24 Hours To Live Pt2
Introduction:
With time running out the stakes are raised.
Hopefully for Joel, their past relationship and the fact it was only four grand might secure him a quick exit with the minimum of pain, a slashed throat perhaps or even better a bullet in the back of the head. After that no doubt his lifeless corpse would become food for the fish in the Thames. Yeah, that would be preferable to the slow, painful torture Standish was renowned to inflict upon some of those poor unfortunates known to cross him.
And if anyone should know of Standish’s brutality it was Joel, a formerly trusted employee within the gangland empire. A barman in the ruthless mobster’s club in Whitechapel, Joel had witnessed first hand the manner in which rivals and nuisances had been cruelly rubbed out.
An eighteen month stint, a supposed stop gap until a ‘proper’ job came along, the trouble for Joel was that he liked the goodfella life too much, albeit he existed on the periphery. He loved the secretive talk, the ever present threat of violence, the thrill of being in on something illicit and of how others in the outside world perceived him. A vicarious lifestyle, sadly it had gotten him into trouble, serious trouble.
Over the past few weeks as the sentence was imposed, Joel had given the whole matter a great deal of thought and had developed a theory: the rigged card game that caused the debt was part of a wider agenda. In fact, he was convinced of it.
Standish had two teenaged daughters, of whom Tiffany, the fifteen year old, was the apple of her father’s eye. A walking, talking, living Barbie doll, Standish doted on the girl, perhaps the only love that was allowed to permeate the shield of hate that surrounded the man. It was a father’s love that also gave rise to a bitter jealously, particularly where potential suitors were concerned. Being the vivacious type, she had flirted with virtually every half decent looking barman since her sexuality blossomed though sll had been warned off of course.
Yet Joel was more subtle, succeeding in arranging a date without Mickey finding out. Though in hindsight, it had been a huge mistake and one date was more than enough, given that the girl acted like a spoiled brat throughout. Since then, Joel had made it patently clear to her that there would be no second date, as a consequence of which Tiffany had doubtless run off crying to her father, and concocting some bullshit strory about him. The rest was history, the card debt merely a convenient means by which Standish could justify his actions. Oh Tiffany, Tiffany, Tiffany, that bitch really had screwed up Joel’s life.
Wandering back home absent-mindedly, the condemned man spied neighbour Cathy’s car back on the drive, grin forming on his face. Stage two was about to begin. Hovering at the gate, he inhaled heavily before striding purposefully down the path, his blood beginning to boil.
Cathy was the perfect foil for his frustrations, with a history between them most of which was bad. Notwithstanding her steely determination to thwart Joel’s attempts at a sexual relationship, if it wasn’t her bratty kids kicking balls into his garden, trampling the flowers and smashing a window, it was her mangy cat fouling the patio. And if it wasn’t the cat, it was the loud late night parties that seemed to go on for days just when he needed some sleep. And was he ever invited? No fucking chance. The bitch.
Damn, she’d quickly managed to spoilt his otherwise mellow mood. It was time to do something about it, and to hell with the consequences. Ha ha, what consequences? He’d be dead before dawn. That premise made Joel laugh hysterically like an over zealous Bond villain. Knocking insistently at the door, he waited patiently until finally Cathy appeared, looking hot and flush and not at all pleased to see him. Though that was far from uncommon. “Joel?”
“Another fuckin’ pane of glass broken, Cathy,” he spat. “Thirty-five quid the last one cost me.”
His sexy neighbour seemed dumbstruck, temporarily unable to comprehend, her mind seemingly elsewhere. “Well?” he prompted, face darkening. “Well? Say something, say sorry…or…for fuck’s sake, Cathy…your kids are a nuisance.”
Caught off guard, she was unprepared for his barging in, a vain attempt made to block him. Six inches shorter and a fraction of the size, she was no match. “W-what are you d-doing?” she stammered.
“I’ve come to get what I’m owed.”
“Don’t go in there,” she implored as Joel proceeded towards the kitchen.
The laptop was open at ninety degrees and Joel’s lips immediately formed a devilish grin. Cathy, it seemed, had been viewing porn. And not just any old porn, what appeared to be a rape and male domination website. Moreover, from the musky scent in the air, evidently she’d been masturbating too. She looked on uneasily, her head a mix of embarrassment and confusion. “Joel, get out of my house now,” she ordered unconvincingly, flicking back the thick mane of red hair. “Get out or I’m calling the police.”
Making a swerve for the phone, she found her determined adversary too agile, his hand slamming down on hers, crushing it and eliciting a yelp of pain. As Cathy made to retaliate, a small clenched fist raised, Joel caught it. Cathy stood, frozen like a statue as Joel unravelled the slender fingers, bringing them to his mouth, lips enveloping the long middle digit, tasting the faint flavour of pussy.
The redhead gasped as unexpectedly his free hand made a hasty underarm arc, slamming roughly into her crotch and grabbing at it like a crane. Joel squeezed and kneaded at the light material of the skirt, as his victim edged back, trapped up against the kitchen unit like a cornered fox. Adjusting, Joel shuffled his hips between her legs, Cathy’s arms falling back on the hard surface to support her weight, unbalancing. As he pushed into her crotch, Cathy’s feet elevated from the ground and she hung in the air, trapped between Joel and the kitchen unit.
Their eyes met, hers frightened like a deer caught in the headlights, his as lifeless as an android’s, each grind of his cock against her crotch causing it to twitch and inflate inside his jogger bottoms. Reaching down, Joel gripped the collar of her shirt, tugging firmy. Several bottoms popped as he tore, the light material parting at the centre to reveal a heaving, lace clad bosom. The bra was a half cup push-up design, raising her breasts like two trifles, the lace so light the nipples moulded into each cup. Engulfed by two enormously spread aureolae, visible through the diaphanous material, Joel swallowed hard. Cathy gasped in shock and distress, her eyes as wide as ping pong balls. “Joel, no…please…” she begged, shuffling back on her elbows, but going nowhere fast.
Joel sneered, ignoring the protest as he eased the shredded shirt off her shoulders, their midriffs welded. As he craned forward to kiss her, instinctively Cathy put up her hands, unbalancing further, her spine meeting the cool surface of the unit, knees raised and legs kicking up horizontally. In a desperate attempt to flee, sharpened talons clawed at his cheek, drawing two tramlines of blood and prompting Joel to shake his head, features graven. “Oh dear, Cathy, now that wasn’t clever,” he whispered, the words spiced with menace.
The prone woman flinched as his hand rose, though Joel merely dabbed at his cheek, assessing the damage. Not that looks mattered where he was going! Dismissing the numb pain, he moved in, attempting to press his mouth to hers. Defensively Cathy turned away, head defiantly to the side. Again Joel voiced his displeasure in revered tones. Tugging blindly at the top drawer, his groping hand fell upon a kitchen knife. Holding the blade to Cathy’s cheek, the mere threat did the trick, no verbalisation of the intent required.
A prompt from Joel and she turned her head back, lips puckered to receive his. In an act of submission, she even allowed his tongue to snake inside, finding hers, hoping this would pacify him and see an early end to the torment. As she lay, Cathy was doubtless thinking: he’s my neighbour, there’s no way he’ll go through with this. He’s just trying to frighten me. At the same time, Joel was thinking: Yeah I may be her neighbour, but do I give a fuck? By the time the cops catch up with me I’ll be long dead. The thought passed in a quick pulse from brain to groin, his cock harder than ever before, more so even than with Natalie hours earlier. This was one exhilarating headrush. “Take off your bra for me,” he ordered.
As Cathy paused, the knife was held aloft once more, prompting her to reach behind to comply. Unhooking, the lacy garment, it loosened on the huge fleshy womanly orbs, the tops of the aureolae exposed. As the flimsy garment fell, exposing a pair of pendulous d-cup delights, Joel licked his lips in anticipation.
Instinctively Cathy went to cover herself, eyes welling with salty tears, breath racing, heart pounding. Joel smiled as he reached down and pushed both arms back to her sides holding them in place with an elbow and a raised knee as he straddled her body, cupping the underside of each fleshy orb and fondling expertly. Joel squeezed then moulded the oversized tits into a hot-looking cleavage, each hard nipple popping out on stalks. Playfully he rubbed a palm across, grazing the surface of each erect teat and eliciting a light moan from his victim, before wrapping his lips around the right one. Sucking long and hard, he stretched the nipple with his bared teeth, causing Cathy’s back to arch almost involuntarily and more unwilling pleasure.
Seemingly resigned to her fate, doubtless buoyed by her earlier masturbatory exploits, when Joel moved his knee back down to attain comfort, Cathy’s arms remained passively at her sides. He clawed at her crotch, gathering up a length of pleated skirt. Cathy groaned, fingernails scraping the glazed surface of the worktop, the heat of the day having caused her face to blush purple, sweat bubbling on the skin, red hair matted to her brow. The skirt up around her waist, Joel continued to prod at her cunt through a pair of panties that was getting damp, causing an intoxicating aroma to waft up. “You want me to fuck you, don’t you Cathy?”
Regaining her senses and attuned to the madness of the charade, the prone housewife shook her head vehemently, in denial, the motion causing her tits to wobble like blancmanges. “Yes you do, Cathy, you’ve always wanted me, haven’t you?”
“Noooooooooooo.” The cry tailed off as Joel dispatched the skirt to the kitchen floor, leaving just the skimpy panties to cover Cathy’s modesty.
Easing the joggers to his knees, Joel’s cock sprung forth, prodding at her inner thigh as he jockeyed for position. Cathy closed her eyes, resistance ebbing as her panties were drawn aside and the tips of Joel’s fingers scraped the brush of red hair. He stroked the wiry brush, enjoying the feel and the moistness beneath. Moving in more snugly, cock replaced hand, its fingers sucked clean, her pussy squelching as the swollen and bulbous tip dug into lushness. Both let out an audible sigh.
Cathy adjusted on the hard unit, parting her legs and raising her knees to allow the head to embed in the moist and juicy snatch. Inhaling a lungful, Joel slammed the shaft hard mercilessly forwarf, splitting her pussy. Cathy thrashed her head from side to side and whimpered. Joel#s eyes rolled, savouring the feel. “You’ve wanted me all along, haven’t you, Cathy?”
“Noooooooo.”
Joel retracted and slammed back harder, deeper if that were possible, burying to the base of the shaft, heavy balls crashing against her perineum. “That’s for stringing me along all this time,” he cried, cock sticky with her juices.
“I’m sorrrrrrry,” moaned Cathy.
Slam, it went back in, raising a fevered groan. “And that’s for your fuckin’ shitty kids trampling my flowerbed.”
“Sorrrrrrry.”
Another rockhard thrust brought a further shriek. “And that’s for the little bastards breaking my window.”
Cathy’s apology was muffled in the loud expiration from her lips, accompanying a gush that rushed around his shaft preceding a monumental orgasm. Another violent stroke caused the climax to rip through her body. “God you make me so hot, Cathy,” he panted. “I’m so damned close myself.”
Through her groaning, Cathy appealed: “Please don’t cum in me, Joel, I’m not on contraceptives.”
As his stroking slowed to a leisurely pumping, Joel thought about the plea. Why the fuck shouldn’t he dump his wad inside her? The idea of leaving behind a legacy, preferably a son to avenge his murder, appealed no end. As he pushed his cock back and forth, Cathy continued to plead over and over not to cum inside her.
Joel scratched his chin, a wicked thought arising. Out popped his rock hard slime-coated cock and, in a show of balletic dexterity, he flipped his victim over onto her front, large tits pressed down onto the surface, spilling out from the sides. A fulsome cackside wiggled invitingly as Joel manouvered. The engorged head of his rampant manhood ran up her perineum, depositing a snail-like trail, until the head nestled in the puckered ring of her arse. Suddenly Cathy realised the error. “Noooooooo, not my arse,” she begged in genuine terror.
“Yes your arse,” her tormentor retorted manically, backing up the words with hard actions, prising apart her buttocks with his fingers and forcing the engorged head into that most tight of crevices.
Cathy squealed like a pig caught by the butcher before he was even a fraction of the way in and, had he not been so hard, the clenched virgin arsehole would surely have repelled the unwelcome invasion. Yet nothing on earth was going to stand in Joel’s way as his meat cleaver ripped into the tight anal sinew and muscle. Each newly impaled inch drew a squeal of pain from Cathy, the feeling of warmth from the recent orgasm having quickly subsided into stone cold fear. Joel roared his appreciation as the tight tunnel strangled the shaft. He forced in the last two inches, shouting: “And that’s for your cat shitting on my patio.”
The apology that fell from her lips was inaudible, drowned in a scream as Joel held still, savouring the feel.
Cathy continued to plead hopelessly for mercy as he stole a deep breath. With that the anal assault began in earnest.
In and out of her ravaged arsehole he drilled, her breathing pepered with whimpers. Unluckily for poor Cathy, his earlier activity with Natalie had turned Joel into a marathon man. He felt he good go all day. In and out his cock pistoned, slap, slap, slap sounded his thighs against her buttocks, each stroke eliciting a more heightened reaction. “And that’s for keeping me awake at night with your stupid parties.”
Cathy’s whimpers grew louder as her arse stretched to accommodate the huge tool. “You love having your arse fucked, don’t you Cathy?” he mocked.
“Nooooooo.”
“Hmmm, I think you do,” he retorted, reaching under to run a finger into a pussy that had become somewhat soaked.
Cathy baulked at the touch, relaxing as Joel’s finger found her swollen clit and teased it. Joel felt her cunt clench around the digits, holding them in. “Now, admit it Cathy, you filthy slut, you love having your arse fucked.”
As if by way of prompting, Joel inflicted a dozen quick hard anal thrusts. A brief hesitation, finally she admitted: “Oh yes I do, Joel, yesssssss. That’s it, fuck my tight little arse hard, Joel,” she implored.
Leaning in, he nibbled at her earlobe before whispering: “And what are you?”
“I’m a…I’m a filthy little slut.”
The words sent Joel perilously close to the edge. Yessssssss,” he exhaled.
Upping the tempo, he buggered and fingered with gusto, ravaging the hot body beneath him. Reaching the point of no return, he exploded inside her ring with a volcano-like climax, length after length of hot seed pumping up into her bowels.
The sensation of spunk filling her up elicited a second huge orgasm in Cathy and she wailed, banging her hands hard on the surface, a sticky pool on the kitchen surface forming between her legs. “Oh fuck Joel, yessssss.”
Joel grinned. “Who needs to look at porn, huh Cathy?” he mused, before wiping his cock on a strip of torn shirt,.drawing up the jogging bottoms and letting himself out as if nothing had happened.
—
After a refreshing shower, Joel sat down to decide what to do with this, his last afternoon on earth. He’d gotten even first with Natalie and now Cathy, and it was all but impossible to top the morning’s events. His brain went into overdrive, finally arriving at a lightbulb moment of pure evil brilliance. Hmm, no… Wait… Wait… A huge grin elevated his lips then subsided.
No, he couldn’t. Could he? His heart started to pump like an overactive generator. Fucking hell Joel, you twisted genius. It was brilliant, yet oh so risky. If he timed it badly, there’d be no easy death to savour, no speedy bullet to the brain. Standish would likely have a gang of henchmen dismember him finger by finger, toe by toe, before beating his tortured body to within an inch of his sorry life with baseball bats and finally burn his genitalia with a blowtorch. The thought caused Joel to suck in the air dramatically.
Yet it was brilliant, ambitious and verging on crazy, as satisfying an act of vengeance as there could be. It was, after all, the brattish yet sexy teenager Tiffany Standish who’d gotten him into this predicament in the first place. The stealing of her virginity along with the tortured discovery later by Standish would be absolutely priceless and send Joel McCabe to the grave a contented man. Now all he had to do was put the plan in place.
Part 3 will follow shortly.
