Chapter 1 - Life is a Beach
I am laying on a pure white sand beach in Costa Rica with several dark-skinned beauties. I don't care enough about them to even remember their names. They have one purpose, to be fucked. I have a big cock, and they love it shoved up their cunts. I am a tall, dark man with a chiseled body from working out regularly. I've never worked a day in my life, never needed to. Being born to David Wellington was enough. He is a successful businessman, owning a conglomerate controlling about 200 companies worldwide.
I could care less; I like fucking woman and drinking booze. Dad loved me. Mom and my two sisters hate me. They cared only about the business and money, so at age eighteen, I left and never looked back. Dad set me up with a billion-dollar trust fund so I could have some fun. Something he never could do. Mom rode him hard and forced him to work all day and night. Too bad for him, he was really good at it.
He woke up early and worked from his home office. At 8:35, they go to work. Work until 7:00 at night. Eat dinner and then work at home until he went to bed. He knew mom cheated on him. She would sleep with guys to motivate them to buy from us or entice them to manage our companies. My sisters were motivators as well. Personally, I think they just liked to fuck random guys.
I am twenty-six now, that makes Valorie twenty-eight and Patty twenty-nine. Both are world-class bitches and feel they are entitled to do anything they want. Mom was the worst. She grew up with nothing. She was controlling, manipulative, and cruel at times. Yet, dad loved her for some reason. I never did see it.
It is Friday, October 13, 2016. The day that changed my life forever. My father died. I didn't know it. I don't watch TV. I don't follow the stock market. I have no lawyers. I have no friends. Most of the time, I don't use my real name. Everyone then wants me to buy everything. I try to keep a low profile. I rely on my natural good looks, a well-toned body, and my big cock. It's been working pretty good for several years and no end in sight. When I get bored, I move on. I don't even have a cell phone.
Three weeks later, I am swimming in the ocean with two stunning women that I will fuck once we get back on the beach. Several men in suits show up on the beach, they call for me to come out. This is a bit unusual, already I am suspicious of my family. I tell the women to call the police in Portuguese. Lucky me, one of the men speaks Portuguese and stops her. In fact, they just kill both women, right there on the beach. Yup, family.
One hit and I am knocked out and drugged.
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I wake up in a black room. No lights, it's cold, I am starving, I am naked and on a cot. I can't hear anything. No chains on me. I start doing my exercises. I am stiff, I have been out for a few days. A bright light above me turns on. It's bright enough that I now have heat, and too much light.
I will save you the horrific details. They are trying to brainwash me. They don't want anything from me, they want me to obey them, sign papers, and then I will be released. Well, even I am not that stupid to realize I won't survive for more than five seconds after I sign whatever papers they want to be signed.
I have an ace in the hole if I can survive until the first of the month. That is shaky though, these are professionals. I have taken lots of martial arts training. While I am pretty good, I have never really fought anyone. What I liked most was the mental training and how to reduce stress, pain, and nerves. You calm your body. It lets me tune out most of the pain and annoyances out of my mind. My problem is that it's not perfect, I still feel and hear what they do to me.
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Point of view: Linda, my mother
Conference room 2 at the Wellington family home:
I am short and annoyed at these me. Oh, I hate them so much, such incompetent fools, "You have twenty minutes. Give me an update."
John, the president of Wellington Security, says with trepidation, "I'm afraid we have bad news. We're progressing very slowly with your son Robin. He has resisted much more than we ever expected. You described him as a hippie playboy with only enough intelligence to fuck women. It seems you don't know your son very well."
I slam my hand down on the table, "Enough excuses, you incompetent fool! When will I get my paperwork signed? I WANT MY COMPANY!"
John is annoyed at the outburst, "As I was saying, your son's a third-degree black belt in at least one form of martial arts. He spends his free time in the cell doing his katas. He should have broken by now. We're guessing he had a lot of mental training with martial arts and is tuning us out. Because we are running short of time..."
I cut him off again, "What the hell do you mean, short of time? There is no time limit."
John is now furious at being interrupted again, although I could care less, "One thing that may be giving him hope is a timer company."
I was going to interrupt him again.
John screams at me, "Just shut the fuck up and let me talk! Some rich people have companies that verify their family members or other heirs are still well and accounted for on the first of every month. If they aren't, they have an unlimited budget to get them back. We believe he may have a company liked this employed. Your husband did. Because of that, we would like to start causing pain."
Patty, my oldest daughter, is shocked, and yells out, "NO! Not yet, at least. If you break his body, I can't try my charms. Besides, mom, he's a Wellington. We can't harm him. I don't like this. Will we be next?"
Valorie, my youngest and smartest daughter says, "Release him and let's start begging for forgiveness. If he's survived all of this, he's far stronger than you ever imagined. I've seen the tapes; he's impressive physically and shows signs of being smarter than father. My best guess is he will go back to his womanizing and screwing beautiful strangers rather than run the company. He can, but he won't want to unless we piss him off like you are doing now."
That worries me she thinks so highly of him. She isn't impressed easily. Valorie has seen something.
I am as cold as they say, "Don't disfigure him. He needs to be pretty for the cameras. He needs to be mine. Do what you must. If you fail me ... We are done. Go."
After John leaves, I ask, "Robin isn't stupid, he'll know we are behind this. If he doesn't sign, are we better off seeing the company split up and him dead or be at Robin's mercy?"
Patty says, "He kills you and makes us sex slaves."
Valorie thinks a moment, "I'd kill him and then watch the company go away. We have enough money to live, ok. It's the safe thing to do. However, you want it all. You will continue to break him, so it really doesn't matter what we think."
Valorie is right. I don't value their opinion. I just wondered what they thought. That little punk can't last forever. He is in a deep hole; nobody will ever find him.
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December 1, 9:30 AM @ Sinclair Security Global Headquarters
Dan Sinclair is at the main conference room watching the morning's briefing.
Kathy Donovan is first to speak, that is unusual.
Kathy is dressed in a professional grey suit with a white blouse. She is twenty-three and one tenacious tiger. Easily, one of the best executives Dan has and is by far the youngest.
Kathy says in a clear and booming voice, "At 9:00 AM eastern today, Robin Wellington did not check in. Initial scans and check of his room show it has been unoccupied for a while, possibly several weeks. A level three satellite scan was done, and his transponder places him at an old government interrogation facility now owned by Wellington Securities."
That last part is a lie, but it fits better
I continue, "I have three units in route with kill orders authorized. Dan, this is your formal notice. I am following our contract to the letter. Is there anything you want to say or counter?"
Dan takes a moment to clear his throat before talking. Dan stands up in front of the group, something that rarely happens.
When Dan finally spoke, he too was clear and much louder than you would expect given his small size, "I knew David Wellington back in the day. He was a good man that liked to have fun. We are still investigating his death. We failed him. I'd bet anything that his wife killed him. NOTHING else matters right now. I want everyone working on this. Kathy, you will continue as the lead."
Kathy steps back in front, "All of your teams were notified this might happen. Six more teams are already heading in that direction as backup. We are utilizing every possible resource so they can all get there quickly and at the same time."
Dan says, "Meeting over, get my friend's son back soon and protect the man this time!"
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I assume it is noon, they stopped for lunch. I won't be fed; I will get another dose of loud music. Something changed this week; the abuse and physical torture have been increased. I have a broken arm in a cast, and I think my shoulder is dislocated. I believe all my toes are broken. This afternoon, they will start on my fingers.
I heard them say that security is up tenfold. That is bad, my security company won't know they are expected. They could get wiped out and give up because it's not worth the effort. For the first time, I feel despair. I may not walk out of here alive. They will continue to break bones, not feed me, and may try to make me addicted to something.
I might as well sign and stop the pain. Just let them kill me. No, I won't give in to them. They can go to hell. I can stop them from getting all dad's wealth. That is what I need to get through all of this.
The lights come on, the music starts up, the shaking of the bed begins. Water starts dripping on me. Shit, they are doing everything. Then it all stopped.
I hear a woman yelling over the PA system, "I don't care if we have to search every inch of every floor, find him!" The PA goes on and off several times. "Hi. Um. Uh. Is this thing working?" Someone yells yes, I can hear it. "Um, hi, Robin. My name is Kathy Donovan of Sinclair Security. I can see you on the screen but don't know what level or room you are in. There are a bunch. If you can move or make noise, please do so. That will help us find you.
"I'm not leaving you here. They sent out an SOS, and so did we. They have deeper pockets; we have more resources available now. I have a personal ace in the hole. My father is a big deal at the Pentagon. I don't want to, but if I must, I will call daddy. I think he is watching me, there is a lot of air force in the area today. I suspect he will be calling me shortly. We will not let you down. Time to start singing playboy."
I don't have a steelpan handy, a good voice, or any backup. However, I think I did ok at some reggae. I do enough karaoke that I know enough of the songs to not be embarrassing. I sing for two hours before two men open my cell and don't beat me. That was welcome. It's another ten minutes before a stretcher is found. The two men are big enough; they have no problems carrying me out. The hallways aren't wide enough for four men anyways.
Needless to say, I am quite happy to see these men. I am given a cold sports drink. Quick energy and it tastes good. Once outside, I am blinded by the sun and hold my eyes. I have been in a deep hole for a long time so it's easy to be blinded by abundant light. This is hard on me; I close my eyes. I hear jets flying by in the sky.
Kathy explains, "We bought some retired fighters. They're flying support for us. We're putting you on our company executive jet, and then I'll take you to a city of my pleasing where John Doe will get the world's bed medical care."
They are very gentle with me. A doctor immediately starts looking me over, and in moments, we are in the air. They aren't messing around.
We aren't in the air ten minutes when the pilot calls out, "Kathy!"
The next voice I hear is on the intercom, "Sinclair one, this is Wellington fighters one, two, three, and four. I am twenty miles out, and I am ordering you to return to your takeoff point. Immediately. My orders are firm, return now, or be shot down."