Perversions and Transgressions Ch. 07

"Shoot 'em," I said quickly before she could really look down at the shot.

I tipped it back and let it flow down, my eyes on Denise watching as she did the same. We slammed our glasses down on the counter at the same time, ahead of the rest of the people doing shots.

"That's stiff," she said. "Pour me another."

More cheers followed that.

I took her shot glass and saw a few bits of the powder on the bottom and filled it up again, along with my own. We shot them down quick just the two of us and slammed them down again. I looked at her glass and didn't see any of the powder left.

"That went down rough," she said. "I think that's enough of those."

"Definitely," I said, squinting as the heat sunk from my throat to my stomach.

I took a big gulp from my cup to cool it off, leaving the cup half empty. I set the cup down and moved over closer to Denise.

"Want me to make you something lighter?" I asked.

"Yeah," she said. "Just a coke and rum."

I made the drink, taking it easy on the rum and gave it to her. She took a sip and nodded.

"I think I can handle that for now," she said.

"More shots!" someone yelled.

That guy that spilled his shot earlier, stepped forward and poured more shots of tequila.

"When ya'll get sick, go outside," I said.

"I can hold my own," he said.

As he set the bottle of tequila back down he bumped into my cup and knocked it over, spilling the drink across the counter.

"Party foul!" someone yelled.

Denise grabbed some paper towels quickly and began wiping up the spill before it could get on the floor.

"Dammit!" the guy said.

He picked up two shot glasses, slammed one down and then the other.

"You'll do better if you just stop moving," I told him.

I got more paper towels, cleaned up the rest of the mess, and threw them in the trash can. I took Denise's hand and led her out of the crowded kitchen.

I stood by her side while she mingled through the room introducing me to people I should have already known. I saw Randall talking up a couple of girls in the hallway outside the bathroom. He winked at me then turned back to them.

Eventually Denise started to get tired and I sat her down on the only empty chair in the living room. I sat on the floor beside her, starting to feel tired myself. I figured I'd had too much to drink and shouldn't have done the shots. I've never been a heavy drinker.

"You guys look like you're getting tired?" Randall said.

I looked up to see him standing next to me. I hadn't even heard him walk up. I must have nodded off.

"Yeah," I said, feeling like I was in a haze.

"Maybe you should lay down," he said.

I nodded. He helped me up, leading me towards the bedroom, but I stumbled towards the couch and sat down, forcing the people sitting there to move over.

"Come on, man, we need to get you back to bed," Randall said, his voice more urgent.

"I think I'll just sit here," I said.

I felt like my mind was cloudy and my body was heavy. I had never felt like that before, not even from drinking.

Randall grabbed my upper arm and tried to pull me up. I pulled my arm out of his hands and sat back in the couch.

"Okay, man," he said, holding his hands up. "Just sit tight there for now."

I watched him walk away and then looked at Denise in the chair across from me. She was slouching, her head hanging down. She lifted her head up, looked over at me, smiled, and then her head dipped again. She was starting to go out. I needed to get her to bed. I need to go get ready for our plan. I needed to get moving.

I didn't move. I stayed there. My eyes closed. I heard the noise around me. I heard disembodied voices. At some point I lay out on the couch, taking the entire thing. Then, I heard and felt nothing.

I don't know how long I was out. I was woken up by the front door closing loudly. I was too tired to be startled awake. I just became conscious again with my eyes still closed, my eyelids heavy, my entire body heavy.

I heard voices but couldn't understand them. The room felt less crowded and I only heard two voices. I pushed myself out of the darkness, trying to concentrate, but my thoughts and senses were muddled. I tried to urge my body to move, to lift my head, even just slide an arm or leg along the couch, but I couldn't. I was confused and my thoughts too slow and clouded to make sense of what had happened to me.

My mind was urging me to give in, drift back into the deep, dark sleep, lose consciousness, stop struggling against it, but I've always had a fear of being helpless, even of just going to sleep. I hate being unconscious and vulnerable. I've always been a light sleeper because of it, always resisted sleep. So, I did this time as well. I fought against the urge to let go the only way I could, I concentrated on what I could hear, the only sense that seemed to really be working, the one that maybe I could control.

I focused on my breathing, feeling my breath moving in and out of my lungs as they expanded and contracted. I counted them to ten then twenty, then I listened to my own breathing. My head was titled awkwardly on the couch and my breath came through my mouth louder than normal. I could hear it fine.

Then, I tried to extend my hearing, listening to the voices. One sounded angry. I didn't recognize it. It could have come from anyone, but it didn't sound right, didn't sound like a student, rough and smooth at the same time. Then, I heard Randall, talking quieter, sounding timid. I focused intently on their voices.

"I don't know what the fuck you think this is," the unknown man said, still angry, but not yelling, just harsh, even offended.

"I think it's pretty obvious," Randall said and gave a nervous laugh.

I'd never heard Randall sound nervous and restrained like this. He was intimidated by the other man. Something was wrong.

"Of course it's pretty fucking obvious," the man said. "You're the one who called me. You're the one who told me to come here. You're the one who told me you were going to pay what you owed me."

"That's right," Randall stammered.

"And what else is fucking obvious is you're not going to pay me," the man said.

"Yes, yes, I am," Randall said. "It's just I don't have the money... I don't have the cash... right now at least... so I thought we could trade... like I said on the phone... that I could make it up to you."

"Make it up to me?" the man said, his voice calming.

"Yeah," Randall said. "There are things better than money, things money can't buy..."

"Money can buy anything," the man interrupted. "With enough of it."

"True," Randall said. "But this... this would take more money than what I owe."

"Bullshit," another man said, this voice deeper, rougher.

"Shut the fuck up," the first man said.

"It's true, man," Randall continued, trying to get into that salesman role he worked so well. "Just look at her. She's not some whore that puts out for money. She's a sweet, tight, upper class white girl. She's pussy you can't just pay for on a street corner. She'd think she's too good to have anything to do with you if you tried to talk to her. That's pussy you could never pay for, never have, at least without getting arrested, but now you can."

A bolt of shock pierced through my groggy mind. They were talking about Denise. Randall was offering her to some man, someone I didn't know. Some adrenaline kicked in and I felt the cloudiness recede and my heart speeding up. I urged my eyelids open and felt them raise, felt them pull apart like they had been coated with a heavy slime. They barely opened but my vision was cloudy and I couldn't focus. I saw three people standing in the middle of the room, their backs to me, but that's all the detail I could see. I concentrated on trying to focus my sight as I listened.

They had been quiet for a few moments as the first man considered Randall's speech.

"So you think having me rape this passed out girl will pay back your debt? Is that what you're trying to sell me?" he said.

"That's a bit blunt," Randall said, a slight tremor in his voice that he was trying to subdue.

"But that's it, isn't it?" the man said.

"Look, Wallace, I know about your history. I know about the arrests for rape and assault. I know before you made it big you would make some women pay for their junk with their bodies, even taking them when they were high..."

"Listen," the man who I knew now was named Wallace started to say.

"Hey, I'm not judging," Randall interrupted him. "I'm just stating facts. And I know you have a thing for these prissy white girls, the ones you know look down on you, that would never have a thing to do with you, and here I'm offering one up to you, and she's about the sexiest white girl you've probably seen... gorgeous... that long blonde hair... firm... tight... in more ways than one."

There was silence and I forced my eyes to focus and could see Randall on the left, beside him I saw a taller man, thin, dark skin, in a blue old-fashioned suit, looking at Randall.

"Yeah, I've fucked her before," Randall continued. "Twice as a matter of fact. Both times when she was passed out like this, and let me tell you it was fuckin' sweet. I ain't never had pussy like that and I've had a lot." He laughed softly.

"You tellin' me you've fucked her like that before?" Wallace asked.

"Sure. I wouldn't lie to you," Randall said. "And hell I'm not the only one. Her boyfriend over there." He pointed back at me. Wallace turned to look at me then turned back to Randall. "He gets off on it. He drugs her then gets guys to fuck her while he watches and jerks off."

"You fuckin' with me," Wallace said. "That's some sick perverted shit."

"Hey I don't judge," Randall said, holding his hands up. "To each his own. Besides I've benefited from it. Twice. And now you can too."

"Then why's he passed out back there," Wallace said.

He turned and walked towards me. I closed my eyes which had been barely open, not wanting them to know I was conscious.

"I just didn't think he'd approve of this arrangement. I played him. I told him I'd get some lame med school student to fuck her while he watched. But saw this as an opportunity I could extend to you," Randall said.

"So you drugged him, too?" Wallace said.

He was sounding interested. If he wasn't interested in the deal he'd have left already. But he was staying, figuring it out. I forced my eyes open again, this time able to focus better. I saw a third guy standing near the door. This was the guy who had spoken up earlier and been shut up by Wallace. He was bigger and darker than Wallace, tall, wide, strong, wearing a plain white tank top tight across his heavily muscled upper body with dark tattoos covering his arms. Wallace was obviously some kind of drug dealer or pimp or both and this guy was his muscle.

"Well, I drugged just him. I roofied him. He drugged her. He drugged her thinking it was part of our plan. He knows how to do it. He's tested this shit out. He told me about it. He has something special he gives her. I don't know what it is. It's better than roofies. It knocks her out and you can do basically anything to her, probably not too rough I'd guess and she won't wake up. He's done it several times," Randall explained to him

I cursed myself for sharing that information with Randall, for letting him in on this, for trusting him at all. I should have known better.

I tried to move my limbs, tried to lift my head, tried to move at all, to do something, but I just couldn't. All I could do was lay there and watch and listen. I was able to hear and focus better. The darkness was receding. He must have drugged the drink he'd given me. If the drunk guy hadn't have spilled it I'd have drank it all and been passed out right now, completely unaware of Randall's double cross.

"So you're trying to tell me that I can fuck this girl right now. Fuck her and she won't wake, won't know, and I can get away with this scott-free, no rape charges, nothing?" Wallace asked him, the anger having disappeared from his voice, now starting to sound excited.

"That's not just what I'm telling you. I'm promising you. You just can't get too rough or leave any marks I'd guess," Randall said. "When I fucked her before I fucked her pretty hard and she barely stirred. Not to mention any other guys that have done it."

"This sounds like a setup to me," Wallace said. "Like you trying to trick me. Get me arrested, thinking you won't have to pay me back." He took a step towards Randall, close enough their faces were almost touching. "But it don't matter where I am. If you get me arrested I'll send Russell after you." He pointed at the big guy standing by the door. "And Russell isn't nearly as nice as I am. He'll introduce you to pain you never thought possible. You'll beg him to kill you."

Russell took a step away from the door, looking into Randall's eyes, giving him a blank stare, empty, dead.

"Hey man," Randall stammered, stepping back, holding his hands up. "I wouldn't lie to you. I wouldn't trick you. I'm not stupid. You know that. This is the real deal. I'm just trying to make the best of a bad situation."

"A bad situation?" Wallace said. "You mean the fuckin' money you owe me you gambling junkie piece of shit?"

So he was a bookie, or at least also a bookie.

"Yeah," Randall said. "Look I'd pay you if I had the money. I just don't have it. I told you my dad cut me off. I'm getting expelled from school. I fucked up. I told you about my dad paying off the cops, but he said that's the last he's doing that. I am completely cut off. Fuck, he's going to take away my car, my house, everything. I have nothing."

Randall truly sounded pitiful. I'd never heard him sound so vulnerable, so afraid, with none of that cocksure confidence. There was silence for what felt like a long time. Wallace was considering it, watching Randall, looking for any lies, any betrayal. He turned to look at Denise slouched helplessly in the chair. His tongue crept from his mouth and licked his lips.

"I'll tell you what," Wallace said. "We'll make a deal. You're right I can't resist rich uptight white pussy laid out like this and I want to fuck her. I've never had pussy like this. But fucking her isn't going to pay back all of your debt."

"But..." Randall said.

Wallace held his hand up to stop him.

"Russell gets to fuck her too. He's only known skanks and junkies. It'd be good for him to try out some rich white cunt."

"I could go for that," Russell said.

"Hey, you're in control here, man," Randall said. "That works for me." He looked at Russell then back at Wallace. "But you've both got to promise to be careful. Don't leave any marks. Don't get too rough."

"Hear that Russell," Wallace said. "No beating her up like you do those skanks you normally fuck. This is prime tight white pussy. It needs to be treated right."

"Whatever you say, boss," Russell said, a bit of excitement lurking behind the calm.

I tried again to get control of my body, to sit up, to do something, but I couldn't budge. I opened my mouth to yell at them, tell them to stop, and only a bare whisper came out. Then I shut my mouth. What would it solve if I could yell at them? I couldn't move. I couldn't fight them. At best they'd laugh at me and just do what they were going to do. At worst Russell would beat me to a pulp until I was unconscious again. I was helpless. I couldn't do anything.

I cursed myself again for allowing this to happen, for thinking I had control of a situation that I hadn't, for letting someone else in, for trusting someone else. I had known this was something I needed to keep to myself. Randall had enticed me, he'd sold me on this, and now I was going to pay. Hopefully, Denise wouldn't have to pay for my mistake as well.

I could feel my head getting less cloudy. I was feeling more steady. I could focus on the three guys that were hovering over Denise, looking down at her, doing nothing, saying nothing. I could feel that old tension, that suspension as the men thought about what they were doing, what they were about to do, as they looked over the unconscious woman, as they got more aroused, as they mulled over the situation, imagined themselves taking her, looking her over, taking her in as just an object to be used. This was the moment I always seemed to enjoy the most and despite my own paralysis and betrayal I felt it again, surprising me as I felt it blossom in my groin and creep into my stomach slowly.

"Get down on your knees," Wallace said, his voice soft but deep.

Nobody moved.

"Randall," Wallace said, louder this time, now looking at him. "I said to get down on your knees."

"What?" Randall asked. "What do you... What do you want me to do that for?"

Wallace laughed and Russell joined him for one gruff chuckle.

"You think I want you to suck my cock?" Wallace asked. "If I wanted that you'd do it wouldn't you?"

Randall didn't say anything.

"I wouldn't give you the privilege, pretty boy," Wallace said and slapped the back of his hand into Randall's chest. "Get down on your knees and eat her pussy. Show me she ain't going to wake up. And get that pussy nice and wet for my cock."

"Oh," Randall said, his voice soft and confused, but relieved.

Randall kneeled down slowly. Wallace moved to the side, giving me a perfect view. Denise was slumped in the chair, her left arm on the chair, her right arm across her waist, her head titled to the side with her chin on her chest, and her blonde hair covering half of her face. Her skirt had bunched up to her thighs as she had slid down further in the chair and stretched her legs out, her feet resting on the heels of her ankle boots.

Randall lay his hands on her knees and pushed her legs apart as he moved between them, watching her face. He slid his hands up her thighs, under her skirt, grabbed her butt and pulled her towards him, sliding her body down in the chair until her butt was right on the edge of the chair, bending her knees, her legs falling to the side, spreading her thighs further. He watched her intently as he pushed the skirt up, exposing her tiny thin white G-string underwear.

Russell moved quietly from his place at the door to the center of the room. He looked around the room like he was looking for something or someone.

"We're alone here?" Russell asked.

"Yeah," Randall said.

"Check anyway," Wallace said.

Russell walked slow and heavy across the room. I closed my eyes, making sure I appeared asleep. I heard him walk towards me, stopping for a moment. I could feel him hovering over me. I could hear his breath, deep and raspy like he had some trouble breathing. I felt a hand on my face and stopped myself from jumping at the touch. The hand moved down to my neck. He was feeling for a pulse. I guess I did look passed out, even dead.

"What did you give him?" Russell asked.

"Just roofies," Randall said. "I've done it a bunch of times. He won't be waking up."

"He better not," Russell said, the threat about what would happen to me and Randall implicit.

The hand pushed against my shoulder roughly, shoving my back against the back of the couch, held me there, then shoved me again harder, then shook me back and forth. My body flopped with his shaking. I couldn't have resisted if I had wanted to. My body was still useless. I just kept my eyes closed, tried to breathe softly like I was asleep. When he stopped I slumped back on to my side like I had been. He stood over me for a while, just watching me. As I kept my eyes closed I felt my mind wanting to drift into sleep again, wanting to dive into the darkness. I resisted, focusing on my hearing, focusing on the man standing over me, watching me.

Then, I heard him move away. He walked down the hallway to the bedrooms and bathroom. I continued laying still, breathing softly, just listening and waiting. I hoped he wouldn't find anybody else, either passed out or hiding. I figured he wouldn't, that Randall would have taken care of that before calling them over.