Trust But Verify Ch 02

Hello,

I would highly recommend you read the first chapter before you move forward. This chapter is a bit darker.

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Recording started soon after Jen left John's office. John was surprised by how well it seemed to pick up the conversation. He sat for hours, piecing together what had happened.

Her first call was to her work. She had apparently left her coffee mug at the office. John thought of how much of life was mundane minutia.

The next call's recipient wasn't surprising, but the content was. "I'll be there in fifteen minutes. Is everything ready?.... Yes, the tickets are in the front pocket of the luggage with my driver's license and a credit card. I assume your purse is packed?... That sounds great, and that should be plenty. I need to hang up in case I get a call, and I want to leave John a message before I leave. I hid his phone so I wouldn't end up spending an hour on the phone... Yea, I'll meet you in the restroom. I'll wait till it's empty so the switch goes as smooth as possible. I hope you are wearing that hat... I'm wearing mine... Yes, a white undershirt."

She called John, and left the message.

The conversation in the restroom was even more bewildering.

"Thank you so much sis. Here are the keys," hurried Jen.

"Sorry that you have to trade your car for the bucket of bolts I brought, when all I have to do is get to the airport. But, it will be reliable and discreet. It treated me well on the six hour ride over. I'm sure it will treat you fine on the way back."

"It's perfect Tam...Thank you."

Tammy answered," Never thought I'd be swapping clothes with my sister in the restroom of a damn convenience store."

They switched a sweater for a blouse, and a baseball cap for a hat John bought her in Europe two years past. Jen and her sister exchanged a brief hug, and left one at a time. The hat and the sweater transformed Jen into Tammy, at least to anyone that might look at the security cameras. They were already close enough for anyone at the airport checking ID.

Jen trotted towards the car Tammy brought, an anxious shudder chilling her spine. The car door creaked open begrudgingly. Jen slid in, turned the key, and pulled away as she dialed up a number on the burner phone.

"Hello Lawrence, I just broke free. Are you ready for the night of your life?" She waited for his inevitable agreement before she replied. "I'm ready for someone who knows what he wants, and who has a nice big cock I can get inside of me. I'll drive by in about 20."

She drove 3 over the limit. A traffic ticket would unravel the whole thing. Cops pull the drunks going 20 under over just as often as those who mimicked Mad Max. Tonight would already be a dangerous ride without unnecessary dangers.

She muttered to herself as the signs ghosted past on the way to her illicit rendezvous. "You can to this. You can make this happen. This is your chance."

His car pulled in behind her and then passed. She followed for a half hour up highway 25 before turning off on a road that promised a less civilized weekend. The car bounced and shimmied as the asphalt turned to gravel. The opulence and even ostentation on the sides of the road were evident. Each of those cabins, used only a few weekends a year, cost more than her house. Having money has advantages, and a beautiful cabin was definitely one. She eyed the other cabins. They were closer than she would have guessed. She suddenly felt nervous about being caught during that night's escapades.

She shook her hands as she followed him up the driveway, muttering to herself, "Come on, relax. This isn't hard as long has he is. Be smart." As the car lurched to a stop, she looked down and undid a button. Her ivory skin heaved and fell, lungs filling to bursting and then collapsing again. She hesitated briefly and undid another button, then rifled through her purse. Her hands twitched as his lights extinguished, plunging the garage into twilight. Her hands involuntarily fought to scour off their damp clamminess on the seats in vain.

She waited until the garage door sealed behind her, smiled a lusty smile, pushed open the door, and stepped out. She walked over to him in long steps, her hips swiveling and her chest out. She felt his body press up against her as his mouth briefly locked over hers and felt him growing erect. She slid one hand over his bulge and her other hand over his ass, digging her nails in, and then pushed him away.

"Do you have somewhere I could freshen up? Unless I get this on, you'll never see get to see me slip it off". She pulled the corner of some white lingerie out of her bag. He smiled the greasy smile of a lawyer about to win after bending the hell out of the rules. Alphas get what they want. He couldn't resist slapping her ass as she slinked towards the door into the house. She peered over her shoulder, asking, "You got anything to drink around here?"

Two glasses appeared on the counter, along with a bottle of scotch. She grabbed the bottle and made a generous pour into both glasses. She handed him one. He toasted. "To a wonderful evening."

"To an exciting weekend," she replied.

She took a quick sip, and he a long pull. It burned her throat as it went down. She grabbed her purse and reached for her bag. Before grabbing it, she turned to him again. Wrapping her arms around him, she embraced him again. Their limbs twisted and interlocked until they lost balance, and stumbled towards a wall. Jen shifted her weight, and Larry absorbed the brunt of it.

"What the hell!" said Larry as he pushed her away and reached toward his back.

"What happened?" she asked.

"What the hell do have in that purse. Something poked me. Damn, it hurts." Whining rarely improves your alpha male credibility, but it stung like a valkyrie hornet.

"I'm so sorry," She replied in a mocking voice. "Do you want me to kiss it better?" Her tone deepened and her eyes glistened with a consuming hunger. "Or would you rather I change into something designed for a slightly different type of poking?" She reached into her purse and pulled out a mechanical pencil, asking with concern, "Did it really stick you?" Her tongue snaked out and suggestively licked the crimson stain on the metallic tip of the pencil.

He rolled his shoulders and flexed, peacocking as he presented his favorite angle to her with a smile. "Nothing some other deeper poking won't fix. The powder room is straight ahead".

She simpered as she snatched her bag, "Let's see what you can do to make the mood right. "

The resounding clack of the solid walnut door shutting behind her reverberated through the house, informing him he would have to wait, but promising something forbidden and delicious for him to devour.

Lawrence was surprised by how well everything had gone. Women might say they wanted a sensitive guy, but he knew almost every woman really wanted someone to bend them over, and fuck the living shit out of them, even if you have to slip them a little something to do it. His cock was getting hard thinking about it. He grabbed the candles out of the cupboard, and after a little thought, he grabbed his drink. Larry pulled his camera out of his bag and started to get set up to film. You never knew when some slut would grow a conscience and try to back out. Even the boldest had their faces go ashen at the thought of their deception exposed to their husbands and parents. The pictures on his phone from the last time at the office party were explicit enough to get her here, but they weren't air tight. The cage would go from silken cords to steel chains tonight. He walked over to the bedroom with the camera reaching over to steady himself. He felt for the remaining blue pills that would keep him hard and hammering through a little booze, or a lot. Then the realization flashed that he hadn't added any magic to her drink to spice up her night. As he walked back to the kitchen to retrieve some, he realized how much he'd had when the floor reached up for him.

Jen emerged from the bathroom to the sound of him hitting the floor. He leaned up against the wall grinning stupidly.

"I didn't drive all the way up here to watch you sleep. Let's get you out of those pants so you can show me your cock." She slid his pants off over his growing erection with his eager and emphatic cooperation.

He slurred back, "Gonna own your pussy tonight. You're going to be raising my baby."

Jen's reply kept him roused. "I've been looking forward to tonight ever since I woke up Saturday and realized what happened Friday. What do you say we get to somewhere more- comfortable."

She threw his meaty arm over her shoulder, heaving up. His interests skated between getting his disobedient legs under him and feeling her breasts. Her breasts seductively oscillated back and forth, promising a firm feel, then swaying out of reach like an elusive fox teasing the hounds. The rhythm was as intoxicating and hypnotizing as whatever he had drunk.

The revolving of the room slowed as she slid him into an oak chair by the wall. The wood seemed designed to ensure everyone knew he was from old money, but instead felt cold and unforgiving to his naked body.

"Let me get something you won't forget," she whispered into his ear.

"I won't forget," he burbled back.

She slid back up behind him and rubbed her hands over his chest. A full breath in his chest pushed it out, exhibiting the muscles he had slaved for in the gym for all to see. She started to move her hands lower, taking his arms and guiding them back towards her sweet sex. He moved them back. The clicking of steel mechanisms echoed in his ears, but the fog in his mind was so thick he had trouble getting through it. He tried to move his arms. But they were stuck, locked together and to the chair. Something screamed he should run, but it felt like it was screaming through a cloud of marshmallow.

"Your cock will never forget the attention it will get tonight. You'll be begging for me to finish it. I know how I felt after you finished. First, though, you'll get a little dance by firelight".

She brought out the candle and lamps in, and in 20 minutes had a fire blazing, and the light was looking more and more romantic. The wood she brought in was stacked so high beside the fireplace it was almost a fire hazard. A small smile appeared as she shut off the lights and shadows rose and fell on her body, almost dancing in the light of the flames. She was glistening in the light of the fire, small beads of sweat catching the warm firelight. Her movements weren't full and expansive, though. Instead of swaying with sensuality, swinging with lust, she stoked the fire more like an automaton than a seductress. Those breasts, though. They still tried to peek through the thin white shirt, the peaks through concealment each wanting to titillate him.

His cock was harder than it had ever been, despite or even because of the way the cuffs lightly bit into his hands. He was starting to think a little more clearly, as if the alcohol was wearing off. He didn't' understand why he was recovering so quickly, but he still knew what he had to do. Dominance, once lost, was hard to reestablish.

"Enough teasing. Why don't you come over here and get busy with this cock?"

"I'd love to. You know what it is like to wake up knowing you've had a man in you, someone that wanted you bad enough to take you? Someone who isn't going to ask gently? To know an Alpha Male wants your pussy? It can be as hot as hell." She sauntered over, knelt down in front of him, and looked up at his eyes as she reached down, running her hands between his legs. "The difference between a man that teases you into needing to say yes and a man who takes what he wants is the difference between a standard hand job and this." Her fingers slid up along his testicles, snaking softly around them. His legs spread on their own, trying to give her more access.

He started to lightly moan, absorbing her intense stare. Her smile turned to a grimace as she started to squeeze. Every part of his body strained, trying to protect himself, trying to pull his genitals back somewhere safe. Her face turned into fury as her hands twisted. He screamed until the red turned to black.

A splash of water startled him awake. A pulsing, rhythmic ache emanated from his bruised testicles. His legs were tied open, exposing his now limp genitals. Jen sat in front of him.

"Hello, Larry. How is your back feeling?" Larry looked at her quizzically.

"It's just that when you get tranquilizer injected into a site, it can smart quite a bit. I thought you would be to horny to tell the difference between being stuck with a mechanical pencil, and a needle. Turns out I was right. You didn't think I would really lick your blood off a pencil, did you? Anyway, just thought I would clue you in so you better understand your situation."

Her even, grim face turned into a grim smile, only slightly crazy. His spirits sagged as he became more disappointed with how the night had turned, and his prognostication of future enjoyment that evening gradually grew worse as she spoke.

"Guess what we are going to do this evening? We are going to engage in an exercise we call 'Find the evidence'. I really hope it goes well. As a rule, I don't enjoy causing pain. I am willing to find out if you are the exception. Rape makes me more willing to expand my horizon in that direction. Be aware, I'm feeling more like the God of the Old Testament than Job tonight. Shall we start?" she asked. "First, where do you have copies of the video you shot?"

"You are going to pay for this you bitch. This is kidnapping and is fucking illegal. Let me go now and it will be a hell of a lot easier on you." His efforts to keep his voice cool and hard were only marginally successful. The drugs were still wearing off, and having testicles used for a tow rope doesn't do a lot to clarify a man's thoughts.

"Thank you so much for your offer, Larry." She gritted her teeth as she thought back one week, to that Friday night and Saturday morning.

"Do you know how humiliating it is to refuse your husband until you get test results back because you might have a disease, even if only you know? You were ready to fuck up my life even more. My husband would have eventually found out. A guy who would take a bullet for me would end up wondering what he did wrong, how he had been inadequate enough for his wife to whore herself out to a... slime like you. He'd be tethered to reminders of betrayal for the rest of his life, either living in a strained marriage for the kids or with divorce. My son would wonder why his parents are so fucked up, and emulate that as an adult. My daughter would grow up wondering if being a philandering slut was genetic, and doubt her every move. Do I have that about right?

"You're perfectly willing to destroy four lives because you love the power trip and the easy sex! Your kidnapping accusations are spoken from legal high ground made of a mountain of stale cum, you asshole. You have already threatened me with losing everything. Anything you add sounds like another pile of bullshit. I have no patience for bullshit tonight. Just to make sure we understand each other, here is what happens when I get impatient."

She took his doubled-over belt and brought it whistling through the air onto his genitals. The sound of a slap combined with the sound of an overripe pear hitting the floor. He gritted his teeth and groaned as water filled his eyes. He glared at her through his flooded eyes and spat. She looked at him, shrugged, and sent the belt whistling through its hungry arc. This time he couldn't contain the sharp cry, although he quelled it quickly.

"Toughness won't get you very far tonight. Honesty might. So first question. Pictures. Where are they? If I have to ask again, I promise it will get worse. "

"I just kept them on a memory card in my car's glove box, that's it," he stuttered, nodding towards where he had dropped the camera on the floor. She winced as she looked down with a tsk-tsk, before looking back at him with hate.

He screamed as she whipped the most tender part of his body with the buckle, this time any pretense of pleasantness gone, her teeth together in a grimace.

His body sounded like a motor that wouldn't start, and the smell told her his control was starting to slip. The whole room was full of the sound. That sound wasn't getting her any closer to truth. Another tool might. She ran her hand over a small log, only about 5 inches around. It still had some short jagged pieces of branches protruding from the rough bark. It made her think of a medieval mace. She set it on the floor beside him with a hollow thump.

"And in the locked drawer in my office," he cried. "That's all, I swear."

"I think honesty the first time would be better for all of us going forward now. What do you think? Now, who else have you done this to? I want names and dates." She leaned down and lifted the piece of firewood. His face turned the shade of battered driftwood as he looked at it. "Look, you son of a bitch, nothing would make me happier than beating your balls off your body. I'm not sure I want to do that to your family. I don't want you to have to explain that to your boy, so I'll try to be nice, when the situation allows it." The piece of firewood fell to the tile floor, the sound like the knocking of death at the door.

He started to sob, and the story tumbled out, rambling and barely cohesive. There had been three others before her, but they wanted it, he swore. He had to coax them into it at first, but the damning videos made them willing enough. She thought about how easy it would have been to fall into the same trap; weakness, self-loathing, then self-destruction. He neither knew nor cared what had happened to the women after he used them, and he wouldn't have cared about her descent.

Her hands were white as she clenched a piece of wood. Her sister had already dug up the women's names, but hearing it from his lips enraged her. "Did you know that Jessica killed herself because of what you did? That her husband is still in therapy four years later? That he doesn't ever think he can be in a relationship again?"

"But she enjoyed it, I could tell. I didn't kill anyone. It's not my fault"

"You are one fucked up animal. A good assumption is nobody enjoys getting raped. I don't care what kind of fucking delusions you read about online," she shrieked. "There are some rare crazies out there that get their thrills out of that. Guess how you know who they are? They fucking tell you. Jesus fucking Christ, what the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I didn't know."

The smell of the cabin was a mix between the wealthy but stale smell of the cabin that was kept empty too often and the smell of piss and shit. He groveled, whimpering and sobbing about how it would never happen again, grasping at one straw and then another. His penis lay limp and flaccid, already showing the bruising. The pain had subsided to a pulsing ache, each heart beat sliding him into a little more pain.

She brought a cup full of whiskey.

"You did me one favor. I wasn't in my right mind during what you did to me. I thought I would return the favor. You have the option of either being awake or not when I rape you. By the way, before you get any ideas about actually enjoying this, keep in mind you'll be receiving tonight. With a champagne bottle. I read this is one of the things they keep on hand at Russian police stations to make sure their questionings go quickly. The good news is that I'm not a Russian cop. The bad news is that I am someone you've raped. You've got 5 seconds to decide."

His eyes widened. She walked into the kitchen and emerged with a duffle bag. She pulled out a bright yellow pair of rubber gloves and an empty champagne bottle.