Payback Inc A Serial Cad

A helping hand, when most needed.

This is an original story, part of an ongoing series, where the good guy or gal is helped when they need it most. Some follow ups will be original, others will provide a framework and resolution for resolving unfinished older stories. The organization depicted in this story, and the main characters, were originally described in my continuation fo the Yo-Yo Chronicles Ch.02 by EdRider73, with his generous permission.

I know that I usually write story continuations, but there's been enough clamoring, comments and emails encouraging me to write my own, that I figured I'd offer up a few. I don't think the trolls will care one way or the other.

I hope you enjoy this little story, and remember, it's only fiction.

For Information on how I choose which stories to continue, please read my profile.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Dale squinted under the blinding lights directed his way. He stood in the large open space, the shadows of the raised dais before him. His mind was still coming to terms with the events that brought him before this panel.

"Mr. Daniels, the council has agreed to work on your behalf."

The voice was preternaturally deep, disturbingly so. He remembered the directions he'd been given, not to speak unless asked a direct question. Dale did his best to hide the quivering in his legs as he stood his ground. He faced the three masked individuals, while rejoicing silently.

"I'd like you to confirm you understand the cost, and that once started, there is no turning back. Can you do that for us, Mr. Daniels?"

Dale licked his dry lips, hoping his voice didn't crack. "Yes sir. Twenty percent of my net worth upon completion, and once started there's no stopping it. I understand."

"These terms are acceptable to you?" the voice queried softly.

"Yes sir. More than satisfactory. Thank you." Dale realized the pain was already receding, the uncertainty and fear already taking a backseat. No more doubts. It was done.

"Very good. We'll be in contact. We're sorry for your loss."

"Thank you, sir."

~ * ~ * ~

Dale Daniels accepted the blindfold and hood, and was guided back through the labyrinthine halls in complete silence, before he was once more seated in the back of the stretch limo. Soft hands removed his coverings, and his eyes slowly grew used to the dim lights of the interior. The windows were completely blacked out, he was unable to see beyond the range of his temporary confines.

The woman was there again, nearly naked, ostentatiously draped in chiffon, leather cuffs on her wrists and ankles, a black leather collar on her neck. She waited for him to look at her.

"May I service you, sir?"

"What is your name, beautiful?" Dale asked.

"Whatever you would like it to be, sir."

Dale considered calling her by his wife's name. But then again, he didn't need to punish the bitch in proxy, if he understood things correctly. He'd have better options soon. "I'd like to use your birth name."

"Annette, sir. You may call me Annette."

Dale smiled, nodding, feeling the stirring in his pants. The first hard-on he'd had since that fateful night over a month ago. He sighed as she opened his zipper, extracting his swollen cock. Gazing up at him, she lowered her mouth over the head, and proceeded to give him the best blowjob of his life.

He sighed. "Thank you, Annette, that's incredible."

Yes, it may have been costly, but he was going to enjoy this.

~ * ~ * ~

Butler, Carter and Dean sat around the intricately carved table, sipping their beers. There were no smiles at the table. Not at that moment. The first man to smile was required to pay for the night's entertainment. It was more difficult than it sounded, with a warm mouth under the table moving from cock to cock, teasing and pleasuring. Sooner or later one of them would crack.

"It still feels weird to me, taking payment. That was never our intent when we started this," Butler said, maintaining his stoic visage.

"None of us planned this," Dean answered. "We agreed. We'll be able to help so many more this way, and it's a win-win. We save them 50% of their assets, and we get to keep a chunk of the savings."

Carter almost smiled, not from the mouth that had only moments before left his lap, but for how easily the whole thing went down. "A man like Daniels? He's deserving of whatever we can do for the poor bastard, and worth a cool $20 million, if he has a dollar."

"Shall we start?" Butler said stiffly. His eyes closed, and he groaned, as the wicked wench swallowed her reward.

"Pay up, Butler," Dean laughed, noting the corners of Butler's mouth where they turned up.

"Damn it, Nicole!" Butler growled, in mock aggravation. "You think you'd give me a fuckin' break."

The woman's head was resting on his thigh, and he ran his fingers through her raven tresses. "My apologies, Master Butler. You know I can't resist you. I never have been able to. Never will."

Dean was still laughing at his predicament, as Butler extracted the single dollar bill from his wallet, and passed it to the woman. "Laugh it up, Dean. Next time it'll be your ex, Diana, on her knees. You'll be lucky to walk away with your dick intact."

~ * ~ * ~

Manolo read the text once more to be sure. He entered the 22 digit key into the tablet, and reviewed the directions for the first time. "Son of a bitch. Wouldn't want to be in that bastard's shoes."

He passed the tablet to his partner, who entered his own key. The screen turned green, and a list of numbers scrolled down the screen as the orders went out.

"Showtime."

~ * ~ * ~

Rafe looked down at the pretty blonde, as his thick cock wrenched another huge orgasm from her trembling body.

Hell,

he thought.

I would have fucked this one for free.

He grinned, thinking about the $11 million his lawyer had assured him they'd be able to wrest from the pasty little bean counter's sweaty palms, as long as he followed the plan. Soft moist hands that had handled

his

woman only a few weeks previously. Never again. That was one of the first things he'd done, having the rich bitch cut her husband off.

Rafe let his mind wander, one of his techniques for prolonging his enjoyment. He'd figured on a few hundred thousand for his effort, but millions? He was going to make damn sure the slut stayed addicted to his cock for a good long while. He had no issues with being kept.

The large man, in more ways than one, pulled out and flipped Joyce over, onto her knees, before pounding into her once again.

Maybe that restaurant with the patio for dinner,

he thought as she trembled through another big buildup.

Their dessert had been almost as tasty as the rich bitch in his bed.

~ * ~ * ~

Joyce gasped as another bolt of pleasure shattered her.

God damn you, Dale. Why couldn't this have been you?

she thought.

It wasn't her fault he couldn't give her this kind of a fucking. Eight fucking years and . . . Oh, shit, oh shit, oh shit . . .

"Fuck me! Damn it!" she screamed as she came for her powerful lover again, and again, and again.

~ * ~ * ~

Dale exploded in the woman's mouth, gasping at the pleasure. It had been months since his wife had allowed him to touch her. She claimed migraines, tiredness, that time of month, the whole gamut. For the last month it had gotten worse, the outright disrespect, the belittling, the humiliation. When he called her on it she laughed and said it was his imagination. He knew the truth. His investigators had provided the hard, cold facts.

He'd been lost, uncertain how to move forward, devastated that she would do such a thing, irritated at what it would cost him to end it. Dale had been angry at himself for not following his attorney's advice and demanding a pre-nuptial. He was resigned to pay whatever price just to make it end. The mysterious stranger at his door had changed all that.

Fifteen minutes into the conversation he knew his answer would be yes. It satisfied all his desires and needs. Eliminating the interloper, humiliating and taking back control from his cheating wife, saving face, and most of his money.

"You understand we have our rules, Mr. Daniels. No details until you sign the contract, for our protection and yours. You're completely out of the loop, nothing can be tied back to you. I will remain your only contact, until we've come to an agreement. Once you do agree there's no turning back, and the penalties for disclosure would be . . . extreme. Shall I continue?"

"Please, Mr. X."

"The spouse will not be physically injured. She may be punished, but nothing debilitating or life threatening. She will no longer be yours, but she will be completely available to you. You will have no say in her initial treatment. After six months, you will be given the option to be her primary handler. After one year, you will be provided with long-term options. I cannot specify those at this time. Is this agreeable?"

The words sounded practiced, delivered without emotion. "Agreed."

"This particular interloper will be broken. Financially, spiritually, mentally, physically. He will not be terminated, except as a last resort. Once he is under our control, you will be allowed, even encouraged to mete out some revenge of your own, under our conditions and supervision. We assure you, he will never steal another man's wife again. It is most likely he'll be incapable of being with another woman again. Is this agreeable?"

"May I ask a question?"

"Of course. That is why we're having this conversation."

"What if he has a family?"

"Excellent question. Most excellent. Concern for the welfare of innocents. Unfortunately the answer is not simple. Does his spouse know? Is she involved? What are the ages of the children? Is he the sole support?" The man paused in his quiet, steady explanation. "Let me assure you, the founders are men of character. Unyielding against evil, but deeply compassionate. Under no circumstances will an innocent family suffer. The solutions are varied. Guaranteed employment, grants, trusts, the list goes on. They will be taken care of. That is where a large part of our payment goes. In this particular case it's not an issue. Have I answered your question?"

"What if I want to be personally involved?"

"The foundation will not deny it. We don't recommend it, it may bring unwanted legal attention your way, and we like to keep you isolated from that as much as possible. We always prefer you have an airtight public alibi for when the act goes down. If you decide to make it a personal mission of yours, we will assist you, where reasonable. Have I answered your question?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Are the rules concerning the interloper agreeable?"

"Yes."

"The monetary cost is twenty percent of your net worth. Our accountant will evaluate your net when the agreement is confirmed. No payment will be required for six months. After that, ten percent every six months until it is paid. The money will be very difficult to track, to protect you. We suggest putting the money aside as early as possible; we do not concern ourselves with fluctuations in your wealth, the amount is fixed at the time of acceptance. Do you understand these terms?"

"It's a substantial amount of money," Dale said. Millions.

"It is, in your case. Sometimes we lose money. In all cases, it is much less than you would likely lose as part of a divorce. Do you understand these terms?"

"I do."

"Finally, you will become a member of the foundation. This is a distinctive honor, most of our cases do not include membership. It takes a certain breed of man to be offered a share of the organization. With all the benefits and responsibilities attached. Think of it as an exceptionally exclusive private club, and the fee you're paying is your initiation cost. You may be asked to use your influence or contacts in the completion of a project. You will not be endangered, nor required to do anything illegal. The benefits are... substantial. Female companionship is part of that. Friends of a like nature, who understand your situation. I will not go into detail, but you will be given a sample on the cusp of agreement, and receive full benefits when your personal project completes phase one."

"Phase one?"

"Capture and control. Do you understand these terms?"

Dale sat back, taking his time. He didn't like to rush things. It was pricey, but sounded almost too good to be true. "Yes, I understand."

A card was passed across the table. "You may call me within the next seventy-two hours to confirm. That number will no longer work three days from now. If I don't hear from you, you will never speak of this meeting, and you will never hear from us again. No second chances. Do you understand these terms?"

"Seventy-two hours, or never. This discussion remains secret. Yes, I understand."

The man stood, extending his hand. "It's been a pleasure sir. I'm sorry that circumstances dictate our intervention. I hope that we can work with you." The man smiled, surprising Dale. "On a personal note, leap at the opportunity, Dale. You won't regret it."

"You speak from personal experience?"

"I do. Best decision I ever made. I hope you choose wisely."

One thing had been eating at him, and he had to ask. "How did you know? Why did you approach me?"

The big man frowned. "Normally, we don't talk about these things until you've made your decision. I believe in your case, it won't hurt. We weren't watching you or your wife. We were searching for her lover. We have unfinished business with him. You just happened to be who he was screwing over once we'd tracked him down."

Dale nodded. He 'd always considered himself lucky. He wasn't certain that's how he'd frame his current situation, but then again..."

"You were looking out for this scumbag? Why shouldn't I just sit back and let you take care of him for free?"

The man shrugged. "It's your choice of course. You can let us deal with him on our own. You'll still have the issue of your wife, a looming, expensive divorce, and you'll miss out on the benefits of membership in the organization. They are substantial. It's up to you. No matter what you choose, the interloper will be dealt with. On our timetable, which may not be suitable to you."

It was something to think about you.

~ * ~ * ~

Rafe was concentrating on his own pleasure, having fucked his latest target into a state of near helplessness. He may not have been the smartest in school, or the most athletic, but he was blessed with one particular skill, and one exceptional physical gift. That gift and skill had served him well, this time turning a once loving and faithful wife into a sex-addict.

He stared down at where he was entering her, watching her tremble as he went for the big finish. Joyce was aware of nothing but the huge rod penetrating her repeatedly.

The door to the room burst open, slamming against the side wall. Rafe froze in mid-stroke, the look of surprise on his face immediately turning to shock as the barbed darts entered his flesh, unleashing two million volts in a series of three debilitating bursts. One of the intruders was already turning him over and restraining him, before he was even able to hit the ground.

His partner Joyce was handled only slightly gentler, gagged, and trussed before she had even come back to her senses from the sexual assault that Rafe had unleashed on her. Her eyes had only begun to focus when the needle slipped into her vein, and a warm blanket of calm stole her away to unconsciousness.

Both were placed into the wheeled boxes, folded and strapped into a two-foot deep by three-foot square box, with three inches of insulation on the inside, providing both cushioning and soundproofing. The small canister in the bottom would provide an hour's worth of oxygen, in their sedated state.

Manolo adjusted his mask, hating that part of the job. He understood the need, but found it hot and uncomfortable. He gave a nod to his partner, and they exited the room of the tawdry motel, and within minutes had the reinforced detainment cubes placed in the back of their van. They released the bench retainer, and the seat dropped back in place, covering the cubes in the recessed bottom of the undercarriage. From outside, it appeared to be a simple passenger van, empty except for the two men seating the front, two rows of empty seats behind them. Manolo picked up the tablet, and entered the data pertaining to their mission, reporting their success. The second part of the job was displayed moments later. He entered the data into the vehicles GPS, and his partner drove off into the night.

He never looked back to see the cleaners enter the room, obliterating any evidence of anything having ever occurred in room 173. Within the hour, both the vehicles would be on the move, soon to disappear, at least in their current form. The phones would start their journey, spitting out innocuous, misleading texts for the next 72 hours until they, too, would disappear.

~ * ~ * ~

Across town, another crew waited for the tell-tale indicators to tell them it was a go. The home had been staked out for a week, its tenants habits observed and recorded. They checked the cameras, validating their expectations.

"Go," the leader said.

The two men entered the domicile through the back door. The alarm had been taken care of the day before. It still appeared to be working, but from three o'clock in the morning, until four, it was silent and disarmed. No pets this mission. At least nothing that would alert the inhabitants. The team carefully climbed the stairs, the leader keeping one eye on the tablet, checking the cameras in each inhabited room to ensure no change in status.

When they arrived at their target, they entered silently. Only the finisher wore night vision goggles, dropping them in place moments before entering the room. The tap on his shoulder was the go-ahead signal. He approached the sleeping form, completed his simple task, placed the slip of paper beside the bed, and retreated carefully. The leader retrieved the camera from the room, and they backed their way out of the house, carefully walking down their list, removing each surveillance device, finally removing all traces of the tampering with the security system, before closing the back door and locking it behind them. They walked briskly to their vehicle, and drove away, obeying all laws. When they were one mile away, according to the GPS, they reported their success, and returned to their staging point.

When the slimy bastard's wife awoke in the morning, she'd find her husband cold and stiff. The organization had little patience with those whose job it was to ensure the system worked properly, and abused their power. Those that subverted the system, were dealt with harshly.

For anyone smart enough, the calling card beside the bed would tell the story: Willy:Hank 6 Jr 4-2-73. It was all there, with a little deception thrown in. The number 6 was the dead giveaway. Willy's Henry VI, II, 4 2 73. William Shakespeare's Henry the Sixth, Part 2, Act IV, scene 2, line 73.

The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers.

At least the corrupt ones.

~ * ~ * ~

Rafe jolted awake, the ammonia capsule bringing him to his senses. He opened his eyes, and was blinded by the spotlight directed at him. He was immobilized, strapped down to a bench, unable to move.

"Rafe, Rafe, Rafe. What are we going to do with you? You've been a very naughty boy," a deep voice intoned from behind his head. It was digitally enhanced and modified, unrecognizable.

Rafe would have answered if he could, but the gag in his mouth prevented him from making any cogent sounds.

"Don't bother speaking. The time for communicating is later. This, now, is a time for punishment. You've pissed off some powerful people. Several, in the last three years. We have to hand it to you, you're very good at falling through the grid. Not good enough, I fear."