"I agree to fucking you senseless, being naked with you ——"There's no point in slowing now, suck it...... "I really needed that big O too, that was some fuck."
Her body sagged a little as she heard her voice. "I can say you edited it."
"And indeed I did. The unedited version, which can be seen as exactly that, is safely in a cloud account. You will recall I gave you a choice throughout last night as to whether you wanted to quit the apartment, find the money elsewhere or work the debt off with sex. The last of those three options has not yet been outlawed."
"You bastard, fucking bastard, how did you know I'd do this, I did not plan this yesterday... or do you tape everybody?" Eve said with venom.
"No, not everyone. I really, really hoped I was just being paranoid yesterday. Old habits die hard and the one of don't trust anybody is one of those habits that has not gone away. Anyway, enough talking, Eve, time for action."
I undid my trousers and fished my swollen prick out of my underwear. I saw Eve's body tense in reaction to the noise of my zip. I lined my prick up to enter her with the tip just touching. She deserves it — she deserves to be fucked raw, kept in chains, there is no fate too bad for what she tried, blackmailing me with a false rape charge. I started to push forward, then instead, stepped back put both my hands under her arm pits, pulling her back from the wall, spinning us both round, her feet rising high from the floor, and with that momentum letting her fly through the air so that she landed on the sofa which was parallel to the wall the door was on.
Prick still hanging out, breathing hard, I looked down on her. It was one of those moments that seemed to last a long time though it probably did not. Her only movement since her aerial flight was to turn her head so she could see me, as she lay flat out on the sofa. There was no question her fear was real. The fear was justified because I had no idea what I was going to do next with her.
I put my cock away. "Eve, I thought we had a deal. You double crossing lying bastard, what am I going to do with you? I trusted you."
Indeed, what was I going to do with her? I was truly set to fuck her against the wall then instead threw her on the couch without consciously thinking about it. The hard knocks experienced side of me whispered in my mind, 'show softness and its you that gets fucked every time'. Reaching to rationalise what happened I argued with myself, Eve was one stunning beautiful good fuck she should be kept around for that purpose, if not any other.
"Sit up!" I barked, blinking and teary, she started to speak, "I'm so, so...."
I cut her off, "Shut it, you traitorous lying bitch. I'm still trying to decide whether to bring some friends over for that spit-roast party or what else you deserve. Don't move from there if you value your life."
In truth that moment of seeing red, the moment of feeling that using her for sex regardless, of rape, of hurting, had passed. Nor was I about to share her with anyone else. In my wild days I had many women who were out of the minds with illicit substances or drink, as often was I, so levels of consent could be argued about. There were also women who offered me sex in return for favours or even status in the gang and I did not refuse those offers. In all that time I had never used force, never even been as close to doing so as I was a moment ago. Eve had pushed me to the edge, with my prick grazing her cunt when I had stopped. I was still trying to process that fact and what I should do next. I went next door and returned with a chair I put close to Eve.
"Yesterday I expected you to come up with some bullshit story about why you could not pay your rent which I did not want to hear. Today, I'm giving you a chance to tell the
true
story, and why you tried this pathetic desperate blackmail attempt which could have got you killed. Before you start, understand this each time you lie to me I'm going to hurt you, the more you lie, the worse it will be. Don't try the hard luck stories either, just the facts from the beginning."
----------------------------------------
I'd had to come up with a plan quickly and the out and out blackmail plan was the only one that I could think of. Dave did not strike me as a weak fool and I knew it was risky, especially as there was no one I could trust to back me up.
When he pushed me against the wall I don't know which frightened me the more: whether I'd ever get out of the house alive and whether he was going to rape my arse. There had been many occasions when I'd had little choice but to have sex with certain men but only once had I been forcibly raped — and that was up the arse. It was by two men and they had not been gentle. I had been bleeding, in a lot of pain and could not sit on a chair for a week or more. I had ensured one of them got his come-upperance by planting some stories in the right ears. The other I had never seen again.
I thought my worse fears had come true when he yanked my panties down and I heard him unzipping his trousers. The next moment I was being hurled across the room and I thought it was a first step in killing me. That would really piss off Christine I thought. Instead of a crash landing against a wall or furniture he had thrown me through the air so I landed on the sofa. For the second time that day I realised I had pissed myself. I turned to face him dreading what was to come next. I saw him standing there, looking down at me, cock hanging out a nasty glint in his eye. Though not much over average height he proved again how strong he was, throwing me across the room like a small sack of potatoes. I wanted to run but could not see how I'd get past him. If I screamed I doubted anyone would hear me and he would shut me up quickly.
"I'm so.." I started to say but he interrupted, Calling me a traitorous lying bitch and threatening me, telling me not to move if I valued my life. Was he fetching a knife? Even if he was I concluded any heroic dash would not succeed and might literally cost my life so I stayed still.
When he returned he was carrying a chair, and not a knife, thank God. Was this a method of torture? Was he going to tie me to it? Instead he sat on the chair and then he did the last thing I expected; commanding that I tell the story from the beginning. Threats were also made if I lied.
I was not sure what his game was. It was like good cop — bad cop, except he was both, switching from one to the other in a blink. It was confusing, yet if I had learned anything it was not to underestimate him. Deciding it was better to do as he asked. Perhaps trying to minimise my stupidity and gullibility but to keep the story true.
I told him about the gambling online which had started innocently, then moving on to gambling in betting shops as well. As I lost in one place I tried to get my money back by gambling somewhere else. Eventually realising my stupidity and stopping when my debts were high, but still manageable. At that point I owed a little over £3,000 and that was to people who believed in some laws. Unfortunately I then proceeded to make my problems a thousand times worse. On a girl's night out I had to apologise for not having as much money to spend as the others. When all but Janey had left she had insisted on paying for both of us to get into a club and buying us more drinks. Then she demanded to know why I had no money. I'm kind of a private person in some ways but by then we'd had a few drinks and I told her about my debts. A few more drinks, and dances later the major stage of my troubles unfolded.
Janey told me that she had a way I could earn some serious money. That it was better for everyone if it was just a handful of times and each time would take me less than a day.
The way was 'county lines'. All I had to do was get on a train and take a package to a given town, hand it to someone and then take the train home. I'd get a Whats App message to tell me where to collect the package and another to tell me where to take it. Janey said I'd earn between £300 and £500 for each trip.
Honestly, if adults wanted to take illicit substances I considered it their choice, their life. The only time I drew the line was with kids, I'd seen what that did to families. I'd stayed away from drug gangs because I knew unless you were at the top, usually you got burnt pretty quickly. Call me naive and stupid, 'cause I was, but it seemed a way to clear my debts. I thought a quick involvement would be ok then get far away from it!
First day, I collected the package as agreed and placed it in a large handbag I had brought for the occasion. I was given the destination and went by bus to Kings Cross station. The bus stop was located down the side of the station some way from the main entrance. As I walked towards the station entrance I was cornered by two large men who pushed me against the wall. I struggled until one pushed a knife against my throat.
The older one who had the knife, balding, maybe late 40s spoke softly, "Now love, no need for anyone to get hurt. Keep quiet and hand over the bag. You then walk away unharmed."
I had no alternative but to do as told. The man with the knife gave me one further hard push against the wall and casually strolled away with his mate. I looked around and saw I was out of luck. Despite this being one of the biggest rail stations in London there was no one within 50 yds at this mid-morning time. What would passers-by do anyway if I did shout? Most likely the police would be called from inside the station and supposing then they recovered the bag? How did I explain a large package of God knows what — but certainly illegal substance. The next problem was that I had no way to contact the gang. It was one way contact from them to me, and always from a different mobile number. It would have been stupid to have asked the value of the package when it was handed to me, but I knew I was in deep shit — the deepest shit imaginable.
I saw an older gentleman staring at me with some concern. The last thing I needed was questions, so I quickly walked on, crossed the street passing the hotel outside St Pancras and went into the courtyard of the British Library. Ordering a coffee from the shop in the yard, and quickly finding a quiet seat. I phoned Janey and told her what had just happened. Her comments and advice did not fill me with confidence. She wanted to know exactly where I was, said she had to ask me as a friend if I had sold the package to someone else, then told me to wait for a call. Her final advice was that under no circumstances should I attempt to run or it would end up much worse.
Within 5 minutes I received a call from someone called Victor. He told me not to move from there until I got a text message then to go out on to the Euston Road and get into a black Range Rover. Adding to my terror, he added that if I disobeyed it would be 'not good at all for me'. 20 long minutes later the text came, I went outside and got into the car. There was only a young blond guy in the car looking no more than teenager. I asked if he was Victor and he laughed. Telling me, no, he was just the taxi driver and that I would soon meet Victor and Paddy. This sounded ominous and there seemed little point in asking further questions so the rest of the journey was in silence. We crossed back over the Thames down towards Peckham and then to a place I did not know. The street had originally been houses, then offices but now appeared deserted. The 'Taxi driver' texted and two men came out and one opened the car door.
"Come in Eve, we have been waiting for you."
There was dripping irony in the formality of the greeting, these two were clearly part of the muscle, the enforcers.
"Upstairs." Said the older man , thinner but muscular, following me, so close as to almost step on my heels, whilst the other stayed downstairs.
I was taken into an office where an overweight man in his 40s, hair already receding, sat behind a desk with a MacBook, a phone and papers on it.
"Sit down, Eve. Victor, get Andy to fetch us two coffees. Eve, How do you like your coffee? By the way call me Paddy, everyone else does."
I answered how I liked my coffee. The politeness if anything put me more on edge than if I had been tied down and tools of torture rolled out on the desk.
"So, Eve, whilst we wait for our coffee, why don't you tell me everything that happened today? From 9.50 when you picked up the package. Please don't miss any details out, however small."
I was not long into the story when the coffee came and Victor took up position again standing uncomfortably close to me. As I told the events Paddy quizzed me on the details. Why had I opted for two buses and not the underground? Why had I not got off a stop earlier where the streets were busier? I tried to explain that these were matters I had not assigned much thought to they just seemed logical at the time. He asked for descriptions of the two who had taken the bag. I struggled to recall more than vague generalities of their appearance. It had happened quickly and unlike the movies there were no distinctive tattoos or signet rings. It was on this last matter that I thought I saw some annoyance on his face. I knew that my health and possibly even my life depended on how I acted and spoke. I finished by saying that this was the truth and I swear it.
