In the office...

Misty Steel [fictional reference pic] was The Defense Core’s top assassin. A veritable female James Bond, she was the woman they sent for the highest level targets. So when the upstart organization The Protectors surfaced, there was only one choice for who would cut off its head.

The Director tossed the files onto his desk, looking up at the blonde bombshell standing in front of it.

“Xavier’s dirty. That’s everything we have on him, including his communications with the Domina Syndicate’s defectors. As far as we can tell, he’s been feeding them operational information.”

Misty blinked. “No fucking way.”

The Director smirked. “Yep. We all thought he was a sonuvabitch, but we thought he was our sonuvabitch.”

Misty had been resisting Xavier’s advances for a couple of months now, but the energy between them during practice sparring was undeniable.

She performatively flipped through the Director’s papers, knowing she didn’t really need to study this guy. Dossiers were boring as fuck; what she used was face-to-face, real life intel, and with Xavier she already had it. She knew his fighting style, his personality, how he looked at her, and where he looked.

“This is great, thanks.”

“After we take him out, we’ll start pursuing the Syndicate’s defectors in earnest. They are the real troublemakers in all this, and it’s not going to be easy.”

Misty held the papers against her chest and looked at the Director. “Oh, believe me - I’m counting on it. You want me to get anything out of him?”

“No. Just elimination. His devices will tell us everything we need to know.”

In the elevator...

Misty leaned back against the elevator wall and smiled. “You walk a lot of women home?”

Xavier scoffed. “Not as many as I’d like. But maybe more than you’d think?”

Misty rolled her eyes, but her facial expression betrayed her true feelings. She felt unusually hungry for him and didn’t know why. Gazing too long at where his shirt half tucked behind his belt buckle, she had the random urge to get on her knees and have him make love to her mouth against the elevator wall. The elevator dinged and she almost startled.

“This is me.” She turned around as Xavier stayed in the elevator. The doors began to close and she reached a hand in.

“Hey. Wanna have a drink?”

Xavier put his hands in his pockets and smiled. “At this point I thought you’d never ask.”

In the hotel room...

When they stepped into the apartment, Xavier quickly found the wall hangers and removed his jacket.

He turned around and Misty was unprofessionally close. She took off her leather jacket. Underneath, Misty wore a long-sleeved, form-fitting dress with a turtleneck top and an insane cutout revealing her entire midriff, down to a low-waisted cinched skirt tightly wrapped around her hips. Custom-made for her body by the Defense Core’s chief fashion designer, she could be fully confident in its effect on red-blooded males, but especially Xavier. He always looked too long up and down her midriff when she wore athletic stuff for sparring, but this outfit revealed a lot more.

Xavier instinctively looked down at her and blinked. His heart rate just about doubled.

“Damn, woman - you were wearing that all night?”

“Think it’s too, uh, modest?”

Xavier grabbed her bear waist and turned her against the wall, pressing one hand into her lower stomach where the cinched skirt revealed the beginning outlines of her pelvic bone.

“I’ll say.”

He leaned in to kiss her and Misty put her hand forcefully on his chest. She could feel him hard against her mound.

“You sure you wanna do this? It’s unprofessional and besides, you think I’m a quote 'entitled bitch,' remember?”

Xavier laughed. “That just makes it hotter.” He yanked her hand away and their lips met. Despite her cool demeanor, Misty felt warmth surging through her body as the main attractions approached.

In the bed...

Misty groaned and arched her back, feeling little waves of pleasure shoot up and then fade, building, building, building. Not yet, she told herself. Be patient.

She held Xavier’s jaw tightly as she fucked him, her own mouth open in feminine contrast to his clenched teeth. His hands around her waist held her firmly but not controlling.

God, those hands.

She looked down to see, to see him inside of her below, to see the veins popping from his forearms and leading to those hands leading to her body, and she felt his fingers nearly touching in the center of her back as he squeezed her waist. She incredibly fit, but she was still smaller than him.

Ugh, I want this bastard forever.

Misty almost regretted what she had to do, but fortunately it still excited her. She thought about the blade behind the headboard, how she’d reach behind Xavier, pull it out, and cut his throat the moment he began to climax. Or maybe she’d shove it into his chest, through his heart. It didn’t matter - she liked to surprise herself by leaving optional details to the last minute. Either way, this two-faced misogynist would die squirming underneath her, captured by her womanhood. The woman he could never out-spar in training would kill him in real life.

Xavier held her more firmly, raising his eyes to hers. 

“Oh yeah, there you go babe. You’re mine.”

He coaxed her as he looked her up and down. He ran his hands into her top and kneaded her breasts, making her gasp in enjoyment. He gazed at her stomach and the way she moved her whole body, expressing that male awe she was so used to. Seeing him think he’s in control turned her on all the more.

“I want to see your face when it happens,” she said to him, delighted at her own double meaning.

Misty sped up. Clenching her own teeth now as she got more aggressive, she gasped again.

“You feel so fucking good.”

“Oh yeah…” Xavier exclaimed, as he shifted his hands, one following her waist to the center of her lower back and one pressing down against her stomach, framing her on the outside while he enjoyed her on the inside.

Misty bit her lip and grunted.

“Come on, Xavier, inside of me…. do it inside of me…”

Misty leaned forward on her knees, grinding faster and harder, her face closer to Xavier’s and the headboard more accessible. Their noses were almost touching, their mouths exchanging air at this point.

Misty wasn’t faking *anything—*except her intentions.

“Fucking take me.”

She grabbed onto one of the headboard planks, near where she stored her favorite hunting knife. She expertly pulsed her kegel muscles around Xavier’s cock, to put him over the edge. She sped up again, adding some performative shrieks to her authentically growing orgasm.

Xavier opened his mouth.

“Oh, oh babe!… oh babe fuck I’m gonna cum…”

He slowed down and tensed as men do, one hand gripping her lower back and the other letting go to grab the sheets. His abs and pecs bulged.

Misty tensed, too, her mouth widening into an open-mouthed smile as she arched her back a little jutting her breasts forward and reached around the headboard.

Xavier grunted and began pumping cum up and into her pussy. Misty grabbed for the knife. A jolt of confusion shot through her brain—it must have fallen!—but at the same time a cascade of orgasmic contractions erupted inside of her and around Xavier’s throbbing cock. Losing composure, Misty shivered in a mix of concern and pleasure as she rolled with the orgasm. Before she could contemplate her next move, Xavier shoved the blade up and into her her stomach.

Misty’s “O” face transformed.

“Oh nnng!” She grasped his knife hand and groaned down at it, her protest overwhelmed by shock.

“You are an entitled bitch.”

She looked up at Xavier with stunned intensity and for a fleeting moment, awe. He had decisively turned the tables on her and she couldn’t believe it. She tried to speak, but all that came out were repeated starts and stops. “Angh— Xaviiangh—kkrk!”

Misty sucked in her stomach and let out an unwomanly grunt, her hands gripped around Xavier’s. She curved herself backwards as far as his grip on the small of her back would permit, needing to remove the blade and escape his clutches. She thought frantically about the gun she stored in the bedside table. Xavier relished the pointless straining of the muscles in her back. Misty looked back down again between her breasts, aghast at Xavier’s hand—God, those hands, no...—around the handle of her own knife, lodged inside of her. She clawed at it, tried to grab it, tried to push his hands off of it, anything to survive. Then Xavier gripped her harder, digging his fingers into the curve down the center of her back while he shifted his grip on the blade so his palm rested on the handle, and took a deep breath.

“Game over, bitch.”

Her eyes widened in recognition. Everything was happening too fast. She gasped, “nn…no… you c-can’t…” Suddenly he angled the blade up and forcefully yanked her body toward himself. Misty’s hair flew forward as she was brought into the knife all the way to the hilt. Her shriek was cut off as she felt it slice deeper into her guts and explode out the small of her back with a crunch.

“Oh, I can.”

Misty spasmed and choked, her head now over his shoulder. She grasped at whatever parts of his body she could and blinked dumbfounded at the headboard, uncomprehending the cold steel she knew must have ruptured something fatally. Holding her waist with one hand, Xavier pushed her by the handle back in front of him. She was slack-jawed. The crimson-soaked blade protruded out her back, the end dripping blood onto her butt and the sheets, while dollops from the entrance and exit wounds trickled down her stomach and back.

Misty Steel was impaled.

“As I said, you’re mine.”

All at once Misty’s grip loosened, and her arms dropped to her sides and hung back. Her body slumped and her mind broke.

“Yuh…you got…. uhhhnn…”

She groaned as she couldn’t finish the stupid words.

“Yeah, that’s right, I got you. And it’s the end for defiant women like you. I’m starting a new organization, Misty, but you won’t be around to see it.

Misty didn’t understand what he was saying. Her blood pressure hit rock bottom. Her once-powerful body twitched. Xavier grabbed her chin and kept her woozy face up toward him. She was fading. As her pupils dilated, he looked down at his cock and blade inside of her and spoke to her of his triumph.

“I’m the man who killed the great Agent Misty Steel.”

Misty’s last sensations were hating that he was right and feeling a piercing sense of being known fully and finally by this powerful man. Her eyes flared one more time with raging, delusional feminine intensity. Xavier just smirked.

"Let it go."

Misty's insides clenched him in an involuntary orgasmic spasm while the rest of her body softened and shut down, and then, with a violent shake and sense of overwhelming doom, her raging eyes widened into a brief moment of disbelief—I can’t die, no... no!...this isn't...i came oh god...—and then everything just released and went black.

Xavier watched her pupils dilate as her eyes glazed over. “You were good, babe. But not good enough.”

He sighed in satisfaction her head fell to the side and he felt all her muscles relax in his hands. He gently lifted her off himself and put her on her back to the side. Kissing her slackened lips one more time, he got his phone and took several pictures of Misty's conquered form to send to his own agency—and to hers—as proof. His text was matter-of-fact.

"It's done. I put her down."

The Defense Core’s star femme fatale was dead, and her eyes that had entranced hundreds of men now vacantly stared into oblivion.