Problems

You slam your cock into Mary's tight pussy, the nymphomaniac shaking with every thrust of your hips, every pull on her hair, every slap of your palm against her ass.

"Please Daddy, cum all over me-EEE! Make me dirty like the - aaah! - naughty little bitch I am! Oh God, Daddy, I'm cummingggg..."

As Mary shudders against the kitchen table, tears leaking from her eyes, you pull out and spray your load all over her, coating her tattered schoolgirl shirt with your spunk. You reach over her limp form and pull her sodden braid back, lifting her chin.

"What do you say?"

"Th-thank you Daddy," moans Mary happily.

"You're welcome, sweetheart," you grin. "I'm always happy to give you what you deserve - although I don't recall why you deserved it this time."

"I forgot to tell you about the... repayment deadline tonight," the redhead mumbles dopily. You lift her by her braid to meet your stern gaze, to which she giggles. "There isn't enough money in my account, and Lucio says my parents will get beat up if I'm late paying him." She loops her arms around your neck, pulling herself closer, so her lips brush yours. "I hope you don't mind... Daddy."

"Wait," you say, putting her down on the table. "Who is this Lucio guy?"

Mary, still high on the afterglow of sex with you, explains that she took a few long-term loans when she was entering adulthood - the sort that stay off-the-books and come at a very reasonable rate. Under the threat of being exposed for tax fraud, she was roped into taking more money from them, using explicit photos of herself as collateral. But her collateral was never returned, and the interest on the loans adds up. Now she's indebted to this particularly shady group of loan sharks, who aren't above beating up a few family members to get their money on time.

"You've got to be kidding me," you groan, kneading your forehead. "I know the motorbikes, and the house upgrades were expensive, but you've been taking money from criminals?"

"I know," giggles Mary. "I've been a naughty girl."

You stare at the half-naked woman in despair.

"So basically we've got to find some money, quick, or Mary's parents get beaten up," frowns Carly.

"Let's go fight them off then," says Ben, attempting to crack his knuckles. When they fail to make a sound, he grins awkwardly. "They'll think twice about calling again if they meet us."

You shake your head. "This is something I want to tackle properly, if at all. I don't want Mary's family in the line of fire for this. No, we need to scrape together enough money to make Mary's payment, and we'll hit the gang afterwards. So, does anyone happen to have £50,000 lying around?"

Deathly silence.

After several seconds, Rachel's phone buzzed. "Missfire," she reports, scrolling through the alert. "Well, I assume it's her. Three residential tower blocks are on fire - it looks like she's on a rampage. Michael, I'm sorry but we need to help these people - and it might be our only chance to catch Missfire."

You frown, thinking quickly. "Okay. I'll try and come up with something for the payment. Sparrow, you lead the rest of the team to deal with Missfire."

Everyone leaps into action - Carly heading for the garage, Rachel and Ben for their suits - but one of them doesn't move.

"Are you going to be okay during the daylight, Holly?" you ask her, curious as to what she's thinking.

"I've got my arrows," she says distractedly. "Listen, Michael. I think the solution to your problem is pretty simple. Take the money from the people who don't need it. Think of it as... wealth redistribution."

You raise an eyebrow. "From the wealthy to the gangs?"

Artemis steps forwards, eyes flashing. "That's why we have to take down this Lucio, and their whole organisation. We can't be heroes if we're held to **** by criminals."

You nod confidently. "Don't worry. You're right, about all of it. In fact, I happen to know just who to visit for our money."

You walk through the atrium of the bank's headquarters, ignoring the stares and whispers your Alpha Man suit attracts. You walk up to the reception desk, stepping in front of an attractive brunette, whose eyes seem glued to her monitor.

"Welcome to Crescent Banking, I'm Abigail, how can I help you?" she says, fingers flying over the keyboard. Her blonde colleague sitting next to her nudges her with an elbow, causing her to look first at the blonde, and then up at you. Her mouth drops. "A-Alpha Man, it's an honour, sir!"

"Please," you smile charmingly. "I was hoping to speak with your chief executive officer about the Contortionist, and whether you have any information that could help me track her down."

"...Yes," says the receptionist eventually, her chest visibly rising and falling as she gazes at your chiselled abs. "I'm sure that can be arranged. I'll... Jennifer, would you mind calling ahead? I'll escort Alpha Man upstairs."

Her colleague nods, already picking up her phone as she watches the two of you cross towards the lifts. Your eyes, however, are on Abigail's tight-fitting black one-piece, and particularly its rear, which hugs the shape of her ass in a professional yet alluring guise. You follow her into the lift, and stand next to her as she presses the 50th button.

Eventually the receptionist breaks the silence. "I just want to say, sir, that you're very popular amongst the staff here at Crescent."

"Oh?" you say, turning to her. Abigail leans towards you, her hands clasped in front of her such that she pushes her modest breasts together under her white shirt.

"Well of course! I even hear it when I talk to customers. You, Sparrow, Woodpecker and Foxgloves - you inspire us all. Not just because of how you saved our High Street branch - catching as many thieves as you have definitely has the criminals scared. Crime is definitely down - I've even had several customers talking about you!"

"That's very pleasing to hear," you smile. "I'm glad our work is having a positive impact." You can smell her arousal, as she squeezes her thighs together.

The hum of the lift quiets, and the doors open with a soft chime. Abigail leads you down the corridor, to a private waiting room, consisting of two lush armchairs and a grand sofa, all mahogany and leather.

"They should know we're here," says Abigail, again clasping her hands and presenting her chest, licking her cherry-red lips. "Please make yourself comfortable. Is there anything you want? Anything at all?"

You recline in one of the armchairs, and look her in the eye. "A blowjob would be nice."

"It would be my pleasure, sir," breathes Abigail, quickly closing the door and sinking to her knees. Her frantic hands betray her excitement as they search for the join in your suit, eventually finding it and pulling down, to release your cock. You watch as her pupils actually dilate, and her hands give your member a few strokes, helping harden it, as she again moistens her lips. Slowly, she licks her way along your length, gazing up at you, searching for your approval.

"You might not want to take too long, in case I have to go," you smirk.

"Yes sir, sorry sir," apologises the receptionist sincerely, before abruptly impaling her mouth on your huge cock, **** as it blocks her airway. She begins forcefully bobbing up and down, sucking hard on you, making muffled noises every time she gets as far as she can - halfway down.

You shake your head reprovingly. "You'll have to do a bit better than that. We may only have minutes - you wouldn't want to miss my cum, would you?"

Abigail's eyes widen, and she starts slamming herself onto you with renewed determination, tears streaming from her eyes as she forces herself to **** on you again and again, deep-throating you with everything she has. Her tongue writhes around your great column, doing its best to lick every inch of your skin even as it slides in and out of those cherry-red lips. The once-flawless mascara she wore now runs down her cheeks, as she desperately forces your cock down her throat to finally kiss your base, her teary eyes looking up you in a silent plea. Please. Please cum.

You decide to put her out of her misery, and bury your fingers in her tightly done-up hair, lifting her off you. Panting with desire, Abigail opens her mouth, positioning her face under your cock, using both hands to jerk it off at a breakneck pace. Finally you feel the pressure in your prostrate release, as you erupt over the brunette's stained face, coating her once-flawless visage with your seed. Abigail greedily swallows every drop that falls into her mouth, then freezes, a gold film forming over her eyes.

You know you're unlikely to see this woman again, so you keep her hypnotic reprogramming brief. "As a receptionist, your top priority is always your customer's satisfaction. You know you must satisfy them by any means necessary - including flaunting your sexy body, and offering discrete sexual relief to any customer who you suspect might need it. Unfreeze."

Abigail can't suppress a loud moan as she shudders in orgasm, even as she wipes the cum off her face with her hand, then licks it up and swallows it too. She's three-quarters of the way there when the door opens.