Bloodshed - A Dark Star Tale Pt. 04

This being part 4 of 4 for context I might strongly recommend reading the previous Three Volumes hosted by Literotica for context and to avoid spoilers.

******

Chapter Fourteen - Necessary Means

Marco Mancini sat back in the black leather swivel chair of his wife's desk within the office that sat hidden away from everyone else but select staff in the mezzanine level of the Dark Star.

He was here for two purposes tonight, the first business the second purely an indulgence in a spot of what he hoped promised to be very illicit pleasure.

"It's him for sure," Marco picked up the photo that had been slid across the desk of the two individuals sat at in what appeared to be a harbour side eatery. His arm around her, she was heavily tattooed he noticed, she smiled broadly while looking doe eyed up at him, the male in the photograph. The male's expression was hard to gage behind sunglasses but just by the way she looked up at him, under the security of his arm around her shoulder Marco could recognise the look of unbridled love.

"I know where they live... obviously I know where they work... Their little bar is a busy little place frequented by locals and tourists alike. They've a routine the same thing almost day by day ...week by week... didn't even sound like the man you originally described to me... they are the perfect little couple to all intents..." Juan Vasquez fixed Marco with a cold menacing smile.

Marco considered the man opposite of him; he didn't trust him but that came with the territory of a self-proclaimed bounty hunter. Juan Vasquez operated within the shadows, literally it appeared by his all-black attire, his slicked back black hair, dark Mediterranean skin, and heavy thick black stubble. He looked almost pantomime cliche as if he should be chewing on a toothpick to complete his cliched look. Vasquez came highly recommended and at a considerable associated price, Marco trusted the word of the man who'd put him in touch with Vasquez. Salazar Hernandez had not once let down the Mancini family in all the years their paths had crossed, such loyalty was hard to come by.

"So, Marco?" Vasquez sat a little forward from his own seat. "Having found your love birds ...am I to put them in a cage?"

"A cage would be too good for them," Marco set down the photo. "I want them to suffer ...I want him to suffer ... make him watch while you slowly painfully end her life before him. Then...we'll then just dispose of his corpse and let him rot."

"Cold," Juan Vasquez commented nodding his head as he contemplated Marco.

"He made my sister vanish off the face of the earth ... you're good Vasquez you eventually found him... but you weren't able to find her we're you ...not even a hint of a clue as to what he did with her."

Vasquez sneered a little, he didn't like to be challenged he didn't like to be admonished Marco could see that, he didn't care if he offended him. He'd paid him well enough for Vasquez services to date. Marco was sure he was tough enough to handle a little gentle criticism.

"So, I snuff the candles with immediate effect?"

"Snuff the candles with immediate effect," Marco spoke Vasquez words back to him just as frostily. "Make him suffer by making her suffer."

"Understood ...I'll break her before his very eyes."

"I won't ask how," Marco offered genuinely not caring for such detail. Even with the hit to take place on foreign soil the less he knew the better.

"It would turn your stomach just thinking of it," Vasquez offered slightly arrogantly but menacingly, "50 grand each."

"Understood."

Marco was a driven businessman at heart, usually not one to settle for the first price offered. He knew Vasquez would be worth every penny and he sensed there was no room for negotiation on the matter. That to Vasquez each life represented the same value spoke volumes as to how transactional he viewed the process to be followed.

There was a gentle wrap of knuckles at the door to the office. Causing both Marco and Vasquez to look immediately to the closed door, the Spaniard Marco noted was immediately alert.

"It's open," Marco stated calmly.

The door swung gently open. Stepping into the room was a tall slender blonde in a short black dress over, black tights and knee length black boots.

"Yes Sasha," Marco offered meeting the blue eyes of the Clubs duty manager, blue eyes framed by slightly heavy make-up.

"Your guest has arrived Mr Mancini ...she's at the bar."

Silently Vasquez gave Marco an almost knowing nod. Marco offered a lopsided grin back to him. "Business concluded ... now for a little pleasure?"

"Absolutely" Vasquez offered back to him his eyes casting over Sasha, "We all must indulge every once in a while."

Marco watched Vasquez as his gaze fell over Sasha's toned physique, a physique Marco had explored himself in much closer detail on more than one occasion. She was an eager, energetic girl, her work ethic on a professional level could not be doubted either. The Club was quiet Tonight, the Club could manage without her for a little while.

"Sasha, will you take care of Mr Vasquez for me please ... see to it that his needs are met."

He didn't need to say anything further by what he implied. She looked to the dark dressed olive-skinned man she'd never met before. "Absolutely Mr Mancini" was her unwavering immediate response.

"That's if you care to Indulge..." Marco grinned sweeping his hand from Vasquez to the blonde "... for your pleasure."

Without another word Marco rose from behind the desk and walked past Vasquez whose attention seemed only on the tall slender blonde girl of Romanian heritage. Marco didn't look back leaving the two of them in his office as he headed for his own pre-arranged rendezvous.

**

Flick Bowerman swiftly knocked back her second double scotch as she stood at the bar, willing her courage and her conviction not to fail her now, Dutch courage may not serve her well, but she needed the warmth that the liquor provided.

She shuffled nervously, taking deep breaths as she steadied her nerves and tried desperately to calm herself, barely believing what she was doing here herself. What she had agreed to, what she had become.

Running her hands over her pleated leather effect short black skirt she looked down her black clad legs to her little ankle boots.

She was as intrigued as she was nervous, no idea what the night truly held in store for her.

Looking across the bar she caught sight of herself in her reflection opposite of her, her true reflection somewhat distorted by the mosaic of mirrored tiles behind the bar, but she'd barely recognise herself in the most crystal clear of mirrors. Not least by virtue of her heavily made-up face, deep dark eyeshadow and eyeliner and her contoured cheeks. Her glasses left behind at home in favour of contact lenses. Her red hair scraped back harshly and intricately platted running vertically down the back of her slender neck.

She took another swig from the harsh undiluted whisky, the warmth of it spread through her body but did little to ease her excruciating nervousness.

For weeks she'd been luring him in from the 'Dark Desires' website. Her profile and brief innocuous and deliberately misleading profile photos had been enough to hook him initially. As part of her subterfuge Flick had even gone so far to create two male profiles from which she'd complexly falsified feedback interactions that alongside of her verified status made her out to be a new but active member of the site. Everything was a lie as she literally stood in the bear pit of debauchery, she knew the Dark Star to be. She'd known for some years; she wasn't as naive as everyone made her out to be. She'd near scoffed when Will had suggested coming to the venue as part of their recent staff night out. Will had been naive to the seedier darker side of the venue's reputation. People either seemed to know of the place or had no idea about the place. It was either that or they feigned such ignorance. Gary Wilson hadn't stopped going on about what he'd heard went on behind the scenes at the Dark Star when they been sat recently up in the private booths that now sat away to her left.

Flick had no experience; she wasn't naive to what went on here behind closed doors, but she'd never partaken in anything like this. She was nervous, she was anxious, she knew what she had to do. Her stomach clenching her palms sweaty. It wasn't too late to turn in her heels to walk away.

She shouldn't be here not least given what had happened in the last day alone, the sweet satisfying memory of the shared passion with Will Marchant in that Hotel Room. She smirked to herself genuinely forgetting her anxiety of being at this Club as she reminisced on the stolen moments they'd shared across the day. They'd both agreed not to draw attention to what was happening. Jesus him being married would be scandal enough for the narrow-minded gossips at work. With Kelly's disappearing act at present that everyone was now seemingly aware of across the Marchants site the enhanced stigma of being the other woman would be unbearable. She didn't regret what was transpiring between them, but the timing was absolutely horrendous. Will had seemed understandably distracted across the day today but the subtle little gestures, the exchange of glances the warm smiles in one another's directions made her feel giddy and excited, she couldn't wait to be alone with Will once again. She just had to get tonight out of the way. She had to switch off, act out was required.

Taking yet another deep breath as in the corner of her eye she saw the familiar figure appear from a door marked as private. Dressed in a black suit over a dark shirt. She shivered, it was too late now she realised, she'd shown her hand. She was locked into the plan.

Flicks delicate fingers clenched tightly around the tumbler sat on top of the bar in front of her.

"You..." Marco Mancini stated coldly as he stepped to the bar alongside her, recognising her immediately in spite of her appearance.

"Me..." Flick answered turning to face him setting her green, brown eyes on the well-built Italian.

**

He was somewhat taken a back as he led the slender red head through the club.

Marco was genuinely surprised to have seen her at the bar waiting for him, of all the people that could have surprised him with their presence there would have been many on the list before her. He'd had no idea from the string of exchanged messages that had increasingly appealed to him, the messages that had lured him into agreeing to meet associated to the pseudonym he'd only known her as until tonight, she was 'Flame_Hair_Sub_Girl'.

The heel of her little ankle boots echoing seemingly over the background noise of the club, Wednesdays were always quieter, their first day of the week. Wednesdays reserved for the more specialist midweek clientele. Travelling businessmen looking for discreet services, indeed he watched as two middle aged men in cheap suits, already accosted by two of the resident escorts, enviously cast eyes over the slender pale skinned red head at his side. Undeniably she was attractive, more so dressed as she was tonight, far removed from any of the quirky unflattering fashion she wore around the workplace when he'd observed Will Marchant's bespectacled Personal Assistant scurrying around Marchant's Meats. Everyone has their dark secrets he thought to himself, unabashed to be in the company of another women in his Fiancés Club. Adhering to their own loose rules on such matters, the staff that worked the venue all too aware of the mutual promiscuity of his and Ari's open relationship.

A niggle still in his mind as they approached the long dark red velvet curtain that concealed the door to the private room. He didn't fully trust how but she'd caught him off guard, he didn't trust her deceit but as she stood there now a little pensive looking herself, her bottom lip nervously held between the grip of her teeth his feelings of distrust began to fade.

Marco made himself one resolution, resolving that once within the confines of the private room he would assume total control. She intrigued him her skinny little body appealed to him, parking all the reservations in his mind now he was eager, fuelled by two lines of pure cocaine, to discover if she'd live up to the heavily flirtation and at times outright filth that the string of messages they had swapped had implied.

Unlocking the door to the private room he looked the petite framed girl up and down once again as she looked quickly over her shoulder glancing back across the Club.

When she turned back and met his gaze, she smiled weakly as Marco opened the door.

Taking her arm he led her across the threshold, led her out of sight of the main club and into the darkened room, he felt her body immediately tense as she took in the contents of the room.

Marco smirked as the door latched closed behind them. He couldn't even recall her name; it didn't matter tonight she wasn't so much a Personal Assistant as she was his Personal Plaything.

**

Stepping into the alleyway at the back of the Dark Star Club Flick shivered, shivering at the drop in temperature outside and on the memory of everything she'd gone through in the past few hours. The near punishment that she had endured.

Marco Mancini's suit jacket draped over her bare shoulders, the black long sleeved crop top she had been wearing on arrival lay in tatters, torn from her and strewn across the floor of the private room he'd led her to.

She pulled the jacket around her a little against the chill as she looked back at him while he stepped through the doorway into the alley that stank of overflowing bins and faintly of stale urine.

Looking down to her feet, beyond the badly laddered and torn dark denier tights a used condom sat just to the side of her right boot clad foot. Flick grimaced thinking once again of the spent condoms that littered the private room from the three brutal fucks she'd endured under Marco Mancini's control, grateful for the small mercy that he'd at least used protection.

Every muscle in her body ached from the heavy, often awkward, and painful restraint she'd been subjected to. Barely had she stepped in to the dimly lit private room that faced through a large glass window on to an empty dance floor than he'd cuffed her hands behind her back, long black leather cuffs, fastened by buckles, which had been secured over the length of her arms and had reminded her of the sleeves of a straight jacket. Marco had also applied the wide rigid posture collar securely around her neck, the collar that she'd worn throughout her experience.

His passion, if she could call it that, fuelled by occasional breaks for lines of cocaine. Marco had used her body for his own gratification. She'd felt worthless throughout as he'd controlled her and brutally subjected her to demeaning acts that bordered perversion.

Knelt first before him while he edifyingly held her face to his crotch and thrust deep into her mouth until he'd ejaculated for the first time, ejaculating deep into the back of her by then raw throat. He'd then made her straddle him. Hands still held behind her back as he'd sat on the sofa and made her fuck him until she'd gained his second climax, his fingers digging deep into her shoulders as he'd painfully pulled her down into him in the final moments.

After a brief respite Flicks final submissions had been made ignominiously locked into the unforgiving grip of the metal pillory bolted to the floor in the middle of the room. He'd locked her into the device for near two hours. Secured bent double into the rigid medieval device by her neck, wrists, and ankles. He held her mouth open by the crude inhumane metal gag he'd secured across the back of her head. The metal gag that once in place he'd cranked opened with a small metal lever that had harshly forced and kept her petite mouth wide.

Held there immobile he toyed with her body using a thick vibrating sex aid to slowly agonisingly play with her alongside of a device that when pressed against her skin passed a short sharp yet excruciating painful shock of electricity through her body. All the while despite her humiliation he had mocked her, verbally mocking her as he used the depraved toys it seemed his goal had been to gain a sexual climax from her body. He's failed. His brutal efforts ultimately proving futile. Flick had screamed into the gag in pain, she couldn't understand how any such brutality could cause her to gratify him or gain her the pleasure he'd seemingly desperately sought to achieve.

Following his attempts, he'd then used her mouth again before taking her from behind in the Pillory. Using her for a second time with a brutality she couldn't even fully recollect. She'd shut down blanked her mind to what he was doing to her by that point. Wishing desperately, she'd been able to do the same for the final most painful submission she had endured before she'd been set free. An act upon her slender body foretold by the wide uncomfortable silver butt plug that he'd inserted into her when she'd first been placed into the cruel grip of the device, he'd held her practically his prisoner in.

The juxtaposition of how she'd felt just over twenty-four hours ago having left the hotel following her liaison with Will could not have been any starker.

Reaching into her handbag as they exited the Club Flick saw the nine missed calls from the same number alongside a text message from Will, which she did not open.

Taking a deep breath Flick shuddered with exhaustion as she exhaled. Thinking to herself that she needed a stiff drink, a warm bath, and copious amounts of pain relief. All of which she suspected were a while away from being achievable.

"You don't have to do this..." she offered demurely, her voice broken and croaky. "I can grab a cab."

"Nonsense..." Marco retorted looking her up and down, barely holding off a sneer of contempt she felt "...Not least have you seen what you're now wearing?"

"Who's faults that?" Flick softened her tone at the last moment, almost throwing him a playful grin as the quelled the disdain which she wanted to offer him.

Marco didn't respond as he fished the keys of the sleek red Ferrari 488 that looked hideously out of place in the dank dark alleyway. Flick had noted the cameras above the door; seemingly set to watch over the expensive looking vehicle rather than the rusting navy VW Van parked up behind it.

Unlocking the car, he walked around the front of the vehicle to the driver's door.

Flick spotted the movement in the shadows.

Marco Mancini had no idea when it happened, spare for if he noticed her wide-eyed expression and the terror that etched across Flick's face.

The sound of the hammer swinging was silent the crack to Marco Mancini's temple seemed to fill the alleyway.

"No..." Flick shook her head as Marco slumped forward colliding heavily with his own luxurious sports car as his legs gave way beneath him "... Oh, my fucking god no"

She backed away as the black hooded figure moved towards her the door to her back already closed, its round handle would not turn, it was locked by a security pin code she had no hope of guessing. Refusing to give up she attempted to pry the door open her fingernails digging into the fraction of a gap that ran down the side of the door as if somehow, she could claw it open.

"Please... please..." Flick frantically begged trying her best to pry the door open.

One strong hand and arm grabbed her around her waist, there was barely any fight in her exhausted and aching body as another hand slipped over her mouth.

The black gloved hand clamped hard over her petite jaw as she was dragged backwards into the shadows of the alleyway.