“Mrs. Gettys, a toast is in order, in celebration of your marriage.” I looked toward Mr. Sun and blushed. He lifted his glass in the classic gesture and the other men followed suit with muted smiles—if they smiled at all. “I suppose, though, that George has not informed you of our evening’s further activities,” he went on to say.
I looked at him bewildered. “No, I don’t believe he has,” I finally answered.
“Well then, I’ll let Mr. Sands explain,” he nodded to the elegant black man, who again stared at me with such profound intimacy that I felt my spirit weaken and my body quake. Not that it was necessarily a bad feeling, but it was certainly something that made me uncomfortable, especially since that feeling was becoming increasingly sexual.
“George, what is this about?” I asked my husband as we moved into the adjoining room—a large finely furnished stateroom. I remember very little about the room now, except how the polished brass fixtures gleamed like gold in the soft light.
He seemed as nervous as I was, but answered only with a sad, “I’m sorry.” Then he pulled out of my grasp, to leave me standing in the center of a circle of men, who’d taken seats in the provided chairs. The men from dinner were all there, the two Chinese businessmen, Julio, Mr. Sands and Dac. Mr. Sun, however, was at the back of the room some distance away, sitting too, but apparently there only to observe.
I looked around, rightfully alarmed. “What is this?” The assertive side of me that dared to take on legions of men had been submerged to that point. But it suddenly returned quite forcefully as I sensed the threat closing in around me.
“Let’s not panic, Mrs. Gettys,” Mr. Sands stood up. Moving to my side, he placed his hand on my shoulder tenderly. “You relax and do what we say, you might even enjoy your night.”
“I have every intention of enjoying my night. . . . with my husband!” I told him firmly, while trying to turn and catch George’s gaze, but Mr. Sands’ body was in the way.
“And he’ll be here, in fact the whole night is about him, so I imagine he’ll never be far from your mind.”
“What is this?” I tried jerking from his settling grasp, but his hand turned to steel as he gripped my shoulder tightly.
“Don’t be frightened,” his voice deepened. The force of his fingers clawing into my shoulder seemed to weaken me again, as if he were taking over my body. At the same moment, a strong pulse of desire began beating in my crotch. Though I tried to force it away, it only seemed to beat more fervently for my efforts to squash it.
“Please,” I wanted to cry, to grab for George and fly from the room, but I knew that would never happen. I was afraid. Something about this cruel turn of events signaled an abrupt and definitive end to my romantic honeymoon.
“You won’t be hurt in any significant way, girl,” Mr. Sands went on to say. “And you’ll be doing your husband a great favor. He has a debt to pay, one I don’t think he could pay without your help. And that fact puts him in a very precarious position with us. He’s dependent on your cooperation.” This time, I managed to turn enough to see George’s face.
“What is this about?” I asked him.
But his face was vacant and his body tense as though he were about to walk the plank. “I’m sorry,” he said again.
“Let’s not bother asking him questions, Mrs. Gettys,” the soothing Mr. Sands interjected, “I have all the answers you need.” He was stroking my back gently, as if that might ease the truth of what he was about to say. “You love your husband?”
“Of course, I do.”
“And you’d do what you can to help him out of a bad situation?”
“What situation is that?”
“Don’t answer my question with a question, Mrs. Gettys,” his voice turned cooler. “Do I have your cooperation or not?”
“But I don’t know what I’m agreeing to.”
“You’re agreeing to help George pay his debt, simple as that.” His voice was like velvet meant to soothe the agitated nerves that transmitted messages of danger and flight just beneath my fiery skin. “The one to Mr. Sun and his associates. Your husband has been embezzling from the company for some months, taking money that doesn’t belong to him.”
“You’re not serious?” I turned again to George, but this time he refused to meet my gaze.
“We’re very serious,” Mr. Sands answered for him. “And your husband is in a very serious predicament. We can either turn him over to the authorities, which will mean he’ll spend a long time in prison, or,” he paused to let this information sink in, “you can do us a favor. You wish to help him?”
“Of course, I do,” I jumped right in, despite the nagging suspicions that my ‘help’ would take an ugly turn.
“Good,” he seemed pleased. “Do everything you’re told and we’ll have no problem.”
His hand moved across my back, across my shoulder and downward to my ass. A twinge of excitement raced through me as I accepted the sensuous feelings that resulted. But No! This wasn’t right!. I tried to shake him off without success.
“What is it I have to do?”
“Just a simple trade, Mrs. Gettys. You can look at it this way… George tried to take something of great value that didn’t belong to him, so, in turn, we’re simply taking what is of value to him—and that is you.”
“Me? What do you mean?”
“You, Mrs. Gettys, and the prize of your virginity.”
“No!” I couldn’t believe what I heard.
“Oh, yes!” exclaimed right back. “If you’ll excuse the crude language, it would seem to be the best way to phrase the facts—you’re going to be fucked, deflowered, fucked and used by the lot of us.”
“No!” I jerked from his grasp in an attempt to run from the room, but one of the Chinese men and Mr. Sands himself hauled me back and held me tight. I struggled against their firm hands in an attempt to free myself, but without success. Their grip only tightened on me more, while the swell of enticing desire made my body crave the very thing they wanted from me. I don’t think I understood that desire right then. I was scared for my life and the great heat in me was focused only on getting away. I began to struggle, kicking and clawing. Then from somewhere outside the brawl of bodies, I heard a voice crisply say:
“You know how to calm her, gentlemen. Do it!”
The scuffle was all one great blur for several seconds, until I suddenly found myself shoved over Dac’s big lap, being spanked hard and hotly on my upturned ass. At first, the strikes were from his bare palm landing smartly on my clothed behind. That was enough in itself to get my attention—and yet I kept kicking like a naughty school child. Seconds into the assault—perhaps because I was fighting so hard—the spanking took a nasty change. The emerald dress was jerked up high to expose my naked bottom cheeks and Dac’s huge black fist came down, this time gripping a wooden paddle. The sting shot from my hot, blistered cheeks, though my nerves to the far extremities of my flailing body. Although Dac was certainly big enough to keep me from wrenching off his lap, he soon had help. My wild gyrations were forcefully subdued by men at my head and feet, taking control of my arms and legs so that I could hardly move.
“Dammit it, nooooooooo!” I bawled.
But no one paid attention.
(c)Tony Ryan, www.beauty-reality.com