The Debt Collector Ch. 02

Much to Natasha’s disappointment, Karl didn’t agree that fucking her would repay their full debt. In fact, he was infuriated by the suggestion and it earned her another resounding slap. “You think you’re worth ten grand? Don’t flatter yourself, bitch. I wouldn’t give you that much if I kept you for a year!”

She resigned herself to the fact that, not only would she and Tony still have to pay back the five grand, plus any further interest they accrued, but she would also never be fucked so well again. She had enjoyed the pain and humiliation: Karl had unleashed a part of her that she had never consciously been aware of existing. How could she ever go back to straight sex again?

Tony had remained on the couch all this time, the deep cut on his littlest finger pumping out blood. Karl decided that they had better get it stitched up before they had a body - and therefore no money - on their hands, so he ordered the blonde man to drive Tony to the hospital and make sure he didn’t let his mouth run away with him. Karl and the younger, dark haired man, Scott, stayed behind in the house with Natasha.

As they sat in the lounge, Natasha wearing only her stockings, an idea obviously came to Karl. He took Scott into the kitchen and she heard their voices, low and murmuring. She wasn’t afraid anymore: if they killed her or not, she didn’t care. She just wanted to get things over with.

They returned, big smiles on their faces. Karl sat next to her. “It’s your lucky day, Natasha. I know how much you enjoyed this afternoon, so I’m going to make you a little deal. I’ll wipe the slate clean of any further interest - so Tony will only have to pay back the original five thousand - if you agree to come with me, now, no questions asked.”

He studied her face for a response. She looked afraid, but her eyes also flickered with excitement. This was some choice: she could stay with Tony and their mounting debts, knowing that they would never be able to pay off the five grand, never mind any further debts; or she could go with Karl, not knowing where they were going or what would happen, and not only wipe out any further debt but bring some excitement into her boring life. She had to think…

Karl didn’t want to hang around any longer, though. He grasped her jaw in his hand, squeezing her cheeks together, and turned her face until it was directly in line with his. He looked into her eyes: “Tell me now. Are you staying here with that worm and your pathetic little existence or are you coming with Uncle Karl for a mystery ride?” As he spoke, he drove his fingers into her cunt and pushed hard, just once. It was enough: she cried out “I’m coming with you” and the decision was made.

Karl half-dragged her up to the bedroom she shared with Tony and flung open her wardrobe. Raking through her clothes he found a black fitted chiffon top with long, floaty sleeves and a deeply-cut neck. It was a remnant of her younger, clubbing days and she had always worn it over a black bra-top and hotpants. Karl decided that it would look better with nothing beneath it, and told Natasha to put it on. She did as he instructed; looking in the mirror, she saw that it hid very little of her body: she could see clearly her nipples and her firm breasts, her little mound pressed against the fabric in a raised v-shape. The dress barely covered her ass and she knew that anyone walking behind her would see her cheeks peeping out from under the fabric. And she would never be able to sit down without exposing her slit…

Karl rummaged around in her drawers and produced a bright red lipstick, matching nail polish, black eyeliner and mascara and a rosy rouge. “Make yourself up like the slut you are”, he barked at her. She layered the make-up on thick, the way she saw girls in pop videos do it. She wasn’t old - only 27 - but she hadn’t really gone for this kind of look since she was in her late teens. Staring into the mirror, she was surprised by the results: with her hair tousled from all the grabbing and her face looking that way, she found herself quite sexy.

She was told to leave on her stockings and to step into a pair of black patent high-heeled shoes. Now she really looked like a hooker. She became more aroused and could see her nipples becoming harder, raising the fabric away from her tits, and a little moist patch forming on the material between her legs.

Karl and Scott seemed impressed too: the younger man in particular had a huge bulge in the front of his trousers. However, they had a plan on their minds and they weren’t going to waste any more time. Karl grabbed Natasha’s arm again and pulled her downstairs and out to a waiting car. Scott got into the driver’s seat; Karl pushed Natasha into the back with him. She looked around nervously, afraid that one of her neighbours might see her dressed like this. Nobody was in sight though. She sat back against the rough fabric seat, her ‘dress’ now sitting around her waist exposing her pussy to the cold air. It felt good: so soothing after it’s earlier abuse. Scott had the air-conditioning on and her nipples became even more erect: you could hang a coat on them now.
They drove for some time, maybe half an hour, and then pulled up at a sleazy looking bar attached to a motel. Scott got out of the car and crossed to a waiting vehicle on the other side of the street. A large, burly Italian-looking man stepped out of the passenger’s side. He wore a long coat; his hair was greying and his face looked harsh. Natasha guessed that he was in his mid fifties. A bag was passed out of the car to Scott. He and the Italian exchanged words then crossed back over to where she and Karl were waiting.

Karl turned to face her, grabbed hold of her right nipple and twisted it sharply. She gasped in pain. “Do everything you’re told you cock-sucking whore or I’ll beat so bad they’ll need your dental records to identify the body.” Terror gripped her chest: why had she agreed to come with them? She didn’t know what they wanted! She just presumed she would be fucked again by Karl, but they hadn’t actually said what was going to happen!

She was told to get out of the car. The street was busy and she felt her cheeks flush as people looked at her in her costume. Karl and Scott stood on either side of her; the older man sat down where she had just been and closed the car door. Scott then walked into the bar.

“OK, bitch. This is what you’re gonna do. Go in there and take a seat on one of the high stools at the bar. Do not talk to Scott; do not acknowledge his presence. Just sit at the bar and drink orange juices - not whiskies, OK? - until some guy comes up and talks to you. Put this in your ear” - he handed her a small radio receiver - “and do whatever I tell you. If you disobey me, I’ll kill you. If you tell anyone what’s happening, I’ll kill you. Scott will be watching you all the time; if you try to leave, I’ll kill you. Do you understand?”

“Yes”, she said, voice trembling with fear.
He grabbed her nipple again. “Yes, what?”
“Yes, sir”.
“Good. Now get going.” He slapped her on the ass as she slowly started towards the door.

Entering the bar, she felt every eye in the room turn to look at her. The crimson rash of her embarrassment spread across her face, her neck, her chest. She wanted to turn and run; for a second, she almost did. Then she caught sight of Scott looking at her, running his finger slowly across his neck like a guillotine, and she submissively approached the bar. She ordered an orange juice from the bar-tender, who could barely take his eyes off her tits long enough to get it, and then sat on a stool. Her ‘dress’ just skimmed her ass at the back, hiding it from view; she crossed her legs to cover her pussy at the front. However, everyone could see her long legs, the expanse of flesh at the top of her stockings; her breasts were even more visible. She sipped her juice slowly, wondering what would happen next.

Time went by and she suffered the indignity of lewd comments and jokes from the men sitting around her. One man grabbed her breast and said “Mmm…I’d love to have a suck on that”. Karl told Natasha to let him, but the man walked away. Another guy asked her if she was a whore; she had to reply, “Yes, do you want a blow job?” The man looked tempted and asked to ’see the merchandise’ before he made a decision. Karl told her to spread her legs so the man could see her snatch. She did so: the man rubbed a finger over her slit and then sucked on it, but then he too walked away.

By the time an hour had passed, Natasha had drunk three juices and was bursting to go to the toilet, but she didn’t want to stand up and give anyone else an eyeful. Instead, she squirmed on her stool, crossing and uncrossing her legs. Scott must have somehow been in contact with Karl though, and she hear him order her to pay a little visit. She stood up and tried to pull her chiffon wrapping down as far as she could. Karl told her to let it go. As she walked across the bar, she could hear the comments flying at her: “Nice titties baby”, “Show us your pussy”, “You looking for some action sweet thing?” She held her head up and ignored it all, but as soon as she made it to the Ladies room she collapsed against a cubicle door, shaking like a leaf. She saw to her business, then looked frantically around for some means of escape. There was none though! The windows were high, small and barred; there was no back door. And where would she go if she did get out? She wouldn’t make it far in this get-up.

She resigned herself to going back out to her seat. On her way across the floor, she passed a door which had previously been closed. She saw Scott standing inside the other room; Karl told her to go through, but not to talk to him.

As she walked through the door, she heard it close behind her. Looking around, she saw two muscle-bound guys in checked shirts and jeans playing pool; three other burly men were standing by the wall. Then there was Scott and the old Italian guy from the car : they sat at a table in the corner. Two trampy looking blondes were moving from man to man, flirting with them, letting the guys slap their asses, squeeze their tits, kiss them. They both wore short lycra dresses in lurid colours; there hair was big and curly and they were made up in a similar way to Natasha.
“Well…look what we have here”, said one of the spectators, walking around the pool table towards her. “A hot new piece of ass.” He rubbed his groin appreciatively. “And what’s your name honey?”

Natasha replied; he walked around her in a circle, admiring her body.
“Don’t leave much to the imagination, do you?” he smirked, raising a laugh from the rest of the room. Natasha remained silent. Then she heard a voice in her ear: “Go over to the pool table, stand with your back to it and spread you legs. Say nothing.”

She slowly moved across to the table and turned around, standing as she had been instructed. Whistles filled the room, even from the girls.

“So you want something, little lady?” asked one voice.

Under orders, she shook her head then lowered it, so that she was looking demurely up from between her eye lashes. She coyly bit her lip and held her hands in front of her in a child-like pose.

The men looked at each other, intrigued by this contradictorily shy girl who was so vampishly dressed. One guy decided to test the water and approached her. He took her face in his hands and kissed her full on the mouth: she tasted beer on his lips and smelt sweat and cheap aftershave from his body. Karl told her to slap him and she took pleasure in hitting him hard across the face.

There was a gasp from the room, then the two girls were sent outside. That left seven men, and they didn’t look very happy.

The man who had just tried to kiss her turned away to face the others, then swung back and belted her across the cheek. She stumbled, her high heels not supporting such a sudden movement by her body, and crumpled to the floor. Her cheek stung like crazy and she could feel her eye starting to swell.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing you cunt? You can’t come in here and play the prick tease with us.”

She felt tears fall down her cheeks. She wanted to apologise, to explain what was happening, but she saw two of her captors watching her from the other side of the room and heard Karl’s insistent voice in her ear. “Tell them to fuck off: you can wear what you like and it doesn’t entitle them to anything.”

She didn’t want to provoke these men any further, but she did as she was told. The faces got angrier. None of them seemed quite able to believe what this tramp was saying! These were ‘good old-fashioned men’s men’, none of this ‘new-age nancy-boy stuff’. Women were for fucking and for keeping the house: they certainly weren’t meant to come into their pool room and give them lip. Each of them was thinking that she ought to be taught a lesson; it was just a matter of time before someone voiced this thought.

Natasha began to shake now. She knew what was coming next. All the men, except Scott and the Italian, approached her and, taking a limb each, lifted her onto the table. Each man held onto her, her arms and legs stretched apart to the four corners of the baize. The man she had slapped climbed on top of her and ripped at the chiffon top, tearing it off with ease. He hungrily began to bite on her nipples as his hands moved to unbuckle his trousers. He dropped them, and his boxers, to his knees and she could see his short, fat cock swinging over her. Without warning, he slammed it into her cunt. Oh the pain! Natasha screamed out and one of the men quickly clamped a hand over her mouth; Karl shouted in her ear: “Shut up you cunt”. She wasn’t even slightly wet now, and this animal’s dick was tearing into her, rubbing against the walls of her snatch and creating a hot friction inside her. He didn’t push as deep as Karl, or even as her husband, but he had a large girth and he was scraping against her pussy from all sides. He kept his mouth clamped to one of her tits as he banged away at her but, to her intense relief, it wasn’t long before he came, then rolled off her. The other men cheered as he stood up, grabbed himself and shouted “I bet she’s never felt anything like that before”. He pulled up his trousers, grinning wildly at his mates. “What was her cunt like?” one of them asked. “Tight as a teenage girl”, he gloated.

She lay on the table, shaking. At least her pussy was wet now, filled with that bastard’s spunk. It cooled some of the burning she felt inside. Karl laughed in her ear and she hated him, hated them all for this. The other men still pinned her down and she squirmed around, trying to free herself. She only succeeded in hurting her wrists and ankles though.

She should have expected it, but she was terrified when she saw her rapist take hold of her left ankle, releasing one of the pool players. He dropped his trousers now and pulled himself on top of her. He was much bigger than the last guy and his weight bore down on her as he kissed her mouth: his cock was long, but not as thick. He pushed his tongue deep into her throat with the sensitivity of a fourteen year-old boy, making her gag. His left hand covered her slit and her rubbed up and down over her clit, roughly and with no obvious interest in her arousal. She could see his cock get harder, though. Still kissing her, it was his turn to abuse her pussy. In went his cock, further than the last man’s. Natasha thanked God that he had left her slightly wet, and this fucking didn’t hurt half as much. The man lasted a bit longer than his predecessor and came harder: he bit down on her lip as he pumped her full of spunk. When he stood up, she licked her sore lip and caught the metallic taste of blood.

It was the third man’s turn. He wanted a blow job, so she was sat up with her hands gripped behind her back. The temptation to bite him filled her head, but Karl filled her ears with the same warning as earlier: “No teeth, or that’s all they’ll identify you by.” So she took the man’s dick in her mouth and sucked him off, paying particular attention to the head, hoping to finish him quickly. He obliged and within minutes pushed her down onto her back and showered her tits with creamy white fluid. He seemed very pleased with himself: “I love a good blow job”, he beamed. He rubbed his jism into her tits then put each finger in turn into her mouth, forcing her to lick them clean.

Man number four seemed to want Natasha aroused before he got to work. He didn’t lick her pussy - and with all that cum in it, she didn’t blame him - but he did kiss around her thighs and lower belly. He deftly stroked her clit and slipped a finger inside her as he licked her neck and shoulders. To her disappointment, her body betrayed her again and she could feel herself getting moist from her own juices. He could feel this too, and announced to the others, “I’ve got her panting for me boys. This one’s gonna scream when I fuck her.”

He was right. As he drove his cock in and out of her, he kept his thumb on her clit, driving her to the edge of orgasm. The hand was removed from her mouth and she let out sharp little cries of pleasure. However, she was devastated when he made her climax at the same time as him, her cunt squeezing his dick and drawing out all the spunk she could get, her head thrown back as she cried out at the waves of pleasure which engulfed her. This seemed to excite him even more and he stayed inside her for quite a while, moving slowly, little spurts of cum escaping even then.

Natasha was exhausted and distraught. The only thing that kept her going was the fact that her ordeal must soon be over: there was only one man left. She figured that Scott wasn’t going to join in and the Italian didn’t even look that interested. They certainly hadn’t moved over to the pool table. The remaining man was the other pool player. He was a large, heavy set man with a broad face. He obviously worked out. She hoped the old adage was true and that he would have been trying to compensate for a small dick when he built up his muscles like that.

Was she ever wrong! As he dropped his trousers, she saw a monstrous piece of meat rise out from his pants. It wasn’t just thick, it was long. It looked at least twelve inches, longer and fatter even than Karl’s, and he was the biggest she had ever taken. When he climbed on top of her, she saw his bulging thigh muscles and enormous balls and she tried to press herself back against the pool table, desperate to get out of his reach. But there was nowhere to go. Her pussy was nicely slicked up now and he wasted no time in starting on her. She felt herself fill up, both lengthwise and sideways, as his massive dick reached every part of her from side to side and front to back. To her despair, she looked down and saw that there was still a good three inches not yet inside her. He saw her glance, and pulled himself right back until his tip was just touching her pussy lips, then slammed into her, his full weight behind the thrust. She screamed again, her cry muffled by the hand that returned to cover her face. He pulled out and repeated the motion. She thought that he would surely rip her apart, such was the depth of his thrust. Even then, he stopped as he was inside her and wriggled a little, so that she felt him tunnel further into her cunt. The wriggling also excited her and she felt herself getting hot again.

The man continued pounding her snatch, wriggling on the in stroke so that she found herself actually raising her hips to meet him. She was so ashamed - she didn’t want these men to see that this was actually satisfying her on some level - but her body wouldn’t comply with what her brain was saying. She tightened into an intense orgasm that enveloped his cock in wetness. He withdrew from her, fluid dripping off his gigantic dick; she wondered what he would do now. There was no way she could take all that meat in her mouth: maybe he was going to get her to toss him off over her tits.