To the Vicktor Goes the Spoils

This story is a work of fiction. The story contains descriptions of non-consensual sex acts, rough and violent sex acts, and explores themes of human trafficking and slavery. If these themes disturb or upset you, do not read further. Fantasies can be used to explore the darkness of humanity that would normally be too immoral or unethical to explore in reality. In life, treat others with love and respect.

Sometimes Stan can be inconsiderate. It's not that he is unaware that his actions affect others, he just doesn't give a shit. So, when I saw from the bedside clock that it was after midnight and I heard someone banging and clanking the coffee maker, I assumed it was just Stan, being inconsiderate.

In the hot months of Summer, I wear little to bed, so I wrapped my robe around my body before heading to the kitchen to help my drunk husband with his coffee. I was startled to see a man who was not my husband fiddling with the coffee machine. It was also apparent that he wasn't drunk. His clumsiness came from his unfamiliarity with the machine.

Turning to the living room I saw another man sitting on my sofa with Stan. Our recliner was also occupied by a third stranger. Stan didn't look so good. His clothes were disheveled and torn, his hair was mussed, and his eyes were rimmed with red as if he'd been crying. The man making coffee, and the one next to Stan were very large men. They wore suits, but they were ill fitting and tight in the arms and legs like off the rack suits always are on men with pumped up muscles.

The man in the recliner was not overly large, nor did his clothes fit poorly. He was dressed expensively, from his tailored suit to the Italian leather shoes. His watch and pinky ring flashed reflections of light from the many small diamonds. He wore no tie, and his almond shirt was open down to his sternum.

I could tell from the energy of the room, as well as Stan's appearance, that all was not well. These men presented a danger to me. The fancy one spoke first.

"You must be Mrs. Dzinski. Please, sit." He motioned to the only remaining chair; a high back bolstered chair old enough to have been my grandmother's. It had been moved to face the recliner, to face the man who was clearly the boss.

"Who are you? Why are you at my house? Stan, who are these people."

"Please, Mrs. Dzinski, sit. Stan has been urged to remain quiet so that I can explain things to you. You are in no danger. I promise I will answer all your questions. But first, please sit."

Stan was looking at his toes now, his shoes were missing. Why was he barefoot? I sat. The high bolsters of the chair guided me to face this man I did not know. It took an effort to look to my left at Stan, or to my right at the goon making coffee. By design of the seat, I was naturally disposed to face him, and focus on him. He spoke.

"Ma'am, my name is Vicktor. The man next to your husband is Alec, and the man in your kitchen is Petr. I am a businessman. I have done business with your husband, Stan. But he has not reciprocated our partnership. He has neglected the terms of our deal. Do you understand what I am saying?"

"What business do you mean? What did Stan do? Or not do?"

"Mrs. Dzinski, I am afraid the details are a bit coarse for a woman as beautiful as you, but I have promised to answer your questions, so I will. Are you aware that your husband, from time to time, gambles on horses? Yes? You see, Stan gambled on horses with borrowed money. My money. And he lost."

"Goddammit Stan. Not this again. I thought you learned your lesson last time. What were you thinking going back to that bullshit?"

"I'm sorry, but Stan cannot answer you. He has been instructed to remain silent. As I'm sure you are aware, your husband has a knack for downplaying unpleasant things. It is important that you understand just how serious this is, so I have instructed him to remain silent so that I can explain. That way there will be no misunderstanding."

"Explain what? "

"The reason why we are here, together, now. But before that, the coffee is ready, how do you take it?"

"Uh, with cream. And sugar."

Vicktor nodded his head toward the kitchen, and I heard the fridge open and shut. Liquids were poured, spoons were swirled. Then Petr from the kitchen was standing next to me, serving me coffee in my own home. A moment later Vicktor was served. Stan and the goons didn't get coffee.

In silence we sipped as I came to terms with my circumstances. These men were not here to refinance Stan's debt. They were here to collect. If things went badly, coffee was going to be my last concern. Still, Vicktor had promised I wasn't in danger, and I wanted to believe him. Internally I raged at Stan, that fucking asshole. Vicktor broke the silence.

"May I call you Mary? This is your name?"

"Yes, Mary."

"Thank you. Mary, I loan money to people who can't get loans from banks. I charge high rates, because it's what the market will tolerate. But when my partners don't repay me, or make the weekly interest payment, I lose money. How can I lose money and call myself a businessman? I must recoup what is owed.

"Many in my line of work, they have a simple solution. Violence. Or to be more precise they start with the threat of violence. If the threat doesn't work, a hand is broken, or a nose. If that doesn't work, maybe an arm, then legs. Then... Someone doesn't come home.

"To me this is too much. The problem is motivation. How does a corporate businessman motivate? They do not dismember their partners in fancy meeting rooms. They work together. If that doesn't yield results, they find a pressure point to focus their partners motivation.

"My first question to you Mary, can we work together?"

There was undeniable tension in the room. These were serious, dangerous men. But I found myself drawn in by the charisma and charm of this man. Vicktor was intense, and maybe even a bit handsome in a hard nosed sort-of-way.

"I think so."

"Wonderful! Here is where we start. Stan has told me he cannot repay me because he does not have the money. He says he has no money anywhere. You see, in my business I hear this excuse often. But I have found that when losers say they have no money, often they do have money. Sometimes they are afraid to give me the money, because then their family will find out and they will be exposed as a degenerate. So, I ask you Mary, do you and your husband have money to pay me?"

"How much does he owe you?"

"This is a good question. You are paying attention. I like this. Your husband borrowed from me five thousand dollars. But he is late to pay me and there is interest. He now owes me seven thousand five hundred dollars."

"Oh god. I'm sorry Vicktor. We don't have that much. I have two hundred dollars to pay my bills with, but that's not enough. That's not even close."

"Yes, as you have said, this is not even close. Do you have something you can sell to generate the funds to repay me?"

"We have only the car, but we owe the bank more than it's worth. We would lose money if we sold it."

"What about your home?"

"We don't own it. We are just renters."

"I see. This is troubling. You see we are supposed to be working together, but I still don't have my money. Can you see how this is frustrating? If we cannot work together, I must find a way to motivate you. This is where my peers would break a bone."

Vicktor's energy had changed, and I could see more clearly the menace he tried hard to hide.

"There must be some other way? Maybe if we had more time..."

"I am not going to break Stan's bones. I want my money. If he is in hospital or cannot work, how will I get my money? The money is our goal, Mary. You and I are working toward our goal.

"Another approach I see from time to time is to remove a man's pride. Embarrass or humiliate him. This is unpleasant but doesn't prevent a man from working. You see it can be a way to motivate a man.

"But I have not had great success with this. A degenerate loser who gambles away his future does not humiliate easily. These are men who humiliate themselves. How can I compete with that?

"Still sometimes a man can be motivated if he is humiliated in front of his family. If a man sees that his beautiful wife is disgusted by his choices and his weakness, this can motivate a man to find me money.

"But again, I have had little success with this method. Many times, the wife is already aware that her husband is garbage. Why she stays I do not know, but ruining the manhood in front of a wife who knows he is no real man to start with, this is not successful for me."

My mind was alive with images of pain, torture, humiliation. What the fuck had Stan brought to our home. Vicktor wasn't going to break bones. He was going to destroy lives. Then he got to the point.

"You see Mary, I have found only one way that brings these desperate loser men to their senses. A way to get money into my hand. Unfortunately, that way is to have a loser degenerate husband watch as I humiliate his beautiful wife."

My skin was cold despite the warmness of Summer. I instinctively tightened my robe. Oh god, I was practically naked under the robe. What did Vicktor mean by humiliate me? This was bad.

"What do you mean? What are you going to do to me?"

"Please stay calm. I will do nothing unless you agree. You will decide. If you wish for me to give Stan one more week then you will allow me to spank you, one thousand time. You will remove your clothing; you will bend over the table in the kitchen, and I will beat your ass and legs. One thousand strokes. This is your choice. This will not happen unless you say you agree."

"What if I don't agree? What happens to us if I say no?"

"To you my beautiful friend, nothing. You go back to bed. But Stan does not go back to bed. Stan leaves with me and he does not come home for many years."

"Where does he go? How many years?"

"These questions come with hard answers, but I have promised to answer all your questions. Are you sure you want to know? The details are graphic."

"Yes, tell me what you'll do to him."

"Please be calm, Mary. You are beautiful woman, even in your distress. This pathetic loser Stan never deserved you. I will answer you. Remember I only want my money. There are those who can help your husband find my money.

"Other men in this city, rich men, often desire unlawful things. Sometimes they want to own a young girl for a night, or to bed many women at the same time. Sometimes they want to use a weaker man like they would use a woman. Stan could be sold to these men, used and sexually degraded. But this will not happen. He is too ugly. No one will pay to make a sex toy out of him.

"Instead, he will be made to work, to labor. I have heard of a ship that never reaches port. It stays forever in deep isolated waters. All supplies are brought to the ship from other boats. Other things are brought as well. Cargo that must be smuggled.

"The crew for this ship never leaves it, they work without end. They are slaves to the ship as it sails the ocean bringing drugs, and women, and weapons to those who desire them. Stan would work aboard this vessel until my debt is paid.

"However, there are expenses. He must be fed; he must have a place to sleep. All this is subtracted before I get paid. And the interest must be paid each week. Men who have owed me what Stan owes me have worked in this hell for maybe five years. It is also possible to be less. If your husband shows any skill that is useful for this task, he could be debt free in maybe four years.

"There is more though than just this. The men aboard this vessel are prisoners, the ship is a prison and rules there are the same as any prison. Stan is a weak man; he will be preyed upon by the others. He will be raped frequently. They will force him to use his mouth. If he bites them, they will break his teeth. His balls will be cut off if he disrespects the prisoners who own him.

"So now you have your answer. You can buy this man one week if you take a beating on your ass. Or he leaves with me. If you take a beating and he has not found my money in a week, he will become a crew member of this ghost ship. The choice is yours. You can give him only one week."

My mind flashed back to the times Stan spank me during sex. I hated the sting and pain, but it always made me so wet. Would it be like that now? Would I have pussy juice dripping down my leg while this dark man counted to one thousand. Or would it just hurt? Would I just scream and cry in pain? In that moment I understood the inconsiderate nature of Stan and I hated him for it. In that moment, I couldn't remember a single thing I had ever loved about the man.

The air was cold as I stood before the table naked. Vicktor sensed my reluctance and pushed me gently from behind, forcing me bend at the waist and lay flat against the tabletop. Petr sat on the opposite side of the table and took my hands in his. He pulled me tight holding my body in place. Vicktor used his feet to spread my legs wide.

Vicktor brought his own paddle; he pulled it from his breast pocket and showed it to me before he walked me to my kitchen. It was leather, more than a foot long, narrow but thick. The edges were rounded and burnished. Before the beating started Vicktor laid ten coins on the table before me.

His blows were measured. The first few stung, but as he found his rhythm and my ass became more evenly exposed to the punishment, the sting was replaced by sharp pain, followed by dull pain. He moved from my ass cheeks to my legs, then to my soft inner thighs. The strokes seemed unending; the pain was real. I moaned into my closed mouth, not wanting to make noise that would alert a neighbor. I didn't need any more witnesses to my humiliation.

When he counted one hundred strokes he stopped. He removed one of the coins from the table. I felt his hand on my hot ass. He was rubbing the roughness of his hand across the stripes he'd made on my ass. Then his hand was between my legs, his finger pushed between my labia. I could feel my wetness on his fingers. I felt betrayed by my body. He pushed two fingers inside me and if felt so good. Fucking Stan, I hated him.

Vicktor stroked me until I was dripping and ready to cum. I thought about Stan watching. That asshole. He should be bent over the table getting fingered. Before I could cum, the hand was gone, and the leather strap was back at work. A squeal escaped my mouth on the first swat as my body shifted from pleasure to pain in such a brief moment.

After the second coin was removed from the table I was rubbed and fingered again, this time I came hard on my tormentor's hand. The beating continued. After five coins had been removed, we took a break. Vicktor sat in the recliner and pulled me into his lap. He caressed my breasts with one hand and fingered me with the other.

My legs were splayed grotesquely, and Stan watched from a few feet away. If he tried to look away Alec would move his face back, forcing him to watch as Vicktor brought me off once more. Stan did nothing to stop it or to help me. He never made a peep.

The final five hundred strokes were a blur. I was groped and rubbed and digitally penetrated between each set of hundred and managed to cum one more time before it was over. At times my legs shook from pain and gave out, unable to support me. But I was held in place by Petr and the thrashing continued.

When the punishment was finally over, I found myself in Vicktor's lap. This time he didn't fondle or molest me. He had wrapped me in my robe and now he just held me.

I was only half present as Vicktor warned Stan that he had one week, there would be no more extensions no matter how many spankings I took or how many times I came on his hand. Stan looked at me angrily. He was upset with me for finding pleasure in Vicktor's touch. He was mad at me for cumming.

"No."

My words surprised even me.

"What do you mean my flower? What is 'No.'?"

In that moment I relived every mean-spirited thing Stan had ever said or done to me. His constant lies, the betrayals, the violence he used on me because he was too weak to strike out at those who wronged him.

"He doesn't get one week. He leaves here with you tonight. Take him to your boat. He can work off his own debts."

"This doesn't make sense, why would you get the spankings if you want him to leave? Why do you let me turn your perfect ass into a crisscross?"

"If I let you just take him, he would think I was afraid of the pain. I wanted him to know I wasn't afraid of the pain. I want him gone because he is what you said, a loser and a degenerate. Now he knows how I really feel about him."

Stan tried to stand and almost got a word out of his mouth before Alec hit him. It didn't even look like much of a punch, but Stan crumpled to the floor unconscious.

I stood and slipped on my panties under my robe as the two heavies carried Stan out the door. Vicktor watched. He was standing near me as the door closed and we were alone. He held me and kissed me. It was electric.

"Does he have to come back? In five years, does he have to come home?"

"No, he can stay away forever. But after five years I will have my money. I'm a businessman, I don't ask for money that isn't mine."

"Well maybe that money can be mine. The lousy asshole wasted seven years of my life. I should get some money form that."

"This is a good idea. It is settled. Stan will work and I will get paid. When I am paid you will get paid, if he lives that long. But Stan will never come home."

"What will I do now? I don't have a job, can't pay my bills. Stan is a piece of shit, but at least I had food and a home. Now I have nothing."

"You are very beautiful to me, even more so now that I know your strength. You will come with me, live in my home. You will be my sex toy."

"I'll be a whore for you?"

"Why do you say a whore. Did you not live here with a man you do not love, being his sex toy so that you can live? Did this make you a whore?

"Come with me. I will buy you all that you need. I will see you are happy. Each month you will get money from me, but you will not need it. I will buy you all you need. Save the money, in time you will own your future. Maybe at this time you leave and find your own sex toy. But maybe you find we are happy, and you stay."

I knew I was trading one type of bastard for another, and maybe in the end it would end the same way. It didn't matter, what else was I going to do. I took Vicktor's hand and led him to my bedroom. The pain from my ass still echoed through my body, but so also did the memory of his touch between my thighs.