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I lifted my head. "Water..." My bindings chafed beyond pain. They were a constant reminder of a situation far beyond my control. I wondered where my gun was. I felt slightly cold, but could tell there was heat nearby.
A worn female face leaned over me and lifted my head. A cold steel cup was pressed to my lips. I took it, eagerly. Her voice was dry and weary. "It's about time you drank something." She was good-looking for an old bag, face filled with wrinkles and worry.
I sipped the cool water, savoring the soft silvery feel against my tongue and the back of my throat. I coughed after swallowing, but pursed my lips for more. All of my limbs ached. I groaned, still sipping more water. I realized I needed to go to the bathroom and groaned louder.
The woman's wizened face was over me. "You awake enough to move around?"
I made another garbled groan in response.
She looked away. "Twenty! He's ready."
A biker came into my view as I tried to focus. His black denim vest had a patch near his left breast that said: "Twenty." He sneered down at me. "Time to use the toilet?"
I nodded, for lack of any meaningful response. I felt completely helpless, and at the same time, urgent with needed relief.
My bindings were undone.
I briefly considered fight and flight: I was strong. I was beefcake. But the necessity of needing to pee overwhelmed me with tension and an inability to move right. Sitting up was a monumental task of effort not to wet myself. That's when I realized there was something around my neck, weighing me down with depression. I was wearing a collar with a heavy chain attached. I instinctively grabbed at my throat and found the collar, pulling at it.
Hands gripped me roughly and moved me. My feet hit the floor, totally numb and not wanting to work. Where are my shoes? It is amazing what silly things enter your mind when you lack control. I was having a seriously bad time trying to get my mental bearings.
I was pushed towards a bathroom door. I noticed the room, then: a featureless room with one window that showed a steel-grated cover. My mind instantly registered there would be no escape through the room's only window. I was guided into a small bathroom with a shower. The chain weighed heavily on my neck and I was constantly bent sideways, trying to compensate for the weight.
All I had ever wanted in life was to be someone - to be successful. In my Kenpo classes, I had yearned for inclusion. I had been taught to fight, but not how to fit in. I had struggled through school, outcast by the sports guys and shunned by the nerds. Girls had looked me up and down and shaken their heads.
It was only on a call from a bookkeeping agency that I had met Kristy. Her computer had fried due to the CPU fan dying and I had responded to fix it. Of course, it was unfixable, but they didn't know that when they had called. Kristy's look had spoken of a yearning that matched my own. Both of us felt it: an instant desire to be together, near, and sharing our fate as loners. That had been three years ago in forming that fateful relationship.
I sat on the ice-cold toilet seat, not trusting my legs to stand, and let out an insistent and demanding stream of water.
My mind cleared. Where is my girlfriend? I mean, my wife? Where is Kristy? As my mind continued to sharpen, I noted the man watching me without looking at my eyes. He was smaller than me, crazy-eyed, and suspicious-looking. The woman behind him had her arms folded, looking bored. She was wearing a denim vest with labels on it that I couldn't see at this distance. I looked at Twenty. He was in black denim and vest, just like the others I had seen.
Due to the position of "Twenty" over his left breast, I resolved to understand that particular spot as a nametag. My mind filed that away with little difficulty. I gasped, "Where is Kristy?"
I was almost done peeing.
Twenty glanced over his shoulder at the door. "In the other room. You ready to talk, fed?"
I used tissue to wipe off the end of my dick. "Yes."
He didn't appear impressed. But his voice rose. "Dealer!"
Cold washed down my back at the name as the realization hit me. I was in the midst of a drug gang. What else could dealer mean? This biker gang dealt drugs. I began to get a very sick feeling in my gut. My sense of impending death increased. My life meant nothing to drug dealers and neither did Kristy's.
The buzzed-haired biker came in, rubbing his jaw and stifling a yawn. "He's alert?"
Twenty grunted.
Dealer regarded me with very critical eyes. "You don't look like a federal agent. Not FBI. Are you CIA? DEA?"
I was rising, feeling much relieved. But his question added a whole new set of suck to my appraisal. "What?"
Dealer, with his nametag affirming his moniker, stepped up close as if not fearing my size. "What agency are you with?"
I started to deny. "I don't know what—"
The fist to my gut stopped me real fast.
"Tell me."
I tried to draw in air from the unexpected punch. I groaned.
Dealer sneered, "Maybe I can get the story from your partner. You don't mind if I fuck her for it, do you? Of course not. You only care if I kill her." His evil smile moved away as he twisted around and left the room.
I wanted to say something, anything, as Dealer left the room. The woman was shaking her head. Twenty had a grin on his face that bespoke amusement.
I heard Dealer call, "Viking, come here."
A moment later, there was an audible grunt.
Dealer said, "Your turn."
Viking's low chuckle filled my ears as my mind suddenly went numb and buzzy.
I gasped out, "Wait..."
Twenty grabbed the chain near my neck and yanked hard. I fell to the floor. The chain was that heavy. I briefly looked along its length to where it was fastened. There was no way I was going to superman that sucker out of its fastening. Heavy bolts secured the plate and I immediately knew I would need tools. Heavy tools.
The wizened old woman in the room with me laughed. At the same time I heard Kristy gasp and cry out.
Whoever Viking was, he became vocal. "You're right, tight as a virgin." His gasps and grunts grew louder and were joined by feminine gasps that I knew to be Kristy's.
I raged, pulling against my collar and chain, "I'll kill you all!"
A fist met my face - very fast and sure. The next I knew, I was on my back looking at the ceiling. Twenty was over me. His voice was like grated concrete. "Fuck you." It sounded like he enjoyed saying it. He moved away and settled against the wall, crossing his arms.
But my senses were focused on the other room nearby. Viking, whoever he was, was grunting away. My bride made sounds of response. I didn't think they were faked. It surely sounded like she was being fucked. I had hoped they might be faking me out, but I didn't think they were. The hurt burned in my chest, bracing me for immediate action. I struggled to my feet and faced Twenty. "I'll kill you!"
His grin was instantaneous and relieved. He pushed off the wall from where he had been leaning and approached me. "Want a piece of me?"
I growled, ready for combat. I took the basic defensive karate stand: one foot forward, same arm up and ready to block, other arm lower and ready to counter attacks to the groin.
Twenty's eyes scanned me up and down. Then he was moving, fast and low.
I blocked a low attack at my groin with a downward thrust of my left forearm. At the same time, I launched a punch with my right at his face.
Surprised, he was deflected in his attack and took my fist into his face with a satisfying impact. He staggered backwards.
I stood upright, showing him my height. It never failed to impress others.
He wasn't impressed.
What the fuck? I frowned at him in curiosity as he came at me – fearless – with intent in his eyes. Before I could block his punch, his fist connected with my jaw and gut. The air rushed out of me in a rush and I went down onto one knee. I looked up just as his fist came down onto my chin.