Hunter
The Last Mission
By Billy_Ray77
Chapter 3
Manila...
Shit...
Still in Manila.
There was no doubt that he’d been here, but there was the very same absence of doubt that he was now gone. I been pounding the broken, dirty concrete for three days and all I’d come up with was half a dozen clubs missing girls and no idea where he’d taken them.
Sometimes I wish these bastards would do their collecting in more pleasant parts of the world. But, while I am pretty good at making my wishes come to fruition, I couldn’t change the fact that heavily populated urban areas were ideal for anyone wanting to make a handful of pretty young prostitutes or strippers disappear without causing too much of a ruckus.
Since metropolitan slums were the best places for them to hunt their prey, that was where I hunted them.
There were plenty of places in the Philippines that were clean, fresh and beautiful. Manila just wasn’t one of them. Manila was simply depressing.
The trike weaved in and out of the heavy traffic. From about seven in the morning to ten or eleven at night the Manila roadways were heavily congested. A intricate ballet of vehicular pushing and shoving as drivers vied for position and progress. Horns bleated – not out of frustration, but just to let others know they were there. Other drivers responded in kind. During these times, trikes are the only way to travel, next to motorcycles of course – those found it fairly easy to slide between cars and made excellent time. I am a seasoned motorcycle rider and have driven in many different countries – but not in Manila. Driving in Manila was one challenge I was unwilling to take and trikes made pretty good time, all things considered. It was faster than walking, at any rate.
I spotted the bar ahead and told the trike driver to pull over.
I climbed out of the nicely appointed side car and dug some pesos out of my pocket. He’d asked for forty pesos to bring me here. It was more than the going rate, but that was to be expected – he was trying to feed, cloth and shelter his family and foreigners could simply afford to pay more.
Instead of the Philippine currency equivalent of a dollar, I handed him a hundred peso bill and waved another one.
“Babalik ako, sundali lang.” I said, indicating he would get the other hundred if he waited for me.
Turning to enter the bar, I figured odds were even whether or not he would still be there when I came out. That additional hundred would be as much as five or six regular fares and he would weigh the chances that I would actually pay up with the lost income he would incur waiting. I could have ensured his loyalty by using my talent and not the promise of financial gain. But I don’t like doing business that way. I’d rather leave it up to them.
He would likely park down at the corner Sari-Sari store and kill an hour smoking cigarettes, drinking a soda-pop and shooting the shit with the other trike drivers while watching the door. Experience had told me that if I took much longer than an hour or two he probably wouldn’t be there when I came out. I didn’t intened to be that long and if he waited he would make a lot of money, by his standards. I had several stops to make and would give him the same amount at each stop.
I left the grimy, rusted corrugated steel; soot stained, pocked marked brick; crumbling concrete and stinking, stagnant puddles of the street and entered a spottlessly clean establishment.
The Filipino people were like a lot of third world inhabitants in that regard. Indoors and outdoors were often different worlds – at least for those lucky enough to have an indoors.
I always assumed it was a habit formed to defend against the disease and depression spread by living in a dingy and squalid environment.
I looked for the owner. He would be here. He’s always here when the joint is open – he doesn’t trust his employees not to skim the till. It’s what he would do.
I spotted him standing next what looked like a teen-aged boy wearing a crisp uniform, dark pants and a white shirt festooned with patches and a badge. He was carrying an old, beat up shotgun slung with a rope. I wondered if the gun would fire without falling apart. I knew I wasn’t going to give him any reason to find out.
One consequence of abject poverty and little to no government assistance was a thriving security guard industry – which employed many young men who would otherwise be adding to the crime rate rather than deterring it. Don’t get the wrong impression. There were still plenty of young men left for the nefarious side of things.
I made my way through the crowd of revelers and past the sexy go-go dancers in various stages of undress, greeting him as I approached.
“Manuelo, kamusta ka?” (How are you)
His eyes flickered with recognition. A flicker that would not have been there had I not offered that greeting. If I had wanted to go unnoticed, I simply would not have said anything to him.
“Hunter.” he said with some trepidation. He knew what was coming. Fuck him, he would be well paid. “Mabuti. What can I do for you, my friend?”
His English was better than most, but he still had a thick accent and the look on his face said that ‘my friend’ was merely a phrase he was used to using.
“You’ve misplaced one of your girls, di ba?”
I didn’t know for certain that the asshole I was looking for had taken one of Manny’s girls, but it was a good bet. He offered a signing bonus better then most so he could be more selective in who he hired. As a result, his girls were among the prettiest in the Manila skin trade. Anyone pilfering professional pussy in this neck of the world’s woods would more than likely get one from Manny’s place.
His widening eyes told me I had been right.
“Sus! How are you knowing that?”
“Let’s go talk in your office. Sige na.”
He headed for his office like a kid on his way to the woodshed.
“Can you just showing me a picture this time? I am being careful to note every face that come in here.”
“Sorry, you know that’s not how it works.”
It wasn’t his veracity that was in question. It was his memory. Manny wasn’t out on the floor all night long to keep an eye on his patrons, he had bouncers and security guards for that. He was watching his employees to make sure no one was holding back tips or failing to ring up drink orders.
He might have noticed my guy come in, and he might even recognize a picture of the guy, but he wouldn’t remember where he sat and who he talked to. Even if he didn’t recall it, the images were in his mind and I could find them.
It just wasn’t much fun for him.
“Are you ready?”
“O’po.” (Yes, sir) “Get it over with.”
I pushed him tightly into the back of his chair and grabbed his chin to ensure he would not look away. I could read surface thoughts, tinker with his beliefs or push a command without the eye contact, but to thoroughly rifle through what he has seen or heard in the last week or so it was just easier to go in this way.
I sensed his nausea as the disorientation and sense of vertigo this caused took hold. I forced down his impending eruption. I was way too close to let that happen. There were any number of things I could have done to lessen, or even eliminate, this discomfort, but like I said earlier, he was going to be well compensated. So, fuck him, he wasn’t a whole lot better than the animal I was hunting. Main difference being, Manny didn’t kill his girls... physically anyway.
I skimmed his mind like a speed reader skims a novel. It was a fast and efficient way to review a lot of information – but then, there was a whole lot of information and it was about half an hour before I had covered everything.
As he returned to his senses, he noted the unhappy look on my face and winced – he knew what I’d found. Probably why he’d tried to avoid the read.
Fuck him. He’d been warned.
“I thought we’d agreed you were only going to fuck the girls after you hired them, Manny.”
“I was going to hire her... tapos... I found out she was too young.”
“Bullshit. You knew she was thirteen when you interviewed her.”
“No, no... I... she didn’t...” he saw I had no sympathy in my eyes. “But... sobra maganda!” (she was so beautiful)
“No excuse. You’ve got twenty or thirty of the most beautiful women to ever wander into Manila working for you. Fuck one of them if you’re horny.”
Manny’s beautiful women... I hadn’t intended to ask, but my mouth blurted it out without waiting for permission from my brain.
“Elenita around?”
“O-o.” (yes) “She is out doing a short-time right now but she will be back soon. I will let you have her tonight for free if you can forget my... little transgression.”
“I pay my way.” He’d just take it out on her.
I tossed an envelope containing the five thousand peso reward for enduring my abuses and snagged a piece of scrap paper off his desk, writing down my hotel and room number. I handed it to him along with an additional fifteen hundred pesos. Again, a bit more than the usual but I was on an expense account and in my line of work, fucking is a legitimate expense.
“Make sure she’s there by midnight.”
“O’po.”
“Now, Manny, about your little transgression.”
I forced him to sit perfectly upright in his chair, his hands flat on his desk.
“You will find you cannot move from this position for one hour.”
His eyes grew wide as he saw several large, black and yellow banana spiders crawl over the front of his desk and head for his hands.
“No screaming.” I commanded and his mouth snapped shut as he was inhaling a lungful of air.
He was whimpering as I left. His fear of spiders was near absolute and causing a vivid, lingering hallucination was easy. Now, while he still felt like he was going to puke, he was about to shit his pants as well. I wondered which end would win.
About the time the spiders would fade away, so would his memories of me and my abilites – until the next time I wanted him to know me. Maybe the slimy shit would follow my rules a little better if he could remember why they were so important... you know... other than those occasional spider infestations that were mysteriously linked to him breaking one of those rules.
I could simply make him behave, but then I’d never find out if he could be trained – and I wouldn’t get to see that wonderful look in his eyes as the spiders came over the front of the desk.
I wandered through the club, scanning the faces of the girls writhing about on the various platforms and strolling among the customers, mostly foreigners getting wasted on strong Red Horse beer chilling in buckets of ice.
I’ll give Manny this, he sure knew how to pick ’em. There wasn’t one of the girls who wasn’t a wet dream’s wet dream. Full round tits of various volumes bounced and jiggled, wispy thin waists twisted and gyrated and smooth round buttocks bumped and ground to the music. Seductive almond eyes watched customers with a wise worldliness from under sleek, shiny black hair. The girls were always on the look out for a mark that seemed to have a lot of money to throw around. Money was obviously why they were here, but it wasn’t for themselves, at least, not initially.
A lot of these girls were supporting their entire clan.
Of course, most of their families deluded themselves as to where the money the girls sent home every week was coming from. Many of the girls came from the smaller towns in remote provinces looking for work as nannies, maids or store clerks. Despite Manila being one of the most densely populated cities in the world with huge mega-malls, those jobs were hard to find as nepotism was a firmly entrenched hiring practice and unless you had a relative who owned or managed a business, or knew someone who did, finding that sort of job was nearly impossible.
Some got lucky, most didn’t, but they told their families they were indeed working as a maid for some rich guy and sold their bodies to whoever was willing to pay, just to make sure their younger siblings, cousins, nieces and nephews would be adequately fed and could afford to go to school thereby giving them a chance at a normal, non-pornographic life.
That is, until the girls – usually raised in staunchly Catholic environments – were worn down by the debauchery and held back a little money so they could find some temporary escape through one drug or another. Eventually they would be holding back most of it to feed their habit rather than using it to feed their relatives back home.
The extended family would then send out the next eldest girl to look for work in the big city, telling her and all who would listen that she would be working in a store, office or fine home, but knowing, deep inside, what she would really end up doing.
That young girl Manny had fucked but didn’t hire had likely found work displaying herself for internet chat rooms or in one of the bars that didn’t pay such close attention to age limits or, for that matter, common decency. There were some that catered to those looking for companionship that had only recently entered puberty.
Wasn’t my problem. Wasn’t why I was here. These girls weren’t being mind fucked – merely having their desperation taken advantage of. Besides, who was I to criticize? I routinely took advantage of their desperation to satisfy my own hedonistic needs.
I spotted two of the girls who had helped entertain my target while he drank in this bar several days previous.
Slipping a five hundred peso bill to Mamasan, I told her which girls I wanted to buy drinks for and took a seat at a table in a darkened corner. There were a lot of tables in darkened corners in these places.
Mamasan barked out some rapid fire Tagalog and I was soon joined by two heavenly visages atop sleek and enticing physiques.
‘Maribel’ and ‘Anna’ were their names, or, at least that’s what they told me. A lot of girls didn’t use their real names in these places. A long time ago, the customers never bothered with aliases but in the day of the internet and Facebook a little anonymity went a long way.
Nobody wanted the third world hooker they fucked halfway across the globe to start cyber-stalking them with threats to email a certain woman pictures of her drunken husband passed out naked with a Filipina whore. Most likely, the whore in question would get none of the extortion money. That would go to the boyfriend or pimp who had probably already kicked her to the curb.
Again, not my problem.
Sure, all these things were lousy ways to treat any human being, and could even be called horrific when perpetrated upon young, lovely and naïve women such as these. But it was how human beings had treated each other for ages and it wasn’t going to change just because I played a few mind tricks.
Besides, that treatment was nothing when compared to the brutal mind rape and torturous murder perpetrated by the son-of-a-bitch I was hunting.
I bought the girls their drinks. That was what their job was supposed to be – getting men to buy them overpriced, watered down drinks so they would sit and flirt with them.
We chatted for a bit while I used some tricks I hadn’t used on Manny. They never even knew I was in their heads.
I guided the discussion around to other customers they had sat with, as the various memories flitted across the top of their minds, I waited for a particular face. Anna had the most recollection. Probably because Mirabel was well on her way to spending most of her money on drugs and booze.
I beckoned for the exquisite Anna to sit on my lap and looked deeply into her eyes. This would have given her the same discomfort it had given Manny had I not first cross-wired the paths that relayed such information to the brain. What she felt was a mild euphoria.
I watched through her eyes as the Bundy roughly groped and fondled each girl in turn, babbling on about what a great time they would have if he chose to take one of them with him on his vacation. First her, then Maribel and finally a third exotic beauty, Jenny. He had taken Jenny with him as he left, not bothering with the customary ‘bar fine’ – a fee paid to the club that supposedly would cover what the girl would have brought in had she not left work early – how early never mattered. During the evening, Anna had, several times, glanced down at the brochures he’d lain on the table. Brochures for some of the nicest resorts on the island of Boracay.
Anna wished he had taken her. He;d been throwing around money like he was rich, he wasn’t bad looking, and she’d always wanted to visit some of beautiful smaller islands of her country; having never been out of her remote jungle province until she came to Manila, and, like I said, Manila is just depressing.
If only she had known what really happens to the women that guy took. She would have caught the next bus back to the rice fields and never ventured forth again.
At least now I knew where I was going.
I pulled out of her mind but continued looking deeply into her gorgeous, exotic eyes. There was still a certain innocence in them, along with the sultry worldliness of a girl who knows her way around a man’s anatomy.
Her tight little ass sitting on my cock had it swelling and she must have felt it – and liked it. I could feel her ardor rising and she wiggled, ever so slightly.
She had that special something I looked for in a girl – enthusiasm.
My hands roamed freely up and down her lean curves and I momentarily considered bringing her with me – she had what it takes. She would have a nice time – one way or another – and I would make sure it would be lucrative.
Perhaps.
Slipping each girl a couple hundred peso notes, I thanked them for their time and left. Manny hadn’t come blubbering out of his office yet so I hoped I hadn’t lingered too much more than an hour and that my ride was still in the vicinity.
Moments after I stepped out of the club I heard the whine of a small motorcycle engine and saw a familiar trike speeding up the street towards me.
Now that I knew where my prey had bolted, he wouldn’t make as much carrying me around, but my night wasn’t over yet. Elenita was the second girl I had arranged for the night and I figured I would need at least three.
I briefly considered Anna, but I didn’t like using two girls from one place. Familiarity could inhibit the wanton abandon I needed, and some of the things that can happen during one of my orgies could make it awkward for the girls to work together afterward.
I found Isabel at the second place I looked. There was no shortage of gorgeous women with enticing physiques, but, in case you missed it, I looked for a particular attitude. It sped things up.
Beth, the first girl I had contracted with, was waiting outside the door to my suite when we arrived. I let them in and, starting some dripping jazz, I took a seat on the sofa to watch them dance, making some mental adjustments as they spun, writhed and slowly peeled off what little clothing they wore. Despite my concentration, the graceful movements of the two sex kittens had my member fully engorged in no time.
A soft knock on the door announced Elenita’s arrival.
Opening the door, I caught my breath. It didn’t matter that I had known her for over two years, I was always surprised at how beautiful she was. Her jet black hair hung in loose rings nearly down to her perfect round ass. The corners of her sultry dark eyes crinkled with happiness as dazzling smile greeted me. Her stunning beauty easily dwarfed the two women who had just peaked my ardor so quickly.
Before I could regain my senses her full breasts were pressed against me as she gave me warm hug.
“I’ve missed you.” she whispered.
I felt a pang of guilt, knowing that I had tried to avoid even seeing her this time. I knew my time in Manila would be short and as far as I was concerned, it was a lot easier to not see her at all than to say hello and goodbye in the space of just a few days.
Before I could say anything she moved over to the other girls, introduced herself and joined them in the dance. She knew what it was for.
When it was time for her to be a professional whore, she was a professional; when it was time for her to be an amazing young lady I enjoyed spending time with, she would be that too.
I quickly finished my adjustments and withdrew from their minds. Primarily suggestions to relax and allow themselves to enjoy the sex. Feelings and emotions such as anxiety, guilt or even disgust were rerouted to induce euphoria, quickly eliminating inhibitions. My real guilty pleasure was the final command. The only command Elenita would get – she didn’t need the others. For her, sex with me, regardless of any other participants, was always joyous and uninhibited.
The three lusty nymphomaniacs now needed my cum like they needed to breathe. They would imagine it the sweetest nectar and long for it to pass over their tongues. They could think of nothing more rewarding than to feel it jetting, thick and hot, into their quivering pussies. It was more than the bodily fluid, however. To feel my body tensing, my balls twitching and my buttocks clenching as my seed surged forth would fill them with a joyous satisfaction. They would feel the pleasure of my orgasm almost has powerfully as I felt it.
By now they were all naked. Firm breasts that would fill my hands nicely, tiny waists and round hips promising tight, snug little pussies for my thick cock.
I kept them dancing as the anticipation grew until I was shivering with need. Opening up an empathic channel with each girl, I beckoned them to join me. The sexual thrill and excitement I would feel would be transmitted by this link to each girl – but it wasn’t a one way street.
Elenita took the lead, engulfing me in her warm, talented mouth while the other two sexpots snaked in under my arms to caress my chest and sides with their soft, full tits.
True professionals of the highest caliber, they were attentive lovers, wanting to quickly figure out what most pleased this particular man. As they each took a turn sucking my cock, it became apparent the Elenita had the inside track and they followed her lead.
She knew of my ability, but the other two wouldn’t know exactly what it was they were feeling, just that they felt pleasure whenever they were involved with me being pleasured.
My tongue was buried in Isabel’s dripping snatch, I could feel her pussy swell as her orgasm built. Elenita had my cock buried in her throat, her tongue dancing along the length making it more and more difficult to hold back my orgasm. With Herculean effort I stave off the inevitable as I redoubled my efforts on Isabel’s sweet sex.
With a series of squeals, Isabel was tipped over the edge and I got what I was waiting for.
The bliss I felt through my empathic link triggered a rush of endorphin-like chemicals in my brain. Peptides that act as links between the other endorphins that would soon flood my brain. It was an unintended side effect of the chemical and electro-shock treatments I had undergone to boost the power of my abilities as I went through tracker training.
At least that’s what the neuro guys told me. The result was that the normal endorphin rush I would experience during orgasm would encounter these peptides and join together so that four or five could connect to each receptor with the effect being intensified in proportion.
The other effect of sensing her orgasm through my empathic link during a time I was so close myself, was that I immediately fired thick gooey streams of cum down Elenita’s throat. The incredible euphoric rush I felt moments later was practically dizzying in it’s intensity and sudden onset.
They felt it too, not as intense, but they were getting stoned on sex as well.
The downside of of my unique brain chemistry was that the endorphins supplied by each of my orgasms were exhausted four or five times faster. Thus the need for more orgasms in as short a time as I could manage... a couple girls, who looked like these, and wanted my cum badly enough, could fill my brain with those endorphins until it couldn’t hold any more. That was where I wanted to be.
Now you know why I looked for a certain attitude. A woman who already found it easy to enjoy a good portion of the sex part of their business. I could get them there, but it was just easier if they were halfway to the goal to begin with.
As they cooed and sighed in afterglow, they discovered another benefit of my condition – absolute control over my erection. I allowed things to occur naturally whenever possible, but after a massive orgasm like the last one, I used that control to ensure I stayed fully engorged.
The girls had felt my orgasm and the subsequent buzz – and they liked what they felt. It was, after all, their primary goal. Elenita shared my spend with the other girls. Something they may or may not have ever considered doing before. Any reservations regarding tongue kissing another girl and sharing a mouthful of cum merely heightened their euphoria thanks to my rewiring job.
That meddling ensured that they would enthusiastically participate in whatever behavior would most expeditiously bring forth the next offering of cum until my brain was saturated with endorphins.
That was my addiction. A wanton, hedonistic abandon that constantly begged me to push the boundaries of morality, test the limits of decency and discard all propriety while engaging in primal debauchery with beautiful young women.
Elenita was used to my ever-engorged member and quickly guided Beth over to wrap me in her tight, lush pussy. I pulled her down and suckled at the nape of her neck as Elenita gently kneaded my balls in the way she knew drove me crazy.
I honestly do not know how many orgasms I had; such was the rapture I felt. It began as a mellow narcotic high but adopted a certain hallucinogenic quality as the supply of endorphins in my brain increased.
The heavenly friction of a soft mouth or tight slick pussy on my swollen manhood became accompanied by a fiery rainbow river flowing through the room or a blizzard of sparkling lights.
After a couple hours, the narcotic effect overwhelmed all others and the entirety of the world had been reduced to delightful sensations on my cock, a swirling gray mist, muted sounds and a pair of eyes. Dark, lovely... loving eyes.