Mia's Journey: An Erotic Thriller (22 page)

“Violence is the last refuge of the incompetent.”

Isaac Asimov

Chapter 61

Daddy came to and found he was hanging by his hands over a blood drain on the floor.

He looked about the room. It was an old, tiled room with one door leading into it. Judging from the hinges, the door opened inward, rather than outward. The floor was concrete, sloping to a large blood drain on the floor.

The concrete was discolored in places with a rust color permanently etched into the concrete. There were a number of hooks hanging down, which rested on a ball-bearing track-like arrangement used for moving heavy hanging loads from one part of the room to another.

There were also several rope pulleys suspended from the ceiling. One of which was holding him now.

He knew he was in the “killing room” of a slaughterhouse.

Okay, I know where I am. Time to take stock of my personal inventory,
he thought, running through his options in his mind. He flexed each limb to see if there was any injury. None that he could feel. Good.

He wasn’t suspended above the ground, which was also good. He had no shoes and the concrete was cold on his feet. Another good sign.
Okay, I’m immobile, but uninjured,
he thought.

Okay, I’m in a slaughterhouse, which means I’m probably on the south side of town at one of the abandoned meat packing plants. Okay, take personal inventory, what’s my current situation?

I’m uninjured. I’m on the south side of town. I’m in the killing room of a slaughterhouse which means there are probably makeshift weapons available if I can find them, or use what is handy. I’m suspended in the air, but my feet are touching the floor. I have no shoes.

“Yo, whitebread,” DOP was sitting on a chair in back of him. He got up now, walking into Daddy’s line of sight. “Youse got lots to answer fo.”

Daddy said nothing.

The door to the killing room clanged open and a bunch of gang bangers came in. They were carrying baseball bats.

“Now we’s gonna have a good old-fashioned game of baseball. Do you like baseball, cracker?”

DOP snapped his fingers and someone threw him a bat. He caught it and held it up.

“Louisville Slugger. These bats of course, ain’t quite regulation, see? We fills the ends with lead. What chu think, Cracker?”

Daddy remained silent.

DOP waited a beat, then took careful aim, and let a wild swing go. Daddy had enough time to anticipate the swing and angle his body so that the bat hit nothing vital.

“Foul ball,” said DOP. He sized Daddy up again and let loose another wild swing. Once again, Daddy could deflect the blow.

“I’d call dat one a strike,” he looked over his shoulder at his boys, “what you think?”

DOP was getting angry. Daddy wasn’t begging or pleading. He wasn’t grunting in pain, or making any sound whatsoever. He just hung there looking at him. In fact, it was starting to creep DOP out a little. If he couldn’t get this white bread to scream, he was going to lose face in front of his boys. Daddy looked at him and instantly knew what he was going to do next.

“Come on, homey’s, come on over here. Wat dey call this in Mexico? A ‘pin’ something, I forget. It’s Mexican for let’s beat this cracker senseless.”

Someone put on a boom box of loud rap music and cranked the volume to the max. The crowd surged forward to have fun. Daddy knew he had no choice but to take it and hope they didn’t injure anything major. He knew he could take out the gang banger in front of him named DOP, but it wouldn’t gain him anything. He’d still be trussed up and out numbered.

“Now, we be talking,” the boys surged forward. A couple of their whores stood against the wall and watched. Their mouths hanging open in sick fascination.

The blows came out of nowhere and everywhere. Daddy had no other option but to disappear up inside his head and travel to another place. The Marines taught him how to handle pain a lifetime ago.

“Hey DOP! How come you don’t let the ho’s have a chance, uh?” said one of the hookers. “He took my man, maybe I take his ‘man’ too,” said one of the women. She had a crazy look in her eye as she brought out a straight razor, leaving no doubt to her intent.

“Ooohhh…you hear dat, cracker? You went and pissed off one of dem bitches. As you know, you never, ever, piss off the kinder, gentler, sex, you feel me? Because, they say, ‘hell ain’t got no bitches, like a pissed off bitch,’ or somethin’ like dat.”

“Let me try…” The skank walked up to Daddy and unzipped his fly, and pulled his cock out. They other guys backed off, watching this twisted treat about to play out.

She pulled Daddy’s cock out into her hand and started stroking it.

“Oooohhhh…I think this look nice up on my trophy wall.” She moved the straight razor over it. “Now, you see, if we cuts way up here, I be sure to get to the whole thing, and then…”

DOP’s cell phone rang.

“Yeah?” DOP listened a minute. He motioned someone to turn down the music.

“Well, the brothers are already softening him up with a baseball bat. He got a lot to answer fo.” DOP stuck a finger in his ear to hear better.

“He a tough fucker, I give him dat.”

“Yo, yo! Stop fo a minute,” DOP said, waving at his boys, then speaking back to Flynn. “I can’t guarantee how long we be able to not wail on this boy, you feel me?”

DOP walked back over to Daddy.

“Yo bitch! Back off. The umps saying this game gonna have to go into overtime. I think youse a lucky cracker. Otherwise Lavonda here, she gonna take home a trophy.”

“A lawyer with his briefcase can steal more

than a hundred men with guns.”

Mario Puzo

Chapter 62

The Prescotts, Elder and Junior, watched a beaten and bruised Mia swinging in front of the mirror.

They were siting at a table, both drinking whiskey, taking a well-deserved break before resuming the fun.

“So what are we going to do with her boyfriend?” asked Junior.

“Kill him, of course. Do you see any other option?” Elder Prescott, wiped Mia’s blood off his hands with her torn dress and sat down.

“He could still be useful. We’re going to have to explain her disappearance. It’s kind of awkward right now. Gilheart, being the nice guy that he was, took the fall for her abduction. Then she was abducted again, poor girl, and brutalized by that fiend. Look at the condition she’s in. We’ll need to explain it somehow.”

“Well, I was careful. No marks we can’t cover up.”

“No, that isn’t what I meant. I’m talking about political perception. I’m talking about getting the female sympathy vote,” said Jeffery Prescott, warming up to his subject. “If Hillary Clinton could do it after Bill got a blow job in the Oval office, just by ‘Standing By Her Man’ think what Mia could do.”

“Okay, continue, I’m listening. What do you have in mind?”

“Like I said, we’re going to have to explain the abduction somehow. What if the brave and heroic Sergeant Flynn, on his own initiative of course, were to rescue her? This would give us a reason to promote Flynn as well.”

“True, true, continue…”

“In the course of that heroic rescue, the abductor gets shot. No one can blame Flynn. His life was on the line. Mia gets rescued and brought home to her loving husband. Flynn gets a medal, and a key to the city and my life-long gratitude. Mia’s boyfriend gets dead. We get the female sympathy vote. I get elected to the mayor’s office.”

“I can see, for once Jeffery, you’ve thought this out. It is however, going to need more back-up proof to sell, more than a dead kidnapper who can’t contradict the story.”

“That’s why we’ll need some semen from him before he dies, as well as a dirty doctor, who can perform the rape examination and repeat his findings on the witness stand. The Medical Examiner shouldn’t be a problem, because he actually will get shot, and killed, the way Flynn said it went down. We’ll have rock solid expert witness testimonies, DNA evidence gathered at the crime scene, as well as Mia’s corroboration.”

William Prescott drank his whiskey in silence, pondering the solution presented and looked for holes. He absently spun Mia around with the handle of a whip, absently inspecting her beaten body, probing with the whip handle into her orifices.

It could work,
he thought.

“What do you think, Mia? Do you think that could work?”

Mia lifted her head, “I think Daddy is going to kill you both slowly.”

Both men laughed.

“Mia, let me show you something.”

Elder Prescott nodded to Jeffery, and Jeffery left the room and came back with a laptop computer. He opened it, punched some buttons and swung it around for Mia to see.

On the screen was a video being played in real time. Daddy was hung up on a meat hook over a blood drain and gang bangers were taking turns striking him with baseball bats. She watched as one of the skanks walked over and took his cock out rubbing it with a straight razor. Mia turned away.

“Still think he’s going to come to your rescue?” said Elder Prescott. “Looks to me like he’s found some new friends and is having quite a bit of fun without you.”

William Prescott turned back to Jeffery. “It might work. Who do you have in mind to play the doctor?”

“I was hoping you could help me with that. Do you have any in your pocket?”

“Perhaps. Someone I do have in my pocket is a horse vet. I bet he’s used to getting his stallions to spurt for breeding purposes.”

“That might work.”

“So it might work like this; we bring your lovely wife to the appropriate place with a syringe full of kidnapper juice, inject it into her pussy, then call in the calvary. Officer Flynn takes the credit, shoots a low-life in self-defense, and Mia takes an ambulance to the nearest hospital that can do a rape kit. We put out a press release, praise Officer Flynn, ask for privacy, and Mia disappears for a while.”

“I like it,” says Elder Prescott. “It wraps everything up in a nice little package. Let’s give the good doctor a call, shall we?”

“He’s probably asleep at the moment.”

“So? What are money and power for?” Elder Prescott searched the numbers on his phone, found the one he was looking for and called.

“Denton? William Prescott. I hope I didn’t wake you up.” Prescott rolled his eyes for Jeffery’s benefit. Silence, then,

“I’ve got a ‘stallion’ I’d like to stud, then put out to pasture. Is that something you can help with?” Prescott listened, then,

“Excellent, excellent. When can we do it? Sooner the better on this end.” A final listening pause, then,

“I’ll be expecting your call, then. Thanks again. Give my regards to Stella.” He shut the phone.

“Done deal,” he said to Jeffery.

“Dad? I haven’t had a chance yet to try out this cattle prod. Its shape suggests so many different uses.”

Elder Prescott picked it up, squeezed the button on the end to see if he could get it to charge. An electric bolt of blue lightening zapped between the two connectors. He touched it to Mia’s nipple. She started jerking immediately.

“You’re right, Jeff. It does have potential for fun. You’re just full of good ideas tonight.”

“The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting.”

Sun Tzu

Chapter 63

Denton Millstone had been an under-the-table veterinarian for William Prescott’s horses for almost sixteen years.

His license had been revoked years ago, but Prescott still kept him around if he wanted to dope the horses, or hobble a competitor without being caught. Getting a call from him at three-thirty in the morning had unnerved him, but it wasn’t altogether unusual.

After all, horses and animals gave birth, got sick, and dropped dead at all hours of the day and night.

This job, he knew was going to be unusual right from the start. First, he was told to go out to the abandoned meat-packing plant on the South side of town. When he got there he was surrounded by a bunch of men with gang tats who started beating on his car with baseball bats when he didn’t come out.

He was thinking of running them over and getting out of Dodge when some pimp mobile showed up. The gang banger in command seemed to be expecting him, so the others quieted down some. Denton got out of his car hesitantly.

“Yo, yo, hey dog doc, it’s okay. My boys were just messin’ with you a little. No harm done, am I right? Now bros…don’t mess with the dog doc. Hes’ got a job to do.”

“So where is the animal to be treated?” asked Denton.

“Animal? Well, you could call him dat, but he might object, you feel me? You mind if the homeys and me watch? De hoes like this shit, you know.”

“No, I guess not. It is a pretty straight-forward procedure.”

“So what you call dis here, ‘procedure’?”

“Electroejaculation.”

“So, you like, gonna electro his jaculation?”

“Well, I guess that’s one way of putting it.”

“Okay, okay, now how’s dis work?”

“An electric probe is inserted into the rectum adjacent to the prostate gland. The probe delivers an AC voltage, usually twelve to twenty-four -volts sine wave at a frequency of 60 Hz, although some devices can generate currents of up to one Amp. The probe is activated for one to two seconds, and is referred to as a stimulus cycle. Ejaculation usually occurs after two to three stimulus cycles.”

“Wha’ da fu? Was dat English?”

“I stick this up the animal’s ass and shock his prostrate. How’s that?”

“Yo, bros! Come take a look at this!” DOP said to his gang. They all gathered around, and DOP, ever the educated college professor, explained to his ignorant homeys exactly what was going to happen next.

“Yo, yo, check dis out. He gonna take dis here, and stick it up his ass, and then shock the shit out of him. To do what again?”

“To collect his semen.”

“His wha?”

“His sperm,” more noncomprehending looks.

“His cum?”

“Yo, yo, bros, he gonna collect his jizz! Why you wanna do dat?” They continued walking down the hall.

The vet was still not understanding the true reason for his involvement. Nor had DOP figured out they were talking about different things.

“Many people do it for artificially insemination of another animal.”

“So den, let me get this straight, youse gonna get this brother’s jizz, then go and get his bitch pregnant? In the hood, we be able to do dat ourselves without no dog doctor involved. You white people are strange. Okay, here we be. He’s behind this door. Now you might want to be careful, doc, because he already kill five of my boys tonight.”

“This animal has killed five people tonight?”

“True dat.”

DOP opened the door. Daddy was still hanging over the drain, head down. Massive bruising on his face and body was starting to show. He lifted his head up, looking at the vet, but said nothing.

“Don’t mind him, he don’t talk much,” said DOP, helpfully.

“Where’s the animal?”

“What animal? He de animal! You milk the jizz out of DAT animal!”

“No, no, no. You can’t do this to a human.”

“Why? We wants to see. My hoes here are all worked up.” It was true. The vet looked over and a couple of them were already rubbing the cocks of some of the soldiers.

“It would be too painful.”

“Well, doc, that’s de whole point! Let me put it this way. Either you do him, or we’s gonna do you, ya feel me?” DOP pushed the vet inside the room. The vet walked around Daddy like he was a plague victim. Daddy just watched him calmly.

“This isn’t my idea. I want you to know that. I don’t have any choice in the matter.”

“Who’s idea was it?” Daddy spoke for the first time.

“William Prescott called me. Promised me a thousand dollars.”

“So, do I have this right, you’re going to electro stimulate me in order to collect my semen? Why does he need my semen?”

“He didn’t include me in his plans.”

“Okay. I see,” said Daddy.

“So, you’ll allow me to do it?” the vet asked with disbelief.

“Well no, I won’t allow you to do it. But I won’t kill you because you did. I understand you’re a victim. But if I were you, I wouldn’t hang around here very long after. Can you administer painkillers?”

“Yes, I can make it so you won’t feel a thing. In fact, I can also make it so you won’t feel anything these guys do to you either.”

“Would it impair my motor control?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Would I still be able to fight?”

“I would think so. But it might impede depth perception as well as balance.”

“Do you have any performance enhancers?”

“You mean like speed?”

“What I want is a cocktail. Both painkillers and performance enhancers, can you do that?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“One last thing. Can you switch my semen with horse semen?”

“I don’t understand.”

“You’re going to give my semen to Prescott, right? Maybe you could get them mixed up and give him horse semen instead.”

“Yes, I could do that.”

“Yo! Motherfucker! Quit talking. What you talking bout? Get on with it!” said DOP, “we be waiting.”

“Go ahead, give them a show,” said Daddy, “you have nothing to worry about. Do your job and go home, Doctor.”

“You won’t feel a thing, I promise.”

DOP and his gang were thrilled by the performance. Several clapped their hands when the deed was done. All of DOP’s soldiers got a blow job afterwards.