Gender: Male Age: Secret Location: N/A
|Introduction: A gang rape story told in pulp style|
The woman was loud. Once on top of him, she reached with her hand between her legs and adjusted his cock so she could stick it up her cunt. Sliding up and down, she started moaning really loud. Her arse was slamming against his thighs, rhythmically, as his balls jumped up and down.
The guy put his hands on her buttocks, probably trying to gain some control over her movements. She seemed to like it and the pace of her riding now came to synch with his moaning. In truth he seemed somewhat overwhelmed with her passion and content to just come along for the ride. Not really a stud, more like an oversized schoolboy having more luck than wits this evening. His entire vocabulary seemed to has shrunk to just ‘ah’ and ‘God’ for this occasion. In turn, hers was considerably richer. She was a lot louder than him, also, moaning and yelling in complete contrast with his somewhat passive approach to sex. ‘Oh GOD! Yeah, that feels so good!! Oh, God, I love it, I love your cock inside me... Oh, YEAH, deeper, deeper, oh GOD, that feels so GOOD!!’ Her hips rocked really hard all the while, up and down, up and down, grinding against his crotch like a machine spinning out of control. Her rich hair flew all over the place as she banged her head in what seemed to be perfect sexual ecstasy.
“She’s overdoing it a little”, mumbled Frank.
“Ah… There is no way to satisfy all people all the time”, said Alan taking a look at his wristwatch. We were slightly behind schedule but it went without saying that we were within acceptable limits and with acceptable reason. “Would you prefer her play dead the way your wife does?”
You usually don’t go around making jokes about Frank’s wife. Most people know better than to do it. Alan is one of the few people I know who will piss in Frank’s porridge when they feel adventurous. Him and Frank go way back and there are obviously perks that come with the mileage.
“I’m just saying”, maintained Frank. “I mean, he’s obviously being mister I-just-need-some-good-night’s-sleep there and the bitch is going in seizures.”
“The girl’s a pro”, said Brian, not without certain admiration in his voice. “She’s just being professional. She’s just giving the dude what he paid for.”
“Yeah, well, does this sound professional to you?” Frank asked.
The woman alternated between deep, guttural moans and some real sexy hard breathing, all the while spinning her pelvis in nervous, tight circles.
“Why not? Eh? Eh?” Brian wanted to know.
“Aw come on”, Frank was trying to make his point. “Does that sound NATURAL, eh? Surely, there has to be a thin line between being a good actress and just being plain embarrassing, no? If I was that guy, I’d punch the bitch in the face and make her apologise for the sorry act she is putting up.”
“My dear friend,” Alan smiled. “If you were that gentlemen down there, the lady would have been punched and spitting blood minutes ago with no good reason I might add, called names and instructed to stay on her hands and knees during the entirety of the intercourse.”
Frank nodded absentmindedly, his thumb stroking the chrome of his piece. I could imagine the thoughts in his head right that moment but I decided not to. We had work to do.
“I can’t believe you guys!” Brian despaired. “The lady just does what she was paid for. That’s what being professional is all about. The guy pays for loud moans. Hell, that’s what gets him off – loud women in bed. Makes him feel manly and good. And the girl indulges him. To you it sounds fake and overblown, to him it’s perfect. I mean, do you hear him complain? No!!! That’s what I’m talking about!!”
“That guy”, said Frank, checking his piece out, “That guy probably wouldn’t complain if she turned out to have a cock and pissed all over him to boot. I mean, for Christ’s sake, look at him, he’s lucky to be able to afford this kind of pussy as it is.”
That was a little harsh. Our man was surely not the studliest person in town, what with his belly-out-of-control and receding hairline and thick rimmed glasses and all, but as far as middle-aged businessmen go, he could surely do a lot worse. Plus, of course, with the kind of money that he was able to throw around (more on that in a minute) he could certainly afford someone at least half her age with a boob job and some nice tattoos as well.
“So, Grant, what do you say? Bad acting or just acting tailored to customer’s wishes, what’s the verdict?” Brian was determined to defend his point until the end.
I looked at my wristwatch.
“I say we better remember the real reason why we are here. Voyeurism is a lovely pastime but does it pay bills?”
“Oooh, you’re such a spoilsport, Grant” purred Alan. “Since when have you become such a coldhearted pro, eh? Once in a while this job of ours gives us some unexpected bonuses and mister glasseye here suddenly comes all professional on our arses.”
The ‘glasseye’ comment was related to my camera rather than to my contact lenses, in case anybody cares. I am not even sure Alan is aware I wear contacts.
“No, the kid is right” said Frank, snapping out of his philosophical silence. “We are here to do the work. And all this talk about professionalism is no good if we don’t remember that we are supposed to be professionals too. What say we make our presence known?”
He got his gun up and pressed the door handle down. Alan and Brian also pulled their pieces out and lined up behind him. I got my camera ready. It occurred to me that I could have filmed some of the scene before we interrupt the couple in the room behind the glass door but then again, nobody would care about footage featuring our man Mark banging some old broad. What I was about to film would be what I was asked to film. Professionally.
“Alright, ladies,” whispered Alan, “Lets crash this little party!”
This job involves a lot of yelling. I assume it has to do with basic psychology. I mean, the fact that four armed men just crashed into your apartment, stepped into your bedroom, interrupted your love scene and apparently mean to ice you on the spot should be intimidating enough. Still, somehow it just wouldn’t feel complete without yelling. It’s not about him, it’s about us. I guess we feel stronger that way. Harder, more dangerous.
Frank was the largest of us but Brian was the loudest. Brian can look very threatening when he wants to. His shaven head somehow marks him as a thug much more than what Frank’s bald spot does for Frank. I guess Brian is just a bit more self-conscious about losing hair than Frank. Frank probably belongs to the bald-men-have-more-testosterone school of thought. Which is fine. I mean, I don’t think I know anyone who’d be stupid enough to doubt Frank’s testosterone levels. Not even Alan on a bad day. You don’t do that. Frank’s broken more other people’s fingers than you’ve seen in all Mafia flicks in your life. He’s also shot dozens of kneecaps off. Frank is not without a sense of humour but you’re better off counting that he’s left it in his other pants most of the time.
So Brian yelled these really ugly things at our man-of-business Mark. Really scary, threatening shit. OK, I imagine that being hit on the head with a barrel of a gun, repeatedly, helped the matters to some extent. The guy was pulled off the bed, pistol-whipped and yelled at in the first ten seconds after we crashed into the room. The woman was brutally pulled off him and cast aside like a sack of potatoes. Brian saw to that, so he could get a good swing at Mark. After they pulled him down to the floor it was time to use their feet. The guy was trying to protect his face because that’s where he was hit with their guns first but that meant his lower regions remained unprotected. Alan and Frank were doing this stuff for years, you could tell by the way they effortlessly slipped into a complementary tempo of kicking the guy on the floor, each from their own side, making sure he couldn’t curl into a ball that would grant at least some protection to his ribs, testicles or belly.
The best way to intimidate someone is to catch them with their pants down. That’s thug manual 101. I believe they teach this shit at cop schools as well. If they don’t, they should. In our case, the man’s pants were way down, all the way to his ankles. Literally. For whatever reason, he decided to keep his shoes on, as well as his shirt and tie, even though he was in his own home, having sex in his own bed. I guess it was all about the magic of the moment. Not stopping the filming of the violent ordeal he was subjected to, I looked into the direction of the woman. Oh, she also had some of her clothes on, alright. She was screaming in complete terror, confusion and fear. Of course, she had no idea what all this was about. I’m guessing that even Mark was not yet coming to terms with the situation. That was no problem. There was time. After the boys finish beating him to a pulp they’ll have a civilised conversation. My guess is that Alan will do most of the talking.
“Alright!!” said Alan. “Alright, that’s enough!!”
Brian understood perfectly but Brian is one sick, violent motherfucker. Brian swung with his gun once more and hit the poor guy across the face, across the hands he used to protect the face, across the head. The blood hit the floor. Once again.
“Right, that’s a good lad, I said that’s enough. Calm down now.” Alan was smiling. This was all part of a many times rehearsed play. These guys were one tight, well oiled machine. I was the new addition, the upgrade if you like. But these guys, on their own, they were perfect at what they were doing: hurting and scaring people, getting the deals done, making forgetful remember, extorting money, information or confessions from men and women alike. Getting a cameraman to film the proceedings was a new idea someone came up with for more important jobs where you wanted to have a piece of footage to make the victim aware their humiliation is preserved for the general public or select individuals, should the need arise. So far it seemed to be working to everyone’s pleasure (with the obvious exception of the victims). And it pays the bills too.
Brian stepped back from the bloody pile of flesh and bones on the floor. Even though Mark received some severe beating during the past minute or so, he was conscious. Make no mistake about it, all frivolous talk aside, these people are professionals. The victim was supposed to be hurt, scared and brought to serious pain, but also to be left conscious. There was talking to be done and if you whack a guy on the head one too many times, you’re left with no participants for your little chitchat.
“OK, get that sack of lard up” said Alan.
Frank and Brian pulled the near-lifeless guy off the floor and into a sitting position. Alan gestured towards the side of the bed and that’s where they promptly positioned him. Frank got a pair of handcuffs out of his pocket and it took him no more than five seconds to have Mark’s hands cuffed to the leg of the bed.
The guy was a mess to say the least. His face was bloody, bruised and swollen. He was shaking his head left and right, probably trying to get the blood out of his eyes. He was spitting blood as well and also what I guess were little pieces of his teeth. I got some great shots there. Professionals, across the board. Each in their chosen trade.
Mark’s penis was dangling between his legs, in a rather sorry state, I might add. Whatever erection he must have had while his woman was riding him was long gone, due to the change in circumstances. I imagine that being kicked in the nuts by Frank will have similar effects on anyone.
“You comfortable there, sport?” Alan asked, his accent betraying his noble British origins. “Can we have a word with you now?”
The woman, though, she was completely out of control all this time. I can’t say I can blame her for anything. She just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. She was trying to make an honest buck by fucking this overweight jerk and by the sound of it she was really investing a lot of effort into it and then the things went sour through no fault of her own. Hopefully she was paid in advance because the way things look now, I don’t see our pal Mark reaching for his wallet any time soon.
So, she was out of it. Screaming and sobbing, trying, pathetically to cover her nudity with her hands (although why she did it is anybody’s guess. It’s not like we didn’t see more than a fair share of it before we decided to join the happy couple). I imagine that in her panic, she was trying to decide whether to make a run for it, but then again, there were four big, ugly males between her and the only way out. Big, ugly males with guns. So all she did was cower in the corner and scream.
“Somebody shut that bitch up” said Alan not even looking her way. “We need to have an honest conversation with our boy Mark here and we can’t have that with somebody screaming at the top of their lungs.”
“Want me to ice the bitch?” asked Frank. “It’ll be a pleasure.”
“No need to get THAT drastic, old bean, not yet. A simple plea for a more controlled behaviour will suffice”, smiled Alan.
Brian, who else, was happy to oblige him. I felt a sudden surge of fear. Brian is not known for his subtlety. He got his gun up.
“Man...” I started. If he was to whack her on the head the way he whacked that poor sod on the floor, he’d kill her.
But he wasn’t. Instead he stepped up to her and grabbed her hair. The woman was apparently so scared she never tried to get away from him or defend herself.
Brian put the barrel of his gun at her forehead.
“Bitch, just shut up, OK?”
He tugged her hair back, violently, to underline his message.
“OK? I asked you a question, bitch!!!”
The woman closed her eyes tight and tried not to make any moves. Not so easy when you shiver in fear, I guess. She nodded, slightly, as if afraid that anything more pronounced would tip the scales into the wrong direction.
“yes… please… just, just don’t hurt me, please…”
Her whisper was in stark contrast with the way she behaved just a few moments ago. Perhaps Brian was right all along. Professional service.
“Darling, I wasn’t paid to hurt you” Laughed Brian. “I was paid to hurt him.” He gestured towards Mark with his gun. “You just sit tight and watch the show. If I decide to hurt you after all, that will be entirely my good will and in no way my professional duty. You dig?”
The woman opened her eyes, tears rolling down her cheeks. I felt a little sorry for not directing the camera her way. This would have made for a fantastic shot. But, as Brian would say, I wasn’t paid to film her.
“no… please… please… please, don’t hurt him, please…” She was kneeling in a very strange position, her head pulled in between her shoulders, but still looking up into Brian’s face, pleading with him. Real strange. On top of that she was pleading for her customer now. A whore with a heart of gold? I thought those were the stuff of myths.
“Oh, what’s it to you, darling, eh? What the fuck do you care if we hurt him or not? You should be worried about your own safety here, girl. You didn’t exactly pick a good night to do your business here. If I were you I’d be seriously worried what happens to me now, but that guy? He’s just a couple hundred bucks to you, so sit back and enjoy, this won’t take a minute.”
But the woman shook her head, more tears trickling down her cheeks.
“no, please, you don’t understand… I… we…”
I think that Brian was genuinely hurt as the realisation that his theory about her professionalism was wrong dawned on him.
“Is that right? Is that right??” An evil grin appeared on Brian’s face. “Well, well, well, what do you know… I think this evening just became a little more interesting, eh?”
“People, if we’re all done with the pleasantries, I suggest we focus on business” said Alan, as if we were all supposed to sit down and share a bowl of peanuts and some soft drinks. He turned towards Mark, himself still moaning softly from the beating he just received.
“Now, you there, lardboy, can I have your undivided attention?”
If Mark managed to focus on Alan, he didn’t really show it. So Alan asked Frank for help.
A whole new dimension of pain must have opened for Mark when Frank stepped on his foot and started grinding it into the floor.
“That’s OK, boyo, don’t have to sweat it, I think our host here will be with us now.” Alan was the quietest of all three of them. That naturally made him the one to lead all the conversations they needed to have in this line of work.
Mark was still trying to get his breathing under control when Alan continued. Brian was still standing next to the kneeling woman, the barrel of his gun touching her temple. His grin was sick. Sick.
You don’t fuck with Stan the Man.
OK, let me rephrase that. In a perfect world, no one would think to test their luck by doublecrossing Stanley Leigh. People would pay Stan his dues, people would stay true to their promises, people would do their jobs and everyone would be happy. In a perfect world the three of Stan’s thugs we have here would be without work. Because nobody would fuck with Stan the Man. Then again, as if you needed to be reminded, we don’t actually live in the perfect world.
What Mark did was really stupid. And I mean it. The guy is stupid, there’s no two ways about it. It’s not just that he thought he could fuck with Stan the Man, but that he thought he could actually fuck with Stan and just get on with the business as usual. That’s what proves his stupidity. There are people who will go out of their way to fuck Stan up and these people will usually plan their actions and map their ways out and do what they can to ensure Stan doesn’t come after them. Not so with Mark.
Mark is the stupid kind. Mark is the businessman-cum-politician who, surprisingly still doesn’t understand the way things work. Mark is the kind of guy who thinks that you sit with the gangboss and have a pleasant chat about the investments made in the city area just to pass the time. He also thinks that you take the money the gangboss offers and pretend you got it because the gangboss in question likes you as a person (or a politician?). He also thinks that you can then just go on as if nothing happened.
So when the business deal you were paid for (under the table) doesn’t go the way it was supposed to and then you don’t return your phonecalls, you must be aware you did something wrong, right? Wrong, in Mark’s case. Mark meets with Stan the Man’s assistant, actually they “run” into each other at one of the city’s cocktails and this assistant explains to Mark that Stan is not too happy about Mark taking the bribe and then doing nothing about it. Mark seems to have some kind of brain disease because Mark denies ever having any kind of deal with Stan. He smiles for most of that conversation and explains to Stan’s assistant the ways shit works in city politics. Stan’s assistant is not impressed. He asks Mark to excuse him and gets on the mobile phone. Stan gets the sitrep. Stan calls Alan.
And there we are.
Mark’s stupidity is reflected the most in the fact that he, most probably, doesn’t even understand that he’s done anything wrong. He probably genuinely thinks that Stan gave him money to maybe try to put in a word or two for Stan’s case. He probably did put in a word or two, then when the deal didn’t get through, he shrugged and thought that some you win some you don’t.
Of course, that’s not how it works. In a perfect world you wouldn’t have people stupid enough to fuck a gangboss over and then pretend nothing happened. Our boy Mark here is just that, an evolutionary blind alley, an overgrown boy hoping that no one will notice when he screws up. But it was noticed and the forces of natural selection are here to do their job.
Frank works on Mark’s fingers. That’s what he usually does. Kicking the poor, stupid sod in the nuts worked like a charm as an appetiser but Frank is old school.
The bad part is, of course that we’re here just to rough him up. We’re not here to extort money or names or secrets. We’re here to show Mark what happens when you don’t come through for Stan. We’re here to give him painful memories, preferably in the shape of small fractures, so that next time Stan talks he actually listens. The business deal is history, but Stan likes to invest into the future.
“That’s how you’re supposed to see it, old boy” says Alan. “An investment. Stan doesn’t want his dough back. He wants you to prove you were worth the trust in the first place.”
Mark tries to get away from Frank, but Mark is cuffed to the bed, his trousers and pants still dangling around his ankles.
“NO!! Please!!! Please!!!”
Frank has the look of a weathered professional about him, as he takes another of Mark’s fingers and works it around. Mark’s words dissolve into random screaming.
The woman in the corner now moans louder, sobbing and choking on her tears.
“please… please, my God, no, please.. please…”
“Steady there, darling” says Brian smiling. He likes this, he does, I know he does. “Let the boys play the way they like. We’ll get down to your case later, don’t worry.”
I hear a threat, a real threat in what Brian says. I know Brian. OK, I am technically a rookie on this team, I don’t even technically belong to the underworld (now imagine how many others out there will say the same thing given the opportunity). The truth is I’ve had some problems over here. And being British meant I could count on Brits lending a helping hand. So I ended up taking video footage for a group of mob thugs, headed by a Brit, and being paid good money to do it. I am trusted and I am taken care of. And I don’t need to hurt anyone. It could be worse, no?
But the bottom line is I know Brian. I have seen Brian do things to people. I know when he makes threats. You think Frank is bad, but Brian is worse. Frank is violent and ugly but Brian and his shiny bald head, Brian is fucking sick. He’s going to hurt her. And, whore or not, this sorry bitch hasn’t done anything really bad. I can only hope Brian stays professional enough and remembers his own words: he wasn’t paid to hurt her.
“So, Marky, I hope you’re following the plot so far”, says Alan. “I’d hate to think that all this effort and painful learning process goes to waste. Mister Leigh pays us top dollar, as you say in this country, to make sure that lessons learned stay learned. And that the painfully gathered knowledge doesn’t linger unused but gets applied when due. Is all this getting to you, old boy? Am I making sense here or do you need my assistant to reiterate all this for you?”
The assistant here being Frank of course. And Mark is quick enough to swim through the river of pain he must be drowning in right now to come with a proper answer.
“no… no… I understand. I… I … made a mistake… I made some really bad decisions…”
“Bloody well right, old boy, I see you’re starting to see the things our way.” Alan smiles and lights a thin, long cigarette. I always have to resist the urge to tell him that those look too feminine for someone in his line of work. “I can only hope you’ll put your money where your, admittedly smashed mouth is and are not just saying these pretty things to make us happy. Because it’s not us who you want to make happy, you diggin’ it, old boy?”
Mark nods. His face is grotesquely swollen and black and bloody.
“I know… I know… It’s Stan the Man… It’s Stan…”
Alan makes an overemphasised gesture of surprise.
“Good golly! Mark! Boyo! I hope you’re aware that what we do here is being filmed by our faithful glasseyed boy over there. Every word we say is being preserved for the generations to come, Marky. Surely you are aware that Mister Leigh takes somewhat understandable pride in being addressed by his proper name and not by his nickname, like some comicbook character.”
Mark probably gets what Alan is aiming at. But before he can reply, the woman in the other part of the room cuts in. Brian still has his gun aimed at her head and I am not sure whether she’s courageous or just plain mad for doing what she does.
“Enough!! Please!!! Please!!! Let him go, let him go!!!” Her voice is broken, strained, harsh, somewhere between blind panic and blind determination. She is courageous, I decide. She is courageous to speak like this when it’s plain to see she’s trembling in mortal fear.
“What more do you want from him?” She continues screaming. “You made your point!! You hurt him, you humiliated him, you had your say!! What do you want!!! Let him go now!! He’s hurt!!! He needs medical attention, leave him alone!! Just go!! GO!!”
The last word is stretched into a desperate scream. But then this scream is cut short by Brian.
Depending on the perspective, you could say that the woman was lucky. Brian hit her really hard with his fist and knocked her down to the ground. Then he hit her once again, again using his fist and then he kicked her. The lucky part refers to the fact that he didn’t pistol-whip her. I have seen Brian do this to people. Not something you want to dwell on after lunch, while trying to have your afternoon nap.
“So, bitch, you really need to learn when it’s in your best interest to speak. Let me tell you: this was not the time.” Brian said. “But I’d lie if I said I’m not glad, because now you’re given me the excuse to do this.”
“Man, don’t…” I started, but too late.
Brian pulled the woman up by her hair and slammed her into the cupboard to his right. She made an awful lot of noise hitting it and falling to the floor. Some noise also came from Mark but he was making noise anyway the last half an hour or so. I looked Alan’s way. If anyone here has the power to stop this, it’s Alan.
“Alan, for the love of…”
Alan gets his finger up. I know better than to keep talking.
“Remember the rule laddie: no first names. You just broke it. Try not to get anything else broken.” He keeps his voice down but that’s because he can. No need to yell at me. I know when I am fucked. “I suggest you get behind your camera and keep track on the events here.”
Not much else I could be doing right now. I shut up and turn the camera towards Brian. Why Alan chooses to let this go on is beyond me. But I shut up.
“OK, whore, now we’re going to have a little talk, you and me.” Brian enjoys his tension-releasing moment. He’s been hoping for this break all night, I am sure.
He reaches out to bring her up but she is now in sheer blind panic. She is kicking and screaming and scrambling on the floor, trying to get away from him. I am sure he loves it all. Her fear, her panic, her helplessness, her efforts to get away and realisation she is cornered. The thrill of the chase, in a way.
“Oooh, you like to play hard to get, I love that” he says before he starts kicking her, brutally, savagely.
I can’t watch this. I look in Alan’s direction, then in Frank’s. They both watch in silence. Alan is smiling. Franks is grim as usual. Mark is crying.
I can’t watch this. How can they?
Brian pulls the woman up by her hair. Then slams her against the cupboard once again, her face now smeared with a mixture of blood, tears and make up. He doesn’t let her fall back to the floor, though, but keeps her up.
“Now…” he whispers into her face. I can imagine the smell of tobacco in his breath. “Let’s try and get to know each other. I don’t like to get intimate with strangers. You first. Who are you?”
It’s easy to imagine that her first reaction is not to give him her name, address and social security number. In fact all she seems to be able to say is ‘no’, half whispered-half screamed, over and over again.
“I asked you a question, whore!!” Brian whispers back. “Don’t test my patience!!”
He pulls her head up and shoves his piece under her jaw. He pushes the barrel upwards until she is looking straight into his eyes.
“You are not a prostitute, are you?”
The woman is shaking. Under other circumstances, that would look funny. At least the word ‘no’ now has some more meaning.
“no… i.. no… i’m not…” she closes her eyes and presses the eyelids together tight, then reopens them. “I am not a prostitute. I am his…. His…”
Brian is visibly angry but he’s visibly having fun. The worst combination I can imagine about him.
“His girlfriend, eh?” He spits the word with a disgusted smile on his face. “You two are in love, eh?”
The woman is crying. Is it the pain or is it the shame? She nods.
“Oooh, isn’t that cute?” says Brian with a huge, fake, sympathetic grin. “They are lovers!!! They take long walks in the park and they make love when the night smells of magic!!!”
He winks at Alan and Frank and they both nod back. They all seem to be having fun. Alan was not joking. Our job here is done but they are not immune to having some fun at work.
“please…” whispers the woman.
“Ask her for a name, will you”, says Frank.
“And, what is your name, if I may ask, whore?” says Brian, pushing her jaw with his gun once again. “I like to know the names of people I fuck up. Call it an eccentric habit if ya will.”
She closes her eyes once again and the shivering becomes even more pronounced.
“What? P what? Pam? Pamela? Peggy? Penelope?”
“Pandora?” says Alan, grinning.
“Paloma”, says Frank with a solemn expression on his face.
The room goes quiet. Alan turns to Frank.
“Paloma? Does she look Mexican to you?”
“Paloma means ‘dove’. She looks like a dove somewhat”, says Frank, his expression unchanged. “Her hair, it looks like a pair of wings a bit”, he explains.
Alan looks at Frank. Brian looks at Frank. The woman cries uncontrollably.
Then Brian turns to her again and tugs at her hair again.
“So, bitch, you’ll solve this mystery for us or do I have to knock some of those teeth out? I don’t mind if I do, might make for a more interesting blow job!!”
“please…” she finally manages to spit out. “please… let us go, let us go, please…”
Brian thinks this is funny. Brian laughs.
“Let you go? Let you go? But we didn’t even have any fun yet, Paloma.”
The woman tries to suppress her crying.
“Susan… It’s Susan…”
Another grin on Brian’s face.
“Susan? Susan?” he pulls her hair again, until she is looking straight into his eyes. “Susan, tell me, have you ever had Jewish cock in you?”
I can hear my own heartbeat in my ears. I look at the scene through the camera and it’s like reality TV gone awfully wrong.
“please…”, she whispers. She knows. She knew for quite some time, of course. I knew it as well. I just hoped I was wrong, for some reason.
“Is that a yes or a no?” asks Brian. Then he asks again. By putting the barrel of his gun into Susan’s mouth.
“Nod if you understand, bitch. You keep this shit up and I’ll splatter your fucking brains all over the wall. You dig?”
Susan is shivering hard. But she manages to nod. She is looking straight into his eyes. Probably too afraid to close hers. The fucker will pull the trigger. I know she knows.
“Fine. Now, I’ll ask again. Have you ever had the pleasure of having Jewish cock shoved up your worthless old pussy?”
What kind of fucking question is that? Do people actually keep records?
Susan shakes her head. For a second I think about this. Saying ‘yes’ would probably make Brian even more pissed off. So she’s made a good choice. Marginally, though as we all know how this ends.
“Well, well, well, is this your lucky day or what, Susan? You’ve been rescued from some exquisitely bad fucking and are just about to taste the finest Jewish manmeat currently on offer. Do you feel privileged?” Brian pulls her hair violently and takes the barrel of the gun out of her mouth so that she can speak.
But Susan is shaking her head.
“…please don’t please don’t please don’t…”
Brian lets go of her hair so he can slap her. He does it violently, brutally. She hits the cupboard but before she can fall to the floor, he’s all over her again. He pushes her against the cupboard and pushes the barrel of his gun into her face.
“Enough of this shit, whore, I am tired of your whining!!! Either you play along or you say goodbye to your face right now”
I look at Alan. The fucker is going to do it, for Christ’s sake!!!!! Alan is smiling.
“OK”, says Brian. Oh, shit, he’s going to do it.
“Wait, wait, please… Please!!!” Susan screams in panic.
“Oh, you remembered something you had to say?” asks Brian. “Too fucking late, whore!!! Say goodbye.”
“No, please, WAIT!!! I DO, I DO!!!”
Brian turns towards me with a big grin on his face.
“See? The voice of reason finally speaks. Make love, not war, as I always say.”
That’s not what he always says, but this is not the time to remind him, no.
I try to reinject some sense into the whole thing. I look at Alan.
“Um... I am not sure…”
Alan looks at me, silently. He waits for me to finish the sentence, smoking and enjoying the show.
“I’m not… I mean… This… Come on, man… This is not what we’re here for. This could get us in trouble.”
Alan’s voice is menace incarnate. Wrapped in barbwire, then coated in honey.
“There will be no trouble unless you cause it. And trust me, you don’t want to. Not now, not tomorrow, not ever. Now let the man have his fun. The job’s done, this is his spare time. Don’t ruin it for him or he’ll be cross.”
Calling Brian cross is such an understatement. The man is practically a sociopath. And he loves it. As I continue to video the scene, he gets a pair of handcuffs from his jacket.
“Now, Susan, you and I are going to have some fun now. I imagine it might be somewhat more fun for me than for you but obviously this is just because I know how to kick back and have fun. You, on the other hand strike me as a partybreaker type, you know? Get your fucking hands on your back, NOW!!!”
Brian pushes her face down towards the floor and grabs her arms, pulling them behind her back violently. The woman resists, thrashing and screaming but it’s all utterly futile.
“That’s the reason I think it might be for the best if you were allowed to be just a passive receiver of pleasure here. Somehow I think this is what you’d choose, given the opportunity.”
The cuffs click. Her hands are now restrained on her back.
“Now then. That’s more like it!!!” Brian puts his hands on his hips and inspects the results of his efforts. He looks pleased. Alan and Frank are making themselves more comfortable. Frank sits on the bed, next to Mark putting his arm around Mark’s shoulder. Susan’s head is down on the carpet.
“You filmin’ this boy?” asks Brian in that special tone of his voice. My camera was pointed at him all this time. I nod silently.
“Sweet. I’m not just doing this for my own pleasure here. We’re going to make an educational video here. ‘How to treat a dumb whore’ or something. But I’d like to say a few words for the news at eleven before we start.” He looks directly into the camera now and clears his throat. “I just want to say how glad I am to be working with these guys. You can say what you want about cultural differences but personally I don’t mind them being British at all. They are pros, the job is good, we have a few laughs from time to time and”, he turns towards the woman on the floor “and the unexpected bonuses you get along the way are fun!! I mean, look at this piece of pussy we have here. Old, yes. Used, yes. But there’s still some untapped potential in this person. The potential I intend to unlock and release. She’ll thank me in the end.”
With these words he pulls Susan up to her knees. He points at me.
“The camera’s there, sweetheart. Say hello to your family.”
Susan is crying. Big, huge tears are coming down her cheeks, messing up whatever is still unmessed about her face. He turns her towards the camera but she is trying to turn her face away.
“Now, Susan, this is not nice” says Brian. “If I didn’t know you better I’d think you were shy. But mere minutes ago you gave us an absolutely stunning performance. All that moaning!!! It was impressive!!! I can only hope you’ll do the same for me. I like my women loud and voluptuous!!”
He pulls her hair to the back so that she raises her chin up. She still refuses to look into the camera.
“Now, bear in mind that your friends and family will be watching, you want to give your best performance.” He tugs at her hair and forces her to look into his eyes. “Are you married, slut?”
Not something you necessarily feel like sharing with a thug who is sexually assaulting you. Then again, that thug has a gun pointed at your face. Susan nods, drowning in tears.
“Excellent!!” exclaims Brian. “So hubby will be doubly pleased!!!” He leans towards her and speaks into her face. I can see little drops of his saliva falling on her skin. “Not only he’ll have the evidence of his slut wife cheating on him with that sleazy fuck back there, but he’ll also see her receive her deserved punishment right here on the spot.”
He turns towards me again.
“This must be what they call poetic justice!!! A slut fucking behind her husband’s back ends up being fucked right in front of her lover. And he won’t have a problem with it!!! Am I right, Mark, old boy? Am I RIGHT?” The question is asked with the gun being pointed at Mark this time. The fat fuck looks even more miserable than before. He is trying to make his head disappear between his shoulders. Clearly, he doesn’t know what to say.
“Speak now, or stay silent forever, sleazebag!!!!” says Frank, slapping Mark on the side of his face. Then he also points his gun into Mark’s ear. “You OK with that Jew over there fucking your bitch or are we gonna have a problem here?”
“n-n-n-no…” whispers Mark in the end, his eyes shut tight, his whole body trembling.
“I think you have the man’s blessing, my boy” says Alan smiling. “Now get on with it before the lady loses interest.”
Brian doesn’t need more encouragement. He doesn’t let his gun go, but he unbuttons his trousers and pulls his penis out. It is very hard, its head purple and swollen with blood. He jerks it off with his hand, showing it to Susan.
“Look at it darling, just look at it!!! Is this going to make the hubby at least a little jealous, eh? Then again, after you went out and fucked the fatboy the way we all saw you do, maybe he’s already used to having a whore wife, eh? What say you give my cock a little welcome kiss, eh?”
He moves closer to Susan and starts slapping her face with his cock. The woman is trying to move away but there is really no room for her to manoeuvre. He is very aroused, very violent and very determined to have her his way. She is shaking her head left and right, trying to delay the inevitable.
“please, please, no, please, no, I can’t, not like this, please…” I can tell Brian is getting even more aroused from her pleading. He slaps her with his cock and breathes heavily. “please, please, have mercy, I’m a mother, I have sons, I can’t do this, please…”
Not that it makes a difference. Except that it does to Brian.
“Oh, sons, you say? How lovely! You love them very much, I am sure. They’ll be thrilled to learn their mother is a whore, I am also sure. Come on now, mommy, let’s show your boys how you give a good, old-fashioned blow job to this fine Jewish gentleman here!”
He pulls her face up. She moans. Then he pushes the barrel of his gun between her lips and into her mouth.
“Listen, whore, I like games to a certain extent. But at some point you have to stop playing games and do the work for real. You hear me?” He pushes the gun deeper into her mouth. I hear Susan make a gagging noise.
“What I can do now is squeeze this trigger here and splatter your fucking brains all over the floor, you understand that?”
“Good. And then it’s bye-bye to your hubby, your sons and your fat, ugly lover. I am sure you’re a no-good slut that no one will really miss, but you must value your life a little more than this.” He looks into her eyes. She looks back. I have never seen a look communicating helplessness in a clearer way and I have filmed quite a few sessions with this gang. “So, when I take this barrel out of your fucking mouth now, you will gently receive my cock in its place and give it due attention. Do we have a deal? Do we?”
I am not sure whether Susan nods or not. I am too busy realising that I am getting hard as well. This is not something to be proud of, so it’s best to keep it our little secret for now.
So, as Brian pulls the gun out, he places it on the cupboard and grabs Susan’s head with both hands. Then he rams his cock into her mouth, down her throat. I see her eyes shutting tight. I see the veins on her neck straining. I hear her gag and choke.
“Oh, yeah!!!” exclaims Brian as he fucks her face with violent, nervous thrusts. “Oh, baby you love it, I know you do. This is what I needed, ahhh, yeah!!!”
Susan is pinned to the wall, kneeling with her hands cuffed behind her back, her head firmly held by her rapist as he slams his cock into her mouth. She is screaming, I can hear muffled, raspy noises she makes around Brian’s cock.
“The boy gets zero points for style“, says Alan, shaking his head and lighting a new thin cigarette.
“But you can’t fault his enthusiasm” replies Frank. Unlike Alan, he does allow us all to see he is aroused by what is going on. He is massaging his cock through the fabric of his trousers. There’s no question about it, if Susan lives through Brian’s treatment, Frank will be taking over.
“I love this shit”, says Brian, his breathing heavy. He pulls out of Susan’s mouth. “You love it to baby, don’t you?”
Susan’s face gets additional smearing with all the saliva and cock juice Brian slaps onto her face.
“Tell me!!!” he insists. “Let me hear it!!!!”
She doesn’t. He slaps her. Once, then once again. Her head snaps violently to the right then to the left, her hair now looking less like wings of the dove I imagine.
“Bitch, you still don’t seem to be getting all the rules here!!!” Brian shouts at her from about an inch distance. “Let me hear you say it and you may live through this yet!!!”
But her answer is definitely not what he wants. Her eyes are closed, more tears gushing from behind tightly shut eyelids, loud sobs and cries coming out of her mouth. So Brian punches her.
My heart skips a beat. Susan falls to the floor. The sound, the sound of Brian’s fist colliding with her face… It’s… sick… And all I can think of is how fucking hard I am.
“That’s OK, we can play the game that way too!!” shouts Brian. “You could have had fun but since you decided to be a bitch about it, I don’t intend to be nice any more.”
With these words he pulls her up to her knees and then pushes her down, face first to the bed.
“Hi there, Susan”, says Frank as her head is laid next to him. “Be nice to my friend. He’s just a big baby, really.”
“Over here, boy”, says Brian, pointing me to where he thinks the best viewpoint should be. I should tell him the light is not really perfect there but what’s the point…
Susan screams and thrashes as much as she can (which is to say not much) as he penetrates her from behind. He gets hold of the handcuffs and pulls her back onto his cock as his pelvis works back and forth. Brian is like a fucking rabbit after all. I didn’t need to see this. I didn’t need to see this at all.
And then on the other hand… Seeing this woman so helpless... Hearing her plead and scream, as Brian fucks her from behind, breathing heavily like a boar… It’s a shame to even think. But it makes me so fucking aroused. It’s so fucking embarrassing and I hate myself for it. I hate Brian too. I hate all of this shit. Why? Why is this happening?
Brian doesn’t have any of these dilemmas it seems. Nor do Alan and Frank who clearly enjoy the show. I have to wonder how many times this sort of thing happened before… As Brian grunts and barks on top of the poor woman they are cheering and supporting him. Not that I can’t detect a certain amount of sarcasm in their loud cheers, but Brian doesn’t seem to notice.
He pushes into her. And pushes and pushes and pushes and grunts. Susan’s voice is harsh and broken from screaming. Brian grabs her hair and pulls her backwards and up.
“You love this, bitch!! You love it! You love it! You love it!” He shouts in synch with his thrusts. “I knew you were a horny slut the moment I laid my eyes on you fucking that fat fuck over there!!! You are a slut, born to be fucked, born to be ripped apart like a ten dollar whore!!!” He grabs her breast with his free hand and starts squeezing. Susan’s screams develop a fresh angle as her nipple gets crushed between Brian’s fingers, then pulled into several directions. “Does it hurt? Does this hurt, slut?” asks Brian as he is apparently attempting to part the nipple from her breast.
The only answer he gets are her screams. Then he joins, screaming in a strangely savage, bestial voice. He slams into her violently, pushing her down to the bed again.
“Here it comes, Susan!!!” he announces. “Your sons can look forward to having a brother or sister in foreseeable future!!!”
The he just starts screaming again as the twitches of his body tell me all I need to know. He is coming, he is filling her cunt with his semen. Not fucking nice. Not at all.
I don’t know… I have never had to hurt anyone. It’s Alan, Brian and Frank. Those three do the hurting. Those three shoot people, break their fingers. It’s them who are thugs. I am just the camera guy. The glasseye boy.
And when Susan looks up, after Brian pulls out of her with a sigh of deep, spiritual pleasure, she looks my way. She looks straight into the camera. Straight into my eyes.
I am not a thug. I am not. I don’t hurt people.
“It was about fucking time”, says Frank, getting up from bed. “For someone fucking like a rabbit you surely talk a lot, Brian.”
Apparently, Alan doesn’t notice Frank’s broken a no-first-names rule. Some animals are more equal than others, it seems.
“Fuck you”, says Brian but spitting these words through smiling lips. He lights up a cigarette as he buttons himself up. “I needed this shit, man, I needed this shit. A brief distraction from the dull everyday grind working class has to endlessly endure.”
He sits next to Susan and speaks to her in an almost friendly voice.
“Yo, bitch, this was a great stress reliever. Hope it was as good for you as it was for me.” He sucks on his fag, then blows the smoke into her face. “I’m sure from now on you will appreciate the special feel Jewish cock brings to a woman.”
“You don’t know how to shut up, do you?” asks Frank. “Now watch and learn, kid.”
You’d think that a woman who was already raped by one of the world’s most sickening violent bastards will just accept the situation and try to go for minimum damage. After all, by now she should understand. These people kill people. These people hurt people like her (and me…) every day and then they walk away talking about their wives or their kids or their cars or their DVD players. You’d think she’d just absorb it all in and just shut up and go with the flow and wait for it to end.
You’d think wrong.
Frank unbuttons his trousers, unbuckles his belt and pulls it out. Then he rolls his trousers and pants all the way down to his ankles. And I thought Mark looked comical. No one here will openly laugh at Frank, though, Alan included.
Frank’s cock is very hard, which was expected after all the dry jerking he’s done while Brian fucked the woman. He pulls the foreskin as far back as it will go and spits on the head, like a porn actor or something. He has the look of a weathered professional going through the motions. I am sure this doesn’t mean that he practices with his wife a lot.
He positions himself behind Susan and this is when she starts kicking and screaming again.
“No!!! Get off me, let me go!!! Let me go!!!!”
She is in no position to make any demands but she wriggles and thrashes and does as much as she can to let Frank know he is not wanted.
I wipe my forehead. When the hell did all that sweat come out? Why is she doing this? Does she not understand? This will only make Frank treat her worse. I catch myself whispering ‘just shut up and take it, you stupid bitch’ over and over again.
“Let me go, you fucking bastard, LET ME GO!!!!” she screams as Frank pushes her down on the bed. I don’t know… This is a display of courage that I should admire. But I feel like stepping up to her and smacking the stupid bitch on the mouth. For her own good. Does she not understand she needs to shut up?
“Whoa, Frankie!!” says Brian puffing on his cigarette. “The girl doesn’t seem to be interested in your particular brand of goods.” He winks towards the camera. “After all, being banged by yours truly often has this effect on ladies. They lose interest in other men. Not your fault, old boy, not your fault at all.”
Frank doesn’t seem to be as emotionally hurt as Brian clearly is trying to make him. He has a simple solution to this.
Putting a knee in her back, he forces Susan down on the bed and keeps her there. She still thrashes but she is effectively immobilised under his knee. Then he pulls his belt from out of his trousers and makes a noose. Then he pulls her hair backwards so that her head is lifted from the bed. Then he puts the noose around her neck.
“Now…” he says calmly, addressing Brian. “Watch and learn about style, Jew-boy.”
He pulls on the belt. Susan’s screaming turns into a choked croak. He pulls on the belt. Now there’s only sickening, quiet hiss coming out of Susan’s mouth. He pulls on the belt, lifting the upper half of her body from the bed. I look through the lens of the camera and I see the face of ultimate horror.
Susan’s face is bursting. It’s red, her veins full of blood, her eyes almost out of their sockets. Her mouth is gaping open, yet no sound comes out of it. And no air comes in. Susan is choking. I close my good eye. I close both my eyes.
And of course, I open them both again. As Frank miraculously aims with one hand and penetrates Susan, still not letting go of the belt. Susan’s whole body shakes, tremors running through it. Cuffed and choking, she is completely and utterly helpless. The rape is happening here and now. She is conquered in entirety. This is the sickest fucking scene I have ever taped and I have been running with this pack of animals for more than half a year now. And despite me closing my eyes, I can’t… I can’t stop watching, I can’t stop filming. I can’t stop having a raging hard-on in my jeans.
My God… My God, I don’t remember being this hard for years as I watch Frank starting to fuck the woman. Her face, her face… She is dying, she is dying and when he penetrates her, there still is a slight change in the expression on her face. A new colour in the painting of superb agony.
“Agh, you fucking bitch”, grunts Frank, his pelvis working methodically up and down. “This is how you need to be treated. This is how all of you need to be treated.”
“Man, your treatment is going to make her check out early, I’d say”, says Brian, still smoking. He’s sitting on the bed, next to Susan, relaxed and amused, as the woman five inches from him is being raped and strangled. He comments on her likely death as if he’s speaking of weather conditions for the next weekend.
“No, Jew-boy, they’re tougher than they look.” Frank adjusts his position behind Susan and relaxes his grip on the belt. Susan’s head falls forward to the bed.
I can hear loud sounds as she greedily inhales the air. I also see spit trickling down from her mouth and onto the bed. She was just granted an extension of life by her rapist. He keeps slamming into her with characteristic relentlessness, pulling on the cuffs holding her wrists together. Now that her throat is back in business she produces horrifying screams. Either Frank is considerably larger than Brian (which didn’t seem to be the case. Not that I looked that carefully, thankyouverymuch.) or he has a more formidable secret technique under his belt. Then I make a couple of steps to the right, panning to catch more of the action and I realise. Frank is buggering the poor woman. This is why he spat on his cock. This is why she is screaming like that. She sounds like an animal being slaughtered.
“You’re a proper pervert, old boy” says Alan. “Since when has arse become a destination of choice for real gentlemen, eh?”
“If you think I’d stick my oldest friend into her pussy after those two guys”, says Frank “You’re delusional. I don’t want my sperm to mingle with Jewish sperm. Might catch some bad manners.”
Brian doesn’t seem to care about Frank’s constant racist remarks. He doesn’t react to any of them. Not directly, that is.
“That’s interesting how her voice changes as you pull on that belt, Frankie. You play her like some music instrument there.” Brian smiles and has another puff on his fag. “It almost makes up for your inferior rape technique.”
He then grabs Susan’s hair and pulls her head up. She is shaking her head left and right, violently but he manages to keep her still enough.
“Here, let me chip in with my own two cents. See how the bitch reacts to this.”
With those words, he presses the burning end of his cigarette onto Susan’s breast.
The earsplitting scream follows. Alan and Brian both laugh aloud. Obviously, they think this is mad fun.
“Awww, man, that’s hilarious”, says Brian. “If I may say so myself. You think so too, whore, eh?”
“NO, NO!!! PLEASE, NO!!!” she is screaming and struggling to get away from the new brand of torment.
“Come, on!!!” Brian insists. “You’re a big girl. How bad can this hurt, eh?”
He sticks the cigarette into her breast once again. This time he holds it there, pushes it in, twists it. Susan is screaming, screaming, screaming and thrashing. But her arms are cuffed on her back and she’s being held down by a rapist fucking her in the arse. I can’t watch this. I can’t watch this.
But I do.
Brian sucks on the cigarette. The burning end glows with joy and menace. He applies it.
There are ugly, painful looking marks on Susan’s skin. Three, now four of them. Her throat probably looks similar. With all the screaming she is doing, it’s probably all fucked up now. A hoarse, horrible shriek is what now passes for her voice as Brian goes for her other breast.
“Is this fun or what?” asks Brian no one in particular. He twists the cigarette that he buried into Susan’s skin. Then he pulls it out and presses it onto her nipple. The body thrashes like mad.
“I’ll give you this, Jew-boy, you have your moments” says Frank, breathing heavily. “You should feel how she tightens her ass around my willy when you do that!!!”
And Frank fucks her and fucks her and fucks her, sweating like a pig and slamming into her as Brian keeps burning her nipples with his cigarette. And Frank not only sweats like a pig, he groans like a pig too. He loves this. He loves splitting her in two and hurting her and choking her.
And I am still hard. And seeing Frank gradually lose control is making me even more aroused. Oh, God… He is going to come… He is going to pump her arse full of his redneck semen any moment now. And I could go next. I could be the next in line to fuck her… I could take this helpless, fucked up woman any way I want. Sure, I am not exactly one of the gang here but I know they wouldn’t mind. I could stick this hard, throbbing, wooden friend of mine into her cunt and there’s nothing she could do about it.
I can’t believe myself. I can’t believe I am thinking this. I can’t believe I feel like this. I am sorry, Susan, I am sorry. But you’re such a hot slut. Such a hot, fuckable bitch…
“Are we there yet, old boy?” asks Alan as if to remind Frank that there’s this matter of orgasming into his victim’s arse. His unnatural calmness and quiet amusement disgust me almost as much as my own arousal.
“No, unnnghh, not like this” says Frank, breathing heavily. He delivers a couple of final brutal thrusts, making Susan scream painfully each time he pushes into her. Then he gets up, holding his cock in his fist, just like porn actors do. He lets go of the belt and walks the awkward pants-around-my-ankles walk around the bed.
“Open your mouth, whore!!!” he orders, pulling on Susan’s hair. His other hand is pumping on his cock furiously.
“Open that FUCKING mouth right now!!!!!!!” The man not really famous for his patience is on the edge. “I want you to look good for the camera, bitch!!!! Don’t ruin this moment!!!”
“Here, let me help you, bro”, says Brian.
I know what he will do the second before he does it. Because, yes, I am as sick as Brian is. I am…
Brian twists both Susan’s nipples between his fingers. He pulls and twists them savagely, brutally, with obvious pleasure.
Instinctively, Susan throws her body forwards, to reduce the pain. Also, she opens her mouth to scream yet again. Effectively, she throws herself on Frank’s cock. And he helps her, by pulling her hair and sticking it deep into her mouth.
“Awwww, that’s some enthusiasm there, whore. After all the hesitation you actually DO want to suck your own shit off my cock, eh?”
He fucks her mouth as hard as he fucked her arse. He sticks his cock in there right up to the balls. The woman gags as it goes down her throat but now he has both his hands on her head and refuses to let her pull back. He makes violent, spastic movements, pulling his cock only halfway out and slamming it back again into her throat. Even though the belt around her neck is loose enough, Susan is still chocking, this time on Frank’s cock. Her breathing is loud, her cries of pain are muffled and horrible, the gagging makes fluid come out of her nose and mouth. Franks doesn’t seem to mind any of it, au contraire.
“Is the taste up to your liking, eh, bitch? You like eating your own ass off my cock, eh? Answer me!!!”
Frank pulls out and holds her head up so she can look into his eyes. His cock is obscenely hard, spit and sticky mucus dripping and hanging from it.
“Tell us, bitch!!! These people here would like to know your opinion!!! Your family and all our viewers would like to know: do you find your own ass tasty?”
I wipe fresh portion of sweat from my forehead. Brian leans towards Susan with a smile, his gun once again in his hand. Miraculously, this alone does the trick. She gets the message, for once…
“yes… i… i do…” she whispers. It is among the most fake of confessions ever made and everyone in the room knows it.
“Tell me more abut it, please, it sounds so interesting”, says Frank. “I don’t think I have met a slut as filthy as you before. Hell, being a fan of hard lovin’ is one thing, but being a fan of your own poo poo is another.” He looks into the camera, still stroking his nearly-bursting cock. “I guess you meet all kinds of people in this business. But after all, who am I to judge anyone?” He shrugs and jerks Susan’s head as if to remind her it’s her cue. And Susan speaks in that broken, hurting voice.
“i... i… oh, god… i can’t…” she closes her eyes as more tears roll down her face. Then she seems to be remembering the nature of the relations in the room. “i… love the taste of my own ass on your big, hard cock… i loved how you fucked my ass and… and… please, please” her voice trails off as spasms take over and she starts crying uncontrollably.
I guess the proper description for this scene would be to say it is heartbreaking. To see a person, a woman so thoroughly stripped of any notion of dignity, so completely at mercy of a group of… thugs… rapists… It’s heartbreaking. But it’s not my heart as much as it is my penis reaching its breaking point with every passing heartbeat.
And when Frank just pulls her head onto his cock again, I can almost feel every move he makes in my own groin. He fucks her mouth, shouting, grunting, like a boxer using last atoms of his strength. He fucks her mouth, holding her head with two hands, sticking his meatpole all the way down every time, slamming his balls against her chin. Her face is a mess of makeup, bruises, tears, spit… His is a grimace of ultimate effort. His lips are curled back and his big teeth are on display, he’s sweating and the veins on his temples are bursting with blood. I zoom in on his face for a few seconds. It’s such a display of effort, of hard work. Frank doesn’t take this thing lightly. For him, this is about proving something. I am not sure what or to whom but there is no doubt about it. His determination is born of hate rather than love, that much I can tell.
And he comes, but not into her mouth. I hear him shout as his voice transforms from a deep grunt into a high pitched shriek. He loses control. He slams into her mouth all the way down and then pulls out, screaming. One hand keeps her head at the desired level. The other finishes the job in style. I zoom in. Thick gushes of sperm fall on Susan’s face. The first one hits her cheek and rolls down across her lips. But the second and third one travel higher. They fall on her hair and on her eyelids. They fall on her forehead and nose. Frank masturbates furiously swearing and shouting. More semen follows, adding to the mess Susan’s face already is.
“I have to say”, Brian comments, smiling, “this is a spectacle of sorts. Some money-shot you got there, big man.”
“Frankie there has been watching too many dirty flicks to miss the opportunity to star in one himself. He’s doing it like a pro, I daresay.”
Frank jerks and jerks and jerks himself off until every last tiny drop is shot into his victim’s face. Susan’s eyes are closed and even with all the shit going on I can see she is crying. Yeah, right. As if the tears could wash Frank’s cum off… As if the humiliation can ever be washed off… She’s a marked woman now. I should know, I have it all on tape right here. And that makes her even more desirable for some strange reason.
“There, slut, now you look the part”, says Brian, his satisfaction almost tangible. Like he did all this work, not Frank. “Nothing like some cum on the face to signify one’s status, eh? A decent woman wouldn’t exactly let others see her this way, yes? Let alone being taped for all the world to enjoy, eh?”
You’d think Frank should be the one to deliver the final verbal abuse here but he is too busy pushing his now softening cock into the woman’s mouth. He is urging her to suck it clean, of course. Some clichés are clichés because they are true I guess.
“Boys will be boys”, says Alan with a sympathetic smile. “Can I have you over here Grant, please?” he is rummaging through what looks like Susan’s purse. It’s full of small stuff – make up, keys, smaller purses, but Alan fishes out her wallet.
“Excellent, let’s see what we have here.”
He urges me to zoom in on his hands as he eviscerates the wallet.
“Credit cards, eh? Nice. Please Grant, can we have this on tape?” He continues pulling stuff out of it, throwing every item away after I have taped it. He puts her driver’s license up with a grin.
“There it is, our girl’s ID, please make sure you get all of it, boyo.”
I do. I remember everything as well. I can cite it here and now.
“Excellent”, Alan says and drops it to the floor. “Now can I have the slut’s attention for a moment here? That is if you are all finished, my dear friend.”
Frank is finished. Because Alan says so. I am not sure what else would he be doing with Susan if Alan wasn’t around but he is finished. He grunts as he packs up his tools and zips up.
“Smashing”, smiles Alan, gesturing at Susan. Brian is enthusiastic as ever and he pulls her hair backwards, forcing her up and to her knees. He keeps her head pulled back as she is required to look up towards Alan as he speaks to her. I am behind Alan, taping the conversation.
“Now, my dear woman, I’d like to have a word with you. Fear not, it is going to be quick and then you can go back to what you like to do the most – which, judging by the evidence supplied - is whoring. “
Brian giggles. Frank throws himself into a comfortable armchair in the remote corner.
“I am sure that even in your obviously confused head, there is certain understanding of the situation here.” He waits for the reaction but there is none. Susan just sobs and shakes her head left and right. “Right. Now, as far as I can tell, you seem to be in the state of high sexual arousal, which is what one expects from a slut. Even so, how ever your thick, slut mind slow may be, it might have actually noticed that you have been raped by two people this evening and that there is more to come.”
“You getting’ all this, bitch? Eh?” shouts Brian, jerking Susan’s head. “You getting’ this?”
I think she nods. I’ll have to play the tape back to be sure, but it doesn’t matter because Alan goes on.
“So, just in case you are entertaining the idea of informing the police department on us after we are done, let me tell you something. Frank and Brian here, they are not nice people. For all I can tell, were I not present, either of them would have put a bullet in your fucking head right after raping your arse. In Brian’s case, he would have probably shot you exactly the moment he’d be orgasming.” Brian laughs as if it was his father saying something cool about his baseball skills. “So, the only thing keeping you among the living right now is the fact that I am here and these lads know I am against the excessive use of force.”
Alan leans towards Susan, probably to make his point come across better.
“So, my dear woman, after we’ve had our fun, we will most likely let you go. I admit, you’d probably feel a little damaged and all, but the very ability to feel is what separates us from inanimate objects, right? However,” he makes a significant pause here. “Should you decide to go to the cops with some overblown story of a bunch of people taking advantage of you, you should know that you are dealing with professionals here. And I mean it in a good way, darling. If coppers were able to put us behind bars, they would have done it ages ago, I can assure you of that. So it would be the most futile exercise. And now that we have your personal details, be certain that the moment we’d learn about you playing a snitch, your family would get a less than pleasant home visit. You understand what I am saying here, darling?”
She shakes her head left and right, in helpless rage and frustration and cries more of those tears that make so fucking sexy.
“You... you…” she struggles to find words but of course, all she can come up with is “i… understand”
“Splendid, darling.” Alan is all smiles and roses. “I knew you’d see it from the right angle if only someone took the time to explain it to you properly.” He gestures at Brian to remove the cuffs from her wrists.
“I want to reward your good will here with a good will gesture from my side. From what we have seen before arriving to the scene, you and our friend Mark here were in the middle of passionate lovemaking. Too bad it had to be interrupted, but when business calls, for a true professional there are no excuses.” Alan’s voice has this weird, mesmerising quality. I am almost forgetting the situation we are all parts of here. There is pleasure in just listening to him speak. I remember one of my teachers in primary school… “But, being a professional doesn’t necessarily mean you have no soul. It seems only fair to allow you two little lovebirds to finish what was started.”
I am keeping the camera on Susan’s face but now I am looking at Alan. Did he really say what I think he said? He has to be joking, right? Then, one look at Brian’s face and the grin that gets wider and wider tells me all I need to know.
“Of course, seeing that you actually just had your fun, with two men no less, to me it seems only fair to have the balance reinstated. So, assuming you decide to be a good girl here, we’d like to have you give Mark his well deserved pleasure now. After all, the poor man has had a horrible day. What else save a nice blow job from an experienced whore to make all the pain and frustration go away?”
“On your way, slut, on your WAY!!!” screams Brian, pushing Susan towards Mark.
Mark has been awfully quiet all this time, considering that he had to watch his lover being raped by some of the best talent in business. I think the guy proved to be one big pussy. Then again, there’s hardly anything he could have done and made any difference. Maybe he’s just smart. He played dead most of the time and let Susan take most of the heat instead of playing a hero and ending up even more damaged than he is. I guess that smart businessmen learn to calculate the risk versus the reward and make their decisions accordingly. I guess Mark just learned to be a smart businessman rather than a hot-headed upstart. Not bad for a day’s work I guess. He might be sporting a broken finger or two now and his ego will be using crutches for many months to come, but there is a price you have to pay for teachings, especially when they are delivered by top-drawer experts.
So, Brian pushes Susan to the floor, in front of Mark. I have to pull out because I want to catch it all:
- The expression on her face as she looks up to him. No words, just pure, unadulterated helplessness
- The shape of her body, as she crawls on all fours; the arch of her back; the way her breasts hang, her tortured and burnt nipples pointing to the floor, looking old and wrinkly; the way her right leg is stretched behind and the right one takes most of her body weight
- The horror, the pure horror on Mark’s face. Or I should say OF Mark’s face. Because that’s what it is. Bloody pulp. Swollen lips and broken teeth. Eyes invisible under tissue bursting with black, red and blue.
Mark makes a feeble gesture with his head as Susan approaches him, perhaps attempting to say something but all that can be registered is the change in breathing. He is helpless in quite a different way than Susan, humiliated in quite a different way. Worse, maybe. I am not sure he is hurt worse than her, though.
Then again, he deserved it, didn’t he? Or, in the least, he brought it up on himself. Fuck you, you fat bastard, if you had any brains on you any of the mornings you were leaving your house so far in your life, you wouldn’t be sitting on the floor of your own bedroom now, cuffed to the bed, smashed and pathetic.
And now, this smashed, pathetic little bastard who thought he could fuck with Stan, now he is going to get a blow job from the woman who has given me the hardest hard-on in living memory. The sexiest woman I have met. It’s funny… I never ever considered myself one of those MILF guys. My girlfriend is twenty-two, for God’s sake. I am a young male in his prime, a fuck machine hardcoded for pursuit and interception of young, fair maidens. But now… Now I don’t know…
And this fat, underachieving fuck has something in him that attracted this woman. Perhaps it’s the money? Is Susan like that? Is she?
I don’t know, I don’t know… I only know I wish I was down there right now. I zoom in, but it’s not the same.
Mark moans through his smashed lips when Susan touches his (comically tiny) cock with her fingers. She has beautiful fingers, long, shapely fingernails painted deep red, some elegant jewellery. Her touch is light, even I can see that. Yet, he moans in pain. Mark’s gear seems to be broken. Granted, it did have to suffer through some rather harsh manhandling.
Susan looks up to Mark and her lips form the words ‘I am sorry’, with the look in her eyes that communicates everything from the absolute horror to the everlasting hope.
In this moment I understand that I am jealous.
“Get ON with it, you fucking cunt!!! We don’t have all night!!!!”
The room bursts into laughter.
“Hahaha, oh, my”, says Brian wiping mock tears out of the corners of his eyes. “I didn’t know you had it in you Grant, man. I guess even the soft, arty types like you eventually fall prey to the power of the dark side, eh?”
Alan is smiling as well and Frank’s bulky carcass reminds me of a hillside suffering an earthquake.
OK, so they didn’t find this particularly convincing. So, they are a bunch of thugs. The woman, though, the VICTIM, she got the message. I am sure she did.
I look at her, not through my camera, I move it away from my face and look at Susan, hoping she’d look my way. What am I hoping to see on her face? Fear? Submission? Or… understanding? What am I hoping she will see on mine?
Does she? Does she understand that I am here merely because there is nothing else for me to do in this country? Does she understand that I could not prevent this from happening? Does she understand that I am not like these guys? I am not a thug. I would never hurt her. I would never… rape her… like they did… I am just a camera guy.
Do you see that? Do you Susan? Under other circumstances, I could tell you all this. And more. I could make sure you understand. There is more to me than meets the eye, honest, I swear Susan. You have to believe me. Do you believe me? Do you?
But her eyes never leave Marks’s face. Smashed, broken, swollen, ugly face of a superficial moron who failed to understand the opportunities and risks life put in front of him. So, Mark got what he deserved.
And… Mark got much more than he deserved. Much, much more.
“On with it, woman”, says Alan, his voice bearing just a tiny, nasty reminder of him being a patient man, yet reaching the limit of his patience. “You two’ll have all the time in the world to talk and fondle once this is done. But now, pray let us enjoy the spectacle of you swallowing this man’s penis. Let us see you do your magic.”
“please…baby… forgive me…”
It’s a whisper that I can barely hear and even that because I am very close to the two of them now. I am practically WITH the two of them now. And yet, I am so far out.
She begs his forgiveness. But Mark only makes soft moaning noises. Is that supposed to be pain, fat boy? Pleasure? Understanding? Do you understand at all? DO YOU?
“She’ll never make it happen”, says Brian lighting another cigarette. “Our man Frankie here applied his soccer technique in all the right places. This guy will be pissing blood for a fucking week.”
“Don’t underestimate the power of a woman in love, lad”, says Alan. “Love can move mountains and raise the dead. All sorts of wonders may happen.”
“Sure”, says Frank. “Love can hurt really bad but it can also make you feel godlike for a minute or so.”
“I believe you are talking about cocaine there, old boy”, says Alan. “But let’s all just be quiet and allow Susan here to prove herself in real-life situation. Come on, Susan, you may be just a woman in love, like Barbara Streisand, but that just may be enough here, eh?”
Susan doesn’t answer. She is still just lightly touching Mark’s genitals. Trying to gently break him in, so to say.
“Of course, I expect results, not just good will”, continues Alan, his tone unchanged. “So, if you fail to bring our friend Mark here to the desired heights of orgasm within, say, ten minutes, your nipple, and I am not specifying which one, that can be your choice after all, but your nipple will meet the barrel of my gun.”
I look at Alan. And, no, no, he is not bluffing, he’ll do it. He’ll shoot her nipple off.
“And then you’ll have, what, five minutes to finish the work. I am sure that having one nipple less might distract you somewhat from the task at hand, woman, so I suggest you stick with the original timeframe. Okay?”
Serviced with a smile. A vile, devilish smile, but a smile nonetheless. Holy shit he’ll do it.
The sounds in the room seem to have been sucked out through a black hole. Or is it the blood pressure in my head?
Brian and Frank use a stylish coffee table to cut sharp white lines that they then inhale and then curse and laugh and hit each other’s shoulders with fists.
“No more breastfeeding for you woman”, laughs Brian. “Not to mention that hubby will have fewer things to play with once you go back to your comfy family nest.”
“Tick… tick… tick… the time’s-a-ticking, cunt”, says Alan, pointing at his wristwatch with his gun. I still don’t understand how a person like him can wear a digital watch. But, like many other things about him, I never question it.
“how can you… how can you be like this?” Susan’s voice is harsh and she doesn’t seem to be able to speak much louder than an elevated whisper. “Why don’t you just rape me like they did? Just fuck me any way you want, anywhere you want.” Sobs break her attempt at bravery. Then coughs.
This is Susan being noble. Making a sacrifice. She really, really cares about that guy.
I have been at the wrong end of the camera for such a long time it started looking right to me. I’m at the wrong end tonight.
Brian is a violent person on a good day. On a bad day he is murderous. And when he does heroin, he fucking combusts. Most people don’t bother with the outside world when they do one. Not Brian. He gets more enthusiastic about hurting people. Even himself. He feels no pain or something like that.
So he steps in and, cursing at Susan he grabs her hair and throws her face first into Mark’s groin.
“Start sucking that fucking cock, you slut or, so help me, missing a nipple or two will be the least of your worries. I’ll mail your fucking clit to your husband just to get warm, bitch!!!”
Why can’t he be a little more like Frank, who rummages through a pile of books the two of them swept off the coffee table before they turned it into a takeoff site? Frank laughs a demented laugh.
“He’ll do it, whore, he’ll do it. Trust me, he’ll do it. Just thought you should know.”
I think she trusts him. She closes her lips around Mark’s cock head.
I zoom in as Mark starts moaning. This is not a deep purr of a lover enjoying a tender touch of a soft pair of lips and a velvety tongue. Rather, this is him trying to simultaneously keep his latest meal in and drive Susan away from his aching member. One out of two isn’t bad. He twitches in his shackles.
“That’s it, slut, that’s it, munch on that cock”, mumbles Brian, watching Mark wiggle like a fucking eel as Susan gently sucks his penis in. He grabs her hair and pushes her head down. “Let’s see some swallowing there, cunt, let’s see you deepthroat this motherfucker.” He pushes down, violently. “Come on, cunt!!! Show some fucking enthusiasm! Is this any way to treat the man you love, eh? Or do you only love his money, eh?”
That fucking smackhead. Is he right? God, is he?
Susan is crying. Her eyes are closed, her face looks like a child used it for painting practice, tears running down, unstoppable, large, as she sucks on the pathetically limp organ. Her lover twitches and moans, his bulky frame comically slamming against the bed as he is trying to get away from her.
“That’s not going to happen”, comments Frank in a matter-of-fact voice. “Here’s twenty bucks saying that she loses both her nipples. And then some.”
Mark now grunts in a way not unlike what Frank did some minutes back. I believe his reasons might be different but the overall context is the same. Humiliation, pain, forced sex… This is the soundtrack one way or the other.
“Thus spoke the man of no faith.” Brian looks at me than Frank. “I’ll take you on that one, nigga. You have yet to witness the miracle of love.”
He actually takes a twenty dollar bill out of his pocket and places it on the table. Then he leans towards Susan again.
“You’ve heard it, bitch. Now it’s serious. I put some money on you. Let’s just say I am ready to give you a chance to convince me you are not such a lousy blow after all.” He grabs her hair again and pulls her head up. “Look at me!!! You’re now fucking up with my income, bitch. Don’t fuck it up. You don’t want to fuck me over. If you do, you’ll wish you could just bite your own nipples off and walk because what I’ll do to you is going to leave you seriously crippled and useless for ever, bitch!!”
Alan laughs but he waves at Brian.
“I am sure she has got the message by now, lad, I am sure she’d never fuck you over. Or any other way, especially after you’ve proven yourself to be a somewhat selfish lover. Now I believe you’d better leave the lady focus on the job. Your shouting is certain to break any concentration she might be able to attain, not to mention it’s utterly ruining the mood for the gentleman. And she only has seven minutes left until she waves goodbye to her less favourite nipple.”
And so it goes. With Mark thrashing in his bondage and his woman nobly trying to win the race she never had a chance of winning. It’s like getting the turtle to outrun the rabbit, but breaking its legs first and then forcing it to tow a trailer behind it. It goes on with time ticking away and Brian walking around the room like a caged animal, cursing and threatening under his breath. It goes on with Alan’s smile growing wider and wider as he casts glances at his watch and Frank’s head falling down to his chest, then getting up then falling down again.
“I have to say you seem to have been betting on the wrong horse all evening, old boy”, says Alan. “Not only that this woman here is nothing of a pro you imagined her to be but it seems that her oral technique is nowhere near the level required for the task at hand. Not surprising, having witnessed your clumsy attempts at teaching her, I have to say.”
“She’s fucked, man, she is fucked.” Brian states the obvious with such passion I would like to scream at him and smash my camera against his face. But I don’t. I shut up and keep taping.
And, oh my fucking God, it ticks away, the time ticks away. I have lost some of my hard on. The shit is too fucking deranged right now. Too fucking sick and deranged. My penis is semi-soft now, the insides of my boxers wet and sticky. Jesus, fuck!! This whole thing is wrong.
There’s maybe two and a half more minutes. At best. Mark’s cock is as limp as it’s ever going to be. Susan uses her tongue, lips, her hand, she sucks and licks the pathetic little thing but it won’t wake up, won’t do anything but stay soft and oblivious.
You don’t have to be hard to ejaculate. Everyone knows that. But Mark is so far away from any kind of sexual arousal that nothing short of a miracle will save his woman’s body from mutilation.
You fucking fat moron. You fucking impotent bastard. Even when you were hard, you had to have her ride you because you’re too fucking fat to do anything useful. And now you let it all go wrong. You made her depend on whether you can get your cock up and fucking ejaculate within a time limit, you fucking impotent moron.
Alan’s smile is wider and wider. And wider. As the digits race each other on his wrist he is quieter and somehow more content. He savours every second. Sick fuck. Fucking sick fuck. He loves every moan we get from Mark, every sob we get from Susan. He’ll do it, he’ll fucking shoot her nipples off. And then, aw, God, who knows what he’ll do then.
“You are more of a disappointment than I thought you’d be, slut.” Smiling, he is still smiling. “You’re not even trying. Brian must be right, you only love this man’s money. You don’t love him or his penis. That’s depressing. I used to believe in love. I used to.”
Susan’s back tremble with sobs and spasms as a fresh supply of tears gushes forth. There’s fluid coming out of her nose, eyes, mouth. She uselessly runs her tongue up and down Mark’s penis.
Alan suddenly speaks louder, as his hand reaches for his zipper.
“Do you hear that, Marky? Do you hear this, my friend? This woman here who let you fuck her in exchange for expensive dinners and perfumes and, let me guess, weekends in the countryside, this woman is nothing but a gold digger, my friend. How does that feel? Disappointing? Depressing? Hey, it took us coming over and kicking the shit out of you before you learned it, but it was worth it, wasn’t it? You might think what we did to you was bad but we were just doing our job. And male solidarity practically obliges us to open your eyes for you, Marky. This bitch here never loved you or cared about you, boy. Never. And me teaching her a lesson via interaction of hot lead and soft flesh should be something you enthusiastically approve of.”
All this talking and he barely manages to find his own penis in his trousers. He takes it out and it’s soft, white and looking ill. Unlike Brian and Frank, Alan does heroin before we set out to do business. And after. And probably several times more a day. And he doesn’t use his nose.
So what the fuck is he doing? Is he going to wank now? Wank while he mutilates Susan? Or perhaps make her do the comical blow-job attempt on him? I doubt he can get it up any faster than Mark here. What the fuck?
But he steps up to the couple on the floor. He keeps talking.
“Let me try and be a good sport and give your whore some support, Marky. A dirty slut like her might find this actually motivates her to work harder.”
It’s a trickle at first, and I jump back before it lands on my shoes. Then it actually starts for real and hits Susan in the back of the head. Then Mark starts moaning in a new way. Brian is grinning like a big, evil child. Frank’s head continues its nodding routine.
“Give him some of it too man, let him taste it!!!” is Brian’s enthusiastic contribution.
But Alan carefully aims as he walks around the couple on the floor, so most of his piss ends up on Susan’s face, in her hair, on her neck and hands, on Marks’ groin and body. Susan doesn’t make a sound though. She cries, silently, tremors ripping through her body.
As Alan makes sure the last drop is squeezed on Susan’s head, he packs up and looks at his watch.
“Well, that was relieving, but as far as I can tell - useless. And you have exactly one minute before you become less of a woman than you were this morning, my dear.”
So this is it.
Brian Mumbles something about his money.
This is IT.
She is crying…
This is IT. This is the bleeding moment.
“Like fucking HELL!!!”
They turn their heads. Even Frank.
“Like fucking hell motherfucker!!! Like bloody fucking hell!!!”
I throw the camera on the bed in a gesture that would look exaggerated weren’t it for the fact that I really am in the middle of an emotional peak. That it’s fear rather than rage makes little difference. I throw the fucking thing down and it bounces before it falls to the floor.
“That’s fucking bullshit that I am not going to take!!!!”
OK, I have their attention now, no?
“Those two rednecks get to fuck her while she’s fresh and enthusiastic, eh? But me, I only get damaged goods, eh? Like fucking hell, Alan, like fucking bloody hell!! I’m tired of this fucking shit.”
Before anyone says anything (and I bet they are all struggling for words, startled by my little hysteric feat), I grab Susan’s wet hair and throw her against the bed. Even fucked up the way she is, she still instinctively tries to put her hands in front of her face. Good, because that gives me an excuse to slap her. More than once. And that makes everything look a lot more convincing.
“Wooo, look at our boy Grant there”, says Frank finally, almost like a proud father after his boy scores in the field.
I almost rip my jeans in half when I pull them open. Then I violently tug at Susan’s hair.
And I am in.
Oh God… Oh, my God… This… This… This is different from anything. Anything I have ever experienced. Oh, my God, Christ, Susan. Oh God, I am going to die, oh God…
Of course, the words coming out of my mouth are different. And, no, I am not acting. I am not sure I can explain. There’s two of me now, for wont of a better explanation. One of me who desperately wants to tell Susan about it all. And to explain the feeling of dying he is experiencing, dying and rebirth, all wrapped into one, the feeling she is giving me as I fuck her unwilling, soft, warm mouth. That one wants to tell her of angels and cosmos. The other one… The other one is calling her a slut, a dirty whore. The other one pulls her hair while the first one dreams of caressing her afterwards.
And when I come it’s the two of me colliding, head-on. Crashing into each other and burning as limbs sink into bodies and bones crack. I am coming into Susan’s mouth and screaming like mad. I am filling her with my cum, the way I never did with my girlfriend, or any girl I have ever been with.
Only Susan. Only she could give this to me. And I hurt her. I stood as the others raped and humiliated her. And then I raped her as well. Took her like the cheapest crack whore, fucked her mouth and came down her throat.
Susan… Forgive me. I am a pussy, I am just a little British boy who is still trying to find his way around the colonies. I am sorry.
I throw her down, to the floor in disgust.
“Fucking bitch!! You can’t suck cock to save your fucking life, but you can swallow that fucking cum!!!”
I turn to Alan. My cock is still hard as I put it back. I want him to fucking see it. To witness my masculine power. Fucking junkie piece of shit who thinks being British means he is my father or something.
“Now let’s get the fuck out of here!!! I am sick and tired of you motherfuckers acting like a bunch of fucking retarded children here!!”
Alan looks at me with a question mark on his face. He inhales, as if to say something but I cut in.
“I said let’s get the FUCK out of here before you idiots do something even more stupid here! You think because I am the youngest here I’ll let you ruin my fucking job for me, eh? That I’ll shut up as a bunch of fucking junkies loses their fucking marbles and turns a job into a fucking countryside weekend? Well you’re fucking wrong, you’re dead wrong.”
Well, hopefully I have seen enough mob and yakuza flicks to pull a decent bluff here. Not that I am not angry enough, but I am scared way, way more than that.
“That kid has some mouth on him”, mumbles Frank.
“Kid, let me tell you something”, says Brian in a menacing voice as he steps up to me. This is it. A fist in the face and a knee in the groin is the best possible outcome. I should be so lucky. No one talks to Stan the Man’s enforcers this way. Brian reaches for his piece. This is it.
There is no smile on Alan’s face. But he just said ‘no’. He is not smiling, but his hand gestures at Brian.
“Grant, you and I will have a word about this. You will not bloody like it, I can guarantee you that. You will not like it. But not here.” He gestures at Frank and Brian. “Gentlemen, we are leaving. This party is officially over.”
They protest and mumble under their breath but they listen. No one mentions the twenty dollar bet. I think they’ll never mention it.
“Remember slut. You have never seen us. Remember.” Brian whispers on his way out. Then he kicks Mark into groin, savagely, violently. Then he laughs.
“As for you, motherfucker, you better remember well when was the last time you saw us and make sure we don’t meet again. We might decide to forget our manners and get real nasty.”
Susan lies on the bed, on her back, facing the ceiling, but her eyes are closed. I know that because, when I go to pick my camera up from the floor, I try to get her to look into my eyes. Just one look. Just one look is all I need to explain. But I don’t get it – her eyes stay closed, her arms helplessly resting on her chest.
We walk out, one by one. I won’t like it. I won’t like it one bit. Alan has made a promise. I know he means it.
Fuck him. Fuck him and his stiff British accent and his faux-noble manners. Fuck his gentlemanly behaviour and measured words. Fuck him.
I won’t like it, but that’s tomorrow. Only tomorrow. For now, it’s OK. I’m OK. I am OK.
It’s already tomorrow. The ride home was actually quiet with the three of my coworkers dozing off most of the way. Except for Alan who gave me some really strange looks.
It’s already tomorrow as I reach my pad and call Janice. She asks about my job and I tell her in a bored voice that it’s nothing she’d find amusing. She knows what I do for a living, the little bitch is a mob groupie after all, but she doesn’t want details. Nor she’d ever get them. She asks whether I want her to come over. No, I don’t. It’s past midnight and I’d like to have a rest. I have some more stuff lined up for tomorrow morning. She asks if I am sure. Of course I am bloody sure. Oh, yeah, sorry. Just tired is all.
We’ll speak tomorrow. Sure. She can get her portion of cock served elsewhere tonight anyway. I am sure she helps herself to it when I am not around.
And I don’t think I’ll be around much soon. Not around Janice or Stan’s little family. Or this town. Or this country even.
Fuck them. Fuck them all.
I have a shower.
I get back to the room and play some soft music in the back. The telly is on. It has been on while I was out too. It has a life of its own.
I sit on the bed in my boxers. I look at my camera. I think.
I plug it in and the telly has to break its non-stop routine of reality shows and commercials to play my footage instead.
I rewind the tape. Then I fast forward through boring parts.
I wipe my nose while I wank. I don’t exactly shed any tears. Well, two or three, maybe.
The sounds are so different when heard through speakers rather than being there.
The light makes the images look a lot more mysterious this time around.
Susan’s body looks like something out of dreams.
I wank, I squeeze myself really hard when the rape starts for real.
I hate myself. And I am so fucking hard all over again. And now I can take my time as I know how it goes and how it ends. No risk now. No tension. Just a woman being broken and raped. A beautiful, helpless woman, raped and defiled.
I keep a steady pace. No hurry now.
And when Susan’s credit card and driver’s license get their moment on screen I stop.
I freeze the picture.
I take the pen.
I can google her phone number in the morning.
Well, I can.
But I do it now.
Wow, a lucky shot there because her mobile phone number is what comes up first.
I type it into my phone.
I should go to sleep now as I need to get up rather early and burn a DVD for Stan. And it goes without saying that I have to edit the rape out.
But I prefer watching the tape a bit more. I want to come again.
But before I do I’ll send a text message.
I take my phone again.
This is awkward. This is downright weird.
I put my thumb on the tiny keyboard.
‘Susan… I know there is no way in hell anyone could be forgiven for what I did this evening…’
I stop there. This is as good a start as I can hope for. I smile an embarrassed, bitter smile.
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