24 Hours to Live Ch. 02

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The stakes are raised during his final hours.
3.2k words
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Part 2 of the 4 part series

Updated 10/27/2022
Created 09/04/2005
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mpqm1968
mpqm1968
545 Followers

It seemed only fitting that the condemned man should enjoy a hearty breakfast. A Full English with fried bread, generously buttered toast and a pot of tea, Joel McCabe tucked in with relish, his first square meal in days. Having come to terms with his fate, he was strangely relaxed, complacent even about impending death.

For death was certain. There was no messing about where Mickey Standish was concerned, no chance of a last minute reprieve from a guy that made Hannibal Lecter look like a Sunday school teacher. An example would have to be made of Joel in order to maintain Standish's echelon in the gangland community, and more importantly as a deterrent to others.

Hopefully their familiarity and the fact it was only four grand might buy Joel a quick exit with the minimum of pain, a bullet in the back of the head perhaps. After that no doubt he'd be food for the fish in the Thames. Yeah, that would be preferable to the slow, painful torture Standish inflicted on some of those that crossed him.

And if anyone should know of Standish's brutality it was Joel, the formerly trusted employee within the empire. A barman in Standish's club in Whitechapel, he'd witnessed first hand the manner in which rivals and nuisances had been cruelly rubbed out.

An eighteen month stint, a supposed stop gap until a proper job came along, the trouble was Joel liked the gangland life too much, albeit he existed on the fringes. He loved the secretive talk, the ever present threat of violence, the thrill of being in on something illicit and of how others in the outside world perceived him. It was a vicarious lifestyle he had enjoyed without actually having to get his hands dirty. But it had gotten him into trouble, serious trouble.

Joel had given the matter great thought in the past three weeks and had developed a theory that the rigged card game was part of a wider agenda. In fact, he was convinced of it.

Standish had two teenaged daughters, of whom Tiffany, the eighteen year old, was the apple of her father's eye. A walking, talking Barbie doll, Standish doted on the girl, perhaps the only love allowed to permeate the shield of hate that surrounded him. It also gave rise to a bitter jealously, particularly since she had flirted with virtually every half decent looking barman since her sexuality blossomed. All had been warned off of course, but Joel had been more subtle, succeeding in arranging a hot date without Mickey knowing. In fact, one date was enough, given that she acted like a spoiled brat throughout. Since then, Joel had made it patently clear there would be no second date, as a consequence of which Tiffany had probably run off crying to her father, making up some crock of shit about him. The rest was history, the card debt merely a convenient means by which Standish could excuse his actions. Oh Tiffany, Tiffany, Tiffany, that bitch really had screwed up his life.

As he sat and gazed out of the window, watching the world go by in slow motion, Joel tried to interject some more pleasant thoughts: the episode with Natalie. He'd never felt so strong, so in control, so like Superman on a good day. Natalie had been putty in his hands, obeying his every whim. Just the thought got him rock hard once more.

An hour having elapsed in the greasy spoon, bringing the fatal day up to mid morning, almost subconsciously Joel found himself wandering back home, espying Cathy's car on the drive. A grin formed on his face as his mind staged a hasty dress rehearsal with the thirty something redhead in the lead role. Hovering at the gate, he inhaled heavily before striding purposefully down the path, his blood beginning to boil.

Cathy was the perfect subject for his frustrations, and wholly justified too. A history between the pair, most of it was bad. She'd moved in around a year ago and unthinkingly Joel had done his neighbourly best to be welcoming and polite, inviting her in for coffee and suggesting that, being new to the area, she might perhaps let him show her around. The offer was genuine without a hidden agenda yet Cathy mistook the bonhomie for some kind of unwanted pressure. Joel wouldn't have minded but he'd been doing HER the favour and had turned down girls in the club that made Cathy pale into comparison.

After that initial misunderstanding their relationship went rapidly downhill. If it wasn't her bratty kids kicking balls into his garden, trampling the flowers and smashing a window on one occasion, it was her mangy cat fouling the patio. Why the fuck couldn't it shit on her side of the fence? And if it wasn't the cat, it was her weed-infested garden making the neighbourhood look trashy and invading his garden, strangling the foliage. Joel even offered to clear it away but some sort of stupid pride prevented the woman from accepting his kind offer. How he soon grew to hate her with a passion.

And, why the hell did she swan around wearing next to nothing, flaunting her body and teasing him like crazy? Then there were the loud late night parties that seemed to go on for days just when he needed some sleep. His invite? No chance. Bitch. She forced him to lie in bed imagining her being fucked senseless, spit-roasted by two studs with cocks the size of marrows. At least that was what it sounded like from Joel's side of the partition wall.

Damn, she'd spoilt his mellow mood. It was time to do something about it, and to hell with the consequences. Ha ha, what consequences? He'd be dead before dawn. The premise made Joel laugh hysterically like an over zealous Bond villain. Knocking insistently at the door, then again harder, and when that failed to gain a response he pressed the bell repeatedly, become ever more agitated.

Finally the front door opened. Cathy looked hot and flush and not at all pleased to see him, though that was not uncommon. "Joel?"

"Another fuckin' pane of glass, Cathy," he spat. "Thirty-five quid the last one cost me."

Cathy seemed unable to comprehend, her mind elsewhere. "Well?" he prompted, face darkening. "Well? Say something, say sorry...or...for fuck's sake, Cathy..."

Caught off guard, Cathy was unprepared for his barging in, a vain attempt made to block him. Six inches shorter she was no match for the occasional body builder, albeit his once proud body was slightly emaciated by the recent fast, making him wiry like a whippet. "W-what are you d-doing?" she stammered.

"I've come to get what I'm owed."

"Don't go in there," she implored as Joel proceeded towards the kitchen.

Her laptop was open at ninety degrees. Joel's lips formed a devilish grin. Cathy, it seemed, had been viewing porn. Moreover, from the musky scent in the air, evidently she'd been masturbating too. Joel's grin lengthened, realising the position he found himself in. "Oh Cathy, Cathy, Cathy," he said softly. "Give me your fingers."

Cathy looked on, her head a mix of embarrassment and confusion. Defiantly her hands remained tight to her sides, the freckled tops of a pair of expansive breasts quivering gently. "Fingers, Cathy," Joel repeated.

"Joel, get the fuck out of my house now," she ordered, flicking back the thick mane of red hair. "Get out or I'm calling the police."

Making a swerve for the phone, she found Joel too agile, his hand slamming hers, crushing it and eliciting a yelp of pain. As Cathy made to retaliate, a fist raised, Joel caught the hand, holding it then drawing it to his mouth. Cathy stood, frozen like a statue as his lips enveloped the long middle digit, tasting the faint flavour of pussy. Suddenly the redhead gasped as his free hand made a hasty underarm arc, slamming roughly into her crotch and grabbing like a crane. He squeezed and kneaded at the light material of the skirt, as she edged back, trapped up against the kitchen unit like a cornered fox. Joel moved his hips between her legs, Cathy's arms falling back on the hard surface to support her weight. As he pushed into her crotch, Cathy's feet elevated from the ground.

Their eyes met, hers like a deer caught in the headlights, his as lifeless as an android, each grind of his cock causing it to twitch and inflate inside his joggers. Reaching down, Joel gripped the collar of her shirt. Several bottoms popped as he tore, the light material parting to reveal a heaving, lace clad bosom. The bra was a half cup push-up design, raising her breasts like two jellies, the lace so light the nipples seemed to mould into each cup. Engulfed by two enormously spread areolae, Joel swallowed hard. Cathy gasped in shock and distress, her eyes as wide as ping pong balls. "Joel, no...please..." she begged, shuffling back on her elbows, but going nowhere.

Joel sneered, helping the shredded shirt off her shoulders, their midriffs welded. As he craned forward to kiss her, instinctively Cathy put up her hands, unbalancing, her spine meeting the cool surface of the unit, legs kicking up horizontally. In a desperate attempt to flee, sharpened talons glanced off his cheek, drawing two tramlines of blood and prompting Joel to shake his head, features graven. "Oh dear, Cathy, now that wasn't clever," he whispered, the words spiced with menace.

The prone woman flinched as his hand rose, though Joel merely dabbed at his cheek, assessing the situation. Attempting to press his mouth to hers, her head turned to the side, their lips glancing. Again Joel voiced his displeasure in hushed, menacing tones. Tugging blindly at the top drawer, his groping hand fell upon a pair of scissors. Pressing the closed silver blades to Cathy's cheek, the mere threat did the trick, no verbalisation of the intent required. Righting her head and parting her lips, Cathy allowed his tongue to snake inside, finding hers. Joel took a firm grip at the reams of cascading red hair, their faces vacuumed.

Easing off, he felt saliva dribble down his chin, before burying his face at her neck, teeth scoring the soft skin. As she fought to steady her breathing, Cathy was thinking: he's my next door neighbour, there's no way he'll go through with this. He's just trying to frighten me.

At the same time, Joel was thinking: Yeah I may be her next door neighbour, but do I give a fuck? By the time the cops catch up with me I'll be long dead. The thought passed in a quick pulse from brain to groin, his cock harder than ever it had been, more so even than with Natalie earlier. This was one exhilarating headrush. "Take off your bra for me," he ordered.

Cathy paused, the scissors held up once more, prompting her to reach behind. Unhooking, the lacy garment, it loosened on the huge orbs, the tops of the areolae exposed. As the flimsy garment fell, exposing a pair of pendulous d-cup delights, Joel licked his lips.

Instinctively Cathy went to cover herself, eyes welling with salty tears. Joel smiled as he reached down and pushed both arms back to her sides holding them in place with an elbow and a raised knee as he cupped the underside of each fleshy orb. Joel moulded the tits into a hot-looking cleavage, each nipple popping out on stalks. Playfully he rubbed a palm across the divide, grazing the surface of each erect teat, before wrapping his lips around the right one. Sucking long and hard, he stretched the nipple with his bared teeth, causing Cathy's back to arch almost involuntarily.

Seemingly resigned to her fate, when Joel moved his knee back down Cathy's arms remained passively at her sides. He clawed at her crotch, gathering up a length of pleated skirt. Cathy groaned, her fingernails scraping the glazed surface, the heat of the day having caused her face to blush purple, sweat bubbling on the skin, red hair matted to her brow. The skirt up around her waist, Joel continued to prod at her sex through a pair of panties that was getting ever damper, an intoxicating aroma wafting up. "You want me to fuck you, don't you Cathy?"

She shook her head, in denial, the motion causing her tits to wobble like blancmange. "Yes you do, Cathy, you've always wanted me, haven't you Cathy?"

"Noooooooooooo." The cry tailed off as Joel dispatched the skirt to the kitchen floor, pooling at their feet and leaving just a pair of skimpy panties to cover Cathy's modesty.

Easing the joggers to his knees, Joel's cock prodded at her inner thigh as he jockeyed for position. Cathy closed her eyes, having seemingly given up the fight, no resistance as her panties were drawn aside and the tips of Joel's fingers scraped the brush of red hair. Joel moved in more snugly, cock replacing hand, her pussy squelching as the swollen tip dug into the moistness.

Cathy adjusted on the hard unit, parting her legs and pushing up her knees to allow the head to slip inside the moist snatch. Three months without a cock, she gasped at the intrusion. Inhaling a lungful, Joel slammed the shaft hard and mercilessly, splitting her pussy wide and banging her cervix. Cathy thrashed her head and whimpered.

"You've wanted me all along, haven't you, Cathy?"

"Noooooooo."

Joel retracted and slammed back harder, deeper if that were possible, burying to the base of the shaft, his balls crashing against her perineum. "That's for stringing me along all this time," he cried, his cock sticky with her juices as it came out for air.

"I'm sorrrrrrry," moaned Cathy.

Slam, it went back in, raising a fevered groan. "And that's for your fuckin' shitty kids trampling my flowerbed."

"Sorrrrrrry."

Another rock hard thrust brought a further shriek. "And that's for the little bastards breaking my window."

Cathy's apology was muffled in the expiration from her lips, a gush rushing around his shaft preceding a monumental orgasm, another violent stroke causing the climax to rip through her body. "God you make me so hot, Cathy," he panted. "I'm so damned close myself."

Through her groaning, Cathy appealed: "Don't cum in me please, Joel, I'm not on the pill."

As his stroking slowed to a leisurely pump, Joel thought about it. Why the fuck shouldn't he dump his wad inside her? The idea of leaving behind a legacy, preferably a son to avenge his murder, appealed no end. As he pushed his cock back and forth, a hands-free action, Cathy continued to plead over and over. Joel scratched his chin, a wicked thought rising. Out popped his rock hard cock and, in a show of balletic dexterity, he flipped her over onto her front, tits pressed to the surface and spilling out from the sides. At the same time her legs dangled down the unit, a fulsome arse wiggling. The engorged head ran up her perineum, depositing a snail-like trail, until the head nestled in the puckered ring of her arse. Suddenly Cathy realised the error. "Noooooooo, not my arse," she shrieked in genuine terror.

"Yes your arse," he retorted manically, backing up the words with hard actions, prising apart her wobbly buttocks with his fingers and forcing the head of his cock into that tightest of crevices.

Cathy squealed like a pig caught by the butcher before he was even part way in and, had he not been so hard, the clenched virgin arsehole would surely have repelled this most unwelcome of invasions. Yet nothing was going to stand in Joel's way as his meat cleaver ripped into the tight sinew and muscle. Each impaled inch drew a fresh squeal of pain from Cathy, the feeling of warmth from the recent orgasm having quickly subsided. Joel roared his appreciation as the tight tunnel strangled the descending shaft. He forced in the last two inches, shouting: "And that's for your cat shitting on my patio."

The apology that fell from her lips was inaudible, drowned in a scream. In and out of her ravaged arsehole he drilled, her breathing pepered with whimpers. Unluckily for Cathy, his earlier activity with Natalie had turned Joel into the marathon man. In and out his cock pistoned, slap, slap, slap sounded his thighs against her buttocks, each stroke eliciting a more heightened reaction. "And that's for keeping me awake at night with your stupid parties."

Cathy's whimpers grew louder as her arse stretched to accommodate the huge tool. "You love having your arse fucked, don't you Cathy?"

A brief hesitation, finally she admitted: "Oh yes I do, Joel, yesssssss. That's it, fuck my tight little arse hard, Joel," she implored.

The words sent Joel over the edge. Yessssssss," he exhaled, exploding inside her with volcano-like climax, length after length of hot seed pumping up and into her bowels.

The sensation of spunk filling her up elicited another huge orgasm in Cathy and she wailed, banging her hands hard on the surface, a sticky pool on the kitchen surface between her legs. "Oh fuck Joel, yessssss."

Joel grinned. "Who needs porn, huh Cathy?" he mused, before drawing up the jogging bottoms and letting himself out.

* * *

After a refreshing shower, during which time he replayed the incident with Cathy over and over in his mind, necessitating a bout of hand relief, Joel sat down to decide what to do with this his last afternoon on earth. He'd gotten even first with Natalie and now Cathy and it was almost impossible to top the morning's events. His brain went into overdrive. Hmm, no... Wait... Wait... A huge grin elevated his lips. No, he couldn't. Could he? His heart started to pump like an overactive generator. Fucking hell Joel, you twisted genius. It was brilliant, yet oh so risky. If he timed it badly, there'd be no easy death to savour, not for Joel a speedy bullet to the brain. Standish would likely have a gang of henchmen dismember him finger by finger, toe by toe, before beating him to within an inch of his sorry life with baseball bats and finally burning his genitalia with a blowtorch. The thought caused Joel to suck in the air dramatically.

Yet it was brilliant, ambitious and verging on crazy, as satisfying an act of vengeance as there could be. It was, after all, Tiffany Standish who'd gotten him into this predicament in the first place. The harvesting of her virginity along with the tortured discovery later by Standish was absolutely priceless and would send Joel McCabe to the grave a contented man.

He went to the kitchen and placed the sharpest kitchen knife in his pocket, already salivating over the thought of Tiffany's young curves. Oh he was going to make it a first time never to forget.

He just needed to get the right break. Yes, he had an idea how.

*

Your feedback is welcome as ever, your votes a bonus. Chapter 3 promises an incredible climax. Watch this space.

mpqm1968
mpqm1968
545 Followers
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9 Comments
cudsnuggleatcudsnuggleatover 5 years ago
from David teamhumanity@live.com

1968

You have some outstanding writing skills like character development.

For just one small example: "All had been warned off of course, but Joel had been more subtle, succeeding in arranging a hot date without Mickey knowing."

JoeBlakeDarkJoeBlakeDarkabout 13 years ago
Great stuff

I loved this story, very arousing and enjoyable, your writing style is fantastic, can't wait to read the next section.

AnonymousAnonymousalmost 15 years ago
Omg!

I absolutely LOVED the kitchen scene, I had to stop after finishing it and take care of myself!

AnonymousAnonymousalmost 17 years ago
I liked it!

I liked the scene against that countertop!

AnonymousAnonymousover 17 years ago
that was one sexy fuckin story!

it makes me think of a few revenge schemes of my own.

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