drawer, 
her ass on the desk and her thighs pressing the drawer shut.

"Begging is nice. I like to see my bitches beg." She leaned back, smiling, and watched 
me suffer.

Her pie glistened in my face. All at once I knew what she wanted. The only thing that 
would stop the pain was if I were to beg her to take me up the ass. But what kind of pain 
would that be?


"Oh god..." I moaned again.

Madame Curry laughed. "She will not help you."

Maybe the pain of her raping my ass would be even worse, but at least it would have an 
end. I knew I couldn't fight her. One way or another, I wasn't getting out of here without 
having her up my ass. It was then that I knew I was broken.

I hung my head. "Madame Curry?"

"Yes?"

"Would you please, do me the honor of..."

"Yes?"

"...of... fucking my ass?"

"Hmmm..." she considered. "I don't know. Are you a good fuck?"

"Yes, Madame. I'll be the best fuck I can be."

"I don't know..."

"Please! I'm begging you! Please fuck my ass!" I whimpered. I went on like that for ten 
minutes as she smiled down at me.

"Well, then... all right. I'll give you a try, sine you asked so sweetly." She got up and 
pulled the drawer open. Inside was the cruel strap on cock. "Put it on me."

My fingers were nearly useless, but I managed to slide the straps up her firm thighs, 
around her plump ass and strap her in. The big brown cock bounced in my face.

"Suck me."

I managed to fit about 4 inches of the long shaft into my face before my gag reflex kicked 
in. 

"You suck at sucking," she said. Let's hope you make a better fuck. With that she pulled 
me to my feet by my hair and threw me face down on her desk, my legs dangling over. 
She pulled my pants down.

I felt her glob on a handful of lubricant seconds before pushing the head of her shaft up 
my virgin ass. I yelped.

"You like that?"

"Yes Madame!" I groaned between clenched teeth.

"Hmmm... feels like a virgin... nice and tight." She rolled that log around, sliding a bit 
deeper. "Well... you're gonna love this." She crammed it all home. My ass felt like she 
ripped it wide open. My back arched and I yelled out in pain.

Madame Curry laughed and set out on a steady, hammering stroke that drove me right to 
hell.

"Don't you dare pass out, or I'll have to start all over," she warned as my eyes rolled 
back. I snapped to. I didn't want to live through this twice.

I was facing a big, round clock on the far wall. The seconds dragged by, one to a stroke. 
The woman kept up that beat for 78 nightmarish minutes. Now and then she poured on 
fresh oil. I began to thank her every time she did. The more lube, the better.

Suddenly she doubled her pace. "The home stretch!" she yelled.

"AHH!" I yelled in heightened pain. "Thank you Madame!" I shouted, glad we were near 
the end.

The end took another 45 minutes to arrive. When she stopped she was puffing hard. 
"Damn good workout," she panted. "We'll have to do this again real soon."

She un-strapped herself from the cock and left it inside me. Then she collapsed into her 
office chair. "Damn good workout," she panted.

I was plastered to the desk and felt like I couldn't move.

"Get over here and eat me, little bitch," she panted. "I deserve a good licking after all that 
work."

It took all my strength to slide off the desk and aim my face at her gorgeous quim. Her 
white outfit looked like a butcher had worn it - blood splatter everywhere. Also on her 
thighs and down her boots. Her olive skin glistened with fresh sweat.

I ignored all that and pushed my tongue up her holes as she lifted her long legs over my 
head.

She came hard on my face. Her juice stung my cuts. But she tasted great.

After she got her breath back, she pushed my head back and clamped it between her 
knees. "Now. What have you learned?" she asked me.

"That I am your little bitch," I grunted, my skull creaking with the pressure.

"And?"

I thought hard. "And to never use your name on a phone again."

She let up on the pressure on my head. "Good. You're not as stupid as you look."

"Thank you."

"Oh..." she reached into her desk drawer. 

What else to torture me could she have? I covered my head with my hands. "Please no!"

"You don't want your pay for the job?" she asked. She dropped a short stack of bills on 
the desk.

I stared at the money.

"One thousand," she said. "Take it. It aint much, but then, neither are you."

I slowly slid the money off the desk. "Thank you." It was, like, two weeks pay to me! All 
for one job! "Thank you! I'll do anything for you!"

"Yes, I know. All the same, you may go. Try to rest up over the next few days. I sent 
flowers from you to that snippet of eye-candy you were with in that restaurant. The note 
said you would meet her at that same restaurant this Friday. You may be healed enough 
by then to enjoy her company."

I tried to pull my pants up but something was in the way. Madame Curry laughed. 

"You might want to pull my cock out of your ass, silly boy."

"Jesus!" I was so battered down there I couldn't feel it anymore. Not when it wasn't 
moving. Slowly I pulled it out, gasping as every thick inch worked free. Madame Curry 
laughed all through my struggles.

Finally, pants up, I hobbled to the door, barely able to walk. Madame Curry smiled at me 
from her chair. She radiated beauty, even spattered with my blood.

"Thank you again, Madame Curry."

She winked. "Don't forget. You're my little bitch, no matter how many cunts I let you 
play with."



The date went well.  The girl did give monstrously good head, but she must have thought 
I was 60 from the way I groaned. I was still a bit beat up from Madame Curry. We made 
a date for two weeks out and I sent her on her way after breakfast.

Before she was even in her cab, my phone rings. Madame Curry has another job. And she 
would be with me on this one. More to the point, I would be with her.



I followed her wide shoulders into an Irish pub on the southwest side. It was dark in there 
for three in the afternoon. Nobody was playing pool at the two scuffed up tables. Tall 
Guinness and Harp tappers stood like wooden boners behind the bar. 

Everyone was gathered under a light at the far end of the room - way back - sitting at a 
round table. Big, broad shouldered toughs - seven of them plus a small man wearing the 
barman's apron. He didn't look any less mean for being small.

I stayed behind Madame Curry. What the hell did she have in mind? First, She kills off 
most of the Mickey O'Hare family, then she walks into the toughest Irish bar I've ever 
seen, with no back up but me? I knew I was a dead man.

"Sean," said Madame Curry. One of the biggest of the men stood and backed up to a 
wall. "You're able to walk again! Good for you!"

Sean took off his cap and held it respectfully in front of himself. A few of the guys at the 
table looked back and forth with questions in their eyes.

"Yes'm." Sean said softly.

"I don't think I know the rest of you girls," Madame Curry walked up to the table and 
grabbed the biggest tough by his ear, pulling him up out of his chair. He took a swing at 
her. She blocked his fist and landed one of her own on his chin. He hit the floor and 
didn't move. Madame Curry took his chair and sat. The other men looked quite 
impressed. "I suppose you're all still trying to guess who put the hit out on O'Hare."

They leaned in. 

Madame Curry smiled sweetly at all their eager faces. "It was me," she said.

Their mouths hung slack for a second, then four of them jumped her at once. She caught 
one with a knee in the balls as she stood. She knocked two more heads together and 
caught the last in the teeth with a kick. In a flash, four more men lay at her feet. It was 
just Sean and the barman now. 

Sean whimpered up against the back wall. 

I knew my job. The minute the barman reached behind the bar, I pulled and fired. The .44 
barked in my hand. A bottle by the barman's ear exploded, covering him with cheap 
scotch. He froze as I took better aim. I motioned for him to come back out where I could 
see his hands. He complied.

"I own O'Hare's business now, Sean. You spread the word. Any of your boys who 
proves his worth will be let into my gang." She walked up to Sean and kissed his nose. 
She stood two inches taller than him in her heels. "And you know what it takes to prove 
yourself to me, don't you, Sean."

"Yes'm."

She rubbed his shoulders and moaned. "Such a pretty boy you are, Sean. I'm going to 
enjoy having you again. Come to my home tonight. We'll run you through the... entrance 
exam."

Sean was sweating and shaking.

Madame Curry turned her back. I followed her out with my gun pointed at the barman. 
Beyond my wildest dreams, we made it to sunlight and the street!

Our day was not done. I escorted Madame Curry on to a very nice Sicilian restaurant on 
the east side - someplace too rich for my blood. Two big goons stopped us at the door. 
Madame Curry let them frisk her, giggling as they pawed her up and down.

Then they frisked me and found my gun - the one Madame Curry had given me to use, at 
any rate. They took it.

"He's with me," she said. "He keeps the piece."

The goon holding the .44 grinned. "I don't think so, miss."

In the twinkle of an instant, Madame Curry, punched him in the sack. As he doubled 
over, his partner grabbed Madame Curry from behind in a bear-hug. She flipped him over 
her back. I had to duck to keep from getting buried under him. When he hit the floor, 
Madame Curry stuffed a heel into his windpipe. Then she returned to the first guy. She 
pulled the gun from his hand and stuffed it, barrel first, up the seat of his pants. 

"Either he keeps the gun, or I blow your brains out," she snarled.

The goon gasped and nodded he ascent.

We stepped inside another set of doors and were immediately jumped for four more guys. 
I didn't even see how Madame Curry dispatched them. One minute, we're under a piled 
of mean men, the next their on the floor, spitting teeth.

"Madame Curry! Madame! Please!" A huge older man was waving his hands around and 
slowly waddling toward us. "My boys are only playing! Please don't be so rough!"

Madame Curry handed me back my gun. I took it and put it away. The fat man saw this 
and backed up a step. 

"Uh... what can I do for you, Madame Curry." He bowed before her.

"Hello, Big Tony." Madame Curry patted his sweating scalp.

Big Tony? The mob boss?

I gulped and stayed close to the door.

Madame Curry helped herself to something from Big Tony's bar. "I own what used to be 
the O'Hare business now, Big Tony," she said.

Big Tony grew pail. "I see..." he stammered. 

"If you want to keep your little enterprise, you will have to pay me a tribute of..." 
Madame Curry took a drink. "Let's say... 50%."

Big Tony gasped. "50... 50... but Madame! Be reasonable!" He held his hands up 
beseechingly.

"Wow," I whispered. The boss of all crime in the city was begging Madame Curry.

Madame Curry smiled and winked at me. She strode over to Big Tony and lifted his chin 
up to look her in the eye. She towered over him. "Kiss my ass, and promise me you will 
pay every month Tony. I'll be installing my own accountants into your business."

Big Tony began to cry, but he got down on his knees. Madame Curry turned her back. 
Big Tony didn't even try to pull anything. The head of all crime lifted his moist lips up 
Madame Curry's short skirt and kissed her round ass.

"Yes Madame Curry," he moaned. "I submit."

Madame Curry stepped away while Big Tony was still puckering. "Good to have you on 
my team, fat boy. Try anything funny and I'll kill you and your entire extended family. 
Have a nice day. Oh! And send that good-looking Angelo over tonight. I desire his 
company." 

"As you wish, Madame."

She walked out, with me at her heels.

I trotted at her heels and opened the limo door for her. She slid in and pulled me after her. 
As usual now, I sat on the floor, at her feet. She kicked off a shoe and stuck her foot in 
my face. I rubbed her arch the way she liked.

"May I ask a question?" I asked.

She closed her eyes and smiled. "Keep rubbin' me like that, bitch-boy, and you can ask 
me anything."

"Why was it Big Tony sent you the money I delivered?" 

"I got some of his boys out of trouble with the DA."

"How?"

Madame Curry smiled even more. "I got home movies of the DA sucking strawberry 
jello out of my butt crack. We agreed I wouldn't release those to You Tube if he stopped 
prosecuting a few innocent hoods."

"Wow!"

Madame Curry's eyes twinkled. "Go ahead and asked the next question."

"May I suck jello out of my butt crack?" I kissed her big toe and massaged a little harder.

"Someday," she teased. "If you're a good bitch." She stuck her other foot in my face.

Then something else struck me. "If Angelo and Sean both show up tonight..."

Madame Curry chuckled. "I was wondering if that would occur to you. I'm going to have 
a little fun and bind the two gangs together through their beloved sons." She clenched her 
fist. "I will bind them under me and control this entire fucking town!"

No doubt. The woman had ambition.



That night, both men showed up at 7:00. The fought on the lawn until 7:45 when 
Madame Curry sent me out with a gun to bring them in. Madame Curry's home was as 
palatial as the O'Hare mansion had been. Those two hoods had torn up a lot of grass and 
flowers. In the morning, a host of gardeners would put it to rights.

"Gentlemen. There will be time enough for violence. For now, let us do something we 
agree on. You both knees down and kiss my feet. Angelo, you get this one." She pointed 
to her left foot.

The passionate Italian dropped down and began licking Madame Curry's booted foot. 
Sean, not to be outdone, dropped and began licking the other boot. Madame Curry 
signaled for me to begin recording the video as she sat in throne-like splendor above the 
two men. I gave the signal to the professional camera man and sound crew she had hired.

"You boys keep going," she said. "I'm going to address a little message to your families."

Madame Curry opened with a polite intro, then she had us zoom in on the two men at her 
feet, with the toes of her boots in their faces, then back up to her. "As you can see, these 
two leading men have given me their full endorsement. In short, I own them. And 
through them, I own you two. If there is profit being made on crime in this city, tribute 
must be paid to me. If you do not, I will use all the might of these two powerful mobs," 
she pointed tot eh Italian and Irishman at her feet, " to hunt you down and kill you. If 
they do not scare you, let me know. I'll stop by myself."

We cut. The crew pulled back their equipment and went to make a polished final product 
out of it, adding music and what-not.

She pulled the two men up by their hair. She kept Angelo in front of her. Sean stood close 
behind her, making a Madame Curry sandwich. The three of them stroked each other and 
moaned. I was terribly jealous. Angelo slid a finger along Madame Curry's clam.

"Oh!" she gasped. "Let us retire, gentlemen."

She took them both to bed. I got to watch from one of the camera views behind one of 
several one-way mirrors.

They sucked her off in ways I never heard of before she let them mount her. Sean got her 
quim first, while Angelo took her ass. After she came a few times that way, they cleaned 
up and changed places. After an hour, then men were looking pretty worn out, but 
Madame Curry was just getting warmed up. She sat on their faces and dripped their 
mingled cum down their throats. She took them both in head-locks and smothered them 
against her ample tits.

I jerked off and came all over the one-way mirror at this point.

Then, as the men lie exhausted on her bed, Madame Curry got up and retrieved her cruel 
strap on. The men were to beat to fight. She threw Sean on top of Angelo and too him up 
the ass first. Then she flipped them over and took Angelo.

All of this footage got woven into the high-production piece she was releasing to all 
known crime organizations in the city. It all proved her dominance, that she could do 
these two men together without much of a fight.

Around three in the morning, she threw them out onto the street, naked.