Good Wife Pt. 02

"I don't understand," Carlos protested timidly, stiffly sitting on his worn-out couch, "why me?"

"Simple," Stan, Mr. Kesling's henchman, shrugged, staring intensely at Carlos from the chair whereon he sat, "you fucked Mr. Kesling's wife; consequently, if you want to keep your balls, you'll have to do exactly as he bids."

"But," Carlos breathed deeply, "what you're asking is...insane!"

"Keep your voice down, or, you say bye-bye to your tongue," Stan raised, slightly, the kitchen knife.

"Alright, alright." Carlos raised his hands in surrender, then buried his face in his palms. "How am I supposed to do it, though?"

"Not my problem," Stan smiled, wickedly, "is it now? You just have to figure out a way. Remember, tomorrow night. Rachel's been given the night off and the guards have been instructed to leave the gate unlocked, at midnight and for three hours.

"How you do it, with whom you do it, all that, these are insignificant details to Mr. Kesling; the one thing he wants, is that she does not enjoy it. Got it?"

"Fine," Carlos resigned, leaned back on the couch and stared despairingly at the ceiling. "A hundred grand, right?"

"Yup," Stan nodded.

"How's the money to be divided?"

"Again, your problem; you'll be getting the whole amount. Up to you to deal the shares. Just, make sure you're at least four; the more the merrier, but, four is the absolute minimum; understood?"

"Yes, yes," Carlos nodded. "Anything else I should know?"

"Only the obvious," Stan said coldly. "Do a good job and you'll get the reward, and no one will ever bother you, guaranteed; and you'll be able to bring your little Fiona to the country, buy her a nice suburban house, have a few kids running around...oh, yes," he chuckled dryly at Carlos' befuddled expression, "we know everything about you, man.

"If you fail, though...you won't like the repercussions; Mr. Kesling despises failures and useless people."

"How the hell did I get into this mess?" Carlos whispered to himself in despair.

"You know exactly how," Stan said with a twisted smile. "Now, I'll leave you to it; you've got some organizing to do. Oh," he added, when he reached the door, "before I forget; you've got the day off tomorrow. Mr. Kesling thinks you could use the extra time."

The door was slammed shut and Carlos could still hear the man's harsh laughter from the hallway; he drank down several glasses of cool water, yet they did nothing to his fainting heart.

He went to his next-door neighbor; Frank poured him a glass of tequila and Carlos gulped it down, desperate for any form of liberation. After he had drained a second glass, Carlos told Frank everything, in dire need to open up to someone.

"Well," Frank—a factory superintendent and functioning alcoholic—said after Carlos had finished his story, "you're in some hot shit, man. Don't worry, though, I think I can actually help you."

* * * *

Connie got out of the pool, naked and with the cool water still dripping off her hot skin, and lay down on the lounge chair, after putting her shades on, and poured another glass of cold gin.

She was all alone in the mansion and it bothered her having to prepare her own drinks, and eventually having to cook a meal; nevertheless, she also cherished the solitude, for it meant she might, finally, be able to get back to her writing.

She lit a cigarette and took a long hit of gin; instantly, she felt better, more lightheaded and free. Perhaps, this was, indeed, the day she'd sit down and work somberly. She reached down south and played with herself, slow and easy, as she recalled the previous day and how she had forcefully seduced Carlos into submission.

She rubbed her clit, slapped, gently, her pussy, and let her mind wander back to the long line of gardeners, pool-boys, and drivers that had passed through the mansion—and her. Carlos certainly had been quite the unique case, being one of the very few that had strongly resisted her advances, that had never really made a pass at her, that had appeared so indifferent towards her.

It was namely this indifference of his that had made her more determined than ever to have him; she slipped one finger inside her pussy, tenderly fucking herself and smiling widely for her success at finally having him, after four long months of drought.

Several of the former servicemen had been crude, direct, even forceful; she moaned, as she remembered the times she had been taken, sometimes roughly and even violently, in the garden, by the pool, in the patio under the trees, and even on the bed she shared with her husband. One of the drivers, she recalled vividly as she inserted a second finger in her cunt, had fucked her up in the mountains, first inside the limo, then outside in the nature, and even allowed a few passersby to watch.

She had no doubt in her mind her husband had hired Carlos due to his timid nature; she arched her back high, her toes curled, using four fingers now, while with the other hand rubbing her clit, climaxing not so much from the masturbation act, but, from the satisfaction of having ruined yet another attempt of her husband to control her sex drive.

Panting fast, she picked up the bottle and her glass and stepped inside the mansion; she gulped down the remaining gin in her glass, then refilled it. She put the bottle and the glass on her little desk overlooking the garden, then took out of her drawer a vibrating dildo and a buttplug.

Some lubricant on the large buttplug was enough to let it glide all the way up in her ass; she groaned, at first, then got comfortable, once more, with being stuffed. She turned the computer on, opened a new Word file, and downed the gin; the bottle already half-empty and warm, she took a hit straight from the bottle.

She shoved the dildo inside her, pushing it deep; she set it on vibrate and sat on her leather desk chair, fingers on the keyboard and body already shaking.

* * * *

Carlos rushed to answer the door; Frank stood there, sporting a wide smile and holding a bottle of cheap tequila.

"You owe me big time, man!" Frank laughed and stepped inside, slapping Carlos' shoulder.

"You've got it all set up?" Carlos' eyes beamed.

"Yup," Frank threw himself on the couch and slammed, loudly, the bottle on the table. He unscrewed it and had a good hit.

"So, tell me, how many?" Carlos sat on the armchair missing a side-cushion enraptured.

"Eight," Frank pushed the bottle toward Carlos. "Not counting us two."

"That's..." Carlos drew a deep breath, the earlier glint almost immediately evaporating from his gaze. "Aren't they a bit too many? I mean, ten people..."

"You said you wanted a good crowd," Frank shrugged, "and I got you the best for the job."

"Yeah, but...we'll have to split the money in ten...that doesn't leave..."

"Don't be a moron, my friend!" Frank scolded him, albeit with a smile. "We'll give the guys a grand each; that'll leave us with...forty-one grand each!"

"That's not fair," Carlos protested. "We should..."

"When was the world ever fair?" Frank interjected, then had a snort of tequila. "Have some, man, it'll do you good."

"I'd rather have a clear head, man," Carlos pushed the bottle away. "And, at any rate, I believe we should divide the money equally; it's not like they'll do less work than us."

"You're too nice, for your own good," Frank shook his head. "I've always admired that about you, you know; but, nevertheless, I still say you should think it through. I didn't tell the guys about the money; I just told them they'll get something for their trouble.

"Besides, they're all desperately impoverished, working the worst positions for the lowest wage; they don't even know how it feels to have more than a hundred bucks at any given time!

"Give them ten grand, and they'll waste it all in one night; on drinks, whores, and gambling. That's who they are, Carlos, and you know it."

"They can spend the money howsoever they want, Frank," Carlos sighed. "It's none of our damn business, is it? Even if they do waste it, as you say, why should they get less than us?"

"Because, we need the money, man! Well, technically, I'll be wasting my share, too, on booze and whores; might even take a trip down to Vegas. That's irrelevant, though, considering that, had it not been for me, today would be the last day you'd have something dangling between your legs.

"All these things notwithstanding, you sure as fuck need the bigger share, man! Not only are your balls on the line, you've got the most to gain out of this whole charade. I mean, you need the money to get Fiona over here, start a life together, right?

"Why waste that future for some drunkard factotums, man? Just so you can feel good about yourself? Trust me, you'll sleep great at nights, when you have a little house, somewhere far away from here, and you lay down next to the love of your life in a nice, big, comfortable bed, in a no-gangland neighborhood."

Carlos remained silent; he pictured the future, all the things he could offer Fiona. Yet, at the same time, he was plagued by the horrendous act by which the desperately needed money would be obtained. Would he be able to sleep at nights, or, would he constantly be haunted by the feat and the people wronged?

Then, he recalled the stories he'd heard regarding Mr. Kesling; how he built his vast fleet of commercial ships (now used to transport goods internationally) by engaging in the trade of arms, drugs, and even people. Mr. Kesling, according to several people with whom Carlos had conversed, had trafficked everything under the horizon, and all in the name of profit and power.

Of course, Mr. Kesling had made it and, as far as Carlos could see, had no trouble sleeping at nights, or, enjoying his accumulated wealth. Yet, for Carlos, it wasn't about becoming one of the richest men in the world; it wasn't about having a private yacht, a private jet, or, more than ten houses scattered around the globe.

It was all about owning a small house, in a nice neighborhood; it was his fondest dream, to escape the slums and a world filled with violence, self-loathing, and purposeless deaths.

"No," Carlos finally said, after minutes of silent pondering and intense inner debate, "we'll split the reward fair and square; ten grand are more than enough for you to go to Vegas and do whatever it is you want to do, and for me to bring Fiona here and start anew.

"I don't need more."

"Fine," Frank sighed deeply in resignation and had a long snort of tequila. "Your call, man; just, don't come crying to me, when you realize your mistake."

* * * *

Almost midnight; Connie still sat at her desk, typing meaningless sentences away, unable to produce anything remotely good. She had, however, climaxed five more times and had drunk one and a half bottles of gin; exhausted, slightly sore, and pleasurably lightheaded (though, by no means drunk), she got up and pulled both sex toys out.

Both holes had been gaped and her pussy dripped; she wiped both toys clean and dry and put them back in the drawer. She carried the half-empty bottle of gin downstairs, threw herself on the large couch, and turned the TV on.

Nothing good was on, but, she had a good hit of gin and the action movie became vastly greater; besides, the protagonist was buffed and hot, which balanced the bad plot.

* * * *

"Are we all clear on what we have to do?" Frank asked the men sitting tightly packed inside the small van. They all nodded affirmatively and Frank patted Carlos' back. "How about you, man?"

"Yeah, I'm ready...let's get it over with, shall we?" He checked his watch; 2 minutes past midnight.

"All right, then," Frank smiled and wore his ski mask; the rest mimicked him. "You sure the gate's unlocked and unguarded?"

"That's what I was told," Carlos said, his voice gradually breaking. "I'll go check it out."

He emerged out of the van, cautiously, and ventured into the dark street; no one was around, the mansion had been purposefully built in a remote location, and the emptiness of the area overwhelmed Carlos.

He peeked at the gate; saw no one. The gate was closed, but, the two armed guards, that should have been there, were nowhere to be found. Carlos gestured at the rest and they all followed him towards the gate, crouching slowly.

"Bingo," Frank exclaimed with a chuckle, when Carlos pushed the gate and it opened wide for them. "You were right."

"I guess, Mr. Kesling really does want the job done."

"By the way," Frank addressed the rest of the men, who all gasped in bewilderment at the sight of the vast mansion, "if any of you steals anything—and I mean anything—I'll personally break all your fingers myself. Then, I'll let Mr. Kesling's men take care of the rest, understood?"

They all nodded, frightfully; Carlos knew Frank's warning was completely unnecessary. Everyone in their little team knew perfectly well Mr. Kesling's reputation; they were horrified of simply breaking into his home, even with his blessing.

"Come on, this way," Carlos motioned to the rest to follow him, as he guided them through the trees and stone-pathways, steering clear of the open pool-ground.

* * * *

"Hey, what the hell!" Connie screamed, when the ten masked men stormed into the living room through the open glass-door.

"Shut up, bitch!" Frank demanded and grabbed her by the neck. "Hey, look at this, guys!" He turned towards the rest, who were still standing awkwardly and crammed together. "She's all naked and wet; the bitch was waiting to get fucked. Oh," he turned back to Connie, who stared at him terrified, "you're gonna get your wish."

He slapped her hard across the face and released the grip around her neck; Connie dropped to the floor, holding her reddened cheek.

"Hey," Carlos whispered anxiously in Frank's ear, "what are you doing?"

"Are you stupid?" Frank barked back at him. "Do you remember the fucking instructions?"

"Yeah, but..." Carlos gasped, when Frank pulled Connie up on her knees by the hair.

"Listen up, whore," Frank yelled at her, "'cause I'll only say this once; you're a worthless whore, and we're here to give you the one thing you truly desire. Cocks. So, you better get ready for some serious sucking and fucking; and we might let you live, if you do a satisfactory job."

"Who are you?" She cried back. "What do you want? Upstairs, there's money, and jewelry, and..."

"You stupid, or what?" Frank slapped her again, then yanked her hair. "I just told you what we're here for; what exactly was so hard to understand?"

He unzipped his pants and took out his semi-erect cock; "now," he pulled her closer to him, "you better start sucking; and," he jerked her hair hard, "if I feel teeth, I'll punch them all out, one by fucking one."

Connie opened her mouth and welcomed his shaft, wrapping her lips around it; he began fucking her mouth, while she stared up at him with teary eyes. More men approached, slowly forming a small circle around her.

More cocks emerged, all erect, and Connie caught a glimpse of them all; her heart palpitated and breathed heavily through the nose, as Frank's cock hardened inside her mouth, stretching her throat.

He kept pounding her mouth, laughing maniacally, his balls slapping on her chin in high velocity; more tears ran down her eyes, as she gagged.

Hands were all over her body, touching and caressing every inch of her body; a loud slap landed on her ass, she squirmed, and some men chuckled dryly. A boot was being rubbed against her moist pussy, the tip forcefully spreading her cunt open. She moaned and groaned on the cock in her mouth; she could hardly breathe, drool dripping down her chin.

"That's it," Frank said, twisting and pulling her hair, "you're one fine cocksucker, baby. I bet you've spent most of your life on your knees. How else would you end up living in this place, right?"

She moaned in protest; Frank ceased the pounding, keeping his cock buried in her throat. She choked, slapped him on the thighs desperately. He finally released her; she leaned back, heaving thunderously.

"We're just getting started," he mocked her, gently brushing her hair off her face. "You better build up some endurance, honey; and quick."

Without warning, he shoved his cock back in her mouth; he held her tight in his crotch, his balls resting on her jaw. Connie was choking once more, her heart pounding hard against her chest; she slapped and punched him on the thighs, but, he wouldn't budge; he merely laughed her attempts off.

Finally, he released her, she spat and coughed violently; more cocks were in her face now, being rubbed against her cheeks, her forehead, slapping her. She groaned in protest, there was nothing to do; she caught a glimpse of the single man still remaining a few feet away, watching the scene with his arms crossed around his chest.

"Please," she whispered pleadingly at him; she got no response, aside from a faint shake of his head.

"Please, what?" Frank demanded. "Please, fuck my mouth some more? Bear in mind, that's the only acceptable answer," he slapped her across the face, then twisted her nipples hard.

Connie screamed, the pain quickly taking away her pleasant buzz; more slaps on her ass, on her breasts, across the face. More of the men chimed in in her verbal degradation, too; she heard them calling her "whore", "slut", "ruined piece of ass", and more.

Another slap across her face, she opened her mouth to cry, and instantly another cock was shoved in; she gagged and choked at the harsh pounding her throat sustained.

"Come on," Frank slapped the back of her head, "use your hands, too, you dumb slut. There are too many cocks here, even for an experienced, used-up mouth as yours."

Reluctantly, she raised her arms; in a matter of seconds, she was jerking two cocks off, with other three right in her face, rubbing on her cheeks and pushing her lips apart. Her mouth was stuffed with two thick cocks.

The men moaned louder and louder; a boot touched her—still gaped from the buttplug—asshole. The owner of the boot laughed cruelly, when he pushed the tip of his boot up her ass, and she writhed in pain (and pleasure); "she loves it, man," the owner of the boot exclaimed and pushed his boot deeper.

Nine of the men had formed a tight circle around her, all nine cocks around her face and head; she sucked and stroked them all, groaning after every hard, heartless slap landing on her breasts, ass, and pussy.

Carlos remained outside the circle, watching in disgust and despair; he feared he'd have to join, just to avoid giving Mr. Kesling a reason not to pay up, but, he couldn't. A small part of him had died, when Frank first slapped Connie; and watching the rest of his team gang-raping Connie's mouth, pushing her around and forcing her to take two cocks in the mouth simultaneously, with a third trying to fit in there, too, was too much of a toll for his psyche.

He had never imagined Frank would find such depraved men for the task, let alone Frank being able of such depravity himself.

"All right," Frank chuckled and lifted Connie by the waist, "sucky-sucky time's over; time to put all your holes to good use, bitch". He threw her unceremoniously on the couch; Connie curled up, horrified, and yet, some part of her was already growing beguiled.

Frank grabbed her firmly by the ankles; Connie used all her strength to keep her legs closed, but, quickly surrendered to his strength.

"Why are you resisting, bitch?" He slapped her inner thigh multiple times, until the spot turned bright red. "We all know you want it; why do you play hard to get?"

"Fuck you!" She cried and managed to land a kick on his shoulder.

Frank groaned, more in surprise than in pain, and smiled enthralled under the mask.

"Ah," he cleared his throat, his sick delight evident in his voice, "we've got a feisty one, gentlemen."