Bad Bet

The notice read: Insufficient Funds- Your account is overdrawn, you have 48 hours to contact our office and make corrections...Linda was alarmed and frustrated. Dragging her slender fingers through her thick shag of black hair, the diamonds in her rings sparkling from the sunlight streaming into the breakfast nook. She sipped a little more of her afternoon coffee, fuming at the mistakes these computers make.

Her husband Richard had a good job; his paycheck was always direct-deposited into the bank, and even her recent extravagant shopping spree should have left plenty in reserve. She noticed that the post mark was yesterdays and could not fathom why her husband had not taken care of this or atleast mentioned it to her to look after. She had just one day now to avoid further interest and penalties, so she punched the number into the phone.

The bank manager was polite and accommodating, assuring her that there must have been a glitch in transmission, since Richard was always transferring money through their various accounts.

To calm her slightly agitated nerves, she dumped her coffee and poured her second highball of the day. She fished a pill bottle from her purse and snatched-up one of the fashion brochures from the table and reclined on the divan. Linda has always been high-strung and easily upset. Nothing relaxes her like leafing through the glossy ads and plotting her next excursion to the mall.

Surrounded by unopened packages and shoeboxes stacked on top of each other, she thumbed over the jewelry pages. A woman always needed to accessorize. After that, would be her favorite, Victoria's Secret. You never know what spark would capture Richard's eyes and re-kindle their flagging love life.

He has been so distant lately, spending long nights at the business and turning their love-making into a compulsory exercise performed only a few nights a month. And these, only in the dark and under covers. As if they were mere strangers to each other.

Was he losing interest, she worried. She was no longer a model but as she gazed down at her reclining form, even a self-critical evaluation couldn't find too many faults.

Her photo-op face at age thirty-two, had some laugh lines and the trace of vague crows feet at the edges of her stunning Kelly-green eyes. It was once written that her sensuous lips were made to be kissed. And some more vulgar tongues had said that those full cheeks were built for blowjobs.

Even laying on her back, those all natural 34Cs pointed skyward and her obscenely perky nipples poked forth from under any material, causing air-brush artists to scramble when she appeared in family magazines. She unconsciously strummed at the curly black hairs of her mound. Linda didn't like the shaved look, it hinted too much at pedophilia. So she kept a tightly trimmed yet thick patch of raven-black pubes. Her crisp, white shorts revealed the dark shadow at her "Y", and the lean hips had never birthed children.

Her long well-toned legs had been her initial calling card, (until the tits developed,) and were still eye-catching in the four or six-inch heels she always wore. She wiggled her bare toes, today lacquered in hot pink and was pleased with the overall package.

But why was her husband always falling asleep on the couch or burying his head in the sports pages like an overgrown kid? She flipped past some pictures of sheer bras and silk panties, contemplating her next purchase, when the phone rang.

"Where's Rick?" An angry voice shouted into her ear.

"Excuse me, are you looking for my husband, Richard?" She was shocked out of her lethargy and annoyed at his tone.

"Rick, Richard, whatever you call him. Tell him to quit ducking me or there will be trouble. If I don't get paid by tomorrow, there will be a knock on the door!" Whoever it was, slammed the phone down on his end without further conversation. She was left staring at her own portable, and wondering if this had something to do with the bank snafu. An ominous feeling was roiling in the pit of her stomach.

Linda shivered, goosebumps rising on her lovely, tanned torso. She quickly dialed Richards number and refilled her drink. Her lazy afternoon was darkened by that call.

Richard was the managing partner in an upscale, trendy bistro. Linda had worked there a few months as a hostess but the "stress" was too overwhelming for her and her mood swings affected the other employees. The business catered to an elite crowd and was exorbitantly priced but, business was off. At the downturn of the economy, even the noveau-riche scaled back.

Linda never understood economics. Her big tits got her in, and her platinum card solved all her problems. The finances were Richard's domain. But why wasn't he taking her calls? She was told the first time that they had a banquet to prepare for. At her second call he was conducting a staff meeting. At about 10:30 he called with a brief message before he had to meet with an "associate." "Everything's fine Lin. Take a pill, go to bed. It'll be late when I get home." She hated when he condescended to her, and she considered it his duty to protect her and pay the bills. For that, one benefit was to have a pretty girl on his arm, the envy of women and wet dream of men. Also sex when he could, and the occasional blowjob.

The next day brought mixed messages. Richard may or may not have come home last night. Either way he had not spoken or left word, and in the morning he was nowhere to be found. And her questions remained unanswered. This was not unusual behavior from him, but now it was disconcerting. But she couldn't let it interfere with her day.

By late morning her arms were filled with the packages too important to be delivered. She met with the banker whose news was both confusing and disturbing, the numbers were not adding up. Then she headed towards the restaurant. Richard greeted her with a kiss on the forehead and a compliment on her outfit. He placated her with soft words and promised to meet her for a late drink after the evening dinner rush. Then he shooed her on her way.

When she picked him up at the restaurant later that evening, he was waiting outside, anxious to relax and take a break. Her sporty, red convertible pulled up and he could see that she was dressed for action. Linda had on a dark green, cropped top, that accentuated her gorgeous tits, and showed off her firm, tight abs. Her dark mass of hair shone under the streetlights with sparkles added by her hairdresser, she hinted that there were more sparkles to be had. Soft white slacks dressed her long legs and finished with green open-toed stilettos.

Most of his cares were on the back burner as he sidled in next to her and they drove to a secluded lounge. All eyes were on them as they were led to a booth and after cocktails were served, Richard hesitantly began to speak.

He had salt and pepper hair he wore slicked with gel. His once-handsome face was now lined and jowly. Richard always dressed sharp; tailored suit with matching tie and square, monogrammed silk shirt, and leather loafers. But the thick chest was drooping and his belt now measured in the forties. He still enjoyed his wife's appearance and liked ogling some of the young waitresses, but these days his thoughts were on his wallet and unfortunately that effected his libido. He started to explain.

It took a couple rounds of drinks before the gravity of the situation registered with Linda. He was heavily in debt to a gambling boss. Thus the mysterious call, the bank letter and the house was mortgaged to the hilt. Even her credit cards would soon be rejected.

The business downturn may recover. Minimum payments might soothe their creditors. But one problem could not be overcome with smooth words or payments, even if he had the cash. Their lives may truly be in danger.

The bookie, a fellow named Smokey, was reputed to be a cold-hearted bastard who cared only about money and revenge. Richard had made a series of bad bets, compounding them by doubling-down and borrowing/stealing the money from the bistro. He was now broke, would likely be arrested and prosecuted, possibly divorced and the bill to Smokey was coming due. Linda was flabbergasted.

It was quickly decided that they drive home, gather what they could carry, grab their passports and drive to the closest airport. Linda wasn't thrilled with this plan but the options were limited and Richard had always been the idea guy. They drove right on to the lawn and parked, the motor left running. They popped the trunk and planned to sell the car to the first, best offer. This would only take a few minutes. They were only grabbing cash, jewelry and travel documents.

They would not take chances with lights, no one needed to know or see them, this had to be fast.

When the door opened there was instant confusion and terror. Atleast two men grabbed them in the darkened hall. Linda was tossed roughly on the couch, her hands and mouth quickly duct-taped and she was left incapacitated. Richard was hustled to a plain kitchen chair that had been brought to the front room. He too was secured and gagged, and an upright reading lamp was clicked on, it's bright beam illuminating him in an otherwise dark, shadow-filled room.

She struggled uselessly against her restraints and could only visually sweep the blackened living area. The curtains were drawn and all lights inside and out were turned off. Her packages had been rifled through and she spotted her jewelry box upturned on the coffee table, it's contents missing. Beside it on the floor, was their house safe. It had been pried from it's moorings in the upstairs floorboards and it's hinges were wrenched open. Nothing of value remained.

She saw shadows moving in the periphery and could pick out hushed voices in conspiratorial whispers. She saw also that the liquor cabinet had been raided and apparently her underwear drawer had been tossed.

Suddenly she recognized the voice from the phone call. "So Rick, you were in a hurry. I can only guess that you were on your way to my office with a bag full of cash. Is that it? You remembered that there was one thing more to do before beddy-bye. Huh? Gather up the 120 large you owe and bring it to me. Was that the plan?" When Rick mumbled something unintelligible through his gagged lips; the man in silhouette with the husky voice, snapped his fingers and a larger man on the other side, slapped Richard so hard across the mouth, that the chair teetered on two legs and his nose exploded with blood.

Linda was terrified. In the extreme darkness outside the narrow beam of the lamp, the masked and gloved figures could only be discerned as eyeballs, teeth and menacing apparitions. She was fairly drunk and horribly frightened but adrenaline was coursing through her veins. Anxious and alert, she tried to get a grip on this incredibly threatening scene. Had he said one hundred and twenty thousand dollars? Richard mentioned to her "about 70k." She listened intently. The man with the husky voice renewed his interrogation.

"Where's the cash Rick?" Another violent crack in the mouth and a spray of blood from her now, whimpering husband. The man tossed a drink in Richard's face and either the shock of it or the sting of alcohol hitting an open wound, caused him to recoil and shiver into his muzzle. "I'm going to ask you one question, and we'll take off the gag for you to answer. Just tell me where the money is and we leave, got it? Any other answer might upset me."

Linda could tell that one man was asking questions, that must be Smokey. And another, large and strong, was doing the hitting. Atleast one more was behind her, two strong hands gripping her shoulders and holding her in place despite her adrenaline-fueled struggles. Though that charge of energy was fading fast. She saw Richard trembling, his white shirt now wet and blood-stained. His thin, wet hair, laid limp on his sweaty face, the left side becoming horribly, frighteningly distended and his eye swelling shut.

The tape was ripped from his lips, letting loose another stream of blood and he gasped for air. His chest heaved and his dilated right eye darted from one ghostly figure to the other. "Well where is it?" The husky voice demanded. "I know the bank account is empty and the bar has questions for you, too. We've been all through this house, it ain't here. So this is it. Answer me or we'll hurt you. Where's my money!?"

"I haven't got it," he sputtered and instantly took another sharp crack to the face. Only the chair banging against the wall kept him upright. When Linda saw his face recoil, she could see that his nose had been knocked off-center, and again the dark, red blood began to flow. She hurt inside for him and wished she could alleviate his pain. Nothing was worth this. Richard coughed, he spit out blood and saliva and tried to form an answer. "I can get it, Smokey. I just need a couple more days." He cringed as he said it because he could sense the vicious arm swinging towards his face one more time. This awful crash dislodged some teeth and set loose a terrible moan as he seemed to lose consciousness. Someone threw another drink in his face, this one smelled like beer. Then the voice said, "that's enough, shut him up again and we'll try something else." He muttered, "...A few more days, you mother-fucker, a few more days. You been say'n that for months. It's time to pay up, Rick."

A second light on the lamp was switched on and aimed in Linda's direction. Her black hair, damp with sweat, was grabbed roughly and she was tossed on to the carpet in a small, bright circle of light. Her leather pumps were scattered as she landed awkwardly. With her hands tied, she hit the floor hard. Her chin was scraped while her hair flew in all directions, the spot light catching the sparkles in her locks. Her tight pants ripped instantly at both knees, bloodying her shins. Her toes, painted a deep red like her lips, were digging into the rug trying to steady her. The green half-shirt rode up her body revealing a sheer pink quarter-bra that barely contained her tits. Her bare belly was laying in a damp puddle of water, beer or worse. The nasty liquid was wicking into her pants.

"Okay honey, your name's Linda, right?" She hesitantly nodded, as she tried to make out the figure of the man hidden in the shadows. From her knees, she was forced to look up into a blinding light; it's beams caught the swirl of dust motes and the vapor of liquid, yet to settle. In a hazy outline he appeared stocky and set firmly on his heavy legs. The other one was taller with broad shoulders and he did the hitting. The third man behind her grunted a lot and rubbed her back and ass in a creepy, chilling manner.

They all wore black clothes and masks so they blended into the darkened surroundings. "Linda, we're going to untie you and remove the gag. We have no desire to hurt you if you help us. I think you can see that running, yelling or fighting would be hopeless and only get your husband and you injured, do you understand?" She nodded again, her sweaty hair plastered to her face and nervous moisture bathing her body. She involuntarily shrieked as the tape was torn off and her hands released. The man behind her yanked her up on her sore, bloody knees. Then one hand took a firm grasp on her shiny, black mane, directing her to peer into the light. The voice said, "Linda tell me where the money is." She was allowed to speak.

Her body shook with fright, racked with nervous spasms and the tears streamed from her lovely green eyes, streaking her round cheeks and dripping from her rug-burned chin onto her chest and then the carpet. "I don't know. I never knew anything about it," she stammered when permitted to reply. He told me he lost it all."

"Are you lying to me, bitch. You saw what happened to Rick. Something worse can happen to you. The money is missing! I know he had it! Tell me now!" She was getting the idea that she had been lied to also. Did he still have the money? Would he let them hurt her? My Gawd, they won't hurt him, till they get it. But they might kill me.

The crying started in earnest and her body slumped to the floor. From her misty lashes she caught a movement infront of her and then felt herself being lifted by her belt loops onto all fours. Her face was forcibly pressed to the soggy floor. And the short shirt, damp and dirty, was pulled over her head. The pink bra was unsnapped and both articles were tossed in a pile on the floor. She struggled to grip the carpet with her fingers and toes as her trousers were wiggled past her hips and shimmied down her legs, the pink panties bundled along with them. The pants were pulled off her legs leaving her splayed naked, belly down on the wet rug, shivering from fear and nerves.

A powerful hand reached between her thighs, cupping her pussy and hoisting her back up to her knees. Her lower back was pressed forward, the dark hair falling in her face. The "violent guy" gripped her wrists. She felt the brutal thrust of a hard, thick cock ramming into her tight pussy and a vice-like grip around her waist. The man behind her started to drive his enormous cock into her aching cunt. Her big tits wobbled as she was repeatedly banged from behind. The grunts and moans spilled from her mouth as she fought any urge from her body to enjoy this. Her humiliating plight was heightened when she had to look into the wide-eyed gape of her husband.

"I'm going to ask you one last time, Linda. Where's the money!?"

"I swear to you I don't know," she answered with a desperate, hopeless look. She felt awful for even thinking Richard could be holding back. He would never allow this to happen. That look said it all.

"No more talk, no more nice guy." It was Smokey. He grabbed a handful of her hair and suddenly plunged a thick, stubby cock between her lips. "Suck it Linda and feel my man fuck you. We're going to get our money's worth out of your pussy if that's all that's left." He fucked her mouth and called her a slut and a cunt, then he caught a glimpse of Rick from the corner of his eye, and spotted an unusual expression on his face. Linda had too much going on to notice. Her jaws were forced wide and his balls thumped against her chin. With no gentleness or kindness he slammed deeper and harder into her mouth.

From behind, the same awful feeling was filling her snatch. One end drove her forward, impaling her pussy on his big cock. The other end pushed her back, choking her with the thick monster inching down her throat. Smokey waved his hand again towards the man near Richard.

"Look Linda," came the deep voice of the "violent one." He had a knife in his hand and Linda gasped, sensing her predicament. She feared that this was now the end for them both. Linda's mouth was full of cock and she wanted to scream. Richard was still gagged and could only wince, when they both saw the gleaming, steel blade plunge into Richard's pants, just below the zipper. She and Richard were both certain that he was about to be castrated right here in their living room.

Instead the knife left a yawning hole in the crotch and amazingly, his big white cock sprang forth, stiff and shiny, with cum droplets at the tip. Linda was momentarily stunned. She had not seen his cock that solid and erect in years. "Whadaya think, Lin? Rick's getting all excited watching us bang away at you." She stared transfixed at her husband. He couldn't move and couldn't talk but there was no way to deny or hide his obvious arousal.

She forgot for a second what was happening to her and was captivated by Smokey's narration. "He's gett'n off watching us fuck you. Each one of us is going to fuck you and stick our cocks in your mouth and Rick is gonna have the best orgasm." It was gross but undeniable. She felt a sudden slap on her ass and a warm cream filling her insides as her rapist pounded into her hot cunt. She could not turn away from Richard's face and his bobbing. shiny cock, only two feet infront of her. He was turned-on watching as the "violent guy" took his place behind her and Smokey began to grunt and push.