Queen of the Concrete Jungle Ch. 04

A female Equalizer with a death wish, Laura Lion helps defend physically, emotionally, and sexually battered and abused women.

Continued from Chapter 03:

One day, when she was defending, yet, another woman from being physically and emotionally threatened by a man, the man's friend emerged from out of nowhere and snuck up behind her. Seldom caught by surprised, too immersed in her kind caring for the woman to be distracted by the man, she was preoccupied with helping the woman and didn't hear him approaching. With the first man working in conjunction with the second man, were they successful in their sneak attack. Had they accomplished what they wanted to do to Laura, they may have really hurt her.

Fortunately for her, with most people not wanting to get involved, a good Samaritan, came to her rescue. An elderly man was sweeping his sidewalk while watching the violent crime of abuse all unfold. Not about to allow a man to hit a woman, he moved behind the second man approaching Laura from behind and hit him square on his broad back with his broom.

"Hey! Get away from her," he shouted warning Laura in the process. "Look out, Miss," he said.

The second man turned from Laura to advance on the elderly man. Plenty enough warning for her to take action, she moved into preparedness with lightning speed. She stood between the criminal and the elderly man. Then, as if she was Mike Tyson delivering another first-round knockout, before the woman abuser could react, catching him by surprise, she sucker-punched the man with an uppercut to his jaw and knocked him unconscious with a single blow.

Before she could offer further assistance to the woman, the woman and the man's friend had left. They disappeared. No doubt, this wasn't the first time he had abused her. No doubt, this wouldn't be the last time that he abused her, but she couldn't help the woman if she didn't want her help. Obviously, a woman who was as petite and as violent as Laura Lion had frightened them both enough to cause them to run away.

She looked at the brave, old man who had helped her by hitting her potential assailant with his broom. Feeling bad for him, he was in obvious pain and discomfort. Stooped over and unable to straighten up, as if he was Dr. Frederick Frankenstein's aid, Igor, in Young Frankenstein, he walked with a noticeable limp. Obviously, because of his medical conditions, he looked older than he assuredly was.

"What's wrong with you? You're all bent and twisted," said Laura looking at the man with kind and caring eyes. "Why are you walking like that?"

He nodded his head as if he had grown accustom to the pain and walking bent over.

"Arthritis," he said with a shrug. "I have it in both shoulders, my lower back, my hips, and in my knees," he said. "There's nothing I can do. I don't have the money for back and shoulder surgery. I can't afford knee and hip replacement. Instead, I take as much pain medication as I'm allowed without becoming addicted," he said with another shrug.

# # #

She smiled at the man with kindness and understanding.

"I can help you with your pain, if you'd like me to try," she said. A power she didn't know she had until she recently discovered when rubbing her sore arm and hurt leg after battling with two men much bigger than her, she had a special kind of heeling aura. "Remove your shirt," she said while quickly rubbing her hands together. "Let me see what I can do to help you by relieving some of your pain and discomfort."

Then, once his shirt was off, applying pressure as if giving him a deep tissue massage, she rubbed his shoulders and lower back with her left hand, only with her left hand. When the heat of her hand dissipated, building up the heat from friction, she rubbed her hands together again and again. Reapplying her warm, healing touch, as soon as he showed an improvement in mobility, she stopped.

"How's that," she asked? "Is that better?" She stopped to look at him. "You look much better."

As if he was getting ready to take off and fly, he waved and flapped his arms around.

"Better? Are you kidding me? The pain is gone from my shoulders and from my back," he said bending forward, bending backwards, and bending to the side before erecting himself to his full posture and height. "I can move my arms. I don't believe this. It's a miracle. Thank you," he said looking at her as stunned as he was shocked. "Thank you."

As if not surprised that she had alleviated his pain, knowing that she had that she had that secret, genetically induced, heeling ability, she smiled and nodded her head.

"You're welcome," she said. "Now, unbuckle and unzip your trousers and allow them to fall to your ankles," she said. "Let me see if I can do the same with your hips and your knees."

With him standing before her in his white briefs, she squatted down in front of him as if she was getting ready to give him oral sex. Expecting him to have an erection when she had her face and mouth only inches away from his underwear clad prick, she was surprised that he didn't have an erection. Perhaps, he wasn't lying about being impotent. Again, she quickly rubbed her hands together. As soon as he dropped his pants, in the way that she rubbed his shoulders and back, she rubbed his hips and then, his knees with her left hand.

Continually rubbing her hands together to build up the heat induced friction while squatting in front of him, as soon as the heat dissipated from her hands, she rubbed her hands together again and again. Reapplying her heated massage therapy to his hips and to his knees, she was determined to get him to walk without pain, without discomfort, and without a limp. Again, and again, she rubbed her hands together before rubbing his thighs and knees.

As soon as the healing heat dissipated, she rubbed her hands together again and again. Reapplying her hand to his hips and knees, she didn't stop until he showed signs of improvement with less pain and better mobility. In the way that she fixed his shoulder and back, she fixed his hips and knees, too.

"Oh, my God. I can't believe it. It's a miracle. There's nothing, absolutely nothing. There's no pain. It's as if I no longer have Arthritis. I'm pain free. Thank you. Thank you," he said beaming a smile at her and hugging her. "How long will it last?"

He lifted his legs, first one and then the other. Then, he did some squats while dancing around her. He jogged in place and then ran forward and backwards.

"Unless you have another injury, a different injury, your pain shouldn't return," she said.

Before zipping up and buttoning his pants, as if he was expecting her to blow him, he stared down at his underwear clad prick before staring up at her.

# # #

"I'm impotent," he said with an embarrassed pause. He looked down at his flaccid, underwear clad prick before staring up at her. "Is there anything you can do to help me with that?"

She rolled her eyes, sighed, and smiled while rubbing her hands together again. Obviously, not discriminating where she touched him with her healing hands, she was ready to fix his problem with impotency. Wondering if he was lying to her just to get her to give him a hand job, she looked at his flaccid, underwear clad cock. Then, when she didn't see a bulge or his cock throbbing, pulsating, or moving, she figured he was telling her the truth.

"It's the least that I can do for you helping me," she said. "Drop your pants and your underwear. Let me see what I can do for you."

As soon as his underwear fell to expose his small, flaccid penis, she quickly rubbed her hands together. Then, applying some careful pressure, she cupped his testicles in her left hand and gently squeezed them while rubbing them. Warming his private parts with her hand, she left her hand there for a few seconds. Then, when her healing heat dissipated, rubbing her hands together again and again while reapplying her gentle touch, she stopped as soon as she felt some movement.

Then, as if it was magic and she was a magician, she slowly stroked his flaccid prick until he suddenly had an erection. She removed her hand and rubbed her hands together again. She reapplied her gentle pressure to his testicles while stroking his erecting cock faster and harder with her right hand. She continued cupping and gently rubbing his testicles with her left hand while stroking him with her right hand. As if she was a snake charmer, his flaccid cock returned to life.

"Oh, my God. It's a miracle. It's as if I'm a teenage boy again. My cock has never been as hard. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you," he said getting dressed. "Now, I can finally have a girlfriend again. Now, I can get laid." He looked at her with horniness. "Just to make sure that it's working, maybe you could continue stroking me until I cum," he said.

He felt her breasts through her blouse and fingered her nipples with one hand while feeling her shapely ass and reaching beneath her skirt to finger and cup her panty clad pussy with his other hand. As if bored, she looked down at his hand feeling her bra and blouse clad breasts and his other hand fingering her panty clad pussy. After allowing him his groping fun, she smiled, patted him on the shoulder, and moved away from him.

"My work is done here," she said. "Thank you for your help today," she said.

He shook her hand as if he was pumping a well for water.

"Thank you for making me a man, again," he said beaming her a smile. "Are you sure we can't have sex before you leave?"

She laughed.

"I'm sure."

# # #

Chapter 04:

Laura received a letter of interest in her Post Office box in response to her weekly newspaper ad.

'Are you a woman in a bad situation? Are you being physically, emotionally, and/or sexually abused? If you are, I can help. Write me with all of the details of your situation. Laura Lion.'

Dear Ms. Lion,

My name is Ashley. I hope you don't mind me giving you only my first name but I fear for my life if my abusers knew that I was reaching out to you for help.

I'm a lowly secretary, bookkeeper, and office manager for a home mortgage company called Home Sweet Home. A small office, it's only the owner and I. It's a good job and I've worked there for 3-years.

The problem started when the company was recently bought by a man after the owner suddenly mysteriously disappeared and suspiciously died. After finding his body hung by a beam in this garage, the police investigating the death ruled it a suicide. I know my boss. He would never take his own life. Engaged to be married, he was happy. He just leased a new car. He had a successful home mortgage company and was planning to expand.

I suspect he was murdered. Yet, as far as the police are concerned, this case is closed. Unfortunately, the man who bought the company is a powerful, well known, Mafia boss and he wanted his particular business as a shell company to wash his illegal cash through it. It wouldn't surprise me if he paid the police to look the other way and paid the coroner to write a false report.

After meeting some of the men who came to the office with Mr. Tony, his driver, Darren, and two of his bodyguards, Ritchie, and Paul, they made me fear them. With them always drinking, they were always talking dirty to me, touching me, feeling me, fondling me, groping me, and trying to get me to party with them. How many times could I say know before they wouldn't take no for an answer? After a while, with all four men armed and dangerous, I knew that they would rape me to get what they wanted of me.

With my boss no longer there to protect me and keep me safe, I decided to look for another job. Unfortunately, whenever I gave my old job as my reference, Mr. Tony made it clear to my potential employers that he didn't want me to leave and for them not to hire me. Clearly, afraid that I may tell the feds all that I've witnessed and all that I know about his illegal, money laundering business, he didn't want me to go but I'm afraid of staying. Now, that I'm unable to leave, I fear for my life.

Keeping me close and keeping me safe, and making sure that I don't go to the police, Darren, Mr. Tony's driver, drives me to work and home every day in his black, extended wheelbase, Lincoln Town Car. Admittedly, enjoying having a driver and riding around in a luxury car, I like the attention of being chauffeured around town. While my friends drive to work, carpool, or take the bus, I feel like a celebrity.

Riding in the backseat of a Lincoln factory-built limousine, it makes me want to do my hair, my makeup, wear high heels, and dress in sexy clothes but, not wanting to call unwanted attention to myself, I don't dare. If I ever showed that I was a sexy and sexual woman, they'd rape me. They'd forced me to suck them and fuck them any time they wanted. They'd make me their bitch. They'd make me their whore.

# # #

Normally, it's just another day at the office until his men, collectors for his organization, show up with their bags, briefcases, or sacks filled with money. Dotting the I's and crossing the T's, notarizing forged signatures, they have me write up fictious mortgage accounts that I reference when depositing the money in our home mortgage company. On the surface, everything appears legal until looking at non-existent addresses and trying to find and identify the people who don't exist.

Not wanting to be a target of their unwanted affection, I've been keeping a low profile. Not wanting them to notice me, as if I'm an old maid schoolteacher or librarian, I wear my hair in a bun. I don't wear sexy clothes, high heels, or even makeup to work. I figure that if I made myself look ordinary; they won't bother me. They'll bother one of their hookers or strippers instead of me. Why would they want plain Jane me when they could have someone who looks like Crystal, Tiffany, or Lola?

Only, unless I gained fifty-pounds, there's only so much of my body that I can hide. Even wearing a shapeless dress, with them always touching me, feeling me, fondling me, and groping me through my clothes, they can still discern that I have a curvy ass and abundant breasts. Without heels, I'm 5'4" with C cup breasts. For them not to look at me and notice me, I'd have to have A cup breasts and moles on my face.

My current situation of forced, violent sex started when I had to drop off some papers for Mr. Tony to sign. His favorite, daily hangout that he haunts, he was at his strip club having a drink, talking on the phone, and doing his daily business while watching the strippers dance. Driven there by Darren, his driver, and now my driver, too, as soon as I entered the strip club, he met me by the bar and offered me a drink while he signed the papers. After I finished my drink, he finished signing his papers and I was ready to leave.

"Tiffany," he said calling over one of his topless strippers. "This is the woman that I was telling you about." Tiffany gave me a wide smile. "She needs a makeover."

Tiffany a 6' tall, blue-eyed blonde with massive, surgically enhanced, double D breasts looked at me with a discriminating eye.

"She's pretty but I can make her much more attractive and sexier," she said giving Mr. Tony a sexy smile and a wink. "She does have a sexy body under those drab clothes," she said lifting my long dress while turning me to expose my panty clad ass to my boss and to his driver. "And she has tits, too," she said feeling my C cup breasts with both of her hands.

As if I was one of their strippers, when Crystal lifted my dress and turned me to face them, Mr. Tony and Darren stared at my panty clad ass. I quickly brushed down my dress. I was so embarrassed.

"Take her in back and see what you can do for her."

Tiffany took me in back and together with Crystal, they fussed with my hair, my makeup, gave me a pair of high heeled shoes, and a short, low-cut, sequined costume to wear. The dress they gave me had a plunging neckline and a plunging back. It left nothing to the imagination. Feeling as if I was naked, I've never been as exposed. She paraded me out and stood me up on stage as if I was one of the strippers.

"Let me have a look at you," said Mr. Tony. "Wow! It's shocking what hair, makeup, and a costume can do for a plain Jane woman like you. Turn around and dance," he said giving a sign to the bartender to play some music on the stereo.

Feeling so exposed, I wasn't about to seductively dance for him. The last thing that I wanted to do was to sexually excite him by erotically dancing to sexually tease him. Instead, I stood there motionless with my arms folded across my chest.

"Sorry, but I don't dance," I said making a face as if I was his difficult teenage daughter instead of, now, being one of his employees.

He laughed. He looked at his driver, his two bodyguards, and his bartender and they all laughed, too. He unzipped himself and pulled out his prick while stroking himself to an erection. Then, he looked up at me with rape in his eyes.

"Either you dance for me now, or you'll dance for me later when I take you up to the VIP room and fuck you senseless," he said. "Or if you'd rather not dance, you can just walk over here, get down on your knees, and suck my cock."

Suffice to say, I started dancing. Tony and the four men, his driver, his two bodyguards, and the bartender watched me dancing. Trying not to make my dancing look sexual, yet, no matter what I did in that abbreviated outfit, my dancing looked sexual.

"Take something off. Show me some skin," he said. "Let me see your ass and tits."

Crystal hopped up on the stage and unzipped the side of my dress. Then, as if showing me how to strip, she removed one strap from my shoulder before removing the other. Because the weight of the sequins, the dress slid down to my waist to expose a skimpy shelf bra that Tiffany gave me to wear. The bra cups barely covered my areolas and nipples. If I wasn't exposed before, I was definitely exposed now.

"Keep going," said Tony and with that, Crystal pulled my dress down and off.

I stood there shaking in an itty-bitty bra that exposed most of my C cup breasts and a thong that exposed much of my trimmed pussy and all of my shapely, naked ass. For all intents and purposes, I was naked. Mortified, I was so embarrassed being nearly naked in front of four men that I barely knew and was deathly feared.

"Take her upstairs and get her ready for me," he said. "You know what I like," he said nodding to Crystal.

'Take me upstairs? Get her ready for me? You know what I like? What the fuck? Is Mr. Tony going to rape me? Is he going to fuck me? Is he going to force me to suck his prick? A hundred thoughts, all not good, went through my mind.'

With Crystal on one side of me and Tiffany on the other side, they took me in a dark room lit by only a nightlight. The room had a king-sized bed, a desk, a chair, and a small TV. Other than it having a window overlooking the bar and the stage, it looked like a cheap, motel room.

"Wait! Don't! Stop! Let me go. Don't do this. Please don't do this," I begged and pleaded with them to let me go.

With me fighting them and resisting them the whole way, with them both bigger and stronger than me, Crystal and Tiffany stripped me naked. Then they tied my wrists and ankles to the bed. Positioned like a starfish, I imagined this was what Mr. Tony meant when he said "Get her ready for me. You know what I like."

No longer having a say in what happened next, Mr. Tony raped me. He mounted me and fucked me. Then, he forced me to blow him. Not letting go of my head until he sexually satisfied himself, he ejaculated his cum in my mouth, all over my face, in my hair, and across my naked breasts. Never had anyone ejaculated as much cum all over me. I had gobs of his cum everywhere.

I thought I was done until he invited Darren in the room with me after he left. In the way that Mr. Tony raped me, Darren raped me, too. He fucked me and forced me to suck his cock. Mr. Tony's two bodyguards, Ritchie and Paul, were next. I was gangbanged by four men before they finally let me go.