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“Very good pick,” I tell the client. “Come on, muscles. Get excited, you’re up first.” I point him out. He is hesitant to move but I give him a look that tells him that he won’t like it if I come over there. I almost feel sorry for the fucker, except if he hadn’t done to same thing to people like us, he wouldn’t have this coming to him. So, really it’s his own fault. He gets up.
“Someone will accompany you to your room and he’ll be right up,” I say.
The client smiles in delight. “I like this whole operation you have going on here. It’s giving me a dominatrix vibe. A whole female dominion mood.”
I want to roll my eyes but it would be bad for business. “You’re spot on,” I tell him with a wagging finger.
As a couple of the girls take the client from the room with the hood replaced over his head, I call muscles over to me. “I will be watching, so you better look like you’re enjoying it or you know what’s gonna happen to you if you don’t.”
I motion for him to be taken away. Some of the recruits who are of legal age and told me they wouldn’t mind watching him get what he deserves stays back with me and the other pimps in the auditorium. The rest leave. While they want him to get what’s coming to him, watching it happen would be triggering and inappropriate for the younger ones even though I know what they’ve already been through. But fuck it, if I can protect them somehow, I’ll fucking do it, even if it’s just in this. Just because they’ve been through it, it doesn’t mean they have to be stuck with shit like this. Their young impressionable minds are still developing and I want to do my best to preserve whatever sort of innocence they may have left, even if most of it has been taken away from them.
A giant television is ridden out on a dolly in the center of the room. All other lights are lowered and the light of the television flashes on, illuminating the room. When we’re given access to the camera showing us the scene as it plays out, I can see the pimp sitting on the bed, afraid but trying to act like he isn’t. Good.
“Oh! Shackles! Perfect,” the client says walking toward the wall where some bondage tools are hanging. “Will you lie down for me?” he asks with seduction. I stifle a laugh as he walks over to the pimp whose eyes look like there are invisible clothespins forcing them open as he lies down, stiff as a board.
“Come on, loosen up,” I whisper to myself.
The client grabs the pimp’s hands and secures them to the metal bed frame. He removes Muscles’ boxers, disappointed that he’s not aroused. “Are you a little nervous?” he asks. “Or are you gonna make me work for it?” he says as he secures his feet as well. I’m loving this already as I watch the pimp laying there with nowhere to go.
The client strips down and climbs over the pimp’s body. “You’re willing to do anything for me, aren’t you, baby?” he asks as he rubs his hands over his body and kisses the pimp whose eyes are still frozen open, grimacing as he’s being kissed. He better start looking like he’s having a great time soon or we’re gonna have some problems.
The man moves down Muscle’s body, pausing to suck on his balls and play with his dick, causing a reaction. Muscle’s dick stands up. That unwanted arousal. I know exactly the pain and humiliation he is feeling for being betrayed by his own body, making the other person before him think that he’s actually enjoying himself when he’s hating every second of it. I revel in his displeasure.
“Yes, get hard for me,” the client murmurs before sucking on his dick for a bit while the pimp’s face glows red in equal discomfort and rejected pleasure. “Perfect.” The pimp slurps his mouth off the dick with aplopsound effect and hops off the bed as the pimp closes his eyes, no doubt wishing he’d die.
The client hasn’t even started to have fun yet as he brings out a black box. “What first?” He smiles wide before pulling out a bunch of long surgical needles and a metal bar. He looks at the pimp. “I know this looks daunting but don’t worry, I’m gonna take care of you. You’ll end up loving this, it’s so good!”
Pure terror registers in the pimp’s eyes now as he starts to squirm. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” the client murmurs. I can tell he’s too aroused to stop at this point. He’s way too excited to even consider consent. I don’t know why I’m so happy that we got this asshole of a client but he’s the perfect client for what I want to achieve because this is a true representation of what I’ve been through. Maybe not with needles but everything else? I can pinpoint every fucking emotion the pimp is going through, it’s almost like reliving it through him but not quite because I have the consciousness of mind to know that it’s not happening to me, it’s happening to someone who deserves it.
So, I’m overflowing with happiness as I watch the client insert one of the needles into Muscle’s rock-hard dick and he cries out in pain. Yet, his dick doesn’t go down. It’s like that long ass needle is stabilizing it, keeping it erect. He proceeds to walk around the pimp’s body doing his own form of acupuncture, except the needles aren’t extended on top of the body, they’re buried, almost completely in his skin. The tears are uncontrollable now as the pimp starts shaking. His visible discomfort seems to arouse the client even more.
“You’re so fucking hot.” The client breathes into the pimp’s ear. “I need your ass right now,” he says as he starts to remove the shackles. I’m gearing up for the pimp to make a run for it so that I can beat the living hell out of him, but he seems to step down on the needles in the bottom of his feet too hard, collapsing on the bed. “Ooh, yeah, you probably shouldn’t stand on that,” the client says with chosen ignorance at the pimp’s attempted escape.
He pushes the pimp forward for him to lay on his belly, which is also filled with needles. He secures the shackles around his limbs again before climbing on top of him with fervency and diving into his ass with his dick, riding him as the pimp wails in pain.
Behind me, I can hear the other pimps in the room mumbling in disgust. A few of them even throw up. I turn around to look at the ones who throw up. “You’re gonna clean that shit up,” I yell before facing forward again and hearing from behind me one of the pimps saying, “I’ll kill you before I let you do that to me.”
He doesn’t say it loud but I still hear it. I get up as the sounds of the pimp being brutalized plays behind me. “Who said that?” I ask.
Some brave idiot stands up. Just as he does, I hear a yell from the screen behind me. I don’t turn around to look, instead, I hear Selena jump up from her seat, saying, “Fuck, that’s so disgusting. I can’t watch it. I don’t understand how you do it.” She runs out of the room. I mean, I understand it. She’s a nurse and shit so I’m sure she’s seen a lot of stuff I haven’t seen but it’s a whole different context being brutalized and watching someone being brutalized. Most of us in here have either been on the receiving end of similar stuff like old Muscle’s experience today and others of us, like the fucker who’s deciding to face off with me has been the giver of these types of abuse or at least the facilitators. So, I don’t turn around when she storms out. She’s gotta do what she must. It’s not like she’s fucking obligated to sit and watch.
I call the ballsy motherfucker down to face me. He huffs and he puffs like he’s about to blow the fucking auditorium away. Ooh, he’s mad. I find it funny how much it always sucks when the shoe is on the other foot. People seem to forget their own fucked up actions and tend to believe they’re above the consequences. Well, call me fucking karma, because I’m here to serve their asses. I start soft. I want to give his tensed face a chance to loosen up, give him the opportunity to change his mind, learn his lesson, submit, you know? I round my fist and throw all my energy into his jawbone. I hear the crack of muscles. I don’t wince, I don’t notice any pain although I can still feel the imprint of his teeth underneath his skin on my knuckles.
He spits blood. “Bitch. You’re only strong when the shackles are on. You’re only strong with your entourage.” He must not have met the pimp from the hospital. He walks toward me, breathing his nasty bloody breath into my face, pressing his body against me to puff up his chest and I see red. “Why don’t you take these shackles off and let me beat your fucking weak ass one on one? Or are you too much of a bitch to do it on your own? Do you need all these other bitches to back you up? I promise you, if you fight me one on one, you’re dead.” His eyes are crazed and I laugh, shoving him off me so hard, he stumbles backwards. Other brave motherfuckers start cheering.
They’ve been waiting for this moment. This is hilarious to me. But you know what? If the fucker wants to fight, he’ll fucking get a fucking fight and if he doesn’t submit, well, I can afford to lose a few of them here and there. Fuck knows, there’s more where he came from.
“Okay, one on one?” I ask him, cocking my head.
“Yeah, bitch,” he says with a smile, thinking he’s riling me up, getting to me so that I can release him from the shackles. I mean, I will but only to send a message to the others.
“Okay. Unshackle him, please,” I ask one of my recruits.
He’s almost too excited like it’s his fucking birthday or something. I can see his body vibrating with the need to break free as my recruit frees his arms first then his feet. It’s game time, baby. He charges at me and I dodge him, spinning around to face him as he ends up behind me. He attempts to strike me in the stomach. I dodge him again. I think I’ll let him tire himself out a bit. My reflexes are swift. I start walking around him and he’s looking at me, focused and confused. He throws his fist out, heading for my face but I duck, striking him in the stomach, jumping up in the same motion to strike him upward from the bottom of his chin. His head flies back.
I can tell he’s dizzied but I let him continue to try his best. In rage, he flings his arm out and tries to grab my neck but I keep hopping out of his way, managing to see his movements before he even does them. When I can see him getting bored of our little dance, struggling to remain focused so that he can get me, I lash out first in an attempt to catch him off guard but to his credit he spots my attempt and throws his fist out, toward my neck. I jump back, grabbing his fist and twisting his shoulder free from its socket following that up with a solid blow to his trachea. He falls to the ground, coughing and trying to breathe.
I lean over him. “What do you suppose I could do with you now?” He doesn’t even look at me. Doesn’t seem to hear my question at all as he gasps for air, waiting for his breathing to return to normal. As he manages to catch his breath, I kick him in the face, knocking him flat. I move to stand over him, my boot placed on his neck, with not enough pressure to cut off his breathing again, but just enough to warn him. “Submit, fucker,” I tell him.
