Olivia woke as big Craig slipped inside her pussy and started to rock. Still dazed like a thick fog hanging over the harbor, she tried to focus in the mental cloud. Olivia sensed the restraints, but wasn’t alert enough to panic against them.
Olivia’s mind attempted to focus. As if flipping through an album of old photos, she started to reawaken a myriad of sour relationship memories. A nasty bitch to the core, she turned on every boyfriend with rattlesnake like accuracy. Starting as young girl with alert breasts, she teased boys and embarrassed them.
When drugs became a buzzing element in the game, she let her body delight in lurid nights when only tingling sensations and sex filled the smokey air. She delighted in finding a man’s weak spot, pushing him to this tenuous location, then turning his pathetic frailty against him. It often cost the cowardly bastard a large chunk of his earnings.
While flipping through her lurid memories, which sometimes included women, she tested the restraints. Someone offered her a silver spoonful of white powder. “You’ll love this shit, baby,” Rick said.
She snorted it and two of the brothers giggled. It was as if all her sins bubbled to the surface. While with Dr. Feng, she studied Buddhism and Karma, and the notions of a future repentance for wrongdoings. She scoffed at his five precepts and professed her undying love for Jesus, while sinning at every turn.
The good Doctor’s five Buddhist precepts are very similar to the 10 commandments: no killing, no stealing, no intoxicants, no bad sex, and no lying. Simple shit, unless no killing forces someone to be a vegetarian. She played along with his Buddhist notions and Chinese astrology, including Feng Shui, and then attacked everything about his beliefs. “They’re all satanic rituals,” she spat at him and walked out.
She yanked against the rusty chain wrist restraints, as Craig drove his cock deep inside of her. Then her mind took a carnal fork in the road, as the white powder mixed with saliva and slipped down her throat. Everything began to feel lustfully good. Suddenly she felt like butter, but sensitive to the touch. Another brother touched her thrusting nipple, and she tingled. He slapped her face with his cock and she engulfed it.
Fantasies filled her mind but so did survival. She remembered a young blond girl from Vegas, a stripper who told her stories of parties with multiple guys and making bank. Sure, stripping wasn’t bad, but she could make an easy $500 during a night with three guys, as long as they had the party favors and didn’t beat her. She started to think about negotiating, but her senses drifted into a sensual fog. She struggled to find coherence.
Carl was the middle-age brother, thinner, but still in good shape. In his mid 20s, he worked hard as an electrician and attempted to settle down with one broad after another, but none stuck. He smoked, drank, and enjoyed meth too often. His electrical van was a wreck, a mess of scattered tools and electrical equipment. His room was a mirror of the rusting van.
The other brother, Rick, was even younger, just 22, and his life was like Carl’s van, a train wreck. His mantra in life included just one desire, getting high. Even sex came in second. Rick couldn’t get out of his own way to get high. He smoked weed, drank everyday, and ingested anything else he could get his hands on. He couldn’t keep any job, and currently worked as a busboy in a sinking floating restaurant, the Chowder Barge.
As the night settled over the harbor and an offshore breeze cooled the hot afternoon air, they faced a major turning point in their lives and the street name was Olivia. They were all high as wafting kites on fire, and they hadn’t stopped as they shared a fifth of Jack Daniels and a joint laced with cocaine.
Rick ran his hands over Olivia’s smooth body, took a hit on the joint, a slug of whiskey, then turned to the glass block bar with a varnished wooden top, where his mirror and a mound of cocaine glistened in the flickering pool hall lights hanging on single extension cords. He started to mix a concoction of GHB, a predator drug, or date rape mixture, with coke, and a horse tranquilizer.
Olivia started to come around, while remembering this stripper’s story of picking up three bikers in Las Vegas and going to a party. After about six drinks, one of the bikers started to negotiate with her.
“You’re a stripper, right?” he asked. “How much do you make in a night?”
“On a good night I make another $100,” said the blonde and downed another shot of Jack.
The brothers offered her $500 and all the drugs she could inhale for a night between the sheets. They promised to be cool, and she was just high enough to go for it. Besides, she could use the money to pay her dealer and her cell phone bill.
Once more Olivia tested the chain restraints and tried to focus. “Listen,” she attempted to say. “How about we work a deal?”
Craig was about to unleash his first load, and didn’t like the distraction as her pelvis bounced against his cock at just the right height. His breathing came quickly.
“Shut the fuck up, bitch,” Craig said and started to cum.
Olivia didn’t mind the hot swelling cock pulsing inside her. She started to tingle toward an orgasm. She looked at the young muscular man moving into her, pulled against the restraints trying to reach her nipples as she began to explode, but then he pulled out and turned toward the bar.
“Next.”
Panting so close to a climax she could taste it, her heart thumped in her chest and she looked after Craig. Her focus started to return and she wondered what was next, who she could negotiate with. A tinge of fear engulfed her.
Dr. Feng rode his ATK back to his marina, locked it up and looked around for Olivia, as if she might mysteriously appear. She was a bitch of the highest order, abusive, psychotic, angry, and hot looking. She contained the proper mixture of lustfulness and looks. She could draw any man to the brink of destruction and had on several occasions.
He lit a Canadian cigarette and leaned on a brick retaining wall near the rocking gangplank to the Marina piers.
He pulled his cell phone out of his long tattered leather trench coat and considered calling the Cantina, but his phone battery was almost dead.
He was better off without her. She was a grown woman, and new the streets better than most men. She was sizeable and could take care of herself in most physical situations.
He lit another cigarette.
Carl ripped off the remainder of his clothes and headed for sloppy seconds. He was thinner than his brother, but still in terrific shape for a guy who didn’t train and rarely worked eight hours. His Finland genes contained a solid, muscular mixture. He currently wrestled with a pushy Jewish girlfriend, who was pregnant. He was going to have his first child. He was the only one of the brothers to contain a degree of morality and it was fleeting.
Their father was an angry, abusive biker, who didn’t give a shit about anyone, except himself, and he didn’t treat himself so hot. Before he turned 30, he was shot three times over his attempts to be a livid badass. Constantly annoyed and looking to get high, he dealt drugs and tried to push his friends around. It didn’t last, ever.
Carl slipped between her legs and looked at the woman swaying naked, chained to a net carriage controlled by a chain hoist. Her green eyes flickered open as he moved to enter her.
“Can we talk?” Olivia said in a whisper.
Carl put his hands on her naked waist and pulled her closer, and then ran his hands up over her tits, playing lightly with her nipples.
“What if you guys pay me for the night?” Olivia said. “I could use the money.”
Carl looked into her eyes as he entered her and felt her body engulf his manhood. “Sure,” he said and started to rock. “Why not?”
He leaned down and kissed her, but nothing she said was sinking in. He was enjoying only sexual sensations.
“How about $500 for the night?” Olivia whispered in his ear.
As he pushed back Craig, the violent one turned away from the bar as he snorted a thick line of glistening coke.
“Is she still talking? She wouldn’t say a word if she knew what happened to the last girl who partied with us.”
Rick busted out laughing and Carl cringed, hoping she didn’t hear that last remark. Rock and roll blared around the room, but when he lifted his head, her eyes told the truth.
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Frankie was often the last Cantina floor dweller. He made a point to detail the decks with mops, brooms, and rags. It was after 3:00 a.m. before he completed his tasks, but he enjoyed the solitude, working alone. The Cantina was his home, the only home he ever had since he was abandoned as a 12-year-old on the streets of San Pedro.
After almost 20 years as a drug addict, he concluded that his life needed to change.
He heard the phone ringing behind the bar and stopped mopping. Generally, at that time of the morning he didn’t need to answer it for fear of some drunk needed a nightcap. He scratched his haggard chin under wrinkled features, after way too many drug issues. Could it be a girl calling for Marko or Bandit? Unlikely; they would call respective cell phones, or know better.
The phone hung on the barroom wall way across the Cantina facility. He just mopped his way into the far corner of the adobe hex thick ceramic tiles and the floor was still wet. Frankie turned to look in the direction of the phone, which kept ringing. He wondered if an answering device would pick it up. It kept ringing.
Carl leaned close to the rocking naked girl. “Can you help me?” she asked, whimpering slightly.
He could feel her supple tits move against the hair on his chest. She felt good, but he was beginning to feel a sense of guilt and concern. He leaned in even closer and kissed her neck.
“Don’t say a word,” Carl said. “Damn, she’s tight!” he hollered to his brothers.
“I’m next,” Rick spat after another line of Coke.
“You keep snorting that shit and you’ll never get it up again,” Craig kidded him.
Rick mixed his powders and formed a special mound of glistening white powder, sorta between a white metal flake and confectioners sugar.
“She’ll party hearty all night long.
Carl didn’t know what the hell he could do for her. She was chained in place, and unless his brothers passed out, he couldn’t unchain her and get her out of there. Her eyes pleaded with him as he fucked her.
She knew the tight spot she found herself in. Usually, she rode the other side of the dice. Generally in control, she took advantage of every situation. She thought about Dr. Feng’s Karmic solutions in the Buddhist faith. She scoffed at his warnings and tossed his Buddhist beneficial amulets in the murky water alongside his boat and spit on his Buddhist literature.
Was this a foretelling of her demise?
Dr. Feng shut his phone down and lit another cigarette. His ATK gas tank leaked, or he might ride back to the Cantina. His phone slipped down to 10 percent charge and needed care. He couldn’t risk it going dead. He relied on his cell phone for welding jobs.
He fumbled with his keys to pass through the gate onto the docks. The gate was heavily wrapped in steel guards and barbed wire. He was a man of limited means, but women were his fault line. He gave up on a lot of things, but not women. No one knew exactly what his feminine formula was; they just watched one woman after another float in and out of his life.
He walked almost a quarter-mile down a long rickety wooden dock swaying with the tide to find the last finger holding his steel hulled dis-masted sloop. Three wooden steps lead up to his rusting deck, where he tossed his leathers in the cockpit and stepped onto crushed foam cushions. When it was too hot to sleep in his floating steel barbecue, he crashed on the tattered cushions, using his leather trench-coat for a pillow.
As he stepped from the cushion to the cluttered deck, his phone began to chime, a strange Asian or Buddhist bell meditation tune. He fumbled with his rolled-up jacket, unraveled it, and started to scramble from one pocket to the next to retrieve his cell phone. It only rang twice before going to his non-existent voicemail.
He reached into one pocket after another. Recently, one of his silk pockets gave way and he lost his phone on the freeway. He hated banks and carried his paycheck in the form of cash with his license, insurance, registration, and social security card in one pocket. If the wad slipped out to scatter on the asphalt freeway, it would have taken his life.
He finally reached the phone and clicked to answer, but didn’t hear anything.
“Come in, over,” he said. “Anyone there?”
“You called,” Frankie said in his deep gravely voice. He sounded homeless.
“Called what?” Dr. Feng said.
“The Cantina,” Frankie returned uninterested.
“Did a girl show up there, late?” Dr. Feng inquired.
“Girls show up here all the time,” Frankie said.
“She’s tall, athletic, good looking, brunette,” Dr. Feng sounded anxious.
“Sorry,” Frankie said. “I wouldn’t know. There’s no one around here now and I was working in the galley during closing time.”
“Okay,” Dr. Feng muttered. “It was just on the off-chance. We got separated.”
“I know how it goes,” Frankie said, trying to be helpful. “What’s her name? I’ll keep an eye out.”
“Olivia,” Dr. Feng said. “Thanks.” He hung up.
Carl rode Olivia and couldn’t help but to feel the rise in pleasure. Craig, less than 15 feet away moved down the bar to see what Rick was up to.
“This will light her up,” Rick said. “We’ll be able to do anything we want with her.
“I say we fuck her brains out and throw her in the bay,” Craig said, and rubbed some coke on his gums.
Carl moved on the woman, sliding in and out of her easily in a smooth rhythmic motion. A warm glow poured over her as she watched his eyes intently looking for any sign of hope. He neared his release, when Craig interrupted his vibe.
“Snap it up, little brother,” Craig said and slapped Olivia’s face. “The bitch wants more.”
He grabbed her head and turned it toward his swollen cock. She sobered up just enough to get nasty. She spit on his cock.
“Let’s talk business,” Olivia said. “Gimme $500 and we’ll party all night, as long as no rough stuff.”
Olivia could be an unrelenting bitch, but this pitch contained a large portion desperation.
“Here, try our party favors, then we’ll talk it over,” Rick interrupted with a tiny solid silver spoon packed high with his mixture of coke, and a massive amount of GHB, the predator drug.
Olivia’s weak spot was drugs. She did it all as a young woman. Ultimately, she recognized the impact on her physical wellbeing and mentality, but the more she did the more her resolve weakened. She couldn’t say no, and her left nostril widened as she leaned in and snorted every last grain. She did it with such magnitude Rick immediately scooped another load and offered it to her right nostril. The smirk on his face turned to absolute gloating. In two heavy blasts, she was cooked.
They wouldn’t need to negotiate. She would go for anything. Craig pushed on Carl.
“It’s my turn,” he barked and Carl came as he slipped out and spewed cum all over her tight tummy. Craig wiped up the slippery goo and offered it to Olivia. As her tongue protruded to lap it up, he smeared all over her face.
Just then the drugs started to hit nerve centers. She arched her back wanting more. Craig lifted her legs for a hit on her anal passage. Rick massaged her ample tits as he drove his cock down her throat.
The party was on full steam. Her brain fried and part of the reason for her indulgence contained a death wish. If they were going to harm her, better to be loaded…
“Who was that?” Marko said, poking his head in the dining room.
“I don’t know,” Frankie said. “Some customer looking for his girl.”
