Blind Man s Bluff
- 2 years ago
- 23
- 0
Losers Bluff (formerly "Insurance") free porn video
JENNY
I come slowly into consciousness and realize I am hanging by my arms in asmall room, facing cinder block walls. The pain in my ankles is immediate andI realize that my toes are just barely touching the floor. When I look up,I notice the ropes that suspend me are a light Brown rubber similar to thatfound in hospitals. With little effort, I can swing my fatigued body from sideto side, but I can't turn around.
After what seems like hours, but is probably only minutes, I hear a dooropen slowly behind me.
"Hello…" I say tentatively, after there is only silence for severalawkward moments. Slowly, deliberately, footsteps begin to approach on the finegravel floor. I can tell from the dense crunching noise, that they are comingfrom a pair of leather boots.
"Guten Morgan, Fraulien," the husky, masculine, voice intones, in a thick,theatrical German accent. "You appear to be relatively rested as opposed towhen I last saw you." R's rolling like a freight train.
"When you last…" I blurt, instantly confused. "I don't…. whoare you?"
"Ah ha ha," he laughs, actually saying "ha ha." "Alittle joke. We are not amused." It isn't a stretch to believe this guy hadno sense of humor.
"I have no idea who you are" I spit out, with just a touch of anger spillinginto my tone.
"Let us again take up the matter of where your daughter is located."
I freeze. Janice… what do they want with my Janice?
A few more footsteps, and he stands by my side. I think I smelled him beforeI saw him, an overpowering musk of old tunic, stale cigarette smoke, and expensivewhiskey. He was older than I'd imagined; a corpulent, full-faced man of diminutivestature; large, flabby jowls; thin lips, and a generally unhealthy pallor.His bald scalp shines in the light of the room, polished to an unearthly gleam,wisps of white hair circling the perimeter of his skull. An immaculate BlackSS officer's uniform has been tailored around his enormous belly and bulbous,bulging ass; matching flared breeches making his already large hips appearlarger than any part of his ungainly physique.
His hideous face twists into an unpleasant smile as he leans slightly againsta wall, inspecting me. He casually produces a gold cigarette case, a gold lighter,and matching black and gold cigarette holder, easily a foot long in length,from his breast pocket. Patiently, slowly, he inserts a cigarette in the gold-tippedrod and lights it, inhaling deeply, blowing the smoke directly towards me.
"I don't have a clue," I say, turning away from the obnoxious smoke and hisfierce stare, which is burning a hole in me through an elegant, gold-framedmonocle.
He jabs me in the shoulder with a short, menacing, Black riding crop, gainingmy attention immediately.
"Oh, I think you do Froil-lein" he mispronounces theatrically, sighing heavily. "Youhave just not been properly motivated." He abruptly stands, clicks his heelsand snaps the riding crop to the side of his thick, glossy, knee-high boots.A uniformed henchman appears quickly, and exchanges the crop for a monstrous,coiled bullwhip, placing it reverentially in the Commandant's Black, gauntlet-gloved,hands.
He pauses for a moment, slowly stroking my cheek. The smell of fine leatherintoxicates and chills me at the same time. He lets loose an evil, deeply melodiclaugh, then stares past me, absently pulling on the cigarette holder.
"Major Enrique!" he thunders, jowls inflating like hot air balloons. "Prepareher!"
The gloved thug tears what's left of my clothes off as I hang, shivering.
"I…. I'll never let you hurt my daughter…" is all I can manage.
He stares, obviously unimpressed, and says in a business-like, almost apathetic,tone "We shall see."
He takes several paces back from me, and an almost inhuman force followsa heavy rush of air. It feels like 100 stones are being thrown at me, all atonce. And after the stones, come the knives, a searing arc of agony that cutsinto my back. Again, and again, it comes. I find myself counting the blows,almost as a distraction, but nothing can block out the torment. When he haslaid an even ten, he walks over to me.
His breath is short, and it is obvious that this out-of-shape, self-importantprick is not used to performing his own dirty work. He lights a fresh cigaretteand walks behind me to inspect his handiwork.
The pain in my back is quickly becoming even more intense, and I feel hisleathered hands trace each welt, which are becoming raised and inflamed. Smokedrifts past my head.
"Such a simple question," he gloats, obviously happy with the results ofhis efforts, "seeking an equally simple answer." He returns to face me, holderjauntily set into the corner of his mouth. "You have far more control thanyou realize, Fraulein. Tell me what we wish to know, and you will be freed.Refuse… and we will continue."
"Fuck you, you filthy Nazi pig!" I scream instinctively, instantly regrettingmy response.
He chuckles, seeming almost pleased with my answer, and returns to his positionto deal another ten cuts. When he is finished, he again faces me.
"Far worse than before, wasn't it?" he asks superciliously, tittering lewdly.He's right, I think grimly, wincing at the discomfort. He continues, obviouslysavoring his position of authority over me. "As my finely oiled kangaroo-hidewhip slashes into your previously pristine flesh, the pain increases, doesn'tit?"
I don't say anything, but tiny tears begin to sting my eyes. I refuse togive him the satisfaction of eye contact or an answer.
He takes a deep drag on his cigarette and returns again to the gruesome specterof my wounds, like a depraved connoisseur admiring a piece of fine art.
"You're bleeding," he continues. "We can't have that."
I gasp slightly, shuddering at my growing ability to read his sadistic thoughts.A large cloud of cigarette smoke wafts from behind, and then an interminableperiod of silence follows. His cigarette holder is so long, it juts over myshoulder. When it disappears, I almost shit myself.
Again, unnerving silence follows. Then, I can feel the heat at my back. Almostinstantly it is withdrawn.
"Oh… not yet" he purrs, almost effeminately. More smoke. "I wouldn'twant to waste one of these fine cigarettes, and besides, the pain is far moresubstantial when the ash is close to the filter." He starts to laugh again,a demented cacophony that rings throughout the room.
Then the real pain begins.
PHIL
Jenny never made it home for Thanksgiving that year.
It was the night before the holiday and she had left to go grocery shoppingat a Super Target in a large mall about ten miles from home. When it was threehours past when she said she'd be back, and after no answer on her cell, mymind began to race.
I had a sick feeling. It was him. He's done something. I just knew it.
"I was thinking…. If you'd pay 25 grand to save your whore, you'dsurely pay at least twice that to keep your wife and daughter safe" the chubbybald man who called himself Mr G. had said, smugly clucking to himself andpuffing lazily on a $30 Cuban cigar.
I had to control myself from throttling the little tyrant. We were in a publicplace, after all.
"What's the point, you slimeball?" I said, drawing the ire of the gangster'stwo big goons, who sat on either side of him in the plush leather Red banquetteof the G Spot, his wittily named downtown gentlemen's club. "Like last time,I'll pay you, and you're going to keep wanting more. No…fuck this. Thisstops now."
Mr. G merely stared with his dull eyes, ignoring the thugs who were chompingat the bit for a piece of my hide and fingering the lapel of his expensivethree-piece suit. He puffed steadily, contemplatively, on the fat cigar andabsently began to toy with one of his two diamond pinky rings.
"Oh, it will stop…for now" he smirked. "But insurance is like that….You never seem to have it when you need it the most." He removed the cigarfrom his mouth and put it out with a bit more force than he seemed to wantto display.
The gangster wheezed as he stood up abruptly and the goon named Tony placeda Camel colored cashmere topcoat over his shoulders like a cape and handedhim a chestnut Brown fedora.
"Have a safe holiday season," the fat man sang with sarcastic benevolence,the faint remnants of a twisted smile playing on his lips.
That had been 6 weeks ago. Things seemed to have turned a corner. The harassingphone calls --- the dead lines that woke us at 3 AM --- stopped. The LincolnNavigator that sometimes lurked around our block was nowhere in sight. Shit,I had even been able to sleep for up to 6-7 hours at night without waking upin cold sweats, imagining the smell of smoke or a cry in the dark.
I sat down and tried to think calmly. Options…think! The cops werenot on the list, at least not at this point. The biggest sword that G heldover my head was my involvement with his "girls." It had been some misbegottensense of "honor" that had lured me into his web. Natasha. I had loved her.But now she was gone, as quickly as a couple hundred thousand in home equitythat had taken me over 20 years to accumulate. I had nothing, and was tensof thousands more in debt. How seriously would the cops take a guy who hadbeen formally charged with solicitation? Not too seriously. Anyhow, they aren'tgoing to do anything for 48 hours on a Missing Persons…. And by thattime, god only knows what G and his thugs will do.
But if I did nothing it might be worse.
I picked up the phone and dialed 91, then paused, and quickly hung up.
I headed over to the Super Target, but found no trace of Jenny's car. I wentto the G Spot.
TONY
I see old Phil, that pathetic middle-aged fuck, walk in about quarter totwelve. He walks over to Tommy, who's tending the bar tonight and, after talkin'with him for a few seconds, heads over in my direction.
Even though I've been expecting to see him following the execution of thebig boss' latest scheme, it still pisses me off. I'm wrapping biz up with afew of the regular girls and a couple horny johns, and frankly, I'm too busyfor this shit. It's Michelob time, motherfucker.
I know the boss is waiting for Phil fuck-face to come around to grovel… heflew in special from New York just for the occasion. But I also know it's wayfuckin' late, and the big man is probably just beginning to get nasty withthis new girl I fixed him up with, or passed out from snarfing half a bottleof Louis.
Two things I've learned from working for Mr. G in the past four years: hedon't like to be disturbed, and he don't like surprises.
"Is your boss in town?" Fuck-face asks, interrupting me rudely as I'm countingout $3500 in small bills (not a bad night's pay for the boss).
"He might be. What can I do ya for, fuck-face? Need to borrow some money?Broke again? Too bad… the boss is having a good run lately. I have thisfeeling it's gonna get even better." I can't hide a shit-eating grin, thoughI know I'm pushin' it. Phil's not looking too good.
"Cut the shit, Tony. My wife's been gone for over four hours tonight, andit's got your boss' name all over it."
"Ho! Hold up, ass-wipe! You can't just come into my place of business, accusingme of somethin' like kidnapping. It's not my fuckin' problem if you can't keepa leash on your coos. Is her car gone?"
"You know fucking well it's gone" the asshole shoots back.
"Well then, ya can't prove nuthin', can ya?" I say. "She coulda just runout on ya. Got tired of eatin' all those boloney sandwiches." I know I'm stickin'the knife in at this point, but I can't resist. He's such an easy mark.
"Just let me talk to him" he says, looking so pathetic I almost feel sorryfor the turd.
"All right. Wait outside. I'll see what I can do. No promises!"
Fuck face. I'm gonna wind up missing MY goddam turkey dinner tomorrow overthis shit, just you wait and see.
I finish tallying the receipts as quick as I can, then dial Steve, who'sover playing valet to his Highness in the Presidential Suite at the Brown.
JENNY
I wasn't the least bit suspicious when it happened, but why would I be? You'dthink if you were in danger, your own husband would do something to warn you,right? Especially if the danger involved your child?
I was loading my groceries when a large Black SUV pulled up behind my car,with one of those mobile flasher bubbles fixed to one side of the top. In retrospect,it looked a bit too plush to be a security car.
A guy in a plain gray guard outfit leaned his head out the window and saidsomething like "Excuse me, ma'am, we need your help. We're trying to find aman who's wandering about lost in the parking lot."
I told him I hadn't seen anyone around like that.
"If you could look at a few pictures, it would really help us out," he says,briefly holding up a large black binder. He tries to fit it through the windowto give me a look but it's too long or too wide or something. "Could you come'round to the passenger side?" he asks.
I hesitate, but I'm late getting home as it is…. The turkey requiresa good 4-5 hours to prep and bake, and I'm running out of time.
I walk around to the other side of the vehicle and open the door. He holdsthe book out to me, and then drops it squarely in the foot well of the passengerseat. Instinctively, I step into the car to retrieve it, and that's when thearm from behind me clamps down on my right breast, fixing me to the seat.
The locks drop down and instantly we're speeding off. I grab for the doorhandle, but a rag with something horribly strong is clamped over my face. Chloroform.I can still smell it.
When I wake up, I'm on the stone floor of an 8 X 8 foot cage.
MR. G
I am a businessman, first and foremost. Let's clear that up right away.
I am sure there are those who call me a monster; an inhuman sadistic megalomaniacbent on using any method to achieve my goals of endless power and wealth. Iwould respond by saying that I do only what is needed to achieve my goals.And if in that process, I happen to extract a bit of unholy delight in thesuffering of a few innocent bystanders, in the lording of my power over theirweakness, then that is an added perk. Who's to say one cannot or should notbe afforded a few side benefits from a path of personal destiny that I deemto have been mine from birth?
But I digress.
At 1 AM on Thanksgiving Day, I was about to retire to my four-poster splendorin the Presidential Suite of the Brown Palace hotel in Denver when my faithfulvalet Esteven alerted me to the arrival of Mr. Palmer at the door of my suite.Ordinarily, I would have sent him away, but his appearance afforded me a chanceto accomplish what I had intended much sooner than I had planned. I instructedmy henchmen to make a quick sweep of both the hotel and the surrounding streetsfor any trace of the authorities, while my bodyguards, Tony and Vito, performedtheir usual frisk of Palmer for any wires or weapons. When satisfied, I grantedhim entry and directed Esteven to escort him to my private office to awaitmy arrival.
While I ideally should have been suited up for the occasion, I chose insteadto retain my current state of dress: a luxurious set of Brioni Royal Blue silkpajamas, Blue cashmere socks, Black velvet slippers by Polo, embroidered withmy monogram, a Navy and Silver checked silk smoking jacket by Sulka and double-plySilver silk ascot from Carrott and Gibbs. Matching Pocket Square, of course.
I seated myself grandiloquently in the large, high-backed, Presidential ExecutiveLa-Z-Boy leather desk chair with Mahogany trim that I had custom ordered forthe suite. One must be comfortable while working, especially when those youare addressing are so very uncomfortable!
I watched poor Phillip squirm in the hard, low-backed, armless vinyl chairover the considerable expanse of my hand-rubbed Cherry desk, glowering withobvious satisfaction.
"You look happy," he spits out, giving me a look one would usually reservefor the devil himself.
I say nothing, smile slightly, and take out a 10-inch Cobalt Blue Bakelitecigarette holder and a silver cigarette case from my inner breast pocket.
PHIL
The minute he took out that goddamn cigarette holder I knew I was screwed.
"You evil little bastard. You obviously want to gloat, so go ahead and getit over with," I said. I really didn't give a shit at this point if I was beatento a pulp.
G paused as he allowed his liveried assistant to light his cigarette, andthen rocked back in the ridiculously ornate chair while inhaling.
"Ah, yes. The moment when an opponent is truly beaten is always an eventto be savored," he stated as if he were orating on some profound philosophicaltruth.
"So you admit you have her?"
" Have her?" he queried, mockingly quizzical. "I wouldn'tsay I've had her… yet" he slyly finished, raisinghis bushy eyebrows mischievously and huffing out a couple of leisurely smokerings.
It took every ounce of restraint to keep my hands to my sides. It was onething to be intimidated and condescended to by this rich goon, but to actuallywitness his obvious pleasure at my family's peril was intolerable.
"Look here, Palmer, I was going to feign innocence but who are we fooling?You know I have your wife. And I have you." He made a slight reach across thedesk to delicately tap the ash from his cigarette into a mammoth crystal ashtray. "Youhave, quite simply, no one to ask for help. The police are securely in my silk-linedpocket along with half the money that keeps this little cow town floating,in one manner or another. You know what I want from you, and can probably ascertainyour fate if you do not cooperate. For your lovely wife, I have other plans." Hesteepled his fingers together and a look of malevolent anticipation crept intohis eyes, causing them to gleam inhumanly in the dim light of the wood-paneledoffice.
"Well, Mr. Big Shot, can I ask a question?"
The canyon-like crevice in his brow grew deeper in response to my smart-assremark, and ape-man Tony cracked his knuckles. I know it was supposed to makeme quake with fear, but it sounded so contrived I almost laughed. I enjoyedcatching this midget off-guard, since he prided himself on his supposed god-likeomniscience.
"If you've got all this money and power," I ventured, "why go to all thistrouble for fifty grand?"
"A fair question," he stated flatly, removing the spent butt from his holderand crushing it out. He tried to heighten himself as much as he possibly couldin that Barcalounger of an office chair, but failed miserably. "You do knowthat you robbed me of one of my best girls?" he said, trying to sound threateningbut only managing to sound annoyed.
"Natasha? Yeah… I'm aware of it." My turn to smile.
"And if you knew me at all you'd know that no one takes what is mine withoutpaying dearly for it."
"You may own 'half this town' but you don't own the people in it" I replied,surprising myself with my courage (or stupidity). "Natasha is a very intelligentwoman who knew when she was getting the short end of the deal. She walked awayfrom your organization without any help from me."
"Well…" he continued, fingering his cigarette case idly (the thinghad MR. G inscribed on the face in Roman script. Please.). "Since she was seeingyou, I guess you could say she was getting the short end of it." He began tosnicker, and his hateful smugness returned full force as his henchmen randilyjoined in with him. "At any rate, you're wrong as usual. As long as there arepoor saps like you, with no assets and over-extended credit, there will alwaysbe ownership." He fixed another cigarette slowly into the holder. "And I own you ." Hepuffed his cigarette alight, showily.
"You don't think I'd get fifty grand together for you, if I could?" I said,my desperation finally showing through. He had hit a raw nerve with his commentabout my solvency. This bloodsucker had put me in this position, and now hewas criticizing me for it!
"You'll find it," he stated simply "or your wife will be the one who pays.In blood, tears, and confessions."
"Confessions?" I choked out, incredulously. "To what?"
"To where you've stashed your daughter, dick-wipe!" he thundered, suddenlylosing his world-weary sophisticate act and revealing his crass upbringing. "She'snot at that fucking college anymore, and I want to know where she is. I needa backup in case you're stubborn."
"You fucker…." I spat out, feeling the tears coming to my eyes alongwith the requisite shame. "You were watching her. I knew it."
"Oh yes" he smiled. "And your wife, too. She's far, far away. Somewhere youwill never find her. And every day that my payment is not received, your belovedJenny's discomfort will escalate. Now if she tells me where dear Janice islocated, her sentence will be dramatically reduced…" He puffed thoughtfullyon his holder, obscuring his fat face with smoke for a brief instant.
"I'll go to the police with this. You'll never get away…" I trailedoff weakly.
"Oh, I will. I am." He sneered, caressing his silken lapels confidently withone manicured hand and waving the other dismissively. "You're pathetic. Throwhim out."
Vera
- 14.07.2021
- 15
- 0
