Poor Osgood Pt. 03

Marla sat behind the wheel of her BMW SUV. Next to her was a gym bag full of money. She was terrified of what was going to happen. She had begged Tyrone to come with her for the drop-off, but he refused. Dante had said to come alone, and Tyrone knew that he would have people watching. He didn't want to do anything to provoke Dante. Tyrone also said he would be busy working on a solution. This was something she would have to do on her own.

"Give him the money and get the hell out of there," he had advised her. She didn't have any plans to stick around. She checked the clock. 1:55. She opened the door and got out, taking the gym back with her. She looked around the deserted street. Junior's Garage had been a chop shop back in the day, where Dante and his crew hung out. She had practically lived there for a dark period of her life.

She walked up to the metal door of the dirty, beat up building. The garage doors were shut. The windows next to the entrance were filthy and clouded over. It was deathly quiet. She tried the knob and the opened with a loud creak. She stepped into what had once been a small lobby, and the door clanged shut behind her sending a loud boom to echo and reverberate inside the metal building.

The interior was dimly lit. She walked around the counter and into the main area of the garage. The lifts had been removed long ago. She saw Dante sitting in the back on a ratty, broken-down old sofa. A man she instantly recognized stood next to him.

Jerome. Her breath caught in her throat. They were both looking at her.

"Well, well," came the echoing voice of her ex-husband. "You showed up. Smart girl. You got my money?" He didn't get up. Jerome started walking towards her.

"It's in here." She tossed the gym bag into the middle of the open floor. "A hundred-thousand. Now leave us alone." She backed toward the exit.

"Not so fast!" shouted Dante, "We need to count it. It's not that I don't trust you, Liz, but I don't trust you."

She stopped and waited. Jerome picked up the bag and took it to Dante. Her ex-husband opened it and dumped the contents out on the couch. He started counting it. As he did, Jerome started walking toward Marla.

"It's all there. I'm not stupid enough to short-change you." she was feeling her panic level rising the closer Jerome got to her.

"You're stupid enough to rat me out to the police and think you could get away with it." he shot back. Jerome was halfway to her.

She stepped backward, "I'm leaving. Count it on your own time. Just leave my family alone. That was the deal." She turned and quickly headed in the direction of the lobby exit. She could hear Jerome's feet and knew he was running. She broke into a sprint and made it to the doorway before she felt Jerome's large hands grab her arm and jerk her to a stop. He pulled her back into the garage.

Marla struggled and fought to get free from Jerome's iron grip. He just dragged her across the room with little effort.

"Let go of me, goddamit! I gave you the money!" she screamed, her voice bouncing off the walls. Jerome kept dragging her until he held her kicking and squirming in front of Dante.

"Shut the fuck up!" Dante said as he counted, "You done made me lose my count. Now I gotta start again." He nodded to Jerome, "Get my wife a chair so she can be comfortable while I count."

"I'll stand," she said defiantly.

"You'll shut the fuck up, is what you'll do." He resumed counting, ignoring her. Jerome let her go and walked into a storage closet, returning with an old metal chair and set it down facing Dante. When Marla didn't sit, Jerome grabbed her and shoved her down into it. She let out a startled cry, then was still.

"Get my wife a drink," Dante ordered.

"I don't want a drink. I want to go. I gave you the money." Jerome swung his arm, striking her across the face, hard. She fell out of the chair onto her hands and knees on the hard concrete floor.

"Dante told you to shut the fuck up, you dumb fucking cunt." He picked her up and slammed her back into the chair. Marla was dazed, seeing stars. She felt her left cheek burning and tasted blood.

"Please, I gave you the money. Just let me go. I gave you want you wanted," she pleaded with Dante, but he ignored her.

"Please, Dante, please," she begged. Jerome returned, and she stopped speaking, not wanting to be hit again. She could already feel the left side of her face swelling.

He held a red solo cup out to her. "Drink it."

"No, thank you, I don't want to drink." She was suspicious of what was in the cup. She knew it wasn't hospitality that motivated Dante. She saw two more men, younger men in their twenties come out of the storage room.

Jerome stood in front of her. "Drink it, or I'll fucking make you drink it, but you'll be missing a few teeth." He held the cup out to her again.

She took it in her hand and looked inside. There was a purplish liquid filling the cup about halfway. It looked like weak grape kool-aid. She didn't drink, afraid of what it was and what it would do to her.

She noticed the two younger thugs were pulling a piece of equipment over. She could see a large metal cylinder, like a giant scuba tank and some hoses on a handcart. She watched them nervously.

"Last time I'm telling you. Drink it!" snapped Jerome.

She raised the cup to her lips and sipped. It tasted like grape soda, but extremely bitter. She cringed and shook her head. "What is this?" she asked.

"All of it!" Jerome said placing a menacing hand on the back of her chair next to her head, leaning over her. She raised the cup and drank as much as she could. She gagged and choked on the awful taste. Her stomach recoiled, and she felt she might puke. "More!" Jerome shouted at her.

She flinched away from him then emptied the cup swallowing the rest. He took the empty cup from her and walked out of the room.

"Dante, please," she tried to plead with him again. She felt a slight surge of queasiness hit her. She saw the couch Dante was on tilt sideways. She felt as if the whole room was leaning to one side. She shook her head trying to clear her vision. Dante's head seemed too large to fit on his body. He was watching her and laughing. She laughed too.

"Oh, yeah, she feels it now," he said, standing up.

"What did you put in that drink?" she asked, over-articulating each word slowly as she struggled to speak. Her head was drifting from one side the other, and her eyes couldn't focus on anything.

Dante stood in front of her and grabbed her tits. She felt it, but it was like it was happening in slow motion. "Don't. Touch. Me" she said, then giggled, her head rolling backward. She felt the garage tilt back, like a roller coaster going up the starting hill. "clickety-clickety-clickety."

"Fuck, what is this shit?" she felt incredible. Her whole body was alive and surging with a slow-rolling wave of sensation.

"Twenty-two years I went without touching a pair of tits because of you." He squeezed her tits hard.

"I'm sorry, baby," she said slowly, a hint of a Texas drawl in her voice. "They made me do it."

Jerome returned and walked behind her. He took her arms and pulled them behind her back and secured them with a large zip-tie. She turned her head to look up at him smiling, "Oh, hey Jerome. Long time no see."

"Hey, Liz, welcome back." he chuckled.

"That's my name!" she said, pitching forward, her head rolling around. Jerome knelt and grabbed her right foot and secured it to the right-front leg of the chair with another zip-tie. He moved around and secured her left leg to the left-front leg.

Dante gripped her blouse with both hands and ripped it apart; buttons flew across the room to scatter all over the floor.

"Oops," Marla said giggling.

"Twenty-two years I went without fucking any whores, because of you." He shouted as he ripped her bra up exposing her still firm tits. Dante kneaded them hard in his fits, angrily squeezing them violently.

Marla threw her head back and said nonchalantly. "Ow," then giggled. "That's a long time not to have any pussy. But, I bet you had a lot of butt-hole sex while you were there." She laughed.

He struck her hard across the face. The zip-ties held her upright, but her head jerked violently. As she tried to straighten up, he struck her again the opposite way. She sat there, face down, chin on her chest as blood dripped onto her bare abdomen.

She raised her head slowly and looked up at her enraged ex-husband. "Oops," she said as she spat out blood, "So sensitive. It's ok you were gay for twenty years. We won't judge your lifestyle." She giggled again. One of the young men laughed.

"What the fuck you laughing at, bitch?" Dante yelled at him. He charged him and hit him doubling him over, then beat the hell out of the kid. "Don't you ever fucking laugh at me, bitch. I'll fuck you up!" The kid lay on the ground as Dante kicked him relentlessly. Blood was everywhere. He stopped and stood back then looked at the other young guy. "Get this bitch outta here before I kill his sorry ass!"

Dante turned on Marla and slapped her again. Her face was swollen and red; blood trickled from her right nostril and both corners of her mouth. He tried to pull her bra off but it was not coming free, and with her arms zip-tied to the chair, he couldn't it slip it off her arms.

"Give me a knife, Jerome," he said turning to his enforcer.

"Knife, boss?" he said, with a puzzled look on his face.

"Why you need a knife? You said you weren't gonna cut her." Jerome replied.

"I ain't gonna cut her," he tugged on her bra, "So I can cut the bra off."

"Oh," he said, sounding relieved, "I ain't got no knife, boss."

Dante looked at the one remaining young thug. "You got a knife?"

"No, man, I don't carry a knife," the young guy replied, shrugging his shoulders.

"Ain't nobody got a mother-fucking knife?" Dante was livid. He turned back to Marla and slapped her bare tits hard. She felt it but greatly dulled due to the drugs flowing through her body. He reached down between her legs, which were held open by the zip-ties at her ankles.

He felt her pussy under her skirt, then grabbed her underwear and ripped them down. He got them past her knees, and they stopped He tried to pull them down more, but with her legs held open, they wouldn't go down all the way. He pulled on them hard, and after the third yank, they tore and came away.

He shoved his hand into her pussy and started fingering her cunt hard. The drugs dulled the sensation, and she stared at him.

"Twenty-two years I haven't fucked a woman," he said as he shoved a third finger into her.

Marla chuckled and muttered something about buttholes.

Dante undid his pants and dropped them to the floor. His large cock was halfway erect as it flopped out in front of Marla. She saw it and smiled, "Oh hello!" she said.

Dante grabbed her legs and tried to push them apart. "I'm gonna fuck the shit out of you, Marla. Gonna make you remember what it's like to be Liz." Her legs wouldn't go very far apart. He realized the zip-ties were preventing her legs from being spread.

He turns on Jerome again, "Why the fuck did you zip-tie her legs?"

"She was kicking me. Plus I saw it in a movie." Jerome said plainly.

Dantie knelt down and pulled on the zip-tie. It wouldn't budge. He pulled harder and harder, dragging the chair around, but it wouldn't come loose. He stood up and angrily yelled at Jerome. "And you ain't got no knife?"

"Nah, man, I ain't got no knife. I done told you."

Marla giggled, and her head rolled back, eyes closed. Dante shook her. She didn't open her eyes. He shook her harder. Nothing. He slapped her face. She didn't wake up. "Jerome, how much of that shit did you give her?"

"All of it."

"All of it? Mother fucker, that was enough shit for five people."

Just then the car alarm in Marla's SUV went off. Dante ordered the young thug to go check it out and shut the alarm off. He trotted out. Dante started in on Jerome again.

"How am I supposed to fuck this bitch if you tie her legs to the chair and knock her ass out with purple drink? I want her awake and those legs around my ass, mother fucker. If I wanted to fuck some passed out bitch who just lay there, I would fuck your mother."

Jerome stood up defiant, "Yo, Dante, what you say about my mother?"

"Shut the fuck up, Jerome and find me something to cut off these zip-ties with before I fuck you up." Dante was done being nice. The alarm was still wailing. "And go out there and shut off that mother fucking alarm before all the police in town show up."

Jerome scratched his head, then left to investigate. Dante turned back to Marla's unconscious body. He jacked his cock, trying to get it hard, but it wasn't working. He grabbed her head by the hair and pulled her face against his cock. She didn't open her eyes, her mouth, or anything.

He rubbed his semi-erect cock on her face, slapped it on her mouth. He couldn't get hard, and she wouldn't wake up. The car alarm silenced. "Finally," Dante mumbled, under his breath. He was too frustrated and gave up on getting his cock hard. He pulled his pants back up and turned to return to the couch.

The barrel of a black .44 Magnum looked him in the face. He froze instantly. A man wearing all black, including a black ski mask and leather gloves, held the gun, pointed between Dante's eyes.

"You better hope she isn't dead," the masked man said.

-----

Marla lay curled on the sofa in the garage, wrapped in a blanket. She was sleeping and seemed to be at no risk from the drugs she had been given.

Dante Jones was naked, sitting in the simple metal chair, with his arms zip-tied behind him, and each foot zip-tied to a chair leg, just like Marla had been.

Tyrone stood in front of Dante. He was still wearing his gloves, but he had removed the ski mask. His gun was in a shoulder holster. He had a large, evil looking bowie knife in his hand. It looked razor sharp.

"You know, fuckwad," he said to Dante as he idly toyed with the blade, "if you're going to go to the trouble to zip-tie someone to a chair, you should always bring a knife.

Dante rolled his eyes and looked away, "Man, you ain't scaring nobody with this bullshit."

"I'm not trying to scare you, Dante," he said in a steady voice. "If I were, you'd piss your pants."

The lobby door opened and closed with a loud bang. Dante smirked, then shouted, "Jerome, take this mother fucker out!"

There was no answer.

"Jerome!" she shouted louder.

A small, frail elderly man entered the garage from the lobby. Osgood Whitmore III walked across the empty room and stopped next to Dante.

"I'm afraid your associate can't help you, Mr. Jones. Dead men have a hard time coming to the rescue." Osgood said as he stepped next to Tyrone.

The smile erased from Dante's face when he heard Jerome was dead.

"That's right, Mr. Jones, all of your hoodlums are dead. Noone will help you. Unless you wish to join them, I suggest you cooperate with us." Osgood met Dante's stare.

"What the fuck do you want, old man?" he spat his words with vitriol.

"You have something I want. I'm a businessman. I will buy it from you, for a fair price. When we are finished conducting our business, you will be free to leave." Osgood spoke slowly and deliberately, with a calm, matter-of-fact demeanor that would have seemed scary to someone other than Dante Jones.

"Man, I ain't selling you shit." He turned to look away, ignoring Osgood.

"The videotapes of my wife, Mr. Jones. I want them."

"Yeah?" he laughed, "You want to watch Liz fuck my whole crew and love every inch of black cock she took? That bitch couldn't get enough. You think I forced her to make those videos? They were her ideas. She loved making them."

Osgood grimaced and clenched his jaw. "I will offer you a fair and reasonable price. We can be civilized. How much do you want?"

"Fuck you, old man," he sneered at Osgood.

"Well, let me make you an offer," Osgood said, ignoring the insults. "I will give you the little toe on your right foot," Osgood said, smiling.

Dante raised his head and looked puzzled. "What the fuck you talking about?"

"Tyrone," Osgood said, turning to the man in black, "Please be so kind as to cut it off and give it to Mr. Jones as payment for the videos."

Dante's head jerked around, "What? Fuck you, old man! I don't scare easy. He ain't fucking cutting off my toe."

Tyrone stepped forward and punched Dante hard in the face then stomped on his bare foot with his heavy, leather combat boots. He knelt and cut the toe off with one rapid slice of the blade.

Dante watched, disbelieving. Suddenly, pain seared through him, and he screamed. "You cut off my fucking toe! You mother fucker! I'm gonna kill you bitch!"

Tyrone placed the severed toe on Dante's lap.

Osgood spoke again, "Do you accept my offer? Or do I need to raise my offer? The videos Mr. Jones."

"Fuck you! You cut off my toe. Fuck you!"

"Very well, You drive a hard bargain. I will sweeten the pot. Tyrone cut off Mr. Jones' left ear and give it to him as an additional incentive to turn over the videos."

"What? No, wait! Wait!" Dante shouted for Tyrone to stop, but it was too late. As the knife sliced through the soft flesh of his ear, he jerked his head. The ear didn't come off cleanly; part of the ear was still attached.

Dante screamed and looked like he might pass out. Tyrone laid his partially severed ear next to the toe.

"Well, Mr. Jones, will you sell now?" Osgood asked.

"Fuck you." he snarled, trying not to pass out.

"You leave me no choice but to make you a rich offer. Tyrone cut off his testicles and give them to him."

"Wait! Wait! Ok! Ok! You can have them!" Dante relented.

"Where are they?" Tyrone demanded, holding the knife over Dante's groin. "We want the originals and all copies."

Dante told them where he had stashed the videos, and how to find them. Tyrone called one is his trusted lieutenants and gave him the instructions. A few minutes later he called back.

"We've got it all," Tyrone informed his employer.

"Excellent," said Osgood, smiling at Dante. "See, that wasn't too painful, now was it?" He turned to Tyrone, "Pay the man."

Tyrone stepped forward and lowered the blade between Dante's legs. Dante cried out, "I gave you the videos!"

Osgood chuckled, "Yes, and the agreed-upon price was your testicles. Pay him, Tyrone." He turned his back and went to check on his sleeping wife.

Dante's screams could still be heard as Tyrone carried Marla and gently placed her in the back of Osgood's limousine, next to his boss.

"Thank you, Tyrone," the old man said, as he cradled his wife's head in his lap. "Please finish this and make sure nothing is ever traceable back to Marla."

The head of security nodded silently and closed the door. He walked back inside the garage, still echoing with Dante's endless shrieking and crying. A few seconds later, the cries suddenly stopped.

The police determined that Dante and his crew had gotten into a fight over drugs and had killed each other. They quickly closed the case. The news outlets didn't even bother to report it.

It took a few days for Marla to recover from her ordeal. She remembered very little after having been forced to drink the purple beverage by Jerome. She didn't know that Osgood had been there and had no idea that Osgood knew all about her past. She assumed that Tyrone had saved her. She never knew the truth.

Osgood kept the videos. He watched them every night before joining Marla in bed. As he pumped his little cock into her, he knew he would never be able to satisfy her needs.

But, he knew who could.

--- End of Part 3 ---