Takers

"Very nice, Mrs. Salinger," the masked man said, the phone still recording, "you could have been in pictures, I think."

There was a squelch of static from the masked man's walkie-talkie, and stuffed the phone in his pocket and snatched it off his belt. "Actual, this is Alfa," the distorted voice announced from the speaker.

"Actual here, go ahead, Alfa."

"Drill's through; ready in five."

FOUR

The masked man did not make the threat explicit, but Madelyn understood it all the same; the video he took on his phone was leverage for the future, in case she made too much noise. She wouldn't, of course. Whatever had been in the safe was most likely legally problematic, and any mention of the entire robbery was suppressed; the housecleaner who found the two women zip-tied together on the bed was quickly and generously paid for her silence, and in the end, the police were never called. Maria was paid, as well, and she left the Salinger's employ shortly thereafter. Madelyn filed for divorce; the evidence of her husband's affairs that she had accumulated over the years ensured she left the marriage with a sizeable portion of the couple's assets, and she departed from her old social circles, and started a new life.

EPILOGUE ONE

"Eat that ass, bitch." Marcus growled.

Madelyn obeyed, dragging her tongue up through Maria's crack, tonguing her hole as Marcus' fingertips dug into the soft flesh of her hips and his engorged cock plunged deeper into Madelyn's own ass. Madelyn's cries, of both pain and pleasure, were muffled by the flesh of Maria's backside, her hand having taken Madelyn's head and pulled her face deeper into it. Maria had made Madelyn watch her ride Marcus to completion, had spread herself open inches from Madelyn's face to show her the creamy results of their coupling, and let her know that if she was good, Maria might let her clean it out of her.

Madelyn had sought Maria out, after her divorce, ostensibly to commiserate over their shared trauma, but Maria had quickly seen through the ruse. And everything had been different than before; Maria was no longer beholden to Madelyn and had instead taken control, moving into Madelyn's condo on the Upper East Side, and promptly making Madelyn hers to command.

There were days where Madelyn served as Maria's footstool, as her maid, as her toilet. And Madelyn performed these duties without hesitation, having long ago given up on deciphering her own motivations. She simply succumbed to her desire, and that was to please Maria, and by extension, anyone Maria directly her to. Marcus was just one of many men Maria invited over to join her in putting Madelyn through her paces, and often, Maria would not even directly participate, using Madelyn being roughly fucked by multiple strangers as a kind of live entertainment while she played with someone else. It stung Madelyn, but there was something welcome about it, that spurred her to approach her duties with an almost animalistic enthusiasm.

And then, after a few months, Maria was suddenly, inexplicably gone, leaving a note for Madelyn that matter-of-factly informed her that Marcus would be taking over and moving in, and she was to obey him as she had Maria. Marcus did not allow Madelyn the time to ponder Maria's departure, to even decide if this was what she wanted; he kept her busy, servicing him, and his friends, and soon, monetizing her, so that the tattoo he insisted she get on her lower back that read "WHORE" in blocky black letters was not just some kind of pejorative label, but an accurate descriptor.

EPILOGUE TWO

The Salinger job had been the big fish that he had been waiting for, and the preparations for his retirement had been made even before the actual job commenced. He was out of the country less than twenty-four hours after confirming the payment had been deposited into his account, and the recently purchased place near the beach was already furnished and stocked before he had arrived. He passed the time drinking, and diving, and driving along the roads in town where the working girls were, usually settling for brief vanilla encounters, coolly efficient blowjobs while parked in dark alleys or the occasional threesome in one of the cheap motels in the red-light district. But today was a special day that required a special treat, so he had loitered near the resorts up the coast, finding a group of college girls on vacation, and singling one out who often split off from the group, one who was easily tased and thrown into a trunk with nobody around to see.

She had tanned nicely on her vacation, the outlines of her bikini stark on her skin as she laid weakly on the bed, stretched out wide across it, her panties stuffed into her mouth, an unnecessary measure, given how soundproof and secure his playroom was. Tall and lean, well-muscled, she was the spitting image of a beach volleyball player, a nice change of pace from the dark, curvy working girls in town that he had been frequenting. She had broken easily, and he had spent the last day training her further, preparing her; he had been waiting for this day to come for months.

He heard the front door unlock and open, and a few moments later, Maria materialized in the doorway, looking the part of the young American tourist, in sandals and cutoff jeans and a tight-fitting t-shirt, her hair up and a pair of oversized sunglasses resting on her head. It would raise suspicions, they had agreed, if she were to disappear too soon after the robbery. So, the two of them had bided their time, each keeping themselves entertained separately as they waited for the chance to reunite.

They kissed, hard; her hand had already found its way down into his pants, coaxing his cock awake, and he had worked the tee shirt up enough to free her breasts, fingers tugging on one of her nipples. There was a long-overdue celebration to be had for a job well done.

"Who's that?" Maria asked, noticing the sniffling college student sprawled on the bed.

"A welcome home gift," he replied. "You can taste her on me if you're curious."

Maria smiled; it was her kind of party.