Oct 212014
 

Editor’s note: As noted earlier, this is a novel about bad people doing bad things. This chapter gets extremely dark, and trigger warning for nonconsensual scenes of torture and sexual assault. Because this is about the villains, folks, and they are Bad People. Proceed at your own risk.

Jane came awake slowly, her head filled with a dull roaring tide of pain left over from the chokehold. She was laying naked on her side on what felt like a cement floor. She listened without opening her eyes, trying to orient herself. She couldn’t feel any bonds on her body or limbs. There were no street sounds, and as far as she could tell she was alone, wherever she was. Cracking one eye, she saw the corner of a frosted window high up in the wall letting a dirty gleam of daylight into the room through chain link barricades covering the frame.

She moved ever-so-slightly and realized that what she’d mistaken for freedom was actually her hands and arms numb in the tight ropes binding them. She didn’t try moving her hands – couldn’t feel them anyway – but instead shifted her shoulders with her breath, trying to gauge the range of motion available.

There wasn’t much, but the movement inspired a sudden click and sliding sound of a door opening. “Hello, Jane,” Theo’s voice echoed through the empty room cheerfully, and she opened her eyes fully just in time for a floor’s-eye view of his boot rushing towards her abdomen.

She grunted at the impact of the steel toe as it went into her stomach, and retched as she tried to roll away. He rewarded her with another swift kick to her left kidney, and she arched spastically at the pain, feeling the rope dig into her shoulders as well as her arms.

Knowing it was futile she flexed her hands, trying to find a weakness in the ropes, and heard Theo laugh. “Sorry, babe, that’s some hardcore hojojutsu on you there, fuckin’ Japanese samurai bondage. Courtesy of the lovely Isabella, who used to ride with some rope guy in California. That shit is fucking inescapable unless you’re planning on chewing off your arm.”

Isabella tied this, Jane thought, the first glimmer of hope appearing in this craptastic situation. She moved again, adding a moan as if it hurt more than it did to mollify Theo’s sardonic gaze. She twisted, searching for a weak point, for some knot within reach of her questing fingers. Theo suddenly crouched down next to her and she froze. She didn’t turn her head as he hissed into her ear.

“Looking for the escape hatch? You hoping that your hot lesbian lover gave you some way to get out and go all jiu jitsu on my ass?” He spit suddenly, and she felt the warm gobbet of saliva sliding down her cheek. “Fat chance, you traitorous bitch. Michael told his ginger whore to tie you so you couldn’t get out, and that’s exactly what she did.” Theo paused and flicked Jane’s exposed nipple hard with his nail. When she didn’t react, he seemed disappointed, but the snarl was still in his voice as he continued. “Then he told her to bend over and let him fuck her ass, and she did that, too, and when he told her suck me off while that happened, and give Beecee and Trig handjobs while she was at it, she did all that, too.” He laughed with a hard, cruel bray. “You want to know why, bitch?”

Jane knew why. She recalled Elsie’s display in the common room. Whatever cocktail Theo had acquired from his New York friends had been given to Isabella. And would soon be given to her. Mind racing, Jane shut her eyes and began to prepare.

Theo interpreted her closed eyes for despair and laughed. “Yeah, you know what I’m talking about. I’m glad you saw what it did to Elsie. Maybe you have a vague idea of what’s comin’ to you now, bitch.” His voice lowered to a hiss and he spoke directly into her ear. “Except you’ll never really know, cunt, you’ll just wake up afterwards and feel your ruined body and wonder what we made you do.” He stood and kicked her one last time with a careless brutality, leaving a darkening bruise on her hip.

Turning, he walked back towards the door. “Y’know, Elsie still screams every time she takes a shit. And we liked her. You think about that until my brother gets here.” Jane didn’t turn as the door closed behind him. Eyes shut, mouth moving in unheard syllables, she prepared for the ordeal to come.

Some vague time later the door opened again. Jane was still lying on her side, face to the wall. Her eyes were open and alert, staring at a point of focus on the wall about two feet in front of her face. Michael’s composed voice rumbled towards her like a malignant caress. “Looks like you did a nice job on those ropes, Isabella. How does that make you feel?”

“Oh, so good, Michael…” Isabella’s voice was filled with sexual tension, every word formed from a constant moan that hovered behind her lips. “God, she’s so fucking beautiful in those ropes, Michael, it makes me… I want to just…just…oh, I want more…”

Michael crossed the room and planted a foot on Jane’s shoulder, nudging her roughly onto her back. He straddled the bound woman’s shoulders, looking approvingly down at the pale skin smudged with dirt and dark bruises from Theo’s boot. Her bright hazel eyes looked calmly up – not at him, exactly, but in his direction. Her back was arched slightly due to her hands bound behind her back, her breasts rising and falling evenly with each breath, like unwilling offerings for his gaze.

Michael noted that both nipples were flat pink circles, and he tsked softly. “Why, Ms. Jane, aren’t you having fun? I was under the impression you were really into this kind of stuff.” He nodded over towards Isabella, standing naked at the door, the filthy residue of unwashed fluids making a mottled dirty mess of her flawless skin. Her hair was in ragged disarray, large gaps showing bare scalp where some rough blade had simply cut it off in handfuls. Her eyes, though, shone with passion as they looked at Michael, poised to do his bidding. Her body hummed with erotic energy that manifest in the nervous twitch of her hand near her shaved crotch.

Michael didn’t look at her, just continued staring down at Jane. “Isabella’s told us all sorts of interesting things in between gobbling down every cock in the building. Girl’s stomach could populate the planet, amount of sperm she’s guzzled down in the last few hours. But she told us about a certain necklace…” Jane’s eyes flickered at that, and Michael smiled. “Yes. I thought you’d know something about that.” He lifted his foot and placed the sole of his boot squarely against her face, flattening her nose with a slight, controlled pressure.

Jane’s eyes scrunched in pain, and she wailed “Pakiusap! Malaking pakiusap! Hindi! Hindi!” Her voice sounded pitiful, a mewling beaten wail. Surprised, Michael relaxed his foot, trying to make sense of the syllables. Suddenly her unbound foot whipped up with a jackknife kick directly into his crotch. Michael dismissively caught her ankle in a bone-cracking grip. He never broke his gaze, sneering derisively down at her.

Deliberately he put his boot back to her face. Her eyes held his glaring over the tip of the leather. There was no trace of helplessness there – only hatred and anger, a burning vengeance. “Good,” he nodded with satisfaction. “This will be much more entertaining if you struggle.” He nodded up towards the corners of the room, where four cameras blinked down with red recording lights. “See, there’s going to be two parts to this video. The second part, after Theo gives you his little magic cocktail from his New York friends, will be full of all the happy slutty things you’ll do for whomever – whatever – we want.” He chuckled. “Hell, Beecee is out right now trying to find a goat.” He still held her ankle tight in his grip, his arm flexed and solid as iron. “But you won’t remember that, cuntwipe. You’ll just wake up broken. Probably shit into a bag the rest of your life, never knowing what it was exactly that fucked you up so bad. All you’ll know is that you let us do it, and thanked us for it afterwards. That’s what Theo likes so much about his new toy.”

Michael grimaced and shifted his grip. “But I’m the kind of guy who likes a little struggle. So we’re going to spend a little quality time together first. You’re going to tell us about this necklace that Isabella brought into my happy little kingdom.”

He gave a hollow laugh. “The bitch doesn’t know anything about it, other than what it did to people who saw her wear it. People like me,” he growled, and there was the anger in his tone. Michael was not a man used to being manipulated. “But you know what it is, don’t you, cunt?” He pressed his knuckles into the side of her ankle precisely and Jane screamed incoherently, torso twisting even with her head pinned by Michael’s boot.

He held the pressure point for a moment and then loosened his grip. Jane’s foot fell limply to the cement floor. She moaned, and he waited patiently for her eyes to open. “You’re going to tell us everything eventually, of course. As soon as Theo puts that shit in you you’ll beg to tell us, just for the chance to let you fuck something, anything.” His eyes drilled into hers, their wills locked in a power struggle. “But that’s too easy. I want you to remember this pain, bitch. I want you to know exactly who it was who did this to you.”

Halang ang bituka!” she hissed at him, voice muffled under the heel of his boot. “Mahina ang ulo! Maitim ang dugo-” the litany of harsh words was abruptly cut off with a cry as he twisted his boot hard. Jane cried out as her nose broke in a sickening crunch of shattered cartilage.

He lifted his foot gently, looking down at her as she panted with blood streaming down her cheeks to the floor. “I don’t know what that shit is you’re mumbling, but you’d better find some English soon, bitch. Tell me what the fuck you know about that necklace, and why you’re here!” Suddenly Michael looked at Isabella, still waiting eagerly next to the door, a speculative look on his face.

“Isabella, you’ve seen the hard core stuff, right? The kind of sadistic shit that can’t even be on the internet, that makes even people like you and me think is fucking insane?”

Isabella nodded happily. “Oh, yes, Michael! Needles and fingernails and teeth and all the places that hurt – I used to date a girl in New York had done all that shit, she’d tell me about it and show me the videos and it was so fucking hot, Michael, just thinking about it now makes me wanna – ”

“Good,” Michael cut her off, and he looked back at Jane. Her eyes were wide as she realized where his cruelty was leading. “Isabella, I want you to do that stuff to Jane. All of it. More of it, fuck, get creative.” His gaze darkened even as he grinned wider. “I bet the more you make her scream, the better you’ll feel, Isabella. Isn’t that right?”

The drugged woman hummed happily in agreement and stepped towards Jane. The smaller woman curled into a foetal position, a desperate last defense, but she could see the shining eagerness filling Isabella’s expression. “Hindi ako tampalasan,” she whispered, voice muffled . “Tapat-ka. Tapat-ka.” Isabella showed no reaction but paused a moment, looking down on the huddled, shaking form of her friend.

“Hurt her!” Michael roared. Isabella smiled beatifically and reached down.

Jane closed her eyes. A moment later she began to scream.

When Theo returned, he could see by the expression on his brother’s face things weren’t going well. Michael looked tired and frustrated, glaring at the two naked women lying on the floor. Their bodies were entwined in some position that confused Theo at first. Jane was on her knees, ass in the air, face pushed down to the cement floor by Isabella’s foot which was thrust past the toes into the blonde’s mouth. Jane was grunting in pain as her mouth was stretched open further. Isabella’s pumped both hands roughly into the smaller woman’s ass and pussy. Both orifices were taking Isabella’s hands up to the wrists and deeper, her forearms slick with dark fluids that Theo didn’t want to think about. There was no technique or precision to the fisting – Isabella pushed in and out of Jane’s pelvis like she was kneading breat, pumping like a machine.

She smiled happily, grin widening with every grunt of agony she forced out of Jane. Theo stood transfixed, watching the piston-like lesbian rape, then jumped as Isabella suddenly bent her head and sank her teeth into Jane’s ass. She bit hard, and a trickle of blood ran down Jane’s hip to join the growing puddle of blood on the floor. Jane squeezed her eyes tighter at the pain and let out a high-pitched wail past Isabella’s foot.

“Ask her again,” Michael said in a dull, uninterested tone. “Quit toe-fucking her mouth, you stupid slut, and let her talk.”

Theo watched as Isabella’s grin disappeared, replaced with a worried frown at the thought that she might have displeased Michael. “Yes, Michael, I’m so sorry!” She drew her foot Jane’s mouth and the smaller woman gasped and snuffled past the blood and snot that covered her face. Isabella considered her victim for a moment and then pulled her hand out of Jane’s ass with a wet, sodden squelch. She reached over and grabbed her by the hair. Her other hand stayed wrist-deep in Jane’s vagina, and as she jerked her arms together the smaller woman’s torso arched up painfully, head thrown back. Jane’s eyes opened wide, rolling wildly around as if trying to get her bearings. The arch let Theo see the blood caked and oozing from Jane’s left nipple. It looked like it had been chewed by some rabid animal. On a hunch Theo glanced again at Isabella’s smiling, happy face and noticed the line of dried blood trailing down one side of her mouth.

As tough as he thought he was, Theo couldn’t suppress a shudder at the torturous scene the two women had been drugged into.

Isabella pulled back harder, letting Jane’s body weight force her hand deeper into the woman. Leaning forward, she murmured sweetly into her captive’s ear “I know! That hurts a lot, Jane. Thank you so much! It feels so fucking good when I hurt you!” Isabella’s voice was high, almost childlike with glee, except when it slipped down into moaning pleasure. Between the drug and Michael’s suggestions she was almost delirious with hedonistic abandon. With some difficulty, she continued her questioning.

“Jane, Michael wants to know more about that necklace of mine. The one that makes people like me – I mean, really like me, almost as much as I like you when you -” Her forearm flexed as her hand did something deep in Jane’s abdomen, and the smaller woman whimpered a shuddering breath. “What is it, Jane? Tell Michael what you know about it, Jane, he really wants to know.” Jane’s eyes widened as the redhaired woman shifted her hands again, their cruel grip belying the sweet and considerate tone. “C’mon, hon, tell him what he wants to know…”

Jane struggled to form words, and Michael leaned forward, eagerly. “Tigil, kaibigan-ko…tigil…umalis ka, tapat…” Theo watched his brother’s face darken with fury as he spit on the pair. Before it landed he turned to his younger brother.

“Fuck! That’s all we get out of her.” He shook his head in disgust. “Oh, she’s hurting, and she’s talking, even, but fuck if I understand a goddamn word. It’s not Russian, it’s not Greek, it’s not like any fucking language I’ve ever heard. Half the time it sounds like she’s choking on a cock, and that’s when Isabella isn’t ramming her foot down the bitch’s throat.” He noticed the cel phone Theo held. “Tell me you have good news?”

Theo hesitated, then looked away, shaking his head. “Not as much as you’d want. But you might enjoy this little feed from our spycam over at Tony’s place.”

He pressed the play button, and they watched the video from Tony’s bedroom, the Australian’s voice tinny as it came out of the small speaker. Neither Tony nor Kitten were in the frame but the audio was clear.

“What do you mean you don’t have the necklace, you fucking worthless bitch! That’s been the whole point of this! That redheaded slut was going to bring me that goddamned necklace and we’d be fucking set!”

‘There was meaty sound of a slap, heavy enough to make both Michael and Theo raise their eyebrows, smiling for a moment at each other. Kitten’s voice wailed up from the phone, mingling with Jane’s incoherent moans behind them. “You never TOLD me, you secretive bastard! How the fuck would I know? She didn’t have it when I got her from Padre – I searched her! Every inch, she wasn’t hiding anything, she was unconscious – ”

‘Tony’s voice came again, quieter, filled with a desperate resignation. “It’s over, then. They must have it. Fucking Doukas’. I fight that hard, and they still fucking get it all.” There was a shuffling sound and suddenly a suitcase landed on the bed, lid flapping open, and the brothers watched as Tony filled it with clothing and other items tossed from across the room. “Fuck it. I’m done here.”

‘Kitten’s voice was plaintive. “We’re done? Where will we go?”

Tony’s voice was flat. “I said I’m done, bitch. Done with Detroit, done with America, and certainly done with your sorry ass,” he broke off, suddenly sounding worried. “What are you – Put that down! Kitten, NO!”

There was a crashing sound of shattering glass and the couple’s angry shouts blurred into distorted squeaks in Theo’s hand. He stopped te video and looked at Michael. “That’s about it. The good news is, we won. But the bad news is…”

“They don’t have it either.” Michael sighed and looked again at the two women. Isabella had pulled her hand out of Jane’s pussy and was digging a finger into a nerve cluster at the base of the battered woman’s jaw. Eyes closed in orgasmic rapture, the redhead shuddered as Jane sobbed from the unrelenting pain. Her blonde hair was pasted to her sweaty forehead and tears streaked through the dried blood under her shattered nose. Michael finally lookd away, shaking his head. “Let her go, Isabella.”

‘The redhead immediately released Jane, who fell to the floor with a tired grunt. She landed painfully on her shoulder, avoiding further damage to the ruin of her face. Isabella’s hands went to the intricate network of knots securing Jane’s hands behind her back, releasing them.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Michael stood and rushed across the room, slapping Isabella across the face and away from the captive.

Theo was quick behind him, grabbing Jane’s wrists. His expression was grim as he braced for her attack, but Jane didn’t stuggle. She seemed barely conscious, murmuring over and over “Kaibigan ko…kaibigan ko…

Isabella was weeping, clutching desperately at Michael’s boot. “I’m so sorry, Michael, you said to let her go, I was just trying to- ”

Michael realized his error in phrasing. “Aw, fuck this shit, anyway.” He pulled his boot away from Isabella roughly, leaving her sobbing on the floor. “Give Jane the fucking magic potion, Theo, and let’s get this shit over with. I’m tired of looking at her tore-up ass.”

Theo nodded and warily released one of Jane’s hands. He fished a small vial of dark liquid from his jacket. Jane simply lay there, so Theo released her other hand and grabbed her jaw, quickly pouring the contents into her mouth. He clamped her jaw shut as she choked and swallowed it down. Theo nodded slowly. “That was…easier than I expected,” he said as he stood.

“How long til she cooperates?” Michael asked, and Theo smiled.

“She’s already, there, brother. Her last memory was when I shut her mouth.” He nudged her with his boot. “Watch this. Jane!”

Jane’s eyes opened wide at her name. Even through the swollen mass of her broken nose and bloody mouth they could see in her expression the same strange glow of unquenchable desire that filled Isabella’s eyes. Theo smiled. “Crawl over here and lick my boots.”

Shifting awkwardly, Jane struggled to her knees, her mouth a gruesome blood-encrusted smile. “O’o, Theo!” she burbled happily through her swollen mouth and shuffled in a duck-walk over to his feet. She bent down and she began licking the leather, moaning with pleasure around her tongue as she obeyed. Theo’s boot quickly was shining with the red blood and sputum from her broken nose. As he realized what was happening he cried out in disgust. “My boots!” He jumped away and Jane followed, the two of them doing a strange little chasing dance across the room.

Michael sighed, shaking his head tiredly. “Stop, Jane!” he called out. She froze immediately, crouched and panting, looking up adoringly at the two of them like an eager puppy. Theo looked sheepishly at his brother.

Ignoring him, Michael crouched. “OK, Jane, enough of this shit. What is that necklace?”

Jane looked up at him happily from her kneeling position. “Goom EAR! Sass dee,” she said.

Michael looked up angrily at Theo, but his brother just shook his head. “I don’t know! She should be fucking desperate to answer us now.”

His brother looked back at Jane, suddenly thoughtful. “Maybe she did. That didn’t sound like that other shit.” He leaned closer. “Jane, your nose is broken, so I think you need to tell me that again, and make it really clear, because that’s going to feel really, really good.” He crouched lower. “What is the necklace?”

Jane moved her mouth very carefully. “Kumir sast’i,” she said slowly, and then shivered as a wave of pleasure accompanied her success.

Michael smiled. “Kumir sast’i. Now we’re getting somewhere.” He looked at his brother, who still looked baffled. “It’s a Russian phrase, not that babble she’s been spouting. Translates to ‘Idol of Lust,’ pretty much.” Turning back to Jane, his smile became cruel. “That was a good answer, Jane. It probably feels so good you’re almost ready to come, aren’t you?” Jane moaned, hips moving reflexively even as she winced at the pain left from Isabella’s torture. “You can’t cum yet, Jane. First you have to tell me everything you know about the kumir sast’i.”

A torrent of syllables came from her mouth, but the Russian words were the only recognizable ones in the massive dump of information.

“Stop!” Michael shouted, standing up angrily. “Speak fucking English, goddamnit!”

Jane looked up at him, wide eyes innocent in the blackened raccoon bruises from her broken nose. “Pakiúlit ho?” she said. “Hindí ko náiintindihan…

Michael raised his fist, but Theo caught his arm. “Hit her if you want, brother, but it’s not going to help.” He motioned towards the broken woman kneeling, looking up at them both with eager eyes. “She wants to help. Hell, she probably thinks she is speaking English.” He shook his head and let go of his brother’s arm. “We’re not going to get anything more out of her.”

Michael glared at Theo a moment, fist still clenched, then relaxed it. “Fuck it, then. We’ll find the goddamn kumir and figure out how to use it later.” He waved dismissively at both Jane and Isabella. “Give ‘em to BeeCee to make some more tapes, then get rid of whatever’s left.” He walked out of the room without a backwards glance.

Theo glanced up at the camera in the corner of the room. “You heard him, Beecee,” he said. The door was already opening, and the large biker walked in with an eager leer as he saw the two women, naked and filthy kneeling on the floor. A goat followed him in, led by a leash.

Theo shook his head. “Beecee, I don’t even want to know.” As he passed by the burly man’s laid a hand on his arm.

“Um…Theo…you sure she ain’t gonna…” Beecee winced as he touched his bandaged forehead with a worried expression.

Theo laughed. “Man, she’s dying to do whatever you ask. You don’t need ropes, whips, don’t need nuthin, just tell her what you want and she’ll do it.”

Beecee smiled. Pointing at a puddle of some indeterminate dark liquid on the floor, he tested Jane. “Lick that up, bitch!”

Jane immediately complied and his smile grew wider. Theo clapped him on the shoulder, glancing at the goat one more time and shook his head again as he left the room. As it clicked shut, Beecee pulled out a K-Bar knife and held it menacingly before Isabella.

“Scared now, aintcha, bitch?” he growled.

She shook her head, red curls bouncing over her shoulders.. “No, Beecee, but I will be if you want me to…” Beecee was confused and more than a little frustrated, not getting the cowering fear he was looking for. Behind him, the goat bleated, startling him. He felt off balance having willing partners for a change.

Taking a breath, he jumped back into familiar territory. “Fine, whatever. Jane!” At her name, the still-bound woman hopped over towards him. “Alright, slut, suck my cock!” He stood tall, waiting for her, and she fumbled with his rhinestone-encrusted buckle hanging low under his big belly. As she floundered he swore. “Goddamnit. Can’t you bitches do anything right? Do what I fucking tell you!” Unnoticed, the red lights on the cameras in each corner winked out one by one.

O’o, Baysay,” Jane said, awkwardly trying to stay on her knees but still reach up to his waistband. He swore again and grabbed a handful of ropes that wrapped across her back. He slid the edge of the k-bar through them, freeing her arms. “Salamat-po, BaySay,” she said happily. She quickly undid his pants and wrapped her mouth around his erection. She easily pushed forward, taking the length down her throat and burying her nose in his thick dark pubes. Holding there she worked her throat and sucked as he’d asked. She cupped his balls in one hand, fingernails lightly scraping against the sensitive skin.

Beecee’s eyes rolled up in pleasure. “Oh, god, fuck me blue!” he exclaimed.

Jane gave a happy little moan of acquiescence and did as she was told.

Oct 012014
 

courtesy Kylir Horton, via Flickr CCPadre Innocente looked over his empty chapel as the time for the exchange approached. Tall columns loomed over rows of empty pews cut by the diagonal rays of the setting sun slanting through the rose window. The glowing shafts of red, green, and blue speckled the rich dark wood and red velvet of the seats. A large and bloody figure of Christ crucified dominate the wall behind the priest, but he hardly gave it a thought. Like the altar before him, that symbol had long ago stopped having any spiritual significance. As he looked down at the altar, he felt again the physical urges sweep through him, and his face wrinkled slightly as he fought them. It was no use, though, and images of her on the altar – the way he wanted to – if only she’d… His breathing hissed through tight lips as he fought against the lust that invaded his mind.

Abruptly his face cleared. He might not serve the church any longer, but that simply meant a different master. While the relationship wasn’t giving him everything he wanted right now, the promise rewards were always tantalizingly close. Also, he reflected with a touch of fear, the consequences of failure even closer. Padre continued to play his part as a “spiritual leader”, as if he had something to offer the misshapen souls that came through the big sacristy doors in search of something beyond their pathetic lives. Over the years he had provided guidance, it is true, sending them wherever his Master wanted – off to New York City to feed the city’s vast hunger, or the hands of the Incubikers or Kitten’s Playroom here in Detroit. They all fed into the machine of control held tight in the Master’s hands.

Then she had come to town a few weeks ago. Isabella, the computer guy’s wife, bringing their son and her own special brand of sexy to the cybersex company. Padre’s master had seen this red-haired woman as an opportunity to gain more leverage over the wily Australian. He was to watch her, report, and then use her as his master directed, or send her off for someone else’s amusement. Padre Innocente had done it with dozens, hundreds, maybe, of girls before, and he’d meant to do it this time, too.

Really, he had.

But then that damned Greek gangster, Michael, had grabbed her – as if he knew there was something was special about her. A minor setback, but Padre was a patient man, and he knew how to wait for her to come into his sphere of influence. He hadn’t been surprised when one Sunday, in a fit of generosity, Michael had let Isabella come to Mass. Padre Innocente tried not to imagine what she had done for the filthy man in return for that brief freedom.

As he watched her from the pulpit that sabbath he knew her motivation wasn’t spiritual. The homily he’d delivered hundreds of times before suddenly felt foreign to his tongue, his mouth dry as he tried to maintain his composure in the presence of her glorious form. The homeless rejects who sparsely attended the service seemed oblivious, and Padre wanted to shout at them: Don’t you see? How can you not fall to her feet and worship her? SHE is the true divine!.

Isabella hadn’t even looked at the priest. Her gaze had focused beyond the bored Incubikers set to guard her to the pew on the left where a tiny boy sat next to his father across the aisle. Her son, Padre Innocente had realized, and her husband. That was the moment his passionate hatred for Alex, the man who dared claim that title, was born.

It burned deep and strong because as Padre looked at Isabella, her red hair wildly curling down her shoulders, her neck draped with a delicate chain hung with amber, her body a suggestive wave of lust covered by her wrap…he had fallen.

It was quite simple, really. His master wanted her, and eventually his master would have her. Padre Innocente had no doubt about that. But first, surely, he could have just a taste, just a bit more of that unnameable feeling that she inspired.

Surely the master would not mind that much? he had thought on that day, weeks ago, standing in this same pulpit.

Now he shivered as the cold fall air seeped through the thick stone walls of the sanctuary. His master had minded, it turned out, and was not pleased with the Padre’s attempts to console Isabella. It turned out that Michael’s kidnapping had been designed to demotivate her, to break her as so many other women had broken. As ineffective a priest as Padre was, his words had comforted her, given her hope of a negotiated peace to reunite her with her husband and son. Padre had given her carte blanche to come to him for support at any time. Then she had come, but not alone, not helpless so that he could be her salvation. No, she’d shown up with her husband and child in tow, and really…what else could he have done?

Padre shivered, remembering how beautiful she’d been, how her sad face had begun to lighten with hope the last time he’d seen her, leaving the chapel with that pitiful, unworthy scum who called himself her husband…

Innocente’s thoughts were interrupted as the door at the far end of the sacristy opened. The remains of the light outside starkly silhouetted a small form, sending long tails of Jane’s shadow darting up the aisle between the empty pews. She stepped in warily, eyes flashing up and around the large chapel, her hands open and ready at her sides.

Padre Innocente idly wondered if she had any guns or other weapons with her. He found this woman distasteful; her hair short, stunted like her body, nothing like the Isabella’s long lush beauty. Isabella’s beauty had been a lie, though, he reminded himself, a cruel teasing mockery. It stiffened his posture as Jane worked her way down the aisle.

When she reached the midpoint of the aisle, Jane finally focused on Padre Innocente. She smiled at him with a sarcastic, devilish grin that made him uncomfortably unsure whether she was planning to laugh at him or fuck him. He flexed his fingers, wanting to reach into his pocket for the comfort of what rested there.

He held still with the discipline of impersonated reverence, ignoring her smile. After a moment, she moved to sit in the pews at his left. Don’t think I missed you choosing the left hand of God, whorebitch he thought. She brought two fingers to her lips and let out a shrill whistle.

More silhouettes appeared at the door then. First Michael, then Theo supporting the shambling, barely-conscious Tony. The IncuBiker leader’s hands were palm out before him, showing peaceful intent. He looked for all the world like a supplicant come to the faith at last. The trio paused at the head of the aisle, looking down the expanse of the sacristy towards where Padre Innocente stood.

He waited a moment to see if more IncuBikers followed, but none did. The priest knew they waited just outside, but outside was all he needed. He lifted his right hand, two fingers raised together as if about to bestow a blessing. Behind him, the door to the vestibule cracked open, and Kitten peeked out. “Is – is it safe?” she asked, querulously, and Michael’s sardonic laughter echoed through the church.

Is it safe? Are you really asking that? And me without my dental chair…” He smiled over at his brother, but Theo was looking at him blankly. “’Is it safe.’ Olivier? Marathon Man?” As Theo continued to look at him with a blank stare, he shook his head. “Oh, my brother. I have neglected your education…” He looked down the aisle again and called out. “It’s as safe as it’s gonna get, bitch. You have the flash drive?”

She nodded, and handed it to Padre Innocente, who motioned to Theo and both began walking down the aisle towards each other.

Michael and Kitten watched their designates slowly approach each other at the center of the chapel. Michael had a frowning, almost bored expression while Kitten nervously shifted her weight back and forth, fingers fluttering first at her chest then dropping and drumming frenetically at her legs. Jane leaned back in the pew, legs crossed, watching it all with an amused and aloof expression as if in a box seat at a Shakespearean drama.

As the Incubiker and his captive came closer, Padre Innocente saw Tony’s face, a ruin of puffy flesh, ragged cuts and abrasions. One eye was swollen shut and there was a thin trail of spittle drizzling down the left side of his mouth. Dark bruises on his torso were visible through a rip in his shirt and one foot seemed to be twisted off to the side, necessitating Theo’s support under his shoulder. Padre Innocente closed his eyes, realizing he actually had a shred of sympathy for the man. Then he remembered his master’s priorities his eyes snapped open, dark and glittering.

Padre had carefully paced it so that they all reached the midpoint of the sanctuary where Jane sat at the same time. Without looking at her he held out the flash drive and Jane took it casually. Lifting her other hand she fit it into a socket near the wrist of her fingerless glove. She stretched her fingers flat, the small black squares of plastic on each knuckle aligning to form a small rectangular screen. It flickered amber, small lines of text appearing row after row. Jane tsked with approval and looked up at Theo as if she were about to say something. Seeing his serious face she apparently thought better of it and simply nodded.

Theo nodded back, and sullenly dipped from under Tony’s arm. The wounded man sagged, barely managing a half-step towards the priest. Padre Innocente caught him awkwardly, his white robes instantly soaked with blood that covered Tony from head to toe. Theo turned and began walking back up the aisle where his brother waited, ignoring Jane.

She stood but waited a moment longer to make sure the beaten Tony and the priest could walk back. That meant she saw Kitten first. The aging porn starlet was standing in front of the altar, the last of the evening night glittering orange reflections on the blade she held at Isabella’s throat.

Theo was still walking towards his brother, blocking his view, and so Michael saw them just as Theo grinned and yelled “Now, Beecee!” Michael’s incoherent “No!I” followed a split second later.

Padre and Tony reacted very differently to the shouts as they stumbled down the aisle between the pews. Tony hunched, conditioned to associate those voices with the onset of more pain. He curled away from the priest and fell painfully thump to the worn carpet.

Padre Innocente, angry at the idea of any voice but his being raised in his chapel, turned indignantly towards the Doukas brothers. Beecee’s bullet, fired from the choir loft, tore through his left jugular and exited the back of his neck, half decapitating him. His head flopped forward onto his chest, eyes still rolling wildly, body still too shocked to fall. The last image on Padre Innocente’s retinas was not, as he would have liked, the tearful face of Isabella, crying at his demise. Instead he saw Jane, upside down, looking at him with pity. He wanted to snarl at her, to roar out the truth of his master and his awesome purpose and make her tremble in fear.

That was his final thought – of his master, and how terribly disappointed he would be at Padre’s failure. As the darkness engulfed him in an inexorable tide of cold oblivion, the priest had time for one final wish.

He wished he were an atheist.

Michael found his words as the priest’s body thumped to the ground, shouting “Hold your fire, Beecee!” even as the clear metal click of another round being chambered into the rifle came from the loft.

Kitten screamed. “I have her, Michael, and I will slit her fucking throat right now if you do anything else to my husband!” Her voice was edged with a twangy panicked whine as she beckoned her husband. “Come on, Tony, love, come here, we’ll get away…”

Tony tried to get up, but fell again, clutching his side. Michael swore, eyes fixed on Isabella. Theo was looking back and forth, first at his brother, then down the aisle to where Kitten held Isabella as a human shield. He was torn between not understanding his brother’s obsession and fearing him enough to not dare object to it.

Jane looked at Isabella. She was dressed for travel in an open-necked white blouse and jeans, hair pulled back in a ponytail which Kitten used to pull her head back viciously. Isabella didn’t look at Jane. Instead she leveled a burning glare at the fallen body of the priest, slowly bleeding out a final sacrament into the center of the chapel. Janes hands flexed as if wanting to hold something, but no one seemed able to move except for Tony, inching his way towards his wife’s end of the chapel.

“For fuck’s sake, Jane, help him out,” Theo finally said, and Jane jumped at the sound. She glanced back at the brothers and saw that Michael was still staring at Isabella, the fear replaced with a growing anger. “Jealous boy…” she murmured, shrugging, and stepped into the aisle, doing her best to avoid Padre Innocente’s blood. She reached Tony within a few steps and bent down to help the injured man to his feet.

As they hobbled along she did her best to support him but everywhere she touched seemed to bring a new hiss of pain. Some places were worse than others, moving under her hands with the sickening wrongness of broken bones. When they finally reached Kitten and Isabella, Tony focused his one good eye on his wife and her strategy for saving him.

“No, ya bitch!” he moaned hoarsely. “Without the fookin’ ginger whore we’ve got nothing – we need the…this was all for…” He reached out towards Isabella and the woman hissed in disgust as his bloody hands ineffectually smeared her white shirt crimson.

Her reaction inspired a reaction in Tony. He looked wildly between Isabella and his wife. Something seemed to give him more energy, perhaps the imminent reality of his escape from the IncuBikers, and he pushed Jane away. He braced himself at the edge of the altar and Jane stood there as he and his wife made their slow, hobbling way. Kitten kept the knife at Isabella’s throat until they reached the doorway of the sacristy. As Tony pushed it open Michael’s voice rang out. “Take her and I will tear that building to the ground, Nesmith!”

Tony turned, a wild smile twisting his broken mouth. “Take the bitch, then!” he laughed, nudging his wife’s arm. She frowned, protesting, and he roared at her. “Let her go, ye fookin’ cuntbag! We don’t need her anymore!” Eyes widening with understanding, Kitten pushed Isabella hard and simultaneously stepped back with her husband. The door shut with a solid thud as they locked it. Isabella stumbled back towards the altar, trying to recover her balance.

Jane caught her before she fell, eyes full of questions. She didn’t dare ask anything as they both stood. Michael and Theo were walking quickly down the aisle, leaping over the remains of Padre Innocente like wolves on a hunt.

“Thank you, Jane,” Michael said, grabbing Isabella’s arm and pulling her to his side. He held out his other hand. “The flash drive?” Jane nodded absently, eyes still on Isabella as she unclipped it from her glove and gave it to him. Then she looked away, muttering to herself. Michael tilted his head. “What was that?” he asked in a mild tone.

“I said, Mr. Doukas, that was quite the clusterfuck.” She motioned towards Padre Innocente. “Was that really necessary?”

“Of course not.” Michael’s tone hardened. “In fact, it was entirely unexpected – as was her being here.” He pulled Isabella closer, then paused. He looked at the redhead with a puzzled expression. Isabella returned his gaze coolly as if nothing was wrong, as if she hadn’t shown up in the hands of his enemies instead of in the lavish prison he’d created for her.

Michael studied her a moment longer, then turned to Jane. “Speaking of surprises, Kitten called me just before we got here. She wanted to clarify one detail that you got wrong about that video.”

‘”Oh?” Jane said, voice casual, shoulders tensing.

‘”Yes. She told me the whole video was shot from the point of view of someone sitting on top of the tanker.” He waited, but Jane didn’t respond. “She also told me that it showed all of my boys, especially Theo. In fact, there was only one person it didn’t show at all.” He paused again, then nodded towards her. “You.”

Jane bent her knees to spring at Michael when Theo’s arm came around her throat. She felt his muscles clench around her carotid arteries like an iron vise. She coughed and struggled as he lifted her entirely off the ground.

Michael reached into his pocket. “I didn’t need her to tell me that, though, to know you were a scheming bitch,” he continued. “You also left this in Isabella’s room.” He held up the silver sarong she’d worn during her duel with Theo. He dropped it fluttering to the floor as Jane lost consciousness.

Isabella watched Jane’s body go limp as Theo grinned. She looked bored and pressed closer to Michael with an easy possessiveness. “Yeah, the little lezzy just wanted to fuck me the same way all your boys do, Michael. Throw her ass back on the street. ” She traced a finger idly down his jaw, a purr of lust filling her voice. “You never did celebrate your victory over Tony, you know…”

Michael pulled away and looked at her, his expression still puzzled. “When I first saw you,” he said, “you filled my vision. I couldn’t eat or sleep without wanting you, craving you, more than anything else. Your touch made my head feel brighter than the best drugs I’d ever tried. You completely entranced me.” Suddenly he shifted, grabbing her wrist hard. She cried out as he forced her to her knees.

“I don’t know why, but you don’t do that any more,” he said flatly, raising his fist. “and that pisses me off.” His punch caught her flat against the side of her head. Isabella’s eyes rolled up and she slumped unconscious to the floor next to the crumpled pile of silver fabric that glittered with the last rays of the sun.

 

Sep 062014
 
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“She has what?” Michael shouted into Jane’s face. Theo stood next to the desk looking worriedly at his brother while BeeCee lurked behind his boss glaring at her. His forehead was still bandaged where her whip had marked him. In the corner of the office Tony lay in a pool of his own blood. He was breathing raggedly, bound tight with some rough manila rope.

Jane kept her voice low and calm. “As best I can tell, she has footage of Theo helping Ksenja and the other Russian whores out of the truck. She said that the DA gets it unless Tony comes back unharmed.”

Theo laughed harshly. “Unharmed?” He gestured towards Tony’s limp body in the corner.

Jane sighed. “Yeah, I told her that really wasn’t an option. But I downplayed it – told her he’d gotten a little roughed up but he’d be fine.” She looked earnestly at Michael. “I told her she should take what she could get. She said she just wants things back the way they were.” Jane paused, trying to guage Michael’s reaction, but the gang leader just kept the same frown and angry glare. Jane gave a little shrug. “I think we could get the video pretty easily if we promise her that.”

“You’re right.” Michael’s voice was even again, sounding like the soul of reason. Theo relaxed his shoulders slightly as his older brother turned to look at him. “What do you think, Theo?”

His second-in-command gave a wry smile. “We could do that, I guess. We’ve still got the whores…”

Michael seemed to not hear his brother. He snapped his fingers. “Come to think of it, if we gave them Isabella too, that would patch things up even more.”

Theo looked up sharply at his brother. “Um…well…I don’t know if we…”

“And then, Theo,” Michael continued, “we could shave your ass so that when you bent over for Kitten to fuck you she wouldn’t scratch her shiny pleather harness. Maybe BeeCee could gargle her piss, while we’re at it.” BeeCee worriedly glanced at his boss, not sure where this was going but sure he didn’t like it.

“For that matter,” Michael’s voice never raised a decibel, pronouncing each word with vicious banality, “maybe we should let dear Ms. Jane here pull a train on all three of us first. You haven’t been airtight with the Incubikers yet, have you, Ms. Jane? What does that cost-wait, let me guess. $1500? Each?” His words may have been calm, but his glare could have melted an engine block.

Jane looked unimpressed. “Hey, Mr. Doukas, don’t shoot the messenger. Yeah, I’m usually tryin’ to make a buck, but I’m not any happier about this news than you are. I was there when Theo grabbed the whores, too. I dunno how Kitten got it – maybe some kind of remote upload – but I’m telling you, Theo and BeeCee and everybody, including me, is in it clear as day.”

“Fuck,” Theo breathed softly. He looked down at the floor. “OK, big brother. I get it. We don’t bend over for the bitch. But what are we gonna do, then? We don’t own this DA like the last one.”

Michael stood up suddenly, and Jane was the only one who didn’t flinch. Her eyes stayed locked on Michael’s, neither challenging nor submissive. The older man stood for a moment, considering, then answered Theo. “I’ll tell you what we’re going to do, little brother. We’re going to use your pussy-du-jour one more time to set them up.” He turned his head slightly, speaking over his shoulder. “BeeCee!”

“Yeah, boss?”

“You still got that rifle?”

“Yeah, boss!” BeeCee sounded eager at the thought of some action.

“Good.” Looking forward again, his voice lowered to a growl. “Ms. Jane. I will be paying you $5000 for this.” Jane opened her mouth to reply, but Michael cut her off. “That will be the last money you see from this town, understand?” His eyes glittered. “I’m tired of your mouth, no matter well it sucks my brother’s cock.” He waited. Jane closed her mouth and simply nodded.

It seemed to satisfy him. “Good.” His voice took on a more businesslike tone as he laid out the plan. In the corner, the puddle of blood continued to spread around Tony’s ravaged form.

May 092014
 

Jane followed Theo up a set of stairs across the room from the golden door. It led up to a hallway filled with more doors, and Jane realized she was looking at the barracks for the IncuBikers. Theo pushed open a door at the far end of the hall with “T.D.” on the small brass nameplate, revealing a small apartment furnished in modern bachelor.

A double bed was pushed into one corner, covers rumpled, with a utilitarian desk facing the opposite wall. There was an open laptop on the desk flipping through a pornographic screensaver. Jane recognized some of the models from the IncuBiker DVDs. One wall was covered floor-to-ceiling with shelves of books and several more lay haphazardly open next to the bed, on the desk, and pretty much everywhere there wasn’t some article of clothing. There was also a large flatscreen TV mounted on the ceiling over the bed.

Theo looked at Jane with a guilty grin. “Sorry about the mess. I wasn’t expecting company.” He kicked a path through the books and clothes to the bathroom.

“You kidding?” Jane laughed, and waved a hand at the room. “It’s just like my old place.” She dropped her rucksack in the corner, laying her leather jacket over it. Stretching her arms overhead to give Theo a good look at her nipples pushing against the thin cotton babydoll t-shirt. She waggled her fingers towards the suspended plasma TV. “Doesn’t that make you nervous?” Before he could answer she grabbed a large book from the pile on the desk. “Ooh! House of Blue Leaves! I keep hearing about how great this is, and I can’t ever quite finish it!” She dropped the book back to the desk and saw the remote control laying near. Quickly she grabbed it, jumping and turning so that she landed face-up on his bed. She pointed it with both hands like a pistol, aiming up, and pressed some buttons. With a loud click the screen flickered to life revealing a DVD menu for a popular cable series about a family-owned ambulance business.

Jane frowned. “Huh,” she said, looking disappointed. “Here I was hoping for Fashionistas.”

Theo had been watching her antics with an amused look on his face, but he suddenly winced as he inadvertently moved his shoulder. “Sorry to disappoint your porn addiction. You were gonna help me with this graze, remember?”

Jane smiled. “Yeah.” She dropped the remote and bounded out of the bed. “Yeah, I am.” She pushed Theo towards the bathroom. He opened the medicine cabinet, revealingan alarming number of medical supplies, and leaned wearily against the sink.

Jane started by ripping open a gauze pad to stop the oozing blood. The bullet had torn through his T-shirt at the trapezius and the white cotton was stained with blood and sweat. Jane caught Theo’s eye in the mirror as she cleaned the wound. His face was tired, but the strong lines and dark trimmed beard made him look like some mythic Athenian hero. His eyes were dark and searching as he met her gaze in the mirror.

Jane lifted the gauze when the bleeding had mostly stopped and used another to start cleaning around the wound. Her other hand rested lightly on his chest. “I was wondering,” she said softly, ” if you wanted this to be just a patch-and-go.” Her fingers traced their way across his well-defined pec. “Or something more full-service.”

Theo grinned wolfishly. “Oh, I’m all about the service.”

Jane smiled. “Glad to hear it.” There was a metallic schnick-thwack-click and a knife appeared in her hand. In less than a second the edge rested against his throat. Theo didn’t move. He continued to smile at her in the mirror, even when the blade ever-so-gently touched rocked across his throat to press slightly against his jugular.

Jane watched him in the mirror for a moment, then chuckled. “Yeah, I didn’t really think you’d be freaked. But isn’t it pretty?” She held the blade in two fingers, still pressed against his throat, revealing the cherry wood of the hilt. He nodded very carefully, watching her in the mirror, and she continued. “I traded it for some jute rope I wasn’t using any more. I’m pretty sure I got the better end of the deal.”

She lifted the blade from his throat and pushed the tip under the collar of his t-shirt. The sharp edge sliced through the material with little effort, and she quickly cut through the other sleeve. The top of his shirt fell away to reveal a scattering of freckles and older scars patterning his muscled shoulders. Jane put her knife between her teeth and impatiently ripped the rest of the shirt away.

She touched a patterned scar down his side gently with one hand. “Rote raff?” she murmured, and seeing his puzzled look, took the knife out of her mouth. “Road rash?” she asked again, and he nodded.

“Laid down my bike to keep from being killed by a Lexus asshole on his cel.” He grimaced as she poured hydrogen peroxide over the wound, watching the white hiss of bubbles. She waited a moment and blotted it with another pad of gauze, then poured again. Finally satisfied that the wound was clean, Jane soaked a washcloth in warm water from the sink and began slowly wiping the grime and sweat off his back with slow, deliberate strokes.

“Is this what you mean by full service?” he grinned, turning as she prodded him around, so that he was resting his ass against the edge of the sink.

Jane kept intensely focused as carefully drew the warm cloth over his hairless chest, apparently oblivious to the way the dripping rag was soaking through her babydoll. Theo grinned down as her hard nipples and breasts were outlined by the transluscent wet cotton.

Jane wiped the washcloth slowly across the skin between his belt and belly button, and then suddenly looked up at him. “You like my tits, boy?” she asked in an aggressive tone, and he looked up with surprise. “Want a better view?” She reached behind him to the sink and grabbed her knife. She put the tip under the edge of her own shirt right over her sternum and sliced up through the low neckline. She grabbed each side of the ragged V-cut and ripped downward. The thin wet cotton became two ragged strips of cloth held in place by her shoulder harness. Her chest and taut stomach were bare, nipples hard and pink, the aureolae a darker rose.

Jane arched, breasts lifting towards Theo like a gift. He accepted her eagerly, dipping down and he taking her left breast deep into his mouth. Jane moaned as his lips enveloped her in warmth. It deepened into a satisfied purr as he lapped at her nipple deep in his mouth. The rough texture of his beard and moustache were delicious counterpoint to the silken wetness of his lips. She dropped the knife uncaring to the floor and tangled her fingers in his hair, burying her face in the dark curls. He smelled of smoke and gasoline, and she felt a tremor go through her pussy as he continued to suck and lick.

She felt him undo her belt and chaps and barely managed to heel her boots off before he was slid the denim and leather down her legs. She kicked them away, naked now but for the leather shoulder harness and shredded babydoll t-shirt. She pressed against him, humming happily as he slid his hands around her ass. Jane tensed her glutes against his tight grasp, pressing hard into his hands. He worked her muscles with the inexorable pressure of a masseur and Jane breathed out a long indulgent sigh and sank further into him. Theo finally released her breast just long enough to take the other into his mouth, and Jane threw her head back with wanton joy.

She cried out as she felt his teeth lighltly bite the nipple. “Fuck, yeah, harder, Theo, make it hurt!” He bit down and her voice echoed strangely in the bathroom as she let out a long “Fuck yessssss…” She disentangled from his lush hair to reach for his belt, loosening it with clever, confident fingers. She unbuckled and unsnapped and unzipped and then his cock was bare, pressed hard between them. She gasped as she wrapped both of her small hands around the unyielding hard shaft. Jane squeezed as hard as she could and he moaned around her nipple.

Reluctantly she pulled free of his mouth and knelt before him, lowering his jeans a little more until she could cup his balls in one hand, the other grasping the base of his cock. She looked up at him, mouth open, lips poised a millimeter from the glistening tip. “If you want, you can fuck my face the way you did that Russian whore, Theo.” Her tongue darted out to lick the underside of the glans, and he gasped. “But you might want to see if you like what I can do by myself, first.” She took him deep into her mouth with hungry abandon.

She traced wild spirals around his cock with her tongue, mouth stretched around his girth. She relaxed her lips soft at first, then suddenly clamped firm around his cock as she slid it in and out, fucking him with her mouth and throat. She coated his cock with saliva until it glistened and then began moved her hand up and down the slick rod, fingers tight. Her other hand flickered tiny taps and scratches just under the base of his shaft, occasionally massaging and lightly tugging on his sac.

She quickened the pace until he was pulling away from the sink to thrust up into her mouth. Jane suddenly tightened her grip on his balls, freezing him mid-arch, her mouth wrapped around just the head of his cock, lips suctioned tight. He was panting, looking down at her, but her eyes were closed as if she were savoring a fine meal. Theo’s eyes widened as he felt her tongue flicking at the tip of his cock, an echo of his own ministrations to her breast earlier.

She extended a finger from the clench of his balls, then, and pushed up against his prostate, eliciting an “Oh, FUCK!” from him as he bucked. Opening her eyes and mouth, she gripped the base of his cock hard, and he felt the impending orgasm stop like it had slammed into a brick wall, leaving him quivering with desire.

“Not yet, big boy,” she teased him, pulling him down towards the floor, nudging him onto his back on the plush bathmat. She turned so her ass was facing him and straddled his chest, peeking playfully over her shoulder at him. His eyes burned with lust but he didn’t say anything. Jane wrapped her fingers around his cock again, holding it tight as she watched his face, seeing his eyes flit from her gaze to her ass and back up again.

“I’m gonna ride your face, Theo, you fucking gorgeous hunk of man. What do you say to that?” Theo didn’t answer, just grabbed her ass with both hands and slammed her hips down towards him. His lips wrapped entirely around her vulva as he furiously attacked her clit with his tongue. He let out a muffled growl and Jane laughed, gasped, and moaned all at the same time. She bent down and wrapped her mouth around his cock, letting it slide in and out. As she relaxed her throat his thrusts pushed deeper, until her face was buried in his dark curls with every stroke. Jane felt his body tense, and she pulled her mouth off of him, pulling his balls up. Her fingers wrapped around the base of the sack and she dug her nails into his skin.

“Oh, no, Theo my boy, I’m not some willing bitch like Ksenja. You’re gonna make me cum, boy, before I let your little soldiers run free.” She ground her pussy down against his face, and he arched his neck, pushing his chin up against her clit as his tongue pushed deeper. “Oh…yes…” she moaned. “Deeper, yes, don’t change that, deeper, goddamnit, fuck me with that tongue, I’m gonna push your whole fucking head into my cunt it feels so good!” She started slapping his hard cock with her free hand, feeling him buck with the sensation, knowing it didn’t really hurt. She raked her fingernails over the taut skin of his balls and slapped even harder as she rode his mouth.

Her own thighs began to tremble with her impending orgasm, and she murmured, “Oh, yes, sweet boy, that’s what I’m talkin’ about…” The rest of her words turned incoherent as she collapsed down on him, his cock pressed up in between her breasts. As she came she began fucked him with her cleavage, pushing her tits together hard as she slid up and down his body. She kept grinding hard against his chin as the she rode the orgasm through screaming release. Finally Theo stopped moving his mouth and she lifted her hips slightly from his slick face.

Jane continued the smooth rhythm of his cock sliding between her breasts, pushing them harder together to give him a tighter fuck. She dipped her head forward with a happy humming noise to lick his balls in long sensuous strokes that made his eyes roll back with pleasure. She felt his cock thicken between her breasts. “Yeah, Theo, baby,” she murmured between licks. “Shoot that cum all over my tits! Cover me, baby, cover me…YES!”

With a savage roar he grabbed her hips and pulled her back onto his face, screaming into her pussy as he filled the space between their bodies with hot spurts of cum. His muffled roar subsided into low growling noises as he relaxed, and Jane let out a low, satisfied chuckle as she felt his cock softening. “Babe, I think I’m gonna have a bruised sternum from this monster.” Rolling off of him, she sat up, looking at his glistening body, glazed with both of their cum from crotch to forehead.

Theo looked at her, looking almost innocent in the afterglow. His mouth opened, and he seemed about to say something, then changed his mind and set his jaw. “Fucking hot!” he growled as he sat up. He winced as he moved his shoulder, and he looked grimly at the blood that had seeped through during the sex. “I think you’ll need to do that dressing again,” he said. Jane wasn’t looking at him anymore, but up past him at the bathroom door.

Theo turned and saw Michael standing there. His brother was frowning the two of them, the slender blonde in nothing but a shredded tee and leather harness, Theo even more naked. Michael’s voice was low and even, highlighting his bitter sarcasm. “Glad you guys had fun. While you’ve been playing I had a very meaningful discussion with Tony. It seems he’s about as thoroughly acquainted with Jane as you are, dear brother.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry. It’s not quite sloppy seconds- she didn’t let him dip his wick in her either.” Theo looked away, embarrassed, and them up again, suspicious eyes focused on Jane

Jane didn’t look at him. She watched Michael as if he were a dangerous predator, waiting to see what he would do next. Theo scowled, confused by the dynamic between his brother and the woman sitting naked, still covered in his cum.

Finally Michael broke the silence. “Clean up and come downstairs, Jane. I have a job for you.” Without waiting for acknowledgement he turned and strode out of his brother’s apartment and down the hallway.

“Yes, sir,” Jane called after him. Theo’s scowl turned confused for a moment, and then he forced a playful leer, trying to bluff past his confusion. He reached over and tweaked her nipple, which had gone flat against her breast. Jane slapped his hand away.

“Hey!” he protested. “What’s up with the sass? I think a ‘Thank you, sir‘ would be more appropriate, don’t you?”

Jane looked at him with an incredulous look. “No, that would be for your brother.” Theo frowned, and she patted his head condescendingly as she stood up and grabbed a towel to wipe his jism from between her breasts. “But I do thank you, Theo, for a much-needed tension reliever.” She tossed the towel at him and unbuttoned her left shoulder pouch. She pulled out a tightly-folded black lump of cloth which shook out to reveal a t-shirt identical to the one she’d ripped off earlier. As Theo looked on disbelieving Jane shrugged the shirt on with an easy motion. “Hey, a girl’s gotta be prepared. Too bad we don’t have more time, dear boy.” She patted his cheek. “The other pouch is full of condoms.”

Leaving him there naked on the floor, she grabbed her boots and jeans and was gone.

Jan 142014
 

Whew, chapter 12 is a long ‘un! It’s also proving more time-consuming to edit than I’d expected, but it’s also fucking hot, so I thought I’d post the first half just to give you a taste. A couple of things to note: Bad People do Bad Things. Please do not extrapolate that I condone in any way some of the acts done by or to the characters.

Others, though, I certainly do. I won’t bother to say which is which.

Also, you may notice the sudden change of one character’s appearance. Yes, that was intentional, and in the final draft of the book, the previous chapters will be edited to reflect it. In the meantime, we press FORWARD into the Duel!

Theo shifted restlessly in his chair. Across the room the blonde woman Elsie had come down from the table and was now totally naked, on her knees surrounded by Incubikers. Their cocks jutted out from their unzipped jeans and they were passing her around like a joint, every man taking a hit of her open mouth for a few strokes before handing her off. Elsie’s eyes were vacant and almost rolled up as she opened her mouth for each new cock, spittle and mucus drizzling down her chin and glistening slick on her breasts. She knelt with legs spread, hands furiously masturbating with a desperate grind of her hips. Even at a distance Theo could hear her grunting as she rode her orgasms one after another while the men fucked her face. Nudging Michael, he nodded towards the camera the IncuBikers in the circle were passing around as well, getting closeups of Elsie as she was passed on from cock to cock.

“That’ll be prime content for the our next bukkake title,” he murmured. “I bet we can get her to take a few of them in her ass, too.”

Michael glanced at the group and sniffed dismissively. “Elsie? She doesn’t do anal, brother – at least, not for the kind of green I’m willing to pay. The little bitch still has that ‘I’m young and beautiful and the next Belladonna’ attitude.” He took a sip of beer. “It’ll take a few months to wear her down, but in the end we’ll get her to take it in the ass for next to nothing.”

Theo grinned and he shook his head in amusement. “You’re lucky I’ve already got a money on a different bet tonight, brother, or I’d take your money proving you wrong.” He leaned in towards Michael, voice low and urgent. “I told you – I found something special in New York. It’s big, and it’s gonna make even your sweet Isabella seem like last year’s whore.” Seeing Michael’s skeptical expression, he said “Fine. I’ll give you a little preview.” He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted over to the blonde. “Yo, Elsie! Listen up!” Continue reading »

Dec 232013
 

Jason was glaring at her before she even opened the glass door to the Hellas Café. In one of the booths Alec was finishing off dinner with Joey, and Jane gave the boy a playful wave of fingers as she walked quickly to the counter. He leaned aggressively towards her, frowning. “Who the fuck was that woman you –” he began, and then stopped as she laid two fingers against his lips. He smelled sandalwood and a kind of clean, oily aroma underneath. It was a familiar smell to him, but he couldn’t remember where…suddenly his eyes widened as he realized she had gun oil on her hands. Jason swallowed, and met her green eyes, focused intently on his.

“No time, boyo. I’m on a very tight schedule. Her name was Nastya. Did my note make sense?”

“Yeah,” he grudgingly allowed. “She’s upstairs sleeping in your room. I gave her some hot cocoa, as you suggested.” His scowl returned. “And I took it off your tab.”

Jane was unfazed. “Good. My kit?”

“Right here.” Lifting a rectangular black hard case from under the table, he looked at her quizzically. “Not to pry, but that looks just like a portable bar kit I once had. Shaker, shot glasses, mixing tools…”

“Right the first time, my sexy barista.” Jane seemed inordinately pleased that he’d recognized it.” She flipped open the case, revealing neatly coiled lengths of rope where the bottles would normally go, and a dizzying array of stainless steel blades, iron clamps, and brass chains neatly arranged under leather straps. “Works remarkably well as a tool kit, as you can see.” She looked over the collection with a critical eye, reaching out and rubbing a smudge off the dark mahogany handle of a butterfly knife. She tapped her chin thoughtfully, and finally seemed to come to a decision. “Hmm…Yes, this’ll work.” She snapped it shut with a satisfied click of the latch, and noticed Jason’s expression, somewhere between confused and worried. “What?” she said, a little defensively “It’s my rope kit!”.

Jason just stared. Jane sighed, setting the case down again. “You haven’t been to many kinky play parties, have you?”

He smiled wryly. “No, I keep my sex where it belongs, between me and my partner and God.”

Jane looked sharply at him, and opened her mouth as if to say something, but then closed it again. “I would explain, but as the Spaniard said, no, eet ees too mush. Lemme sum up.” She took a breath, and held up a finger as if giving a lecture. “Ego-driven attention whores such as moi who do frequent such parties –  ” she pirouetted, eliciting a round of applause from Joey in the far booth. “- have kits like this full of our tools. These are a few of my favorite things.” She tapped the case. “Nipple clamps. Blades, for sensation or cutting. Needles and sutures and chains, oh my!” Despite his best efforts, Jason was beginning to smile. “A few carabiners, my graspin’ brass ring for suspension, and about two hundred feet of Twisted Monk Nutella Rope.”

At that, Jason’s grin changed into a shocked O. “Twisted…what? Nutella…rope?” he gibbered. Continue reading »

Dec 202013
 

When they returned to the club, the van had already pulled into the garage and Michael was waiting for them. The Russian women were huddled around him, laughing as he smoked a cigar and bantered in Russian. As Theo and Jane walked towards them she saw the men exchange the smug grins of bandits enjoying the sweet plunder taken from their enemy, Tony.
Michael waved his cigar expansively. “Theo, my brother, someday that techie asshole across the street is going to know better. Meanwhile, this is an awfully fine batch of igrushka you’ve brought me.” He whispered something in the ear of the blonde on his arm, and her eyes widened, but she nodded, sinking to her knees in front of him. “Tanye here is especially fond of cigar service, she says. I’m about to test that claim.”
He looked at her expectantly, and she held up her hands, cupped in front of her. His eyes narrowed, and he growled “Nyet, shliukha.”
Her eyes widened a little more, and she shifted on her knees, suddenly looking a bit uncomfortable. Michael’s expression was icy and expectant, and eventually she settled, dropping her hands to her lap, and closing her eyes. Taking a breath, she tilted her head back and opened her mouth wide, her tongue sticking out slightly, cupped like a tiny pink bowl.
With a satisfied grunt, Michael tapped the ash of his cigar onto her tongue. Her body tensed, but her mouth remained open, her eyes opening and looking to Michael. He held her gaze for a moment, finally nodding, and she closed her mouth and swallowed. “Spasibo, Pakhan!” she said after a moment, voice a little hoarse. She waited there on her knees until he motioned her to rise.
Michael tried to hide his pleasure as he looked over at Jane, but she could see a slight smile. Showoff she thought. “So. You don’t have a problem with all this? Doesn’t offend some feminist sensibilities or some shit like that?”
Jane shrugged. “What, cigars? I’m a big fan, though I prefer Ashton. I also tend to roll my ash on the tongue, because I usually have plans for it later.” She grinned impudently at him, but he didn’t rise to the bait. “Oh, you mean the whores in general? Why would I have a problem with that?” She looked at the half-dozen or so women still unloading their belongings from the van. “They know what they’re here for; just because we’re too stupid over here to make sex work legal doesn’t mean it’s any less of a choice.” She motioned at Tanye, who was rather urgently gulping water from a cooler in one corner of the garage. “That kind of thing? Hey, that’s between you two. I’m all about consent, and Goddess knows I’ve consented to a lot more extreme – well, let’s just say the answer to your question is no, whores and porn and camgirls don’t shock my feminist sensibilities.” She held up a finger. “But don’t get any ideas. I don’t affiliate myself with anyone on more than a short term basis. No offense – this girl just likes the feel of the road under her wheels.”
Theo smiled, but his eyes remained cold. “Fair enough. We’ll talk about those other skills later. You’ll find our audition isn’t quite as easy as that fuckwad Tony. Gonna take more than pussy licking and a foot job. ”
She smiled at him mischievously. “I sure hope so. There’s a reason I bailed on them and came over here, after all.” Continue reading »

Dec 172013
 

Theo Doukas was tinkering with his bike as the rest of the men in the security detail finished putting on their leathers. Jane watched as they strapped various implements of destruction to their bikes, spiked baseball bats, chains, even a large pipe wrench with a rock clamped into the jaws. Their jackets were patched with a Satanic-looking stud grinning and grasping the shapely hips of a naked woman face down and ass up. Along with the “Incubiker” and “Detroit” rockers was the not-so-subtle Latin phrase “FUTUIS MUNDO”.

As Theo became aware of Jane’s presence he glanced over his shoulder, smiling at her puzzled glance. “Wanna know what it means?” he growled with the voice of someone confident with command. He dropped his wrench clanking to the ground as he rose and turned towards her. He was a little over six feet tall and moved with the grace of an experienced martial artist or even a dancer. Wiping the grease from his hands with a black bandana, he tucked it in his left back jean pocket as he looked Jane up and down slowly. His gaze was appraising, not invasive. She returned the look, taking him in from his well-worn but neatly polished engineer boots to his slightly tousled black hair.  Theo’s demeanor was masculine without being macho, and Jane’s smile was more authentic than she’d expected.

She liked him.

“I know what it means,” she said, waving at the motto. “Nice sentiment. Just kind of trying to relate it to my own motto, Futuis viam meam ad Deum.” She watched him carefully to see if he caught the Latin.

Theo blinked thoughtfully. “Hmmm. ‘Fuck the World’ or ‘Fucking My Way to God.’ Never had much use for the big G myself. I like what’s here, what I can take. Speaking of which,” he met her eyes. “Before we start this run, you got to know one thing. I’m told that you’re the tough little bitch that put my crew in the clinic.” He paused as she nodded once. “No biggie, I’m sure they had it coming. But don’t try that shit on me. I won’t make the mistake they did.” As her expression turned puzzled, he smiled grimly. “Thinking that tiny isn’t dangerous.” He lifted his hand as if to brush his hair out of his eyes, and gave a quick flick that Jane couldn’t quite follow.

However, she had no problem feeling the edge of the knife Theo now held at her throat. She didn’t move. Softly, he murmured, “Fuck with me, I will end you.” The tone was almost loving, and Jane wasn’t surprised to find herself turned on. He nodded downward, and she risked a look. His other hand had a Sig Sauer 9mm pistol leveled at her midriff. “Blink once if we’re clear.”

She looked back up at him solemnly, then suddenly grinned and widened her eyes comically before exaggerating a slow blink. Nodding, Theo smoothly reholstered the gun and pushed the blade back into a wrist sheath hidden under the his denim sleeve.

“Damn, you guys really are brothers, aren’t you?” she murmured, and he finally grinned at her. “Yeah. He got the brains, so I had to settle for the looks.” He gestured at her leathers, her jacket, chaps and boots all varying shades of brown incongruous in the garage full of black leather, iron, and chrome. “What’s with the Sky Captain getup?”

She shrugged. “Eh, black leather makes me look pasty. Same reason I’d rather have amber than diamond, any day. I like things that used to be alive to look that way.” She fingered her aviator’s cap, and smiled up at him. “Plus, I used to masturbate with a Rocketeer action figure.” She was gratified to see his eyes widen slightly. Gotcha. “So what’s the plan for this? We’re getting some Russian imports?”

He grunted assent. “You might say that. Tony Bumblefuck across the way was kind enough to facilitate their trip here, and now he seems to think that we’re dumb enough to think he actually needs an fuel truck delivery to his fortress of stupitude. Taking down the tanker is not a big deal – my boys can do that in their sleep – but the whores inside need to be moved quickly into the van.” He waved towards the corner of the garage, where an overweight Incubiker lounged back against a black van with no windows, smoking a cigarette.

“Last two times we had Rich to sweet talk the sluts out of the truck, and that worked fine. He even got a little on the side, just because they like hearing ‘suck my cock’ in Russian.” Theo grimaced. “Seeing as he apparently had a violent conversation with your foot, it’s a good thing you’re fluent in Mother Russian, or we might not be so happy to have you around.” He glanced up past her shoulder. “Isn’t that right, Beecee?”

Jane refused to turn around, just turning her head slightly to where the big man from the alley slouched towards them. Theo looked amused at the man’s surly expression, eyes glaring at the small woman from under a white bandage covering his stitches. “BeeCee, I don’t know that you’ve been formally introduced. Jane, BeeCee. He’s Michael’s left hand man – me, of course, being the right.” Seeing that neither of them were making any move to greet each other, he sighed, as if the father of unruly children. “Right.” He motioned towards the black helmet the giant held in his oversized hands. “What’s with the hardhat, BeeCee?”

The larger man grunted, nodding towards Jane. “Mr. Doukas says she’s supposed to wear it.” As Jane frowned, Beecee grinned mockingly. “It’s the law, bitch. Deal with it.” He held the helmet out just long enough for her to reach for it and then opened his fingers to let it drop.

Jane gave a slight kick, her boot catching the helmet before it hit the floor. It flipped neatly up into her waiting hands with a hard slapping sound. Beecee’s mouth opened for a moment, speechless, then he frowned with annoyance and stomped sulkily to his bike.

Theo watched him, amused. He swung a leg over his own bike and watched Jane as she gracefully mounted the seat behind him. “What was that, more of your kung fu Barbie shit?”

“Nope,” she said, eyes twinkling as she buttoned the helmet strap under her chin. It fit her like a black shiny salad bowl, making her look like a character from a video game. “Hacky sack with the stoners in high school.” She wrapped her arms around his waist, leaning forward. Theo could feel her breasts pressing into his back through the layers of leather. Jane nuzzled against his jacket, breathing in deeply with satisfaction. “Mmmm…Love me some leather. Yum, yum.” For a moment she seemed lost in reverie, then looked up, seeming surprised to see him watching her. “What, like you don’t sleep with your floggers? Let’s go, stud, Mother Russia has some pussy waiting for us.”

He laughed then, but there was no warmth in it. The garage was filled with the roar of exhaust pipes as the bikes rode out of the garage into the Detroit afternoon.

An hour later, Jane was standing on top of the tanker truck, tapping the helmet absently on the against the side of into the dark circle of the opened hatch. To her left the Incubiker team waited impatiently, alternately glaring up at her or nervously along the street, watching for police. Theo stood at the bottom of the ladder on the side of the truck, his face angry and intent. “They want what?” he said loudly, voice filled with frustration.

Jane looked down at him, her expression regretfully bemused. “They want a Hello Kitty vibrator.” She laughed softly at the ridiculous request. “That’s really what they said, Theo. Hey, on the bright side, they’re only asking for one.”

Theo looked up at her suspiciously. “You’re fucking with us, aren’t you? I told you this needs to happen quickly – The money we gave Detroit’s finest only keeps them away for so long. Plus, Beecee’s getting carried away.” He waved towards the big man who was working over the hapless truckdriver. The poor delivery man’s face was bloody and his body sagged between the two Incubikers who held him up for Beecee’s fists.

Jane sighed. “Boss, I would fuck with Beecee from here to wednesday, but I would not fuck with you. I’m seriously telling you, they are insisting that they were promised a ‘hello kitty’ vibrator – ” Jane stopped suddenly as a thought occurred to her. She called down into the tanker for a moment, and when an answering stream of Russian echoed metallically up to her, she started laughing.

“Something to share with the class, Ms. Jane?” Theo did not look amused as she turned to look down at him, chuckling.

“Sorry, boss. My mistake. It’s not ‘hello kitty.’ It’s Kitty LaRue – as in, the ‘great American pornstar’” She shook her head. “Tony promised them that she would be here to greet them”

Tony didn’t look amused. “Where do you get ‘vibrator’ out of that? Do you even speak Russian?”

Jane chuckled again, unfazed by his suspicious tone. “Better than Tony does. Apparently he charmingly referred to Kitty as his ‘fucktoy’.” She shrugged. “Fucktoy, vibrator, same difference to them.” She grinned impudently down at Theo’s scowl and laughed again. “Hey, man, you gotta love cross-cultural communication.”

“Tell them to get their skank asses out of that truck in the next two minutes or I will toss in a match and close the hatch.” Theo turned angrily from the tanker and walked over to the van, yelling at the driver to unlock the back. Jane shrugged and turned back to the hatch, speaking quickly to the sex workers waiting fearfully inside.

A moment later a thin pale hand reached up and she helped the first woman out. She was painfully thin, elegant cheekbones sharply outlined under a shock of ragged black hair. She wore a metallic black tube dress with silver shoulder straps, small breasts barely tenting the fabric as her nipples crinkled in the chilly air. She clutched a tiny bag in her hand, and Jane could see a small book and some loose photographs inside. In spite of her emaciated state she looked inquisitively at Jane, asking a short question.

Jane’s smile turned sad, and she replied with a few short Russian words, trailing off into English. “I’m nobody you need to know, sweetheart. Just go with them.” She motioned towards the bikers.

The Russian woman looked down the ladder at the men waiting below, then back up at Jane. Her voice was earnest to the point of desperation. “We are good fucking! They not be sorry to buying us!”

Jane sighed. “I’m sure they won’t be sorry, you poor sweet slut. But you might be.” She caught the woman’s eye, and her voice dropped to a whisper. “If that happens, let me know. I’ll see what I can do.”

The woman’s expression changed and she suddenly looked disdainful. “What you mean? We LOVE to fuck! And drugs! We are party girls! You said these men give more than Tony and Kitten. You lie?” Seeing Jane shake her head slowly, the Russian laughed, hard and brittle. “So we go with them. We work in America finally! We will find rich man!” Scornfully, she sniffed dismissively at Jane and turned to make her way down the ladder. “You just can’t find man for you!”

Jane just watched her go down into the waiting arms of the leering Incubikers, a hard look in her eyes. As she heard the next prostitute climbing up out of the hatch, she gave a sigh and reached out to help her.

When they were all out and in the van, she and Theo remounted his bike. He looked at her thoughfully. “You did a good job up there. Worth the $1500, easy – we’ll make that back off those girls in a day.” Firing up his engine, he raised his voice over the growl. “I’m kinda surprised, though. Don’t you feel a little guilty? You are tough, but you don’t seem the type for running whores.”

She looked at him evenly. “You’d be surprised at what type of work I’ve done, Mr. Doukas, sexual and otherwise. ” She nodded towards the van as it drove off. “Those girls chose to come here. They chose this kind of work. They knew what they were getting into, even if they convinced themselves it would lead to something else. I call that risk-aware, and as they say back in Mother Russia, ‘not my circus, not my monkeys.’” Her voiced softened just a bit, but there was no regret in it. “I’m no fucking saint, Theo. I just want my money. Speaking of which…”

Theo nodded, and took a hand off the throttle to fish out his cel phone, pressing a number to speed dial and then saying, curtly, “Brother. It’s done. Bitch delivered as promised.” There was a pause, and Theo nodded again. “Good. Later.” Pocketing his cel, he nodded at Jane. “Your money is deposited. Feel free to check.”

She smiled sweetly at him. “No need, I can tell.” She held up her wrist, where a bracelet made from an intricate skein of copper and brass housed a dark green stone. Theo looked puzzled, but Jane simply smiled, waiting, and nodded towards the jewel. It suddenly flared brightly, the light fading into emerald numbers glowing inside the stone: “$-1-5-0-0-*” Jane ran a finger over the stone, and it dimmed back down into dark smooth jade.

Theo grunted. “Neat trick. LCD under tinted glass, wired with Bluetooth to your cel?” She shrugged noncommittally and got on his bike, and he muttered over his shoulder. “All that fancy shit. Just call the fuckin’ bank, get it over with.” Revving the throttle, he waited as she pressed her body against him.

“Ah, Theo, you’re a Luddite at heart.” At his angry glare over his shoulder, she laughed. “Relax, big boy, it just means you like to keep things simple. It adds to your charm, manly man.” She playfully tapped her helmet against his. They rode back towards St. Antoine Street, leaving the empty truck and the ruined driver on the side of the road behind them.

Dec 092013
 

Jason looked up as Jane sat down at his counter. “You take debit cards?” she asked as he poured her a cup of coffee.

“Five dollar minimum,” he said sourly, sniffing. “Pardon me for saying so, Miss-I’m-too-cool-for-a-name, but you smell like a whorehouse.”

Jane smiled good naturedly. “More like one particular whore than the whole house, but no offense taken – these things take time.” She grinned as his scowl deepened. “While we’re on the subject of houses of ill repute, though – I found Tony and Kitten…amusing, but not really roommate material. You wouldn’t happen to have an extra room available?”

Jason nodded suspiciously.” Yeah,” he grudgingly allowed, “but it’s a hundred a week, and I’m not putting that on your tab…”

“No need, my friend.” She rummaged in a pocket of her leather vest and tossed him a strip of plastic. “Run that like a credit card for two weeks rent. It’ll do for starters.” She leaned over the counter, looking left and right. “My rucksack still back there?”

Jason absently opened a cabinet under the register and handed her the leather bag, motioning towards stairs leading upstairs next to the counter. “Take room three. Alex is in two, and it shares a door with one, where his boy stays. There’s an outside entrance, too, door code is 4692.” When she didn’t move, he looked at her. “Something else?”

She was looking at the tied laces on the flap of the rucksack, and then up at Jason, her expression grave. “You didn’t open this.” It wasn’t a question, and as he returned her gaze steadily, she sighed. “Oh, Jason. You’re an honest man, aren’t you? What the hell are you doing in a shithole like this?” Without waiting for an answer, she turned and headed upstairs.

“Whatever I can,” he answered softly, and pulled a cel phone out of his pocket. Pressing a button, he began to talk in low tones, his eyes never leaving the staircase.

The next morning Jason had her pancakes and eggs ready as she came down the stairs, and she saluted his timing with a quick snap of her hand and a brilliant smile. Alex sat at the counter with a small boy of about 4, the two of them sounding out words in a Seuss book. “Sam-I-Am!” the boy said happily, pointing at a sad moustachioed figure in the book. Then he looked up and noticed Jane sipping coffee in the booth. “Who dat, daddy? She pretty!”

Alex hushed is son with a whispered “Don’t bother her, Joey, let her eat alone.”

“Hello, Joey.” Suddenly she was standing next to them her hand offered to the boy. “My name’s Jane. You’re doing a great job on that book – it was one of my favorites.” She looked at the book critically for a moment, then at the boy. “Can I tell you a secret?” The boy nodded warily, and she whispered a few sentences in his ear. His eyes grew wide for a moment, then he looked at his father sitting next to him and started giggling. Smiling, Jane tousled his hair and went back to her breakfast, reading a battered paperback with some sword-wielding barbarian on the cover.

Jason came over and topped off the boy’s orange juice. “What’d she tell you?” he asked casually, glancing over Joey’s head to Jane in the booth.

“It’s a SEEKET!” the boy pronounced happily, then more quietly, “That means I have to whisper it.” Jason nodded gravely, leaning over. Joey whispered intently, and giggled as Jason began chuckling.

“Well, then, I guess it’s lucky for him you’re done! There’s your bus!” Joey squealed with excitement, hugging his puzzled father and giving Jason a high-five before jumping off the stool and rushing out the door.

Alex watched him go, and then turned to Jason, curiosity getting the better of him. “What?” he demanded.

Jason indicated the moustachioed fish in the book. “She told him that her father kind of looked like that fish,” he grinned. “And that if Joey didn’t eat all his food, it might happen to you, too.” Chuckling, Jason cleared away the plate, and in spite of himself, Alex grinned back. Taking his coffee, he turned around and walked over to her booth. She looked up at him and waved him into the seat.

“I ran into your wife earlier this morning,” she said bluntly.

Alex’s expression didn’t change. “Yes, I heard. Thank you for not involving her in your little…demonstration.” He sipped his coffee and Jane thought she saw just a glimpse of the deep pain he felt at the mention of his wife. “I didn’t watch the tapes, but Tony and Kitten were quite impressed.”

“What’s the deal with them, anyway?” Jane asked. “With a sweet set up like they’ve got there, why can’t they make ends meet? Those camgirls and boys I saw in there – man, talk about walking poster children for the Big Burnout.”

At this Alex chuckled, a soft, bitter sound. “Yeah, that’s a good way to describe just about everyone over there. The problem isn’t the infrastructure – it’s that it’s a castle under siege.” He looked up at Jane, then, and she was startled by his eyes, which had looked brown, but now revealed a vivid green ring around his dark irises. “The Incubikers won’t let any new talent in, and if old talent goes out, they don’t come back. That talent you saw? They haven’t been out of that building in three months. Tony and Kitten are able to get supplies in and out, they have that much pull with the teamsters, but people…” He trailed off. “When the Doukas’ catch someone trying to get out, well, if they’re lucky, they disappear. Some they keep… for their own amusement.”

Jane sipped her coffee and speculated out loud. “And in town known as “the Murder City”, I guess it doesn’t take much of a donation to keep the police out of the whole thing.”

Alex laughed again. “Police? You kidding? The Doukas not only have them paid off, they have them procuring. Notice that Juvenile Detention facility down the street? Both Tony and the Doukas brothers used to take advantage of that, scooping up people close to the edge. Doesn’t take much paperwork to get a pretty not-quite- 18 year old released on a ‘work apprenticeship’. By the time his or her birthday comes around they’re strung up on smack or in debt or both, and they just start working the cameras.” He waved out the window in the vague direction of the Incubiker enclave. “Or the clients.”

“So what changed? What put Tony and Kitten are on the defensive?” Jane snorted. “For that matter, why doesn’t Doukas just roll right over him?” Her tone dropped low. “And why do you get to come and go freely?”

Alex looked at her steadily. “I really don’t know the answer to the first two questions. At some point the détente failed, that’s all I know. The Doukas brothers just decided one day to make a move on one of Tony’s stars.” His eyes were expressionless. “That’s part of the answer to your last question, though.”

His voice quickened, as if he wanted to get the telling over with quickly. “Isabella. That’s her name. The one you saw in the alley, the star that the Doukas brothers took from Tony.’ He took a breath, eyes glued to the table in front of him. “Joey’s mother. My wife.”

Jane said nothing, simply waited, and after a long moment Alex got his emotions under control and continued. “She was an indie model, came to work for a month-long exclusive contract with Tony. She’d just finished a great trip to New York, worked with some really high-end photographers, and we thought – that is, I thought – ” his voice cracked, and Jane simply sipped her coffee and waited, silent, for him to regain composure.

“I wanted to stay in the city, keep working the contacts. But she told me she had gotten something really good during her time in New York, something that she wouldn’t show me…I never really understood what it was, or what she thought it would do, but…fuck, I don’t even really care anymore. She just seemed to think it would be our ticket to the dream – for her to stop traveling all the time, for me to stop having to scrambling for freelance gigs, for us to do what we wanted.”

“What is it that you wanted, Alex?” Jane’s voice was soft.

He looked at her bleakly. “Fuck if I know. Never had enough breathing room to actually figure that out.”

Jane nodded, solemnly. “Fair enough. So what happened?”

He sighed. “Again, I don’t really know. I couldn’t meet her when she landed at the airport because of Joey’s school stuff, and from what I heard, Incubikers were waiting there to take her. That was three months ago. Since then, they’ve intercepted every talent Tony and Kitten have tried to hire – and anyone who gets out of Kitten’s building gets disappeared, or worse.” He stirred his coffee and gave a soft chuckle. “The last two times it was a bund from Russia. Tony thought they might be beyond the Doukas brothers’ reach.” Alex gave a bitter laugh.” Didn’t matter where they came from, though,” he pointed out the window again, “that last mile is where they grab them. Didn’t even have to use force; just convinced the girls that working for them would be much more convenient than working for Tony and Kitten.” He chuckled again, sounding tired

Jane tapped a sugar packet thoughtfully. “Why the laugh?”

Alex grimaced. “It’s not really funny. Another bunch of girls are supposed to come in today. Tony is nothing if not persistent. I’m just thinking it might not be so easy for the Incubikers to convince this group to switch sides.”

“Really? Why’s that?” Jane’s tone sounded speculative.

“Because the only guy they have who speaks Russian is in the clinic with his jaw wired shut,” Alex grinned with a bitter triumph and tapped a finger on the table in front of Jane. “Thanks to you.”

Jane stood up from the booth and was gathered her things. Alex looked up, surprised at the sudden exit. “Hey, where are you going?”

Jane gave him a big smile. “That, Alex, was some valuable information. In fact…” she handed him a small card. “Here. PIN is 1469. Take out a hundred, get Joey something nice. And hang onto that card. Anything else you hear about that you think I might be interested in, pass it on, and I’ll authorize more.” She snugged her fingerless leather gloves over her hands, and carefully dogeared her place in her book before tossing it in the rucksack. “Place like this, the right piece of information can be worth a lot to a woman like me.”

Alex looked at the card with a bewildered expression. “I don’t understand. What are you doing?”

She smiled and slung her rucksack over her shoulder. “Going to see Michael Doukas about a job. I hear he might be in need of a Russian translator.”

Alex still looked confused. “And…you speak Russian?”

Jane gave him a wink as she went out the door. “Vot tak!”

Nov 252013
 
2013-11-11 10.18.42
Only slightly posed.

Only slightly posed.

So, a while back, I told some friends of mine “I’m a simple man of peace!”

They laughed.

It bothered me. More than it probably should have, and so I tried it out on other people. Exactly one person – my oldest friend, in fact – didn’t snicker, laugh, chortle, or guffaw when I said I was a simple man of peace. They pointed at the San Francisco GRUE, at Dark Odyssey Surrender, at the upcoming Washington DC GRUE (which conveniently comes right after Thanksgiving). They pointed at my self-employment, my public work, my private relationships, my kinks and hobbies and goals and gadgets.

And you know what? They were right. I was – I am – about as far from a “simple man of peace” as I can be.

And that bothers me.

So I decided to take arms against a sea of brainweasels and do something about it. The lovely Miss Ali had asked me if there was some special way we could spend a weekend together, and as I outlined what I had in mind, she enthusiastically agreed. Thus, SMOPcon was born.

The idea was to find an environment both reclusive and also inspiring. To pare things down to a minimum, to cut down on the noise just to see what kind of signal might actually be coming through.

For my part, the rules I made for myself (the aspiring SMOP) were relatively simple:

  • No technology more complex than paper and pen. That meant no clocks, watches, smartphones, computers, whatever. I was OFF THE GRID.
  • I would sit zazen three times a day, for 1/2 hour per session.
  • I would do yoga twice a day.
  • I would eat simple and healthy (mostly) meals.
  • I would go to bed when tired, get up when rested, fuck when horny.

Miss Ali, for her part, was taking on the role of “Service Muse.” This meant that she was accepting the responsibility of:

  • Locating an appropriate space for the SMOPcon and negotiating its use (AirBNB for the win, btw!)
  • Planning & preparing the menu, usually
    • Fruit, coffee, and toast for breakfast
    • Vegetables and fish or sausage for lunch
    • Salad and (possibly) meat for dinner
    • Fruit, nuts, other snacks as needed
  • Minding the technology:
    • Monitoring my phone for emergency messages
    • Changing the music as I requested
    • Keeping track of time when I sat zazen
  • Leading yoga workouts twice a day
  • Courtesan/bedwarmer/rope bottom services as requested
  • Providing stimulating conversation, a sounding board, or a silent companion as needed.

I could write. I could read my books. I could smoke cigars, drink whiskey, listen to music (though I couldn’t actively use the iPod, see rule 1). I could bounce ideas or thoughts off of Miss Ali, or simply enjoy watching her do the work she’d brought along for herself.

This lasted from Sunday afternoon thru Wednesday noon.

So, Did It Work?

That’s a good question. Am I now a SMOP? Well, no. As the zen saying goes, first mountains are mountains and rivers are rivers, then mountains are not mountains and rivers are not rivers, and then mountains are once again mountains and rivers are once again rivers.

To put it more clearly, did something happen? Yes. Was it enlightenment? Come on, are you serious? Here’s the way it broke down:

  • I had thought that going off the grid would drive me crazy. It didn’t, not at all. I surrendered my phone when we got in the car to go to the location, and never had the slightest temptation to check it, check in, or anything else. That surprised me just as much as anyone.
  • I also thought that sitting for 1/2 hour 3x/day would be hard. It wasn’t – even though that’s six times longer than I sit any other day. In fact, I grew to really look forward to that part of each day.
  • The location was SPECTACULAR:

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  • …which probably had a lot to do with how easy it was to monotask.
  • I found that my days went pretty much as I’d planned them, with the big chunks of time spent on each making them feel more…nourishing, I suppose. Like eating real food instead of fast food might taste.
  • I found that for the most part I didn’t want to listen to music, but I really treasured the time I spent talking with Miss Ali. We discussed her own work (some career planning) and I would talk to her about where my thoughts were leading. Like a true muse, her comments often led me in directions that led to breakthroughs.

And yeah, while I didn’t achieve enlightenment, I did have an epiphany or two (life-changing, even) and also came out of it with a pretty nice outline for a cigar-themed erotic romance. Also some unforgettable sights, sounds, and memories.

I can’t speak for Ali, except for two things she shared with me: one, she did get a great deal of her own work done, and two, she would have liked to have a third service provider there to “…do the meals. And the yoga!” So maybe her calling was more towards the muse; I only know that she gave me exactly what I asked for and several other things that I needed but wasn’t aware enough to ask.

The hardest part of the weekend was the aftercare – or rather, the lack of it. I mentioned that leaving the grid behind was no problem; coming back to the grid has continued to be difficult. I find myself much less tolerant of noise, of bustle, of busy-ness. I came out of the SMOPcon right into managing and hosting a variety show/street fair night at Dark Odyssey Surrender, and the number of times I wanted to just scream “FUCK RIGHT OFF!” and go find some water to sit by was more than I was comfortable with.

It’s been a couple of weeks now, and that urge only hits once in a while. Meanwhile, I find myself monotasking more – every chance I get, in fact – and guarding jealously my morning rituals of yoga, meditation, and caffeinated journaling.

For me, it was a SMOPcon, but you can easily remove the gender and call it STOPcon – whether that’s Simple Top of Peace or even a non-power-dynamic Simple Time of Peace. But oh, do I ever recommend it. That silence, when all the rest goes away?

Glorious.