Gwen's Journey Ch. 06

*** Warning *** Some bad things happen and some graphic violence occurs. If you do not care to read this, either stop now, or when you see violence occurring or imminent, simply skip down to the next "story break" (* * * * *). Thank you.

Gwen woke up slowly, blinking as she looked around her living room. Seriously, she thought, what is it about this damn sofa? Rising shakily, she went into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of orange juice before checking the time on her cell phone. It was just after Noon. Feeling like hell, and as though someone had squirted a bottle of Elmer's glue into her pussy, Gwen ran a hot bath.

She soaked and cried and soaked some more, trying to focus on what she could possibly do now to fix her shattered life. It's all sex's fault, she thought; when I was a dried up sack of shit, nothing bad happened.

Well, she decided, at least she was over Sergei. Of course, he was a psychopath, according to Steve, and now he probably either wanted to kill her or keep her as a sex slave, but at least her path to Steve was clear. She slapped her palm to her forehead and said, "Oh yeah! Screwed that up too! Slept with the crazy Russian dude and confessed it, and everything else in my screwed up little life, to a Fed!" Talk about sleeping with the enemy!

Gwen slipped deeper into the tub. If only she'd really slept with the enemy, but she couldn't even do that right. Out of all of this, Gwen thought, the only guy she should have slept with was the only guy she hadn't. "Great," she said aloud, "now I'm a slut."

Well, as Steve would probably agree, when things are bothering you, sometimes it's just good to run. Gwen thought about how she could best accomplish that feat. She didn't exactly have another $50,000 lying around. Gwen's stomach lurched and she sat up slowly from the water. She didn't have fifty grand, but she knew who did.

* * * * *

Steve jerked awake, having nodded off at the monitors again. Setting the device on automatic, he crept upstairs and looked in on Gabrielle, who was spread out over the bed, face up and completely naked. She always slept like that, but Steve had never known her to sleep naked. But then, he thought with an amorous internal chuckle, he'd never fucked her brains out before.

Calming at the thought, Steve moved closer and really looked at his coworker. She was beautiful, amazingly so. And she had professed to love him, and to have been in love with him even before he'd met his beloved Amelia. She'd intimated that her heart had been broken when he'd fallen for Amelia, but she'd been such a good actress that she'd been Maid of Honor at the wedding.

Did he love her? Yes, but not in a marrying way, he was pretty sure. He held her with the affection of the best of friends, but there was no romantic notion, or not much, really. She was one of the guys and, Steve thought as he gazed down on her, because she'd been a woman and close to him, available, he'd done something horrible. Steve went to the kitchen.

He stood, leaning against the counter for several minutes, his mind reeling. Steve was at a complete loss. He'd lost his wife to a hail of gunfire, his prospective-no, Steve admitted to himself. He'd fallen in love with Gwen, or Maggie, or whomever, and she'd gone with a known international felon instead of him. And now he'd screwed up his relationship with his partner, sacrificed to his own selfish needs.

"Hey," Gabrielle said, startling him. Steve looked into her sleepy eyes, her expression unreadable, and felt his stomach burn. She wore a robe, and she stopped a few steps inside the kitchen, looking pointedly at Steve's crotch. "I hope you don't think it's going to be acceptable to run around naked when we're working together."

"Gabby," Steve began, "I'm so sorry-"

"Shut up, Steve," Gabby said, searching the cupboards. "I'm a grown-up girl and I knew what was going on. I used you as much as you used me, and as long as it doesn't happen again, just forget it."

Steve nodded slowly, and he left the kitchen, heading for the bedroom. It was his turn to grab some sleep. As soon as he was gone, Gabrielle leaned hard against the counter and bit her lower lip. She held up for another minute before her tears started again. She allowed herself the self-indulgence for five minutes, and then went to shower and dress before resuming her post.

* * * * *

Gwen looked hot. Her hair and makeup were perfect, and she wore her little black dress that showed off her bust and legs wonderfully, with shiny black stockings and heels. Her little stud earrings matched the pendant on her gold chain necklace, and she had even taken the time to put on her little gold chain anklet.

Things had begun to move too fast in her life, and Gwen was determined to get things back under control. She wasn't looking forward to what she had planned for the evening, not much anyway, but she couldn't think of any other way to resolve things.

She pulled into a parking spot reserved for guests and after making sure she had everything she needed in her little black clutch purse, Gwen went up and knocked on Ronnie's door. She didn't take any notice of the car that had pulled in after her and parked, nor did she notice that the driver didn't get out.

It was only four o'clock, so Gwen expected her friend to be around, probably getting ready to go out and find her next conquest. The door opened and Ronnie broke into a big, toothy smile.

"Gwen!" Ronnie exclaimed, dragging Gwen into the fabulous condo. "I thought you'd never speak to me again, after last week," Ronnie said, sitting on her chair so she could face Gwen, seated on the couch. "After Frank."

Gwen was a little shocked to see her friend dressed in cutoff jean shorts and a midriff bearing t-shirt, wearing flat sandals instead of her usual very high stiletto heels. Ronnie was leaning forward and seemed genuinely overjoyed to see Gwen.

"That wasn't your fault," Gwen said, smiling. It was true; she held no ill feelings for Ronnie about the misadventure. "Don't even worry about it, okay?" Ronnie jumped and grabbed Gwen in a tight hug for a long time before releasing her and returning to the chair.

"I'm so glad!" Ronnie said, and then quieted a little and continued, "Especially after what else happened last week. I can't tell you how special that was for me, Gwen."

"It was pretty special for me too, Ronnie. You know I've never done anything like that before, and I'm glad I shared it with you, I mean, I'm glad you were my first girl." Ronnie blushed but looked proud.

"I was really hoping you'd come over sometime, Gwen. I know what you think about me, you know, being a slut and everything, but I want us to stay friends." Ronnie watched Gwen's reaction closely, and she quietly added, "Friends, and maybe more?"

"I don't think you're a slut," Gwen lied. "I know that you just really like sex, and you're not as...discriminating...as I am. That's a difference, not a wrong thing." Ronnie nodded slowly, but Gwen saw she was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Ronnie," Gwen said, sitting back and smoothing the skirt of her dress over her thighs, "I have something to tell you, and a favor to ask. It's a big favor."

* * * * *

Gabrielle sat back in her chair and keyed up the recordings that had been made while she and Steve were fucking, as well as the rest of the time that the post had been vacant. She saw activity at around one that afternoon, when she'd been showering and Steve asleep. Dialing it up, Gabby leaned over the station and listened intently, but this time no amount of boost would let her hear the conversation from the other end of the sat phone connection.

"What is it?" Sergei, the subject, said. He seemed to be in a foul mood ("I wonder why?" Gabby thought sarcastically) and he didn't like that his Saturday had been interrupted.

"What?" he barked, "How did they find out about it?" There was a pause, and quietly he'd said, "I see. I'll meet you at the usual place to figure this out." The call had disconnected, and the subject had left, without a tail.

"Oh shit," Gabrielle thought. She put two and two together, and realized the sting had gone down and the arms shipment from Mexico raided. Right now was the time they should have been shadowing his every movement, finding his every contact. "Fortunately for you, Mr. Stetsenko, the agents of the Federal Government were chasing around like high schoolers," Gabby whispered angrily.

Turning her attention to the live feed, Gabby was relieved to hear the subject moving around in his apartment. He'd gone out, and she'd have to document every detail, but at least he'd returned. Maybe her little team could acquit itself yet.

* * * * *

"Holy shit!" Ronnie said, her eyes wide. "I can't believe it's real! Have you contacted the cops, or the FBI, or whoever?"

Gwen shook her head. "Ronnie, this guy is a big drug lord, and if I can't come up with some way to disappear, I'm dead."

"I can't believe you even got involved in this stuff, Gwen!" Ronnie was bouncing in the chair with excitement. "I mean, you meet a guy, have sex with him, and then he's killed by assassins while you're watching from the bathroom?"

"I know," Gwen said, "and if I hadn't lost my purse there, they probably would never have known. But they do, Ronnie, and I can't ever go home again."

"Just a minute," Ronnie said, and she jumped up and ran into her bedroom. She came back with a roll of bills, wrapped by a rubber band. "Take this now," Ronnie said, pressing the roll into Gwen's hand, "and go get whatever you need to survive for a couple of weeks. Clothes, toothpaste, whatever. Shit, Gwen, spend it all if you need to."

Gwen looked at the roll in her hand and felt how heavy it was. Ronnie had just handed her a lot of money. "What do you want me to do then?" Gwen asked quietly, standing up.

"I want you to come back here," Ronnie whispered, moving closer, "I want you to stay with me, Gwen."

Gwen slipped her arms around her diminutive friend's body and pulled her close, leaning down and kissing her softly. Gwen felt Ronnie melt into her, and felt Ronnie's arms tighten around her waist. Gwen pushed the tip of her tongue between Ronnie's soft, warm lips, and she moved it back and forth. The kiss broke and both women shuddered with feeling.

"Just hurry back," Ronnie gasped, releasing Gwen. "Please, Baby, just be careful, okay?"

Gwen ran down to her car and started it. She pulled out onto the street and drove toward the mall, trying to figure out her next move and wiping away an errant tear.

Two cars were parked at Ronnie's condo complex, and three men had watched Gwen run to her car and drive away. The single man, in the car that had arrived when Gwen had, raised his hand and pointed after her receding car. The other two men drove away slowly after Gwen, while the first got out of his car and walked toward the stairs.

* * * * *

Gwen walked through the mall slowly, not paying any attention to the crowds surrounding her. She'd been given over eight thousand dollars in cash, to pick up a few incidentals. Gwen felt she had vastly underestimated Ronnie's wealth.

Perhaps the best way to lie low would be to hide at Ronnie's, she thought. Sure, she'd have to sleep with her, but that wasn't exactly torture now, was it? Ronnie had, in common vernacular, rocked her world. If Gwen had to learn how to eat pussy so her friend would protect her, was that so bad?

Gwen sat on the edge of one of the mall fountains and stared off into the crowds. How far was she willing to go? Every decision she considered hurt someone, and almost all of them hurt Gwen. She put her head down and chewed her lip, and didn't see the two large men circling her from different directions.

* * * * *

Hearing the door, Ronnie rushed out of her bedroom. "Gwen?" she called, worried because her friend hadn't been gone long enough to have done her shopping.

The man who stood two feet in front of her was tall, six foot five, at least. He had short windblown brown hair, and dark eyes, and an expression of menace. He wore a brown leather jacket over a tight black t-shirt, tan pants, and brown shoes.

Ronnie's mouth opened to scream, but the big man's hand grabbed the lower half of her face and silenced her. Ronnie swung into action, wheeling to kick the man in his kidneys, but he simply lifted her up with the one hand, and Ronnie struggled to grab onto his solid arm for support so her neck wouldn't snap.

"You are CIA?" he said with a deep voice and a heavy Russian accent. "FBI maybe, da?" Ronnie clawed at his arm, her hands slipping on the leather of his jacket sleeve. Her legs kicked uselessly, and she lost her sandals. He looked over her scantily clad body, his eyes resting for a moment on her double D's, and a wicked grin split his face.

His free hand grabbed Ronnie's crotch hard, and she closed her eyes in pain. She felt herself upended, and then she flew across the room, crashing onto her coffee table and bouncing off of it painfully, landing on the thick carpeting. She couldn't move, and she lay there in shock, not fully comprehending until the pain ripped her skull as he lifted her from the floor by her hair.

His big hand slapped her face, and then again, and Ronnie tasted her blood in her mouth. He threw her onto her couch and grabbed the front of her small t-shirt, tearing it away. Ronnie's breasts were exposed in all of their glory, and she pulled her arms from around her head and crossed them over her breasts protectively.

"Strange choice," the man said, and he backhanded the side of Ronnie's head. Stars exploded in her vision and the world seemed to darken slightly, when she felt herself yanked onto her back by her hips. Her shorts and underwear were around her knees before she realized he was stripping her.

"Oh my god," Ronnie murmured, "you're going to rape me." The room was spinning, but she saw his face as he finished pulling away her panties, and he smiled at her. His big hand slapped hard on Ronnie's shaved pussy and she screamed, rolling onto her stomach.

"I don't think a whore can be raped," he said, his deep voice sounding dangerous. "If it will make you feel good then I will leave money when I go." After a moment, the man overacted sarcastically and slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand.

"That's right! I'm not going away. I am going to ask you some questions." He rolled Ronnie onto her back again and spread her legs. She opened her mouth to protest, earning a stinging slap on her inner thigh. "I will ask you questions," he said, jamming two fingers painfully into Ronnie's cunt, "and you will answer them truthfully."

"If I am happy, then maybe I leave you with a good fucking, yes? If you lie," he paused and twisted his hand, making Ronnie cry out, "then I am going to make you ruined for anyone else, and then out of pity I will kill you."

"Please," Ronnie pleaded, "I'll tell you anything you want. Please don't hurt me!"

"Tsk," the man said, shaking his head and looking forlorn, "I'm afraid that isn't negotiable. I am indeed going to hurt you very much, no matter what."

He began to rub his thumb over Ronnie's clit as he fucked her slowly with his fat fingers and watched her squirm under him. When he felt wetness slowly begin to lubricate her tunnel, he smiled and said, "Tell me who you work for, and most importantly, tell me everything you know about this 'Gwen'."

* * * * *

Gwen wandered aimlessly through the crowded mall, lost in thought. She had twice stopped and picked out several new outfits, but each time had left the items in the cart and left the store. She really didn't want to use Ronnie, and not because of the price. She wasn't really bothered by the idea of sleeping with Ronnie. She could think of many things she'd rather do, but the prospect of having sex with her best girl friend again wasn't exactly off-putting.

Gwen realized that she didn't want to use her friend for the simple reason that she didn't want to become that kind of person. She wanted to be the kind of woman that a man like Steve could fall in love with. She wanted to become a normal, good, kind woman.

She went into a boutique and grabbed a pair of jeans, footsie socks, and a comfortable looking short sleeved, scoop neck t-shirt, paying with her own nearly maxed out credit card. She left the store to seek out a cheap pair of sneakers, oblivious to the men who followed her closely.

* * * * *

Pyotr looked down at the quivering naked body of the blonde woman. Her name was Veronica Driscoll, and she was an heiress of some sort. She had purchased the finest body her money could buy, and had been lucky enough to have good material to start with.

He took a long drag from his cigarette and held the burning tip very near Ronnie's ass, contemplating putting it out on her smooth, creamy skin. Smoke exploded from his nose as Pyotr chuckled. No, he decided, he'd want to have fun with that ass, and there was always time for torture later.

She had been most forthcoming, this Ronnie girl, telling her deepest and most boring and inconsequential secrets. Unfortunately, as boring and inconsequential as they were, they seemed to comprise the wasted life of the girl.

She had also told a tale of murdered drug lords and hired assassins, apparently believing some falsehood that Gwen had told her. But, given the long history of the girls, Pyotr seriously doubted Gwen was involved with any investigation of their business. If Pyotr had to guess from the information he had, he would say that Gwen had done something to piss off Sergei at a most inopportune moment, casting herself under suspicion. Nothing more, nothing less.

But, Pyotr thought while sucking on his middle finger, one must find one's bliss where one can, and he jammed his finger roughly into Ronnie's ass. He smiled as she screamed into, and clawed at, the couch cushions. Pyotr fucked Ronnie's ass slowly with his finger, noticing she was no virgin there by the quickness with which she relaxed her sphincter.

With a sigh, Pyotr pulled his finger free of Ronnie's ass. Looking at her this way, her fleshy pink pussy so available, Pyotr felt his cock stiffening in his pants. "Soon enough," he thought, and he smiled. Instead, Pyotr contented himself with a vicious slap on Ronnie's ass, hard enough to send her tumbling to the floor with a scream.

Ronnie rolled onto her knees and began to crawl away, but Pyotr grabbed the back of her neck and lifted her up so that her feet kicked under her freely. He laughed and threw Ronnie against her bookcase, and she tumbled to the floor, crying, books falling onto her.

"You will never escape me," Pyotr growled, though he still smiled at her, and he approached her slowly, confidently. He had the satisfaction of knowing her fear was real when the bruised and bloodied girl peed on her carpet. "Go in and lie down on your bed," Pyotr ordered, and Ronnie crawled toward that door. Pyotr kicked her ass, sending her sprawling, but she rose up again and crawled more quickly.

He followed her closely, to make certain she didn't have a weapon secreted somewhere, but she meekly followed his instructions and soon lay at the center of the enormous bed. Pyotr looked around, impressed. He reached into his jacket pocket and removed a large gun, which he held up for Ronnie to see. Immediately, she began to shake and sob.

"No, Whore," Pyotr said, setting the gun on one of her dressers, "the gun is not for you. You do not deserve the mercy of a bullet yet. Instead, let me introduce you to another friend." From the other pocket he pulled a sheathed knife, and he slipped the shining, eight inch long steel blade from the leather cover. "This friend, you will become intimately acquainted with."

Like a striking snake, Pyotr grabbed Ronnie's ankle and he yanked her to the edge of the bed. She yelped and threw her hands up over her face, but Pyotr set the point of his blade against her thigh and pressed. Ronnie squealed like a wounded animal as blood filled the dimple in her flesh around the knife point.