0 comments/ 172134 views/ 19 favorites The Debt Collector Ch. 01 By: littlemuffy Their money problems had been spiralling out of control for months now. They had never been very good with cash, struggling to keep their expenditure below their income, always falling a bit short at the end of the month. But they had always been able to manage… until Tony had been made redundant, that was. The first month hadn't been too bad - they still had his final salary to work with, and he was confident that he would find another job quickly - but positions in the IT industry weren't as easy to come by after the crash of the hi-tech market. The second month was difficult, but they had their savings to fall back on; the third month was really hard and, with credit cards close to their limits, they were starting to worry about how to pay their debts. Natasha still didn't know how they'd made it this far, but things were getting desperate now. If he didn't find work soon, they would have to declare bankruptcy and who knew what would happen then? The trouble was that the more rejections Tony received from employers, the less he tried to find a new job. He had recently taken to sitting in the house all day, drinking whisky and watching "Trisha." The burden of responsibility now rested firmly on her shoulders and she didn't know how much longer she could support them both. Arriving home after another hard day at work, she was disappointed - but not surprised - to find him lying half-asleep on the sofa, half-full bottle of whisky and empty glass by his side, TV blaring. A pile of unopened bills sat on the table; she didn't even bother looking at them as she knew they couldn't be paid. Looking around at the dirty living room - the un-swept floor, the piles of dishes by the sofa, the newspapers scattered across the table - she suddenly felt a wave of hopelessness flood over her. Picking up her husband's empty glass, she poured herself two fingers of whisky and downed them, coughing as the sharp liquid caught her throat. Without even waiting for a result, she poured another glass and necked this too. Warmth began to spread through her body; she sat down on an armchair and cradled a third glass of spirits, taking this one slower. The problems began to fade from her mind as the alcohol took over: no wonder her husband spent his days like this. She didn't hear the bell at first, only being aware of a ringing noise on the edge of her consciousness. Jolting herself, she realised that there was somebody at the door. She pulled herself back to her feet and manoeuvred herself past the piles of magazines and general clutter in order to reach the front entrance. Opening the door, she saw three large, burly men standing in her porch. "Can I help you," she asked, trying to keep her voice level in order to disguise the fact that she had been drinking. "We're here to see your husband," said one man. He wore a jacket and trousers and had a scar on his right cheek. The other men also wore smart clothes, but all looked pretty rough, like nightclub bouncers. "I'm afraid he's not available at the moment. He's not very well." She smiled apologetically. "Can I give him a message for you?" The first man pushed against the door and shoved her aside, forcing his way into her hallway. Afraid, she tried again to shut the door but the other two men followed, brushing her aside as if she were no obstacle at all. Quickly closing the door after them, she stumbled through to the living room. Her husband was awake now. The scar-faced man had his arm twisted up behind his back where he lay, and was snarling at him. "No!" cried Natasha. "Don't hurt him, please! What do you want?!" "We want our money," said the man. "Money?" She looked quizzically at him. "What money? Who are you? Why do you want money from my husband?" The man rose slowly, leaving her husband whimpering on the couch, cradling his arm. It was his turn to look quizzical. "Do you mean he hasn't told you then? " "Told me what?" she cried. "Tony, what's happening?" She faced her husband, questioning him, but he just hung his head in shame. It was up to his assailant to provide her with answers. "Your husband is in a lot of trouble, Mrs Peters. He borrowed a sum of money from our boss a few weeks back, and we haven't seen hide nor hair of the repayments yet." Natasha was furious: more debt problems! What was he thinking of? And to borrow money from people like this too! She supposed that it would be up to her to sort this out…as usual. "I see. Well, gentlemen, can't we sort this out in a civilised way, without resorting to violence? I'm sure I can settle up with whatever we owe you…" She opened her bag and produced her purse. Looking up, she saw that the two side-kicks were laughing; 'scar-face' wore an amused look. "What's so funny?" she demanded, annoyed at the cheek of these men to barge into her home and make fun of her. "Do you carry ten grand around in that little purse?" asked 'scar-face'. His mates laughed some more. She froze. Ten thousand pounds? Her husband wouldn't have borrowed that much money: he knew that they would never be able to pay it back. She looked at him again, her eyes pleading for an explanation, but he just turned his head away. "It's the interest, you stupid bitch." snarled 'scar-face'. "When you miss a payment, it really starts to build up. And your lovely husband here's missed quite a few…" She sank to the seat, her legs suddenly feeling like jelly. What could she do then? They had barely a couple of hundred pounds left in the bank and all their assets were tied to other, legitimate debts. Where in God's name would she ever get ten thousand pounds? "That's not the worst of it either. The interest's still mounting." 'Scar-face' grinned. "You've been a very silly boy, haven't you Tony? And you know what we've got to do now…" One of the other men reached into his pocket and pulled out a rectangular, silver object. He passed it to 'scar-face', who opened it out to reveal a large, serrated blade. He stepped towards Tony and grabbed his hand. "Remember the deal? One finger for every week. That makes three little piggies going to market today." He sniggered at his own joke; his mates joined in. Tony's face turned deathly white and he withdrew as far as he could into the couch. He couldn't release his hand, though, and 'scar-face' moved the blade to Tony's little finger. "Eenie, meenie, miney, moe… where shall I start? With this little piggy?" He pressed the blade into Tony's flesh and a trickle of blood started to run down his hand and drip onto the wooden floor. Tony looked faint; Natasha began to sob uncontrollably at the thought of what was about to happen. For the first time, Tony spoke. Cried, actually. "Please," he whimpered, "I'll do anything. Please don't do this Karl. Take whatever you want…the furniture, the TV, anything. I'll pay you back, I swear, just take them in the meantime. But don't do this. I won't be able to work. Please." The tears poured down his face and his body shook, racked with sobs. Karl looked around at his fellow goons and raised an eyebrow. He'd seen this all before. Usually they took whatever was offered: jewellery, electrical goods, a car, sometimes something better…. This man didn't seem to have anything material worth taking, so… He glanced over at Tony's wife. She was weeping on the chair, her arms hugging herself for comfort. Despite her swollen eyes and red cheeks, he could see that she was an attractive woman. She was dressed in a blouse and knee-length skirt and wearing either stockings or tights. She was slim, but her breasts looked full and pert; her legs were shapely and her long, dark hair was starting to fall out of it's clip and onto her shoulders. Yes, she was pretty hot. This could work. He leant down and moved his mouth close to Tony's ear. He flinched, but Karl only wanted to whisper his idea to him. Natasha saw Tony's face fill with horror. "No!," he cried. "Not that! No!" His head turned towards his wife and he stared at her, pure terror in his eyes. Karl stood up and pulled Tony's hand towards him again. This time he exerted more pressure with the knife and Tony's finger bled heavily, a stream of red liquid pouring from his hand. Natasha watched as he cracked, his face crumpling and his body bending in defeat and shame as he begged 'scar-face', Karl, to stop. Nursing his bleeding finger in his other hand, he said one more word to Karl: "OK." Then he turned to Natasha and whispered, "Sorry," his voice broken, his eyes dead. Fear gripped her heart. Karl sent his two goons out of the room then sat down on the end of the couch; Tony curled up his body to keep from touching him. A smirk flickered at the corners of Karl's mouth and Natasha wondered - feared - what words had been exchanged between the two men. "Do you want to know what your chicken-shit husband just agreed to, Natasha?" She flinched: he knew her name. "Yes," she sullenly replied. "He was so afraid of a bit of pain that he agreed to let you repay the interest for him." Karl' s mouth extended into a satisfied smile. Natasha looked from him to Tony in bewilderment. "I can't repay all that," she cried. "I don't have that much money!" "Oh no," said Karl, leaning towards her until his face was only inches from hers, his hot breath on her face. "You're not going to pay me with cash…" His hand reached out and cupped her left breast. Sickening realisation hit her like a bullet: Tony had offered her to Karl as repayment. She jumped up and turned towards the door. "You can both fuck off if you think I'm going to agree to that," she shouted, as she started to reach for the handle. Karl grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him. He gripped her with both hands and pulled her towards him. "I don't think you understand, Natasha" he sneered. "You don't have a choice. If you don't repay Tony's debt, we're going to have to use him to teach others a lesson. Now, you don't want to see your husband suffer a slow, painful death, do you?" Tony cried out again, "Natasha, please, it's the only way!" She looked at him, every ounce of pity falling away. She was tempted to let him die at their hands. But somewhere deep in her heart she knew that she couldn't let this happen. With fear, disgust, shame, she realised that she had no choice. She would have to agree to Karl's demands. Turning her head to face Karl, she stared into his eyes with every ounce of defiance and pride that she could muster. "If this is the only way that a weasel like you can get his kicks, and if it will save my husband, I'll do what you want. But I won't enjoy one minute of it." Karl grinned and leant down over Tony, whispering, so that Natasha couldn't hear. "Oh, but she will. She'll enjoy every minute of it. And by the time I'm finished with her, she'll be begging me to fuck her harder." Tony sobbed louder. He looked pathetic, a broken man covered in blood and tears. Karl was going to enjoy this. He looked at Natasha. Grabbing her around the waist, he pulled her towards him and kissed her hard on the mouth, his tongue forcing her lips apart. She tasted cigarettes and beer from him; he caught a faint taste of whisky from her. She pulled back, trying to escape his grip, but he just held her tighter and grabbed hold of her ass. She could feel his cock straining against his trousers, pressing into her mound. It was a long time since anybody had held her like that: she and Tony had barely touched each other for the past few months and, even before that, their love life had been growing cold. In spite of herself, she felt slightly turned on. Then she snapped back to reality: this man was going to rape her. She felt indignant, repulsed. She struggled harder and managed to connect her knee with his groin. He doubled over in pain and let her go as his hands moved to cradle the injured area. She took her opportunity and ran for the door. Turning the handle, she pushed it open and fled into the hallway. But there was so much clutter on the floor that she caught her foot on a bag and clattered head first to the ground. As she tried to push herself up, she felt a sharp pain in her head. One of Karl's goons gripped her by the hair. He half-dragged her back to the lounge where Karl was waiting, his face flushed with pain and anger. She was thrown down at his feet; he took hold of her hair now and pulled her head up and back so that she faced him. Smack: his palm swished down and slapped her hard across her cheek. "That's for trying to get away" he growled. Smack: her other cheek felt the back of his hand. "And that's for kneeing me in the balls you little cunt." Tears pricked the backs of her eyes but she refused to let him see her pain. It was bad enough that Tony was still weeping on the couch without her starting too. Karl kept hold of her hair; she felt one of the other men grab her arms and pull them behind her back. They were bound tightly with a cord. If Karl let go of her head she knew she would fall forwards and smack her chin on the wooden floor. But he held on with one hand; to her horror, though, his other hand moved to his flies and he dropped his trousers. "It's time to see what you can do bitch" he sneered. His fingers slid under the elastic waist of his boxers and she watched as, almost in slow motion, he manoeuvred them over his groin and down his legs. His cock rose before her, terrifyingly large and wide. It must be at least eight inches long and three inches around, she thought. His balls looked heavy and full, slightly reddened where she had kneed them. It was a monstrous sight. He grasped his shaft with his free hand and pulled tighter on her hair so that her eyes might his gaze. "You are going to suck my cock now," he said, slowly, deliberately. "And if your teeth so much as touch me, I'll have your fingers off." He nodded; she felt the cold, sharp steel touch her hand as one of the other men held the knife against her. She knew he meant business: she would have to give this monster a blow job. Karl moved her head towards his groin. "Suck it you whore." She saw his helmet edging towards her face, a drop of pre-cum glistening on the end. She felt sickened as it touched her lips. "Open up," he said, and she felt the knife press harder against her fingers. She parted her lips and he moved himself into her mouth. He tasted salty; his huge cock seemed to push further and further back inside her and she was afraid that she would gag. Surprisingly, she was able to take most of it: he murmured his approval at her 'deep throating'. He held himself there for a moment; she could hear the three men laughing at how hot she looked with her mouth full, how "at least that shut her up." Then he began to push and pull her head back and forwards as he thrust against her, his huge dick pressing against the back of her throat as he fucked her mouth. She formed an 'O' shape with her lips and let him slide in and out, barely putting any effort into what she was doing. But before long she began to feel a wetness between her legs and became aware that she was licking his cock in time with the long strokes. She felt confused: was she actually enjoying this? She was certainly feeling strangely aroused, down on her knees, giving head to a stranger who had complete control over her, in front of an audience of three other men. She opened her eyes: she could see his huge dick sliding in and out of her mouth and this sent a shiver of excitement through her body. Looking to her right, she could see one of the other men had also dropped his trousers and had his dick in his hand, stroking it as he watched her. She suddenly felt really horny. If he wanted a show, she'd give him a show. Her head began to work on its own, sucking in Karl's cock, licking the length of his fat shaft, tonguing the head, drawing his tender balls into her mouth and rolling them around with her tongue. Karl saw that she was getting into it and began to talk: "Oh yeah, that's it. You are a cheap little whore. I knew it when I saw you. I bet you've been dying to have a real man's cock in you. Look at you, eating it like a hungry little bitch. Tony never did it for you, did he? He's nothing but a pathetic worm. You need a good hard fucking, don't you? You're a dirty slut, aren't you?" To her amazement, his words only served to excite her even more. She could feel her pussy soaking now, and she clenched and relaxed her thigh muscles as she tried to stimulate her clit. Maybe Karl was right? Maybe she was a slut. Who else would enjoy being used like this but a cheap whore? And she was enjoying it. She greedily sucked him and was pleased when she began to feel his muscles tighten and his cock grow harder and fuller, a warning that he was about to cum. "Yes, that's it now. I'm going to cum deep in your throat and you're going to swallow down every last drop of it. You're a thirsty little bitch; you want it all, don't you? Go on then: drink all my spunk down into your stomach. There'll be plenty more for you later." His balls hardened and she felt him thrust one final time into her mouth, then the hot, sticky liquid poured down her throat. She swallowed it hungrily, then sucked and licked him clean, not wasting a drop of his salty cum. He carefully lowered her down onto her side and laid her on the floor; she had his spunk all around her mouth and he saw her tongue emerge and try to lick it all up too. He grinned as he looked over at Tony's appalled face. "I told you she would enjoy it" he mouthed at him. Tony turned away in anguish. Natasha lay on the floor, her hands still bound behind her back, feeling ashamed and yet incredibly hot. She couldn't understand why she was acting like this: her pussy was on fire and desperate to be touched. She tried to rub herself on the floor to satisfy this craving. Karl spotted her and knew what would happen next… Once again, he sent his goons out of the room. Natasha felt the cold steel press against her hand again and flinched: he was going to cut her up anyway! Relief washed over her as she felt her bonds break: he had cut her cords instead. He helped her to stand up and she was shocked to see that, not only was he now naked, but his cock was hard once again. She couldn't take her eyes of it: it looked even bigger than before! It stood up at an angle away from his body, the head pointing at her, shiny, red and swollen. Karl's large hands reached up and grabbed her breasts. They were a good size and he felt their firmness through her blouse. Taking the knife, he sliced down through the material and let it fall to the floor. One hand moved behind her and unzipped her skirt; it swiftly followed her blouse. He stepped back and surveyed her: she was wearing a plain black bra and high-leg panties - which showed that she shaved her pubic hair - and a pair of black stay-up stockings covered her legs. He was entranced by the flesh between the stockings and panties: this had always been his weakness. His cock rose even higher. He brought the knife up to her chest and ran the back of it down her cleavage. The cold metal scared and excited her. Her mind was in turmoil. The knife moved back up and she felt him slice through the front of her bra, exposing her breasts. He then slit each side of her panties and they slid down her legs. Embarrassed, she tried to cover herself, but he dropped the knife, gripped her wrists and held them by her side. Karl turned her around so he could get a good look at her. Her ass was smooth and tight and her tiny hole confirmed to him that she was still a virgin here at least. Her tits were pert and creamy, with big brown areolas and erect nipples. Her stomach was flat to her hips, which were curvaceous but not too large. And her cunt! She kept it closely shaved, only a little strip of dark hair around the lips and clit. He could see the moisture glistening on her slit and wondered how long it would be before she begged him to fuck her. She was obviously getting aroused. The Debt Collector Ch. 01 His hands returned to her titties and he kneaded each one in turn, squeezing the flesh, pinching her nipples. He saw her eyes close: she may not want to let her feelings show, but the signs were there. Her cheeks began to flush and he could hear her breath quicken as he took one breast in his mouth, sucking on her like a hungry baby. Her nipple sprung up harder beneath his tongue and she let out a low moan. He fell to his knees and continued nuzzling her tits; his hands moved down her body and brushed across her clit. She shuddered and he could see more wetness appear on her pussy lips. He moved his hands away, caressing her thighs, rubbing her ass, then brought them back to the front and brushed across her mound again. She bucked against his touch; he withdrew again. Karl kept this up for about twenty minutes and she was ashamed to find herself getting more and more aroused. Her clit, which had already been on fire from sucking his cock, now burned to be allowed to climax. Yet he was teasing it, never touching it for long enough to satisfy her. She tried to move her own hands down there, but he pushed them away and threatened to beat her if she touched herself. She knew he would too, so she struggled against her own urges. He knew that she was getting desperate. Her clit was swollen and red and her heart was racing. He took two fingers and rubbed them back and forth along her slit. She moaned, loudly this time. She was slick with moisture; he flicked her lips and ran his fingers back further and further towards her ass. She was wet everywhere! His fingers probed her ass, pushing into her hole. She cried out, disgusted at first but then delighted to feel something inside her. She squirmed against him; he rubbed the ball of his thumb against her snatch as he fingered her ass. His thumb moved into her cunt and he pushed it upwards to touch off her sweet spot. She sighed and moaned with relief at his touch. He brought his hand up to his mouth and sucked his thumb, tasting her juices, sweet and creamy. He pushed his two fingers into her mouth and watched as she sucked them, even though they had just been in her ass. Her eyes were heavy now: she was ready to beg. Pulling away, he gripped her wrists again and stood to look at her. A smirk crossed his face: she looked absolutely overcome by lust. He held her there for several minutes. She tried to draw her legs together to rub her clit, but he kicked her ankles apart. Wetness ran down her thighs; she moaned and wriggled, desperate for release, but none came. Eventually, Karl leaned close to her. "Do you want me to fuck you?" he whispered "Ye…yes" she stammered quietly, ashamed. "I said, do you want me to fuck you?" he asked, louder. "Yes," she said, a little louder but still in hushed tones. "You're gonna have to do better than that," he sneered. "Come on, let's hear you ask me." She looked mortified. He was going to make her beg him to fuck her, in front of her husband? No way was she doing that! They waited. Tears pricked her eyes again. She didn't want to submit to this man, but she yearned for release. She was so close to coming, it was unbearable. She needed it. It was torture to be left like this. She looked across at Tony: he had watched everything through his tears and was now transfixed, staring at his naked assailant and his wife, glowing with sweat, standing there in only her stockings. There was no emotion on his face. Damn it! This was all his fault. He had arranged this. What did he want her to do? She held out as long as she could but, in the end, she knew that Karl had her where he wanted her. She raised her voice: "Fuck me." "Say it again," he yelled, "I want to hear you beg." "Please, I want you to fuck me Karl." "Tell me why." "Please fuck me. I need to feel your huge prick buried in my cunt" This was better than he expected! "Why should I fuck you, you whore?" "Be…because I'm a filthy little slut and I need to be fucked by a real man" she cried. "And who is a real man?" "You are." "You are, what?" He slapped her. "Show some respect." "You are, sir. You are a real man." "And what are you?" "I am your slut, sir. I am your dirty little slut-toy." He grinned: she was his. Time for her final humiliation….for now. His eyes shone as he snarled out his final demand. "Ask Tony." She looked terrified and confused. "What?" "Ask Tony if he will let me fuck you. Get his permission." She let out a sob. This was so cruel. But she had to have him. She turned to her husband, her eyes pleading and apologetic. "Please, sweetheart. I can't take anymore. I have to cum." Karl tightened his grip. "Ask him." She hung her head. "Please Tony, please let Karl fuck me." Tony wailed. He had lost his wife to this animal. "No!" he cried. "Never." Karl said nothing, but did not release Natasha. She knew that it was all down to her now. She raised her head and looked Tony straight in the eye. "I want to fuck Karl. Now give him your permission… please." Tony stared back at her, at her reddened cheeks and desire-controlled body. It was over. Things had been going wrong for so long and now it was finished. There was nothing left that he could do. He nodded once, then buried his head into the cushion and cried. Natasha didn't care. She had his permission. She looked at Karl and smiled. He spun her around, grabbed her waist and lifted her off the floor. He carried her to the table and threw her face down on it. Pinning her wrists to the wood, he thrust his huge member deep into her. She screamed in pain: she had never felt herself so full. Yet as he moved back and forwards inside her, it felt incredible and she began to moan and cry with pleasure. "Fuck me Karl. Oh yes. Your cock feels so good, so hard. Fuck me harder." His cock pounded her like a battering ram, his balls slapping against her ass with every thrust, and she loved every moment of it. He pulled on her hips to draw her closer to him, allowing him to enter her even further. She thought that he would damage her in some way but she didn't care. Her cunt was being fucked like it had never been fucked before. He was impressed by the tightness of her snatch: if felt like it was sucking him inside and gripping his shaft, stroking its full length. He felt the tip banging against her cervix wall and it aroused him further. He spoke to her all the time: "You like it hard, don't you bitch. You want it rough cos you're a dirty little slut. Oh yes, a dirty, cheap little slut. I bet you spend your days at work fucking everything in sight. Tony could never satisfy you so you go elsewhere. I bet you stand in the street and look for men to fuck, just like a whore." His words excited her further, her cunt tightened around him. He became like an animal, pounding and pounding into her, pulling her hair back so that he could fill her mouth with his tongue, biting her neck and shoulders, squeezing her tits so hard that his nails dug into her flesh and made it bleed. And through all this pain, all Natasha could think of was the fire in her pussy and how close she was to coming. She pushed against him, arching her back so that her cunt closed tighter around his cock, little spasms starting to take over her and squeeze his dick even harder. He responded by thrusting faster, gripping her delicate shoulders for leverage and riding her like an animal. She was screaming now, "Fuck me, fuck me! Fill me with your cum." He answered: "Oh yes, I'm going to pump so much into your cunt that you'll be wet for weeks. And whenever you stick your fingers in their and fuck yourself with them, you'll be able to lick them afterwards and taste my spunk again." This finished her off: her muscles clenched, she threw back her head and screamed as she came violently, creamy fluid pouring over his cock and soaking him. He felt her juices heating him, the walls of her snatch gripping him and he came too, an explosion of cum that mixed with her own fluids and filled her. Exhausted, she collapsed forward onto the table. He remained inside her, banging away until his erection subsided. She could barely breathe. Eventually, he pulled out of her and the mixture of sticky juices flooded after him, pouring down her legs, over her stockings and onto the floor. Tony looked at her as she bent over the table, ass in the air, dripping with cum. She looked like a whore. She had enjoyed it, enjoyed being fucked by this creature. He was devastated. Karl moved around the table to stand in front of Natasha's head. "Suck me clean, bitch," he demanded. Without a word of argument, she took hold of his cock and licked off all the cum. Once he was clean, he pulled on his boxers and trousers again and called in the other two men. They were greeted by the sight of Natasha, still draped over the table, legs spread and slit shining. Karl nodded at them and each man undid his trousers and lowered them to his knees. The blonde man moved behind her and rammed his growing erection into her pussy; the dark man slapped her face with his dick then put it in her mouth. Natasha lay there, sucking off one man while another pounded into her newly-fucked cunt. Karl sat next to Tony and watched the show. "Isn't she fantastic?" he laughed. "A regular little porn star. She could make a fortune in the movies. Look at the way she's lapping at his cock. And look at that hungry snatch, taking all his meat inside her. She loves it!" Tony just moaned and tried to avoid watching what was happening to his wife. The two men did not last as long as Karl and pretty soon Natasha had more cum inside her. However, they both reloaded quickly and changed ends. By the time they were finished, she had the cum of three different men in her cunt and she had swallowed more spunk than she ever thought imaginable. They re-fastened their trousers and joined Karl at the other end of the room. The three men taunted Tony about his wife and her excellent techniques. Natasha, meanwhile, lowered herself to the floor and tried to catch her breath. Her pussy was dripping wet and felt tender and bruised; her breasts were red, covered in scratches and sensitive to touch; her face was stinging were she had been slapped and her shoulders, neck and arms ached from where she had been grabbed and held. She should have felt in pain, embarrassed, humiliated, violated, but all she could wonder was whether or not Karl would fuck her again before he left. Or maybe he could take her with him? She would happily be his toy if he just fucked her like that once a day. Perhaps he would agree…as a final repayment. The Debt Collector Ch. 02 Much to Natasha’s disappointment, Karl didn’t agree that fucking her would repay their full debt. In fact, he was infuriated by the suggestion and it earned her another resounding slap. “You think you’re worth ten grand? Don’t flatter yourself, bitch. I wouldn’t give you that much if I kept you for a year!” She resigned herself to the fact that, not only would she and Tony still have to pay back the five grand, plus any further interest they accrued, but she would also never be fucked so well again. She had enjoyed the pain and humiliation: Karl had unleashed a part of her that she had never consciously been aware of existing. How could she ever go back to straight sex again? Tony had remained on the couch all this time, the deep cut on his littlest finger pumping out blood. Karl decided that they had better get it stitched up before they had a body - and therefore no money - on their hands, so he ordered the blonde man to drive Tony to the hospital and make sure he didn’t let his mouth run away with him. Karl and the younger, dark haired man, Scott, stayed behind in the house with Natasha. As they sat in the lounge, Natasha wearing only her stockings, an idea obviously came to Karl. He took Scott into the kitchen and she heard their voices, low and murmuring. She wasn’t afraid anymore: if they killed her or not, she didn’t care. She just wanted to get things over with. They returned, big smiles on their faces. Karl sat next to her. “It’s your lucky day, Natasha. I know how much you enjoyed this afternoon, so I’m going to make you a little deal. I’ll wipe the slate clean of any further interest - so Tony will only have to pay back the original five thousand - if you agree to come with me, now, no questions asked.” He studied her face for a response. She looked afraid, but her eyes also flickered with excitement. This was some choice: she could stay with Tony and their mounting debts, knowing that they would never be able to pay off the five grand, never mind any further debts; or she could go with Karl, not knowing where they were going or what would happen, and not only wipe out any further debt but bring some excitement into her boring life. She had to think… Karl didn’t want to hang around any longer, though. He grasped her jaw in his hand, squeezing her cheeks together, and turned her face until it was directly in line with his. He looked into her eyes: “Tell me now. Are you staying here with that worm and your pathetic little existence or are you coming with Uncle Karl for a mystery ride?” As he spoke, he drove his fingers into her cunt and pushed hard, just once. It was enough: she cried out “I’m coming with you” and the decision was made. Karl half-dragged her up to the bedroom she shared with Tony and flung open her wardrobe. Raking through her clothes he found a black fitted chiffon top with long, floaty sleeves and a deeply-cut neck. It was a remnant of her younger, clubbing days and she had always worn it over a black bra-top and hotpants. Karl decided that it would look better with nothing beneath it, and told Natasha to put it on. She did as he instructed; looking in the mirror, she saw that it hid very little of her body: she could see clearly her nipples and her firm breasts, her little mound pressed against the fabric in a raised v-shape. The dress barely covered her ass and she knew that anyone walking behind her would see her cheeks peeping out from under the fabric. And she would never be able to sit down without exposing her slit… Karl rummaged around in her drawers and produced a bright red lipstick, matching nail polish, black eyeliner and mascara and a rosy rouge. “Make yourself up like the slut you are”, he barked at her. She layered the make-up on thick, the way she saw girls in pop videos do it. She wasn’t old - only 27 - but she hadn’t really gone for this kind of look since she was in her late teens. Staring into the mirror, she was surprised by the results: with her hair tousled from all the grabbing and her face looking that way, she found herself quite sexy. She was told to leave on her stockings and to step into a pair of black patent high-heeled shoes. Now she really looked like a hooker. She became more aroused and could see her nipples becoming harder, raising the fabric away from her tits, and a little moist patch forming on the material between her legs. Karl and Scott seemed impressed too: the younger man in particular had a huge bulge in the front of his trousers. However, they had a plan on their minds and they weren’t going to waste any more time. Karl grabbed Natasha’s arm again and pulled her downstairs and out to a waiting car. Scott got into the driver’s seat; Karl pushed Natasha into the back with him. She looked around nervously, afraid that one of her neighbours might see her dressed like this. Nobody was in sight though. She sat back against the rough fabric seat, her ‘dress’ now sitting around her waist exposing her pussy to the cold air. It felt good: so soothing after it’s earlier abuse. Scott had the air-conditioning on and her nipples became even more erect: you could hang a coat on them now. They drove for some time, maybe half an hour, and then pulled up at a sleazy looking bar attached to a motel. Scott got out of the car and crossed to a waiting vehicle on the other side of the street. A large, burly Italian-looking man stepped out of the passenger’s side. He wore a long coat; his hair was greying and his face looked harsh. Natasha guessed that he was in his mid fifties. A bag was passed out of the car to Scott. He and the Italian exchanged words then crossed back over to where she and Karl were waiting. Karl turned to face her, grabbed hold of her right nipple and twisted it sharply. She gasped in pain. “Do everything you’re told you cock-sucking whore or I’ll beat so bad they’ll need your dental records to identify the body.” Terror gripped her chest: why had she agreed to come with them? She didn’t know what they wanted! She just presumed she would be fucked again by Karl, but they hadn’t actually said what was going to happen! She was told to get out of the car. The street was busy and she felt her cheeks flush as people looked at her in her costume. Karl and Scott stood on either side of her; the older man sat down where she had just been and closed the car door. Scott then walked into the bar. “OK, bitch. This is what you’re gonna do. Go in there and take a seat on one of the high stools at the bar. Do not talk to Scott; do not acknowledge his presence. Just sit at the bar and drink orange juices - not whiskies, OK? - until some guy comes up and talks to you. Put this in your ear” - he handed her a small radio receiver - “and do whatever I tell you. If you disobey me, I’ll kill you. If you tell anyone what’s happening, I’ll kill you. Scott will be watching you all the time; if you try to leave, I’ll kill you. Do you understand?” “Yes”, she said, voice trembling with fear. He grabbed her nipple again. “Yes, what?” “Yes, sir”. “Good. Now get going.” He slapped her on the ass as she slowly started towards the door. Entering the bar, she felt every eye in the room turn to look at her. The crimson rash of her embarrassment spread across her face, her neck, her chest. She wanted to turn and run; for a second, she almost did. Then she caught sight of Scott looking at her, running his finger slowly across his neck like a guillotine, and she submissively approached the bar. She ordered an orange juice from the bar-tender, who could barely take his eyes off her tits long enough to get it, and then sat on a stool. Her ‘dress’ just skimmed her ass at the back, hiding it from view; she crossed her legs to cover her pussy at the front. However, everyone could see her long legs, the expanse of flesh at the top of her stockings; her breasts were even more visible. She sipped her juice slowly, wondering what would happen next. Time went by and she suffered the indignity of lewd comments and jokes from the men sitting around her. One man grabbed her breast and said “Mmm…I’d love to have a suck on that”. Karl told Natasha to let him, but the man walked away. Another guy asked her if she was a whore; she had to reply, “Yes, do you want a blow job?” The man looked tempted and asked to ’see the merchandise’ before he made a decision. Karl told her to spread her legs so the man could see her snatch. She did so: the man rubbed a finger over her slit and then sucked on it, but then he too walked away. By the time an hour had passed, Natasha had drunk three juices and was bursting to go to the toilet, but she didn’t want to stand up and give anyone else an eyeful. Instead, she squirmed on her stool, crossing and uncrossing her legs. Scott must have somehow been in contact with Karl though, and she hear him order her to pay a little visit. She stood up and tried to pull her chiffon wrapping down as far as she could. Karl told her to let it go. As she walked across the bar, she could hear the comments flying at her: “Nice titties baby”, “Show us your pussy”, “You looking for some action sweet thing?” She held her head up and ignored it all, but as soon as she made it to the Ladies room she collapsed against a cubicle door, shaking like a leaf. She saw to her business, then looked frantically around for some means of escape. There was none though! The windows were high, small and barred; there was no back door. And where would she go if she did get out? She wouldn’t make it far in this get-up. She resigned herself to going back out to her seat. On her way across the floor, she passed a door which had previously been closed. She saw Scott standing inside the other room; Karl told her to go through, but not to talk to him. As she walked through the door, she heard it close behind her. Looking around, she saw two muscle-bound guys in checked shirts and jeans playing pool; three other burly men were standing by the wall. Then there was Scott and the old Italian guy from the car : they sat at a table in the corner. Two trampy looking blondes were moving from man to man, flirting with them, letting the guys slap their asses, squeeze their tits, kiss them. They both wore short lycra dresses in lurid colours; there hair was big and curly and they were made up in a similar way to Natasha. “Well…look what we have here”, said one of the spectators, walking around the pool table towards her. “A hot new piece of ass.” He rubbed his groin appreciatively. “And what’s your name honey?” Natasha replied; he walked around her in a circle, admiring her body. “Don’t leave much to the imagination, do you?” he smirked, raising a laugh from the rest of the room. Natasha remained silent. Then she heard a voice in her ear: “Go over to the pool table, stand with your back to it and spread you legs. Say nothing.” She slowly moved across to the table and turned around, standing as she had been instructed. Whistles filled the room, even from the girls. “So you want something, little lady?” asked one voice. Under orders, she shook her head then lowered it, so that she was looking demurely up from between her eye lashes. She coyly bit her lip and held her hands in front of her in a child-like pose. The men looked at each other, intrigued by this contradictorily shy girl who was so vampishly dressed. One guy decided to test the water and approached her. He took her face in his hands and kissed her full on the mouth: she tasted beer on his lips and smelt sweat and cheap aftershave from his body. Karl told her to slap him and she took pleasure in hitting him hard across the face. There was a gasp from the room, then the two girls were sent outside. That left seven men, and they didn’t look very happy. The man who had just tried to kiss her turned away to face the others, then swung back and belted her across the cheek. She stumbled, her high heels not supporting such a sudden movement by her body, and crumpled to the floor. Her cheek stung like crazy and she could feel her eye starting to swell. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing you cunt? You can’t come in here and play the prick tease with us.” She felt tears fall down her cheeks. She wanted to apologise, to explain what was happening, but she saw two of her captors watching her from the other side of the room and heard Karl’s insistent voice in her ear. “Tell them to fuck off: you can wear what you like and it doesn’t entitle them to anything.” She didn’t want to provoke these men any further, but she did as she was told. The faces got angrier. None of them seemed quite able to believe what this tramp was saying! These were ‘good old-fashioned men’s men’, none of this ‘new-age nancy-boy stuff’. Women were for fucking and for keeping the house: they certainly weren’t meant to come into their pool room and give them lip. Each of them was thinking that she ought to be taught a lesson; it was just a matter of time before someone voiced this thought. Natasha began to shake now. She knew what was coming next. All the men, except Scott and the Italian, approached her and, taking a limb each, lifted her onto the table. Each man held onto her, her arms and legs stretched apart to the four corners of the baize. The man she had slapped climbed on top of her and ripped at the chiffon top, tearing it off with ease. He hungrily began to bite on her nipples as his hands moved to unbuckle his trousers. He dropped them, and his boxers, to his knees and she could see his short, fat cock swinging over her. Without warning, he slammed it into her cunt. Oh the pain! Natasha screamed out and one of the men quickly clamped a hand over her mouth; Karl shouted in her ear: “Shut up you cunt”. She wasn’t even slightly wet now, and this animal’s dick was tearing into her, rubbing against the walls of her snatch and creating a hot friction inside her. He didn’t push as deep as Karl, or even as her husband, but he had a large girth and he was scraping against her pussy from all sides. He kept his mouth clamped to one of her tits as he banged away at her but, to her intense relief, it wasn’t long before he came, then rolled off her. The other men cheered as he stood up, grabbed himself and shouted “I bet she’s never felt anything like that before”. He pulled up his trousers, grinning wildly at his mates. “What was her cunt like?” one of them asked. “Tight as a teenage girl”, he gloated. She lay on the table, shaking. At least her pussy was wet now, filled with that bastard’s spunk. It cooled some of the burning she felt inside. Karl laughed in her ear and she hated him, hated them all for this. The other men still pinned her down and she squirmed around, trying to free herself. She only succeeded in hurting her wrists and ankles though. She should have expected it, but she was terrified when she saw her rapist take hold of her left ankle, releasing one of the pool players. He dropped his trousers now and pulled himself on top of her. He was much bigger than the last guy and his weight bore down on her as he kissed her mouth: his cock was long, but not as thick. He pushed his tongue deep into her throat with the sensitivity of a fourteen year-old boy, making her gag. His left hand covered her slit and her rubbed up and down over her clit, roughly and with no obvious interest in her arousal. She could see his cock get harder, though. Still kissing her, it was his turn to abuse her pussy. In went his cock, further than the last man’s. Natasha thanked God that he had left her slightly wet, and this fucking didn’t hurt half as much. The man lasted a bit longer than his predecessor and came harder: he bit down on her lip as he pumped her full of spunk. When he stood up, she licked her sore lip and caught the metallic taste of blood. It was the third man’s turn. He wanted a blow job, so she was sat up with her hands gripped behind her back. The temptation to bite him filled her head, but Karl filled her ears with the same warning as earlier: “No teeth, or that’s all they’ll identify you by.” So she took the man’s dick in her mouth and sucked him off, paying particular attention to the head, hoping to finish him quickly. He obliged and within minutes pushed her down onto her back and showered her tits with creamy white fluid. He seemed very pleased with himself: “I love a good blow job”, he beamed. He rubbed his jism into her tits then put each finger in turn into her mouth, forcing her to lick them clean. Man number four seemed to want Natasha aroused before he got to work. He didn’t lick her pussy - and with all that cum in it, she didn’t blame him - but he did kiss around her thighs and lower belly. He deftly stroked her clit and slipped a finger inside her as he licked her neck and shoulders. To her disappointment, her body betrayed her again and she could feel herself getting moist from her own juices. He could feel this too, and announced to the others, “I’ve got her panting for me boys. This one’s gonna scream when I fuck her.” He was right. As he drove his cock in and out of her, he kept his thumb on her clit, driving her to the edge of orgasm. The hand was removed from her mouth and she let out sharp little cries of pleasure. However, she was devastated when he made her climax at the same time as him, her cunt squeezing his dick and drawing out all the spunk she could get, her head thrown back as she cried out at the waves of pleasure which engulfed her. This seemed to excite him even more and he stayed inside her for quite a while, moving slowly, little spurts of cum escaping even then. Natasha was exhausted and distraught. The only thing that kept her going was the fact that her ordeal must soon be over: there was only one man left. She figured that Scott wasn’t going to join in and the Italian didn’t even look that interested. They certainly hadn’t moved over to the pool table. The remaining man was the other pool player. He was a large, heavy set man with a broad face. He obviously worked out. She hoped the old adage was true and that he would have been trying to compensate for a small dick when he built up his muscles like that. Was she ever wrong! As he dropped his trousers, she saw a monstrous piece of meat rise out from his pants. It wasn’t just thick, it was long. It looked at least twelve inches, longer and fatter even than Karl’s, and he was the biggest she had ever taken. When he climbed on top of her, she saw his bulging thigh muscles and enormous balls and she tried to press herself back against the pool table, desperate to get out of his reach. But there was nowhere to go. Her pussy was nicely slicked up now and he wasted no time in starting on her. She felt herself fill up, both lengthwise and sideways, as his massive dick reached every part of her from side to side and front to back. To her despair, she looked down and saw that there was still a good three inches not yet inside her. He saw her glance, and pulled himself right back until his tip was just touching her pussy lips, then slammed into her, his full weight behind the thrust. She screamed again, her cry muffled by the hand that returned to cover her face. He pulled out and repeated the motion. She thought that he would surely rip her apart, such was the depth of his thrust. Even then, he stopped as he was inside her and wriggled a little, so that she felt him tunnel further into her cunt. The wriggling also excited her and she felt herself getting hot again. The man continued pounding her snatch, wriggling on the in stroke so that she found herself actually raising her hips to meet him. She was so ashamed - she didn’t want these men to see that this was actually satisfying her on some level - but her body wouldn’t comply with what her brain was saying. She tightened into an intense orgasm that enveloped his cock in wetness. He withdrew from her, fluid dripping off his gigantic dick; she wondered what he would do now. There was no way she could take all that meat in her mouth: maybe he was going to get her to toss him off over her tits. The Debt Collector Ch. 02 She saw him nod to the men who held her down and they shifted her up onto her knees. Doggie style? She knew this would hurt, cos it was the position that let a man get deepest inside you. At the same time, she also knew that it would make her cum like a demoness as he his her g-spot with every stroke. But no! She was pushed forward so that she sprawled on her stomach, tits pressed against the hard fabric, arms and legs spread again. A coat was pushed under her hips, then another, raising them high above her back. She heard a man behind her and looked over her shoulder to see her last assailant holding his cock close to her. He rubbed her slit with it, wetting it slightly. Then she heard him spit and she wondered why he would be trying to make it wetter. Too late, she realised. She felt hands pressing her buttocks apart and something hard pressing against her. He was going to fuck her ass! Her mouth was uncovered now - she was too tired to scream - and she began to beg with him. “Please sir, please not that. I’ve never done that before, I can’t take it. You’re too big. Please, take my pussy. It’s nice and wet. Or my mouth. I could suck you good. Just don’t do that to me, please.” It was no use, though. She felt an intense pain as he pushed into her; she thought she would pass out. Nothing had ever felt so uncomfortable, so tight before. She just wanted him out. This man came from Karl’s school of fucking though. He knew how to not just physically abuse her, but mentally torture her too. As he moved back and forth inside her tight, virginal ass, he reached his hand around and rubbed her clit. She didn’t want to cum like this, not being raped in this way, but she couldn’t help herself. The pressure on the walls of her cunt as he fucked her coupled with the feeling of her clit getting circled was just too much. As she felt his cock spasm and her ass fill with hot fluid, she climaxed too, moaning with pleasure and pain. He pulled out of her and grabbed her by the hair, turning her face around to meet his groin and shoving his dick between her lips. She was repulsed, licking him clean like this, and yet she was still shuddering from her orgasm at the same time. Her mind was in turmoil, her body her enemy. She licked and sucked, his cock growing again and pushing deep into her throat, until he came once more and she swallowed his salty fluid. He withdrew, grabbed her jaw and looked her in the eye: “Look at my face. Don’t ever forget me. I’m the man who took your virgin ass and stretched it out, and I made you cum while I did it. I knew you were a dirty whore when you walked in here. I knew you’d enjoy a good ass-fucking. Next time you want a nice creamie ass-pie, you know where to come slut.” He dropped her back onto her stomach and gave her ass a resounding slap. She heard movements around her and, by the time she looked up again, the room was empty. Even Scott and the Italian had gone. She crawled to the edge of the pool table and lowered herself to the floor. Her pussy was still tingling, but her body felt battered and abused. Tears of ecstasy mingled with tears of shame as she struggled to stand, her legs weak, her ankles in pain. She had nothing to wear but her stockings and shoes. Looking around, she spotted one of the coats that had raised her hips had been left behind. She pulled it on and peeked out of the door into the bar: it was also deserted. She figured that the door would be locked; turning, she saw a fire escape door and stumbled towards it. Pushing at the bar with all her remaining strength, she fell as it swung open and landed in the wet alley. She half-expected to see Karl waiting there for her, but it was empty. Crying, shaking, she staggered down the lane, using the walls for support. When she reached the street, she flagged down a taxi. The driver didn’t ask about her appearance: he was used to seeing all sorts in this part of town and knew better than to ask questions. He drove her back to her home in silence and waited while she went indoors to get some money. Her house was empty: no sign of Tony or of Karl’s henchmen. She paid the driver and he left her alone in the house where this whole thing had started. Natasha ran a bath and washed her abused body; she cleaned her teeth again and again until she could no longer taste the salty fluid that had filled her mouth. She got out, wrapped herself in a towel, dried her hair and sat down on the couch. The whisky bottle was still there and she finished it off. She didn’t call the police. She felt that it was all her fault: she had wanted Karl to fuck her again and so agreed to go with him, not knowing what he had in store for her. She didn’t sleep that night, or the next night, or the night after that. Tony never re-appeared. She checked with the local hospital and found out that he had been there, getting treatment for a ‘minor wound’. She didn’t know if he’d been killed when he left or if he just couldn’t face coming home. She didn’t care either way. Karl and his goons never showed their faces again either. Somehow, Natasha managed to pay off her debts: she gladly sold the house and moved to a little flat, and pretty soon she was back on her feet again. Nine months later, she gave birth to a baby girl, Tina. The birth certificate stated “Father: Unknown”. It was the truth. It could have been one of eight men, anyone except Tony in fact. She loved her daughter though, and tried to put the memory of her conception behind her. And she almost did. Tina was a beautiful baby who grew into a gorgeous little girl. She worked hard at school and her mother was intensely proud of her. They almost had a happy ending. But then came the day, when Tina was eight, that Natasha bought a computer. She was making enough money now to splash out on some little luxuries and, besides, it would help Tina with her school work. They had great fun learning how to use the machine, and Natasha set up e-mail accounts for them both. As she experimented with surfing the Net, she decided to type her own name in, just for fun. She was surprised to see that it produced an enormous number of hits: Natasha Peters must be a popular name! Her surprise turned to terror as she looked down the list of matches and found that they were all un-addressed porn sites. With a sinking feeling, she clicked on the first link: it was a pay-per-entry site. So was the next, and the next. She got her credit card and entered her details: a menu came up on the screen. There was her name: “Natasha Peters Gets Taught a Lesson”. She didn’t want to look. With trepidation, she clicked the ‘play’ button. Her face appeared on the screen. She was sitting in that bar, the bar from all those years ago, wearing the chiffon top. Transfixed with horror she saw the events of that night replayed before her, from the first approaches by the men as she had a drink to the final scene of her head flung back in pleasure, coming as her ass was fucked. Tears poured down her face. Scott had filmed it all! Everything fell into place. The Italian must have been Karl and Scott’s boss; he must have arranged for everything to be filmed so that he could make back his money from her. Feeling sick, she realised that she had probably just added to his coffers by paying to enter this site. She ran into the bathroom and was violently sick. Men all over the word were getting their rocks off watching her being raped! She sank to the floor, laughing with bitter irony. Her debt had been well and truly collected.