40 comments/ 39339 views/ 10 favorites Payback, Inc. - A Serial Cad By: FinishTheDamnStory A helping hand, when most needed. This is an original story, part of an ongoing series, where the good guy or gal is helped when they need it most. Some follow ups will be original, others will provide a framework and resolution for resolving unfinished older stories. The organization depicted in this story, and the main characters, were originally described in my continuation fo the Yo-Yo Chronicles Ch.02 by EdRider73, with his generous permission. I know that I usually write story continuations, but there's been enough clamoring, comments and emails encouraging me to write my own, that I figured I'd offer up a few. I don't think the trolls will care one way or the other. I hope you enjoy this little story, and remember, it's only fiction. For Information on how I choose which stories to continue, please read my profile. ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ Dale squinted under the blinding lights directed his way. He stood in the large open space, the shadows of the raised dais before him. His mind was still coming to terms with the events that brought him before this panel. "Mr. Daniels, the council has agreed to work on your behalf." The voice was preternaturally deep, disturbingly so. He remembered the directions he'd been given, not to speak unless asked a direct question. Dale did his best to hide the quivering in his legs as he stood his ground. He faced the three masked individuals, while rejoicing silently. "I'd like you to confirm you understand the cost, and that once started, there is no turning back. Can you do that for us, Mr. Daniels?" Dale licked his dry lips, hoping his voice didn't crack. "Yes sir. Twenty percent of my net worth upon completion, and once started there's no stopping it. I understand." "These terms are acceptable to you?" the voice queried softly. "Yes sir. More than satisfactory. Thank you." Dale realized the pain was already receding, the uncertainty and fear already taking a backseat. No more doubts. It was done. "Very good. We'll be in contact. We're sorry for your loss." "Thank you, sir." ~ * ~ * ~ Dale Daniels accepted the blindfold and hood, and was guided back through the labyrinthine halls in complete silence, before he was once more seated in the back of the stretch limo. Soft hands removed his coverings, and his eyes slowly grew used to the dim lights of the interior. The windows were completely blacked out, he was unable to see beyond the range of his temporary confines. The woman was there again, nearly naked, ostentatiously draped in chiffon, leather cuffs on her wrists and ankles, a black leather collar on her neck. She waited for him to look at her. "May I service you, sir?" "What is your name, beautiful?" Dale asked. "Whatever you would like it to be, sir." Dale considered calling her by his wife's name. But then again, he didn't need to punish the bitch in proxy, if he understood things correctly. He'd have better options soon. "I'd like to use your birth name." "Annette, sir. You may call me Annette." Dale smiled, nodding, feeling the stirring in his pants. The first hard-on he'd had since that fateful night over a month ago. He sighed as she opened his zipper, extracting his swollen cock. Gazing up at him, she lowered her mouth over the head, and proceeded to give him the best blowjob of his life. He sighed. "Thank you, Annette, that's incredible." Yes, it may have been costly, but he was going to enjoy this. ~ * ~ * ~ Butler, Carter and Dean sat around the intricately carved table, sipping their beers. There were no smiles at the table. Not at that moment. The first man to smile was required to pay for the night's entertainment. It was more difficult than it sounded, with a warm mouth under the table moving from cock to cock, teasing and pleasuring. Sooner or later one of them would crack. "It still feels weird to me, taking payment. That was never our intent when we started this," Butler said, maintaining his stoic visage. "None of us planned this," Dean answered. "We agreed. We'll be able to help so many more this way, and it's a win-win. We save them 50% of their assets, and we get to keep a chunk of the savings." Carter almost smiled, not from the mouth that had only moments before left his lap, but for how easily the whole thing went down. "A man like Daniels? He's deserving of whatever we can do for the poor bastard, and worth a cool $20 million, if he has a dollar." "Shall we start?" Butler said stiffly. His eyes closed, and he groaned, as the wicked wench swallowed her reward. "Pay up, Butler," Dean laughed, noting the corners of Butler's mouth where they turned up. "Damn it, Nicole!" Butler growled, in mock aggravation. "You think you'd give me a fuckin' break." The woman's head was resting on his thigh, and he ran his fingers through her raven tresses. "My apologies, Master Butler. You know I can't resist you. I never have been able to. Never will." Dean was still laughing at his predicament, as Butler extracted the single dollar bill from his wallet, and passed it to the woman. "Laugh it up, Dean. Next time it'll be your ex, Diana, on her knees. You'll be lucky to walk away with your dick intact." ~ * ~ * ~ Manolo read the text once more to be sure. He entered the 22 digit key into the tablet, and reviewed the directions for the first time. "Son of a bitch. Wouldn't want to be in that bastard's shoes." He passed the tablet to his partner, who entered his own key. The screen turned green, and a list of numbers scrolled down the screen as the orders went out. "Showtime." ~ * ~ * ~ Rafe looked down at the pretty blonde, as his thick cock wrenched another huge orgasm from her trembling body. Hell, he thought. I would have fucked this one for free. He grinned, thinking about the $11 million his lawyer had assured him they'd be able to wrest from the pasty little bean counter's sweaty palms, as long as he followed the plan. Soft moist hands that had handled his woman only a few weeks previously. Never again. That was one of the first things he'd done, having the rich bitch cut her husband off. Rafe let his mind wander, one of his techniques for prolonging his enjoyment. He'd figured on a few hundred thousand for his effort, but millions? He was going to make damn sure the slut stayed addicted to his cock for a good long while. He had no issues with being kept. The large man, in more ways than one, pulled out and flipped Joyce over, onto her knees, before pounding into her once again. Maybe that restaurant with the patio for dinner, he thought as she trembled through another big buildup. Their dessert had been almost as tasty as the rich bitch in his bed. ~ * ~ * ~ Joyce gasped as another bolt of pleasure shattered her. God damn you, Dale. Why couldn't this have been you? she thought. It wasn't her fault he couldn't give her this kind of a fucking. Eight fucking years and . . . Oh, shit, oh shit, oh shit . . . "Fuck me! Damn it!" she screamed as she came for her powerful lover again, and again, and again. ~ * ~ * ~ Dale exploded in the woman's mouth, gasping at the pleasure. It had been months since his wife had allowed him to touch her. She claimed migraines, tiredness, that time of month, the whole gamut. For the last month it had gotten worse, the outright disrespect, the belittling, the humiliation. When he called her on it she laughed and said it was his imagination. He knew the truth. His investigators had provided the hard, cold facts. He'd been lost, uncertain how to move forward, devastated that she would do such a thing, irritated at what it would cost him to end it. Dale had been angry at himself for not following his attorney's advice and demanding a pre-nuptial. He was resigned to pay whatever price just to make it end. The mysterious stranger at his door had changed all that. Fifteen minutes into the conversation he knew his answer would be yes. It satisfied all his desires and needs. Eliminating the interloper, humiliating and taking back control from his cheating wife, saving face, and most of his money. "You understand we have our rules, Mr. Daniels. No details until you sign the contract, for our protection and yours. You're completely out of the loop, nothing can be tied back to you. I will remain your only contact, until we've come to an agreement. Once you do agree there's no turning back, and the penalties for disclosure would be . . . extreme. Shall I continue?" "Please, Mr. X." "The spouse will not be physically injured. She may be punished, but nothing debilitating or life threatening. She will no longer be yours, but she will be completely available to you. You will have no say in her initial treatment. After six months, you will be given the option to be her primary handler. After one year, you will be provided with long-term options. I cannot specify those at this time. Is this agreeable?" The words sounded practiced, delivered without emotion. "Agreed." "This particular interloper will be broken. Financially, spiritually, mentally, physically. He will not be terminated, except as a last resort. Once he is under our control, you will be allowed, even encouraged to mete out some revenge of your own, under our conditions and supervision. We assure you, he will never steal another man's wife again. It is most likely he'll be incapable of being with another woman again. Is this agreeable?" "May I ask a question?" "Of course. That is why we're having this conversation." "What if he has a family?" "Excellent question. Most excellent. Concern for the welfare of innocents. Unfortunately the answer is not simple. Does his spouse know? Is she involved? What are the ages of the children? Is he the sole support?" The man paused in his quiet, steady explanation. "Let me assure you, the founders are men of character. Unyielding against evil, but deeply compassionate. Under no circumstances will an innocent family suffer. The solutions are varied. Guaranteed employment, grants, trusts, the list goes on. They will be taken care of. That is where a large part of our payment goes. In this particular case it's not an issue. Have I answered your question?" "What if I want to be personally involved?" "The foundation will not deny it. We don't recommend it, it may bring unwanted legal attention your way, and we like to keep you isolated from that as much as possible. We always prefer you have an airtight public alibi for when the act goes down. If you decide to make it a personal mission of yours, we will assist you, where reasonable. Have I answered your question?" "Yes, thank you." "Are the rules concerning the interloper agreeable?" "Yes." "The monetary cost is twenty percent of your net worth. Our accountant will evaluate your net when the agreement is confirmed. No payment will be required for six months. After that, ten percent every six months until it is paid. The money will be very difficult to track, to protect you. We suggest putting the money aside as early as possible; we do not concern ourselves with fluctuations in your wealth, the amount is fixed at the time of acceptance. Do you understand these terms?" "It's a substantial amount of money," Dale said. Millions. "It is, in your case. Sometimes we lose money. In all cases, it is much less than you would likely lose as part of a divorce. Do you understand these terms?" "I do." "Finally, you will become a member of the foundation. This is a distinctive honor, most of our cases do not include membership. It takes a certain breed of man to be offered a share of the organization. With all the benefits and responsibilities attached. Think of it as an exceptionally exclusive private club, and the fee you're paying is your initiation cost. You may be asked to use your influence or contacts in the completion of a project. You will not be endangered, nor required to do anything illegal. The benefits are... substantial. Female companionship is part of that. Friends of a like nature, who understand your situation. I will not go into detail, but you will be given a sample on the cusp of agreement, and receive full benefits when your personal project completes phase one." "Phase one?" "Capture and control. Do you understand these terms?" Dale sat back, taking his time. He didn't like to rush things. It was pricey, but sounded almost too good to be true. "Yes, I understand." A card was passed across the table. "You may call me within the next seventy-two hours to confirm. That number will no longer work three days from now. If I don't hear from you, you will never speak of this meeting, and you will never hear from us again. No second chances. Do you understand these terms?" "Seventy-two hours, or never. This discussion remains secret. Yes, I understand." The man stood, extending his hand. "It's been a pleasure sir. I'm sorry that circumstances dictate our intervention. I hope that we can work with you." The man smiled, surprising Dale. "On a personal note, leap at the opportunity, Dale. You won't regret it." "You speak from personal experience?" "I do. Best decision I ever made. I hope you choose wisely." One thing had been eating at him, and he had to ask. "How did you know? Why did you approach me?" The big man frowned. "Normally, we don't talk about these things until you've made your decision. I believe in your case, it won't hurt. We weren't watching you or your wife. We were searching for her lover. We have unfinished business with him. You just happened to be who he was screwing over once we'd tracked him down." Dale nodded. He 'd always considered himself lucky. He wasn't certain that's how he'd frame his current situation, but then again..." "You were looking out for this scumbag? Why shouldn't I just sit back and let you take care of him for free?" The man shrugged. "It's your choice of course. You can let us deal with him on our own. You'll still have the issue of your wife, a looming, expensive divorce, and you'll miss out on the benefits of membership in the organization. They are substantial. It's up to you. No matter what you choose, the interloper will be dealt with. On our timetable, which may not be suitable to you." It was something to think about you. ~ * ~ * ~ Rafe was concentrating on his own pleasure, having fucked his latest target into a state of near helplessness. He may not have been the smartest in school, or the most athletic, but he was blessed with one particular skill, and one exceptional physical gift. That gift and skill had served him well, this time turning a once loving and faithful wife into a sex-addict. He stared down at where he was entering her, watching her tremble as he went for the big finish. Joyce was aware of nothing but the huge rod penetrating her repeatedly. The door to the room burst open, slamming against the side wall. Rafe froze in mid-stroke, the look of surprise on his face immediately turning to shock as the barbed darts entered his flesh, unleashing two million volts in a series of three debilitating bursts. One of the intruders was already turning him over and restraining him, before he was even able to hit the ground. His partner Joyce was handled only slightly gentler, gagged, and trussed before she had even come back to her senses from the sexual assault that Rafe had unleashed on her. Her eyes had only begun to focus when the needle slipped into her vein, and a warm blanket of calm stole her away to unconsciousness. Both were placed into the wheeled boxes, folded and strapped into a two-foot deep by three-foot square box, with three inches of insulation on the inside, providing both cushioning and soundproofing. The small canister in the bottom would provide an hour's worth of oxygen, in their sedated state. Manolo adjusted his mask, hating that part of the job. He understood the need, but found it hot and uncomfortable. He gave a nod to his partner, and they exited the room of the tawdry motel, and within minutes had the reinforced detainment cubes placed in the back of their van. They released the bench retainer, and the seat dropped back in place, covering the cubes in the recessed bottom of the undercarriage. From outside, it appeared to be a simple passenger van, empty except for the two men seating the front, two rows of empty seats behind them. Manolo picked up the tablet, and entered the data pertaining to their mission, reporting their success. The second part of the job was displayed moments later. He entered the data into the vehicles GPS, and his partner drove off into the night. He never looked back to see the cleaners enter the room, obliterating any evidence of anything having ever occurred in room 173. Within the hour, both the vehicles would be on the move, soon to disappear, at least in their current form. The phones would start their journey, spitting out innocuous, misleading texts for the next 72 hours until they, too, would disappear. ~ * ~ * ~ Across town, another crew waited for the tell-tale indicators to tell them it was a go. The home had been staked out for a week, its tenants habits observed and recorded. They checked the cameras, validating their expectations. "Go," the leader said. The two men entered the domicile through the back door. The alarm had been taken care of the day before. It still appeared to be working, but from three o'clock in the morning, until four, it was silent and disarmed. No pets this mission. At least nothing that would alert the inhabitants. The team carefully climbed the stairs, the leader keeping one eye on the tablet, checking the cameras in each inhabited room to ensure no change in status. When they arrived at their target, they entered silently. Only the finisher wore night vision goggles, dropping them in place moments before entering the room. The tap on his shoulder was the go-ahead signal. He approached the sleeping form, completed his simple task, placed the slip of paper beside the bed, and retreated carefully. The leader retrieved the camera from the room, and they backed their way out of the house, carefully walking down their list, removing each surveillance device, finally removing all traces of the tampering with the security system, before closing the back door and locking it behind them. They walked briskly to their vehicle, and drove away, obeying all laws. When they were one mile away, according to the GPS, they reported their success, and returned to their staging point. When the slimy bastard's wife awoke in the morning, she'd find her husband cold and stiff. The organization had little patience with those whose job it was to ensure the system worked properly, and abused their power. Those that subverted the system, were dealt with harshly. For anyone smart enough, the calling card beside the bed would tell the story: Willy:Hank 6 Jr 4-2-73. It was all there, with a little deception thrown in. The number 6 was the dead giveaway. Willy's Henry VI, II, 4 2 73. William Shakespeare's Henry the Sixth, Part 2, Act IV, scene 2, line 73. The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers. At least the corrupt ones. ~ * ~ * ~ Rafe jolted awake, the ammonia capsule bringing him to his senses. He opened his eyes, and was blinded by the spotlight directed at him. He was immobilized, strapped down to a bench, unable to move. "Rafe, Rafe, Rafe. What are we going to do with you? You've been a very naughty boy," a deep voice intoned from behind his head. It was digitally enhanced and modified, unrecognizable. Rafe would have answered if he could, but the gag in his mouth prevented him from making any cogent sounds. "Don't bother speaking. The time for communicating is later. This, now, is a time for punishment. You've pissed off some powerful people. Several, in the last three years. We have to hand it to you, you're very good at falling through the grid. Not good enough, I fear." Payback, Inc. - A Serial Cad Rafe's mind was racing. Three years. Shit. That dated back to the first time he'd seduced a wife into divorcing her husband, before taking all she'd won, and dumping her. All mostly legal, if not particularly moral. Then again, morals wasn't Rafe's strong suit. His mumbled response only brought forth a laugh. A face appeared above him, blocking out the glare of the light. Shit. He was looking up at Bill Clinton. "Repeat after me, Rafe. I did not have sexual relations with that woman." A cruel laugh echoed in his ears before he attempted to scream for the first time, as the pain shot through his foot. Another face joined the first. "I didn't steal their money. I am not a crook," Nixon said, and the pain in his left foot matched that in his right, his body going rigid, fighting against his restraints. "Relax," Slick Willy said. "Don't waste energy fighting it. You've got a long lesson ahead of you. Besides, even if you were to somehow free yourself, what are you going to do? You're four miles out to sea. You gonna swim to shore, you bad boy? The blood would only attract sharks. Although I guess that might be an easier way to go than what we have intended for you." Rafe realized that perhaps going after the wives of wealthy, powerful men might have been a mistake after all. It was one of his last clear thoughts for quite a while. ~ * ~ * ~ Joyce was cold. She opened her eyes, and rolled over on the chilly stone. The chain at her neck rattled. A blow to her leg had her draw it back to her body quickly. "Keep to your own side, you stupid slut." She looked beside her, and froze, her mind unable to process the information before. her. Three naked women were squatting in a row, chained to rings on the floor. They looked dirty and haggard. "Don't tease her, Victoria." A voice from behind her had Joyce turning her head. Another woman stood over her. Attractive, dressed in nothing but diaphanous silks, a collar on her neck. "Nice to see you're back with us, Joyce. Here, eat and drink. You're going to need your energy. Quickly before they take it from you." The bowl set before her appeared to have oatmeal in it. A plastic water bottle was set beside it. "Take the pills after the meal. It will help dull the pain for a while," the woman said. "Pain?" The woman dropped to one knee, exposing her privates with nary a care. Her voice was soft and sympathetic. "Yes, dear. Pain. I'm not sure what you've done, but I'm certain that for some reason your husband, whoever he is, is very disappointed in you. You're about to be punished." "Punished? Dale would never—" "Trust me, honey. You're here. Dale will and has. You made a big mistake. Whatever it is, be apologetic, regretful, and as accommodating as possible. It's not going to change your future, but it might make it just a little more bearable, and that's all you can hope for at the moment." She stood up abruptly and quickly walked away, disappearing into one of the small cells along the walls of the room she was in. Moments later a horn sounded, and a blue strobe went off three times. She heard the grinding of metal, and the women beside her were getting to their knees, moving forward to a line painted on the ground before all of them. A door closed loudly somewhere behind her. She looked around for something to cover up with as she heard men's voices. "Hurry, stupid," the woman beside her hissed. Joyce was confused, dazed, slow to adjust to her new circumstances. She reached down with her hand, and grabbed some of the oatmeal, shoving it in her mouth. Before she could stuff another handful in, a hand gripped her by the hair, yanking her head back. She looked up into hard, unforgiving eyes. A stranger, tall, powerful looking, naked to the waist. "You married this piece of shit?" Piece of shit? She was about to speak back, when she heard her salvation. "I did." She knew that soft voice. Her husband. Dale. She knew she was safe now. He was always putty in her hands. Easygoing, gentle, as kind a man as existed. She turned to face him, speaking with her mouth half full. "Dale! You've come for me! Help me baby, I . . . I don't know what's happening. They're hurting me." Dale reached down and picked up the water bottle. "Drink, Joyce. Swallow whatever that is in your mouth, and drink. I can barely understand you." She wiped her mouth with the side of her hand, and drank from the bottle. She hadn't realized how thirsty she was, and the bottle was half empty before she released it. She looked around, and saw she was bracketed by two strangers now, her husband in front of her. "Baby—" "Hush, Joyce. I'm very cross with you," Dale said. She saw a hardness in his eyes she'd never seen before. He opened his pants and drew out his dick. Dicklet she'd called it. "Suck, Joyce. Suck my cock. Make it good, and perhaps, perhaps I say, I'll put lube on it before I take that ass of yours that should have been mine. The ass you so willingly gave to your adulterous lover, you stupid, cheating cunt." "Dale! Don't you dare AAAGH!" she screamed as she felt the vicious lash come down on her back. "Speak only when you're given permission, slave," the man on her left said calmly. "I'm not a — AAIIEE!" she shrieked as two more blows rained down in succession, this time from the man on her other side. "Dale! You can't let them—" Three rapid lashes had her hissing in pain, huddling into a ball. "Slow learner," one of the men said. "It's four next time, stupid. Don't speak. Obey." She looked up through the misty tears in her eyes. She saw her husband's cock before her. "Suck, slave." She was slow to respond. A quick lash, between her shoulders had her leaping forward to take his soft flesh into her mouth. Dale brushed her hair back. "I told you she could learn," he said with pride. "See, Honey. That's not so bad, is it? If only you'd done this instead of humiliating me with that idiot. You'd be out shopping with your friends, now, spending my money, instead of here. Big mistake." She sucked, surprised that he wasn't already hard. Usually her slightest touch would stiffen him, and he would already have loosed his load. She looked up at him in confusion. "How does she taste?" Dale laughed. Joyce realized that the cock in her mouth was dirty, and it didn't take a Rhodes Scholar to understand why he wasn't instantly hard. He'd been drained. Thoroughly. "Slave Doreen! Get your ass out here!" the man at her side shouted. The girl from earlier quickly walked out, head bowed, and dropped to her knees. "What did I tell you about feeding the new sluts?" he asked. "I'm sorry, Master. Perhaps you'd like to punish me?" She looked up and smiled. "Damn, you are a pain in my ass, Doreen," the man said. Joyce continued sucking, doing her best, fear prompting her. She felt an odd sense of accomplishment as she felt the tubular flesh swell. "I'm sorry, Master. Perhaps Master would like to be a pain in my undeserving ass?" "This is not a game, Slave Doreen. I'm not happy." The woman whimpered, and dropped to the ground before him, her face on his feet. "I'm sorry, Master. I'm so sorry. You know how it pains me to see them suffer." The man reached down and lifted her head. "I know. You fed this one. Now she's your responsibility. Teach her the rules. She fucks up, I'm going to have them take it out on both of you. Am I making myself clear?" "Yes, Master. As you wish." The woman leaned over, her voice pitched low, breathing in Joyce's ear. "Worship that cock you stupid little bitch. Adore it, yearn for it, make it your entire world. Give that man the pleasure he deserves, and plead for more. If I have to pay for your mistakes, you're going to regret it." In her peripheral vision, Joyce saw the man beside her walk away, lift the chained woman next to her up by her hips, and start fucking her without speaking a word. "Thank you, Master Stu," the other slave said. The cock inside Joyce's mouth was finally hard. She was able to do more, proving her worth. It hadn't taken her long to realize her world had changed. No more silks and satin. No more Dolce and Gabanna. No more Rafe's huge cock. She felt a hand cuff her head. "Pay attention, stupid! No daydreaming. You will do your best always!" Suddenly the cock was gone, her mouth empty. "Fuck. It's not worth the effort. Why the hell did I ever want a blowjob from this one?" Dale said. "Master, may I?" the slave in the silks pleaded. Dale turned to her, and moaned when her lips engulfed him. After only a few seconds, he groaned. "Damn. What's this one called?" "Slave Doreen." Slave Doreen gazed up at him adoringly, her eyes conveying her desire, while her mouth demonstrated her prodigious talent. "You think you can teach stupid how to do that?" Dale asked, nodded toward his wife. Doreen pulled away slowly, teasing him, licking his length before responding. "In time, Master Dale. Even the stupidest can learn, sir." She had barely finished speaking before her warm mouth was back to work. "Do it," Dale groaned. "I don't want it said that I brought something useless to the table." Joyce watched in misery, as the slave girl eagerly sucked his cock. The cock that was supposed to be hers and hers only. Her husband's cock. She heard the squeal of an orgasm from her other side, where the chained slave was groveling, thanking the man using her, profusely. The new girl whimpered as the lash fell on her. "Pay attention slave Stupid. Learn something, or you're not going to enjoy your stay with us very much." "Yes, M-m-master. Sorry Master," she said, her eyes focused on her husband's cock where it disappeared into the slave's mouth repeatedly. She shuddered in misery, when she heard the familiar groan, as her man came hard. She looked up into his face, and saw he was watching her. "That's how you suck cock," he said. She nodded. "I'll learn." She grunted as the whip thudded against her lower back. The girl in the veils hissed at her. "Master!" "I'll learn, Master. I will," Joyce said quickly. "Make sure you do. You've got eight years of slacking to make up for." ~ * ~ * ~ Rafe was talking. Answering any and all questions. Questions that weren't even asked. Confessing to any sin he'd ever even considered doing. Signing whatever was placed in front of him, hoping for even the shortest respite from pain. He had hope. He thought he was a goner for sure, but the way they were disabling him, and how they treated his wounds, had him convinced they wanted him alive. It was a shred of hope, but he hung onto it. Then things turned ugly. ~ * ~ * ~ Slave Joyce groveled and pleaded. She rubbed against his leg as he walked by. "Please, sir," she whispered, her voice filled with need. "Please what?" "Choose me. Use me. Allow me to pleasure you. Train me, Master." "Why would I use you, when I have all these others here? You're the worst fuck in the house," he sneered. "Please, Master. I'm not worthy, I know. But none will try as hard as slave Joyce. None." "So now you want me? You want my dicklet?" "I'm sorry, sir. Allow me to show you." He laughed brushing her away. "No." She slumped to the ground, passed over again. She watched her husband release the skinny brunette, laughing as he escorted her away. She gritted her teeth, masking her emotions as the cruel one yanked on her leash. Freed from the ring, she followed him on her callused hands and scabbed over knees to the dreaded room. She promised herself she wouldn't scream this time. She'd suffer in dignity. The promise lasted all of 30 seconds. ~ * ~ * ~ Rafe could feel the movement of air across his skin. The heat of the sun. The grit of the sand underneath him. He called out for help. "Hungh!" Without lips or tongue, with no teeth, it was hard to communicate. Blinded, he couldn't see if anyone was around to assist him. With his legs splinted, his kneecaps shattered, he couldn't move. He cried out again, turning his torso, listening for any response. He twisted the other way too quickly, and started to fall over. He put out his hands to brace himself, and his palms hit the hot sand, his single remaining finger dug into the grains. He heard voices, movement . . . running? Then the shrieking started. He had a bad feeling he'd be hearing a lot more of that for whatever remained of his life. ~ * ~ * ~ Joyce knelt quietly, awaiting their decision. "It's been six months, Dale. Your choice." Joyce wanted to sit up and beg. Plead. But she had learned better. She didn't move, not a twitch. "She's still incompetent," Dale muttered. "Yes. But she has improved. She's slow, but she can learn." "And if I say no?" Dale asked. Joyce shuddered at the thought. "She remains part of the common pool. She'll continue to be trained. We'll find a use for her, of course. It's not like she's unattractive." "Eight years I wasted on her. Eight." "Were they all a waste?" Dale smiled. "No. There were a few good ones to start. The better part of five, I'd guess." "It's your decision." Joyce saw his feet approaching. She remained still. "So, slave girl. What would you have me do?" Dale asked. She looked up at the man she'd shared her vows with. He had changed. He was no longer the man she'd laughed at, disrespected. Not by a long shot. "Master Husband, I beg you to accept me." He chuckled. "As my wife?" "As whatever you need or desire, sir." Stu had seen it before. He knew what the outcome would be long before this meeting. There was never a doubt. Dale was a nice guy, too nice perhaps. He still loved the silly bitch. It wasn't like he had room to talk. His Ellie was upstairs even then, not even collared. She'd done worse in many ways, but that love thing, it was hard to break. Hell, almost a third of the guys betrayed took the sluts back. "Disappoint me, slave Joyce, and you'll regret it." "Master Husband, every day I regret each and every moment of disappointment I caused you. I only beg the opportunity to make it up to you." He sighed. "Sometimes even I can't believe what an idiot I am." She peeked up at him, smiling. "My Master is not an idiot. He's the best, kindest, handsomest Master any slave girl could ask for. Sir." "A Master with a dicklet," Dale said, his tone harsh, accusing. Some things were difficult to forgive. Harder to forget. "A mighty cock that can gag me, make me tremble, cry out in pleasure, squeal in discomfort, leave me happier than any other, Master Husband." "Your tune has certainly changed, slave Joyce." "I was an ignorant fool, Master. Stupid, as you were so eager to remind me. Selfish. I always loved you, Master Husband. Even at my worst, I . . . I always loved you. You know I did." "Fine. I'll keep the stupid slut," Dale said. Joyce leaped to her feet, wrapping him in her arms, kissing his body, "You'll never regret it, I promise, Master Baby. I swear." "Damn it, Joyce! You're embarrassing me," he said, but his actions argued otherwise, his arms enveloping her, clutching her tightly. Stu put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "She loves you. I know it's a pain, but there's not much we can do about it. Trust me, I know." Dale brushed her hair back, while her lips continued their journey of adoration. "I can take her with me?" "Not off the property, and no more than two days a week. She still needs a lot of training. A minimum of six more months." "And I can get her a cell?" "Dale, I think you've invested enough in our venture to give her quite a nice cell if you so desire. Hell, she passed her level twos. Not bad for six months. Talk it over with Xavier. He'll tell you what the limits are for Tier II slaves." Dale peeled his wife's arms free. "Thank him, slave girl. You know you'd still be on a chain if not for him and Doreen." Joyce quickly dropped to her knees before the kind one. "Thank you Master Stu. I know I wasn't worthy. Your patience with this girl is humbly appreciated. How may I pleasure you, Master?" Stu was hoping it wouldn't come to this. Even after six months, she still delivered one of the worst blowjobs in the house. He opened his pants, and she eagerly rose up, taking him in her mouth. "She is getting better, isn't she?" Dale said with a grin. Shit, she had to, thought Stu. "Yes, but it's still an area we'll concentrate on. She has a lot of—" He cuffed her head gently. "Teeth, Joyce!" he snapped. "No teeth! Geez!" Stu turned back toward Dale. "A LOT of ground to make up before she could make Tier III." Dale nodded. "But a great ass, huh?" Stu chuckled. "Hell of an ass. If we can just get her oral skills up to par, she might even be a four. Nobody can fault her attitude or effort." Joyce glowed under the praise. She'd show them. She wasn't stupid. It wasn't her fault she had a small mouth, and big teeth. At least it made for a pretty smile. She knew that much. If Stu didn't have such a big thing, she wouldn't scrape him near as much. Master Hubby on the other hand? His was just right. Stu reached down and stopped her. "Thank you, slave Joyce. I think I'm gonna go up and use this on my wife. Why don't you show your primary Master how much you appreciate him putting himself out there for you. You hardly deserve it. You're very luck you know." "I know, Master Stu. Thank you." She turned, scooting over on her knees, reaching for her husband's waistband. He'd worn sweats again. He was considerate that way. Providing easy access. She smiled, pulling them down, and releasing his hard cock, taking it in her mouth eagerly. Sweats. Her hubby loved her. ~ * ~ * ~ "I've heard mumbling. Some are disturbed at how harshly this one was treated," Dean said, examining his notes. "We all agreed," Carter reminded him. "I know, Carter. The problem is, all they know about is the seduction of slave Joyce. None of the rest." "That's how we want it, remember?" Butler said. "They are tools. They don't need to know the why." Dean closed his notes. "I know what we agreed on. I remember why. Do you think I could possibly forget the Hermanns? Our first failure? That poor woman? Yeah, she was a cheating slut, but what she went through? Her suicide? The children. The bastard deserved it. I'm not going to argue the fact. I'm just wondering if we shouldn't put out word as to why we were so hard on him." A voice rose up from under the table. "I can take care of it, Masters. A word to slave Joyce, to let her know what she had almost gotten herself into. You know she'll tell Doreen, and Doreen can't keep a secret from anybody. Manolo will know within two days at the most. She's his favorite." Carter mumbled. "She's a lot of people's favorite, isn't she?" "Master Carter! I know you weren't going to say anything bad about slave Doreen. She's the best, kindest—" "Enough, slave girl!" Dean snapped. "Isn't there something you're supposed to be doing?" Butler almost smiled. Almost. Then he adjusted himself in his chair, giving the girl room to work. "Let word trickle down?" Carter asked. Butler nodded. "Fine by me." "Alright slave girl. Tell slave Joyce tonight." A hummed acknowledgment from the vicinity of Butler's waist was the only response Dean received, until he felt the wicked girl go to work on him. "Anything else interesting?" Carter asked. "First payment from Dale. Four-hundred and twenty-seven thousand. The coffers are full again," Butler replied. "Any worthwhile projects . . . out there?" Dean asked, trying to keep a straight face. "Pay up, Dean," Carter laughed. "I didn't—" "Yes you did," Butler said. Dean peeked under the table, where his ex was grinning mischievously. "Damn it, Diana! I thought we had a deal!" Payback, Inc. - A Serial Cad She pouted cutely, "I'm sorry, Master. I can't help myself. You know that." Dean yanked out his wallet, extracting a dollar and handing it to her. "I think we need to change this game," he muttered. "Common pool girls, or best in the house that none of us were ever married to." "I think slave Joyce is available, Master Manly," Diana teased. "Don't be catty, Di, at least she tries." He pushed her away. "Go tease someone else. I'll be damned if I'm the only one paying out tonight." He breathed a sigh of relief as Carter put on a straight face. "As I was saying, any worthwhile projects?" "As a matter of fact, I think we might have a doozy. There's this guy who went to a martial arts instructor for help . . ." ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ I hope you enjoyed this, the first in a new series of short stories, some original, some continuations of other peoples abandoned work. Butler, Carter & Dean, as well as Payback Inc., have a lot of work ahead of them. I have several more entries in this series under work, and more should be appearing in the next couple of weeks.