Many thanks to Literotica author 'englander1961' for her help, editorial services, encouragement and a title much better than my original, which has elevated her to the status of House Goddess of Sexy Story Titles. Thanks to Sammi Scott, aka Titsy McYarn, the Cute at the Heart of the Abyss for her help and valuable critique. Thanks to Literotica author 'KY ridgerunner' for the stories that planted the idea in my head months ago. A belated and much overdue thanks to John Hasty for his peerless editing. Bounteous thanks to Kevin for his incredibly thorough critiquing and voluminous notes.
After you've read this, if you have any inclination at all to comment, please do so, either by email or on the comment board... The best way for me to grow and improve as an author is to hear from the people who read my work. I welcome constructive critiques and non-abusive comments. I will answer, in at least a semi-prompt manner, any email that comes with an email address. If you feel you must respond in a hateful or angry fashion, you may put your head down upon your desk and do so, quietly to yourself, for as long as you feel it necessary. This story may not be copied to other sites without my permission. If you have not read the earlier installment(s) of this tale, it would probably help you to make sense of this one if you did so. * * * * *
It's hard for a man to resist a woman who wants him. It's harder still for a man with a small man's inferiority complex to resist a prostitute who comes back to him because she's never been loved like he loved her and she doesn't want money, she just has to have more of him. And if the man is predisposed toward flights of egotistical fantasy, all the better, it makes her job much easier still.
The woman who had been so helpful in getting Nick's team in the first time served the same function the last night of Benjamin Sapperstein's life.
She met Nick, Salome and several of Nick's 'specialists' at the back door.
"Good evening, Monique. He give you any trouble?"
"No sir and he was more than willing to give me the code to disarm the system when the Chinese food arrived. Of course, he was already real mellow by then."
"Good, then it went just as we planned. Get dressed and get out of here. You've done a marvelous job and I won't forget it."
"So my brother, he's gonna be okay?"
"His time in Huntsville State Penitentiary will be like a vacation. You have my word. You also know what happens if you ever talk."
"Yeah, and I ain't in no hurry to die. You got nothing to worry about Mr. Philouma."
"That's good. Lenny, escort Monique home. Monique, I'm having Lenny stay with you until you're on the plane and on your way out of the country, just like I've had him staying with you since this began. I can't afford to have anything happen to you. You take care."
"Thank you, Mr. Philouma. I appreciate it."
The large man who answered to 'Lenny' and Monique exited out the back door.
"Alright, you all know what to do. Come on Salome, let's do this thing."
The jumpsuited figures, with their slippers, gloves and hairnets separated as Susan and her patron went to the bedroom.
"The joys of recreational pharmaceuticals," Salome exclaimed, looking over the naked figure on the bed. She brought out the fur-lined restraints from her bag and applied them to his wrists and ankles, linking the two sets behind his back with a length of nylon-shrouded chain. Then with Nick's help she rolled him onto a plastic sheet and centered him on it.
She went back to her bag and came out with a small brown bottle labeled 'Rush'. "Good old amyl nitrate... or whatever the fuck the exact mix is in this shit... poppers for papa." She opened the bottle and carefully waved it close to Benjamin's nostrils as he snored away. As the sleeping man drew in another deep breath of the stimulant she reached down and slapped his exposed testicles.
Benjamin's scream set Nick's nerves on edge, but he figured the asshole was at least due one good shriek from the abuse he'd just suffered.
When Benjamin Sapperstein came fully awake and was about to yell, he found himself pausing, almost involuntarily.
The little girl who'd slapped his nuts was standing next to his bed, dressed in a Catholic schoolgirl outfit. Even after his recent systemic shock, his cock gave a twitch at the sight of her, one foot up on the bed showing that under the skirt, there was nothing but a naked pussy, staring him in the face, the white blouse tied off above her waist, gaping open to expose her small, puffy-nippled tits. She was very pretty, her heart-shaped face framed by her short brown hair and the obvious juxtaposition of innocence and carnality oozed forbidden sensuality.
"Boss, even if they like big-titted blonde bimbos, I can still make 'em pant," the young girl said, giggling.
It was then he realized three things: the little twitch his cock had given was becoming a full-blown erection, he was very securely restrained, and there was somebody else in the room with them.
That somebody looked vaguely familiar. He was dressed in an Armani suit, with rubber gloves and a hairnet. And he was clipping something bag-like on to the side of a silenced pistol.
Benjamin Sapperstein had a flash of insight at that moment. He realized these people were here to kill him, and that Margo was somehow responsible.
:"Look, whatever my wife is paying you, I'll double it, triple it! I'll forget I ever saw you and her, just take my money and let me live!"
"You're suffering under several very large misconceptions, Dr. Sapperstein," Nick said. "The first one is that I'm some cheap hit-man your wife hired to kill you. My name is Niccolo Philouma, Dr. Sapperstein. That make things any clearer?"
"Yes sir... I'm sorry sir. But surely there's still some way we can do business together."
"I'm afraid not, Benjie. Do you mind if I call you 'Benjie'?"
"No sir, not at all."
"Thank you... you may continue to call me Mr. Philouma. I can't do business with you because I promised your wife justice. That's what she asked of me... justice. She wanted me to find the two men who beat her lover severely, almost to death, were intending to beat her other lover as well. She asked me to find out why. She didn't want leading questions or tortured confessions... she wanted the truth. She placed herself deeply in my debt for the truth.
"And they told me the truth... and then a friend of the man you tried to have killed broke both their necks like he was opening bottles of beer... and did so with as little remorse. The hooker who set you up with them, found you men who'd kill for money? She did what you told her to... took the money and left the city." As Salome put a towel over Benjamin's mouth, Nick reached down and opened a cooler by his feet, carefully lifting something out of it. "I got this from some friends of mine in Las Vegas, special delivery, this morning."
Benjamin was looking at Darlene's severed head, rimes of ice, like a light snowfall, covering her cheeks, frosting her hair, eyebrows and eyelashes. His bowels and bladder were lost to his control.
Nick put the head back in the cooler, and closed it. He wrinkled his nose at the stench coming from the bed and waited for Benjamin to stop screaming before he continued.
"Now then, Benjie, there are two ways the rest of this evening can go. The first way is that my boys finish their work here in your home, Salome here gets you hard, fucks you, I chain her to the bed and a couple of my boys come in here and make your final hours on this earth very, very painful. See, they'll be doing their best to make it look like a Columbian drug lord is wreaking his vengeance upon you, and that always involves a lot of torture. I mean, I don't generally have that much trouble with torture, kinda comes with my family's business, but these guys? They make me big time queasy. The Columbian I'm framing for this will be here, leaving forensic evidence everywhere, and then he'll be killed in 'a minor altercation' with some of my boys. When the police investigate you, they'll find this little girl, who can't identify anyone as they wore masks, evidence on your computer that you're a pedophile, lots of kiddie porn, an apartment on the south side that records will show you've been renting for years, filled with evidence of child molestation. And of course there'll be evidence of drug use everywhere. Your reputation, your family's name, ruined beyond repair... I hate to think what it'll do to Nelda, your poor mother. It'd probably be a kindness if I arranged an accident for her, just to spare her too much shame. I mean, I'll let her endure a week or three of it, but then I'll probably have mercy on her, have her killed. Any irregularities in the little picture I'm painting will be handled by my many good friends on the police force.
"Do you have any doubts, Benjie, that I can make all that happen?"
"N-N-No sir, Mr. Philouma."
"Good, good... or, the evening can go this way. You enjoy a last, semi-private fuck with the delectable Salome, nobody'll ever know about it, my people remove all the so-called evidence of your pedophilia, your drug abuse, you write out a nice little suicide note telling your wife you're sorry, nothing specific, just that you're very, very sorry, you get in a nice warm bathtub and slit your wrists. I'll sit with you until you're gone.
"Which do you want it to be?"
As Nick sat and watched Dr. Sapperstein go through the end of his 'denial' phase and into 'anger', he checked his watch. Even where this piece of shit was concerned, Nick was not completely heartless, he had some time to allow him to process the fact of his own imminent demise... some time, but not too long. He took a short break, leaving the gun with Salome and strolled out into the rest of the house as Benjamin raged impotently on the bed, squirming in his urine and feces, checking to see how the others were doing.
The rest of his people were finished, or very nearly so. He stood and watched while the subtle signs of drug abuse were planted in the house. He knew his frame-up wasn't good enough to fool federal investigators, or even particularly diligent city detectives, but they weren't who was going to get the case. The men getting the case were Family assets, seldom used and reputable enough to insure no one looked too closely. The paramedics that would get the call, pronounce on Benjie, one way or the other, and take Salome away were Family assets as well. She'd disappear from the hospital, a not at all uncommon occurrence where underage prostitutes were concerned. They had no desire to become guests of Child Services, so they found the cracks in the over-stressed system and instead of falling through them, crept out through them. It probably meant a six month vacation for Salome, something else he'd end up picking up the tab for, but such was life. No one who mattered would ever get a good look at little Suzie Raymond, or discover her secret.
When he returned to the bedroom, Benjie was a sobbing mass on the plastic sheet atop the bed. Salome was sitting in the chair, the pistol in one hand, the other furiously masturbating herself.
"Please Mr. Philouma, please... I don't want to die."
"Very few people ever really do, Benjie," he said, walking over to the bed. "I've known Carol Riley for years; I know she doesn't want to die. I've just recently become acquainted with Harry Grimes, I like him a lot, and I know he doesn't want to die.
"But none of that meant anything to you when you arranged to have them killed, so don't expect me to care too much about how you feel on the issue. You're going to die, tonight, either here in this room or in the bathroom right behind that door. That's a fact. There's no stopping it, no bargaining your way out of it. I'm very familiar with your financial assets, courtesy of preparing for tonight, and trust me, even if you liquidated everything, you don't have enough money to buy a pass from me. You've got a lot, and Margo will enjoy it, whatever she ends up doing with it, but this is a matter of honor, Benjie. That's something I don't expect you to ever understand. No amount of money could buy your way out of this.
"So accept the fact that you're going to die... in the next few hours... and decide how you want to go. Do you want to die screaming in agony, or quietly fading away in a nice, warm tub? I'll want your decision very soon now."
