Chris' Corner Videos
"The Grace X Files"     
Page 13
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Eyes on Darfur
by Eyes

Grace X, by all accounts, was basically retired.  Of course in the world of being a spy, no one can really
claim that title but let’s just say that Grace had seen and done her share of ‘spying’ and ‘other
associated job-related requirements’.  Presently, those activities were usually best left to the newbies
looking to make a name for themselves.  Although no one could prove it, Grace was believed to be
the infamous Black Widow.  Her trail of ‘stiffies’ read like a who’s who in international CEO’s, CFO’s,
CIO’s and any other important corporate big shot who suddenly and mysteriously met their fate in
some hotel or motel room while engaged in a nonspousal tryst.  Of course Grace never openly
admitted her involvement with these gentlemen.  But whoever may have been the responsible party
was never caught and rarely seen.  There were reports of a dark-haired female, reminiscent of a Black
Dalia-esque vision of beauty, being at or near the scene of some of the crimes.  Some even claimed
that they came face to face with this beauty, whose deep dark eyes stared right through them.  But
nothing was ever established to identify the assailant.  When such stories were told, particularly in a
group setting with the ‘Board’, Grace would only smile.  Only in her mind could she see and remember
each assignment.  She remembered the look on each victim’s face as her serum raced through their
bodies.  The inability to control their own movements while she sat atop them, slowly moving up and
down their rock hard shafts.  The look of sheer ecstasy on her face as she stared into their soon-to-be-
lifeless bodies.  The feeling of semen gushing up their shafts only to be caught in a condom, which
Grace would meticulous apply as her targets were convulsing.  These experiences she could not
translate into words.  Or, if she was feeling particularly erotic, she would slowly work her target’s cock
with her hand, watching as they shot enormous loads wastefully into the air then splatting on their
generally flabby stomachs.  Grace would hold their shafts for a bit after they expelled their post
mortem load and laugh at how easy it was to lure these men, especially those of such important
stature, into such vulnerable positions.  They all lusted after her, it was --- so easy.  

But now Grace was used to the finer things in life.  No more back roads, shanty towns, or sleazy
motels.  It was high class establishments, fine dining, expensive clothes and jewelry, and she was
very particular of who she ‘allowed’ to enter her womanhood, much to the dismay of many of her co-
workers.  Even then, Grace demanded the use of a condom.  In general, Grace would not allow a man
the satisfaction of feeling her without a condom.  But today was the start of Grace’s new objective –
training a new recruit.  Nyala Fashir was going to be ‘perfect’ as quoted by Mr. Green (covertly named
director of the Board).  He wanted Grace to show Nyala the ropes.  Nyala was recruited by the Board
from an overseas firm in and around the Middle East.  It was an assignment Nyala requested.  She also
had roots in East Africa making her a natural for the job.  Grace had met Nyala a few times before and
although she never asked she presumed Nyala’s roots to be Egypt.  Nyala was a quiet, almost mousey
looking women.  Very thin, with wide dark eye lenses giving her the appearance that the whites of her
eyes had vanished.  Her olive-drab skin would make it quite easy for her to blend overseas.  But Nyala
also had erotic qualities.  Although she was thin she had a bit more than a c-cup pair of breasts, which
she enjoyed regularly by going braless (much to the delight of her co-workers).  Her perky nipples and
jiggly handful -sized breasts were often the focus of attention during meetings.  Also, Nyala appeared
to prefer tight pants, again much to the appreciation of her co-workers.  She had a small but firm and
very noticeable ass and usually revealed a slight cameltoe in every pair of slacks she wore, even
sweats.  These features made her a natural for luring important men who would soon lust for her
body.  
Much to Grace’s dismay, Mr. Green requested that she accompany Nyala to Abyad, a small, dingy city in
the Darfur region of western Sudan.  

Grace hated the Sudan.  Although she never formally had any assignments there, she did remember
registering a ‘kill’ during a stopover.  As Mr. Green talked about their assignment his voice trailed as
Grace’s mind drifted to that night.  On her way to an assignment in the UAE, Grace spent the night at
the Darfur Nationale, a ‘higher’ scale hotel located in the middle of the war-torn, genocidal country.  
Grace found the Darfur men abhorrent and disgusting.  While she was checking into the hotel, she
was harassed by a horde of rogue Darfur militia that frequented the hotel all night long.  Tired of
raping and killing random women all day long, the militia wanted some live pussy to pound; and Grace
was certainly a vision, the likes of which were never seen in that region.  Although Grace could
certainly handle herself, this entourage would have been way too much for her to overcome.  Luckily
for her, she met Dr. Tijani Hakam in the hotel bar that evening.  Even though she was totally turned off
by Dr. Hakam, she quickly figured out a plan to get the good doctor into her room, which meant she
would be out of sight of the militia.  Surprisingly, the doctor appeared to have some indirect control
over the militants.  The doctor walked over to one of the hotel maids, a small, young-looking girl, and
whispered something in her ear.  The maid walked over to the militants and whispered something into
the ear of what appeared to be the leader.  The man looked over at the doctor, and then barked some
orders at his crew and which point they left the hotel.  Grace was concerned about the whole affair
but as long as the good doctor got them to leave, Grace’s diversionary plan would work.  For Grace
knew well that if the militia got their hands on her, the chances she would survive were not high and
no one from the Board would bother to come looking for her in that hellhole.

Grace and Dr. Hakam made small talk over a few drinks in her room.  He was married with a young son
and daughter.  Both, he said, would be leaving the Sudan for medical school in the United States.  
Grace laughed, saying to herself, “It figured”.  Grace worked her wiles on the doctor and before long
she had him undressed and in bed.  Dr. Hakam asked her to undress but she indicated that it would be
“more fun this way”.  She tied the doctor’s arms to the bedpost and told him that she would strip in
front of him to see how hard he would get watching her.  She asked him if his wife had ever performed
this type of act, to which he replied, “Never, she would never think of it and he would not have it”.  
“Only Americans do this kind of stuff”, the doctor replied.  Only Americans indeed, Grace thought.  She
told the doctor to lie back and relax as she began stroking his cock.  Grace kept one eye on the door,
concerned that the rogues would come bursting through at any moment.  She did not trust the doctor
and thought he would like nothing else than to watch them with their filthy hands and cocks ‘work’
Grace over.  Just the thought of them touching her made Grace gag. While the doctor was beginning
to moan but remain quite soft, Grace squeezed his balls while she slowly removed a hypodermic from
her boot.  As wild thoughts began to race through Dr. Hakam’s mind Grace inserted the small needle
into the underside of Dr. Hakam’s semi-hard shaft.  The slight prick made the doctor look up, he
appeared a bit nervous.  “Don’t worry doc”, Grace said, “You will get hard now.”  Grace smiled as Dr.
Hakam did become rock hard.  At the same time he began to convulse violently, with generous
portions of saliva running out of his mouth.  Grace smiled as she slowly stroked the doctor’s rock hard
cock.  It did not take long for Hakam to stop convulsing, his eyes wide looking up at the ceiling.  

Grace stopped stroking him, not even waiting for a volcanic semen shot.  She quickly picked up her
belongings.  As she peered through the door she noticed the small maid whom the doctor had
whispered.  With an overdramatically concerned look on her face, Grace indicated to the young maid
that the man in the room appeared to have a heart attack.  Grace watched as the maid entered the
room at which time she began backpedalling down the hallway looking for a quick exit.  As Grace
turned and raced down the hall, the maid peered back outside of the room, she had a confused look
on her face as she watched Grace hurriedly run into a stairwell.  Grace slipped out of the hotel and
noticed a number of militia running into the hotel.  Grace managed to leave the Sudan unnoticed and
finished her assignment in the UAE.  She never heard about the doctor or what had become of the
incident.  

During the plane ride, Grace managed to get an out of the way seat with Nyala and began briefing her
into the world of black widowing.  She showed Nyala a set of hypodermics she carried and explained
the potency of what was in the several vials.  Funny thing about the serum.  It would kill males
instantly but would only put females to sleep with a sort of roofie-type effect.  She handed Nyala one
hypo and vial and told her to invest in a good pair of boots to carry a few serum filled hypos.  This, she
indicated was a great hiding spot because most guys wanted females to keep their boots on and the
heavy leather acted as a protectant against the needle.  She told Nyala that if she was ever seen by
anyone when exiting a target’s room to motion that the man inside had a heart attack; this would buy
her time to leave.  Grace’s favorite ‘training’ tip was the different ways of handling ‘necro cock’.  Nyala
seemed almost turned off by this but appeared that she would have no problem.  Grace informed
Nyala that if her target in Abyad was a national, she needed to make sure she had a stock of condoms.  
Grace proceeded to tell Nyala how disgusting the men were in the Darfur region.  Those men will want
to ravage your body so we need to get out of their fast.  

Grace chuckled to herself when they arrived at the Darfur Nationale.  It brought back memories of Dr.
Hakam.  She did notice that the place was a bit more cleaned up since all the years had past when she
was there last.  Grace called for room service and ordered sour apple martinis.  When the male staff
servant delivered them, Grace blew him off with no tip, shooing him away.  She reiterated to Nyala how
much the country had disgusted her.  Grace then freshened up in the restroom, removing her tight
jeans and boots, revealing her white thong.  When Grace exited the restroom, Nyala looked a bit
surprised to which Grace laughed, “not to worry honey, I don’t go both ways”.  Nyala just shrugged her
shoulders.  Grace laid on the bed, took a long sip from her drink and let out a big sigh.  She laid there
and turned on the 20th century television set and watched the local news.  The only highlights were
footage of the days ravaging from the still ongoing civil war.  Grace yawned and told Nyala that the
plane rides must be getting to her and she needed a nap.  

Grace awoke with a pounding headache.  She also noticed that it was as if she was trying to look
through the fog.  She could hear a female voice talking and saw a thin silhouette.  The thin silhouette
was pacing back and forth speaking in what appeared to be Arabic.  As Grace’s eyes focused she
noticed that it was still hard to see clearly.  Simultaneously when she went to sit up on the bed she
then realized that each of her arms had been bound by the wrist to the bedposts.  As Grace began to
become more alert, she realized that the reason she could not see clearly was due to the plastic bag
that had been placed and tightened over her head.  She began calling out to Nyala.  She was
beginning to feel a lot of heat around her face.  As the silhouette came closer, Grace could see it was
Nyala.  Only now, Nyala was totally naked except for what appeared to be a strap-on pleasure device.  
Grace was totally confused and at first thought Nyala was playing a joke.  As she asked Nyala what was
going on, she noticed that Nyala was not listening to her and was still intently engaged her cell phone
conversation, which Grace did not understand a word.  She continued to ask Nyala what was
happening; all the while she noticed her air was getting thin.  Nyala then slammed the cell phone shut
and exclaimed, ‘Assholes’.  Grace continued to pull on her bound arms trying to disengage the ropes
and began to become pretty nervous as her questions were being ignored by Nyala.  Grace barked,
“Nyala, what the fuck is going on here”.  She then noticed that Nyala began generously lubing up the
strap-on and still ignoring her.  Nyala then crawled up onto the bed between Grace’s legs and pulled
them apart.  She said something in Arabic to Grace and began generously apply lube to Grace’s very
neatly trimmed pussy.  With her air supply beginning to grow increasingly thin and the plastic bag
becoming tighter around her face, Grace screamed, “Do you know who I am?” “Untie me, bitch!”  Nyala
then propped herself up between Grace’s legs and with her hands on her hips she looked down at
Grace.  Nyala (in English) then said, “Yes, yes I do know who you are.”  “Do you know who I am?”  
Grace, her eyes beginning to strain, her body becoming weak, began to hyperventilate.  “I am Nyala,
Nyala Fashir.”  Nyala said.  “I took the name of this region, a region I was born and raised.”  “Most
people, especially those at this hotel, know me as Nyala Hakam.”  “and I believe you know my father,
don’t you.”  Nyala then plunged into Grace’s fully lubed and nonresisting pussy.  “You fu-fucking bitch,
what are you doing to me!”  Grace screamed.

Through her peripheral vision Grace could see the room door open and several people, who
appeared to be men filed in.  Her vision was getting blurred and breathing became a commodity.  She
could hear the men talking in Arabic, some were laughing others had cell phone cameras and were
snapping pictures.  She even caught a glimpse of a light, a light attached to a video camera.  She
looked up at Nyala who just stared down at her slowing moving her hips in and out working the strap-
on slowly in and out of Grace.  Grace could see Nyala’s face, she appeared in an orgasmic zone, her
eyes were glazed, her mouth was open slightly with just a hint of her tongue protruding.  A tiny stream
of saliva began to run out of Nyala’s mouth, off of her tongue and onto Grace’s stomach.  Nyala was
truly getting off as she watched the plastic tighten around Grace’s face.  With every breath Grace took
in, her pussy tightened, Nyala could feel it and it made her shudder with multiple orgasms.  The men
gathered around the bed and watched, laughing, videoing and texting, some even started jerking.  
“Nooooooooooooooo”, were the final words from Grace’s lips, while her other lips were thoroughly
worked.  Nyala’s eyes rolled into the back of her head as she let out a final orgasmic scream.  She
looked down into Grace’s face, the bag so taut it plasticized over Grace’s wide, staring eyes and
wide open mouth.  Total disbelief in what had been done to her and not even knowing what was to
come.  

So the young maid who had walked into that room, had walked in on her dead father, whose hands
were still bound to the bedposts and sporting a raging hard on.  It did not take Nyala long to learn that
her father had not died of a heart attack, especially after had spent years in medical school in the
United States.  Nyala would never return to the US.  She had planned this for years.  It was the only
way to get Grace back to her home country.  Back in the US, Mr. Green was pretty upset.  His best spy
and top prospect now missing, but this was short-lived as there were plenty of other prospects.  He
figured Grace had just had enough and decided not to return and possibly Nyala did not have the
stomach for it after all.  A few weeks later, Mr. Green received a large manila envelope, postmarked
from the Sudan.  He opened it to find several eight by ten glossy photos.  The pictures displayed a run
down, dilapidated room with dirt, filth and garbage strewn about.  Each photo also had several
different men engaging in sex with a lone female on a filthy mattress in the middle of the room.  Other
men were standing around most naked from the waist down, watching or photographing the male who
was engaged.  Mr. Green noticed in several of the pictures that not far from the mattress was a chair.  
Draped over the chair was a pair of jeans and a white thong.  Next to the chair was a pair of boots.  
The clothes looked vaguely familiar.  As Green looked through the stacks of pictures, he noticed that
there must have been at least 20 to 50 different males who would be engaging the female.  As the
photos progressed they became much more pronounced on the female.  It was then that Green was
taken aback.  It was Grace.  Green noticed a look of absolute shock on her face.  Her body was filthy
and had been totally ravaged.  In just a few months literally hundreds of militia had stopped over and
got off on and in Grace.  It was an ironic end but one in which Nyala would enjoy frequently as she
often stopped by to watch the festivities and view vids and pictures later in the evening while sipping
a martini.
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Comment from: Grace X
Date: June 3, 2012

Eyes honey, this is one intense story! I was very impressed with your strong
attention to detail and characterization...the whole story just crackles with a
harsh energy that is so compelling! I thought my fate at the hands of Nyala (or
the plastic bag and strap-on of Nyala, lol) was very sexy indeed. I've just been
dying to go by a fiercely sexual bagging.

I must confess I had to "cover my eyes" a bit at what came after that, but it
was very consistent with the hard tone of the story, and a fitting end. Thank
you hon, I am so impressed with you as a writer! I told Othello I definitely want
this one in the anthology!

XX Grace
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Comment from: Nighthawk
Date: June 3, 2012

My friend thank you for your story, You did Grace proud, and I thoroughly
enjoyed reading of her demise, a very will written, and intense story.

NH

Vern
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Comment from: Robert
Date: June 3, 2012

Very well done, Eyes! Initially, I thought that she had been asphyxiated. That
was prior to reading the last paragraph, backed by the last line of the next to
last paragraph. So basically she was tied and fucked to death, over months.
What a horrible way to go!

Sometime I may have to research the most likely cause of death by this
method (I'm no doctor). I would imagine that after a time, there would be no
vagina left, only a raw wound. From there, it would only be a matter of time
before infection and/or gangrene manifested and took its toll.

For as long a human beings have been on this planet, I'm sure that more than
once, someone has died in such a way.

A male might be similarly killed by many, many, many females. First a more or
less permanent erection would have to be induced, perhaps with some
derivative of Grace's pharmaceuticals. That would be the most difficult
problem. Otherwise prosthetic surgery might effect a permanent erection
(Allow time for healing). The skin on a penis might be tougher than a vagina
but wouldn't hold up against the unending parade of vaginas. Eventually
death might likewise be caused by infection and/or gangrene. The question
is: How many women would want to sit on an infected or gangrenous penis?

Back to the pharmaceuticals, I'm sure that unending priapism itself would
eventually cause death, even without the sex.

I've heard of a Brazilian banana spider that can cause death by priapism, so
perhaps the only necessary pharmaceutical aid would be a spider! Having the
spider directly bite the penis should suffice. After any given bite, another bite
could be induced should the erection subside after a time. The women could
even use condoms. Again the priapism alone could eventually cause death
with no need for vagina friction to erode the skin of the penis.

Now that would make an interesting story: Have Grace X employ a Brazilian
banana spider towards her helpless male victim. Can you imagine a man's
horror, tied to a bed as he watches her bring on the large, heavily fanged and
hairy spider? Of course, she'd just have to tell him what would be happening
to him! Wouldn't she? These spiders are exceptionally poisonous though, so
the man would likely first die from the venom itself that causes paralysis and
asphyxiation. Okay, for the story to be realistic, the man eventually
succumbs from the venom but our Grace still gets to ride him (with a condom
of course).
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Comment from: egeek
Date: June 16, 2012

well while not a story theme I'm into, the story did have depth. Which is
always a good thing. The sipping of the martini mentioned at the end reminds
me of james bond. This story got me thinking about a fantasy killer I created
called the red diamond. A hit woman of sorts.
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