"A Cunt's Ransom" Spin-off thread; inventively named 'Cunt.' - For skeptomaniac

[SomewhatPsycho]

"A Cunt's Ransom" Spin-off thread; inventively named 'Cunt.' - For skeptomaniac

http://c.wrzuta.pl/wi5850/e04a059c001ee13b503725c9/martin_pichler_17​

Another day, another shipment, smuggled quietly into Glasgow through the not-quite-port of Bo'ness along with more than a few kilos of uncut (OK, only a little cut) narcotics. Usually Cal was far too busy to pay any attention to the young women shipped to his brothels but today was an exception. Today was a well planned shipment from a somewhat trusted supplier that had arrived right on cue without a whiff of the five-oh. Cal had taken the unprecedented decision to let his number two handle it. He had never been particularly good at trusting and delegating but business was booming and that meant he couldn't be everywhere at once. Ben couldn't fuck this up. Wouldn't fuck this up. He was keen to prove himself and why not?

So Cal found himself assessing the girls and separating them according to where they would work, whether they had any English and so on. A tiny little Moldavian piece caught his eye, barely five feet tall and slender as a reed. She didn't look at all legal. Cal fished through a stack of passports for her I.D. and was surprised to see she was eighteen.

"Anya! Where is Anya?" He called. The girl reluctantly moved forward from the back when nobody else responded to the name. Cal took in her blue-grey eyes, long hair and skinny body currently clad in a track-suit. It was one thing to run cat houses full of junked up eurotrash but it was quite another to have girls who looked way underage. That shit would get you reported. It would get him jailed. Cal pinned the girl to the wall by her throat and casually shoved his hand into her knickers. His middle digit curled upwards to encounter a hairy little pussy and... jackpot; a hymen. The girl was pleading with him and there was not one word of English. Most of them at least knew words like 'no' and 'please.' Her tiny stature, tight little curves, virginity and vulnerability were stirring up something malevolent in Cal. Her friend was tugging on his arm and talking to him in English.

"Please Mister. She not even want au-pair job. Anya just came with me... to meet the employer. Please let her go."

Cal replied to the friend but his gaze burned into Anya as the other girl translated what he said. "This scrawny little thing? No tits or arse on it. I can't sell that. She looks like a child. My customers would split her in half. I'm not letting her loose and I'm not posting her back to fucking Moldova." Cal smiled evilly. "She is useless to me."

He choked her out, making a big show of faking her death. His men were armed and none of the other girls was stupid enough to try anything. Watching Anya 'die' would teach them a valuable lesson. The moment you ceased being profitable you were dead. The moment you fucked with him or his crew was your last. Cal curled the girl up into one of the large holdalls he had just emptied of drugs and tossed her passport on top of her lifeless 'body.'

He knew people who auctioned girls, typically virgins, to the wealthy but today he was feeling... selfish. He made more than enough money from his current operation. Why shouldn't he put his hand in the cookie jar occasionally, take the sweetest little piece out, then crush it and watch crumble into dust? It had been a while since he had done more than sample the fresh meat. He had an aching need to do some real damage and this tiny little Moldovan might just suffer enough to silence his demons for a while.

Cal delegated distributing the rest of the brothel merchandise and carried Anya through to his cook-room, where large volumes of drugs were processed and cut by more naked young women, under the watchful eyes of his armed associates. These girls were either too plain to turn a profit or were recuperating from mistreatment. Men paid Cal very handsomely for the freedom to abuse his stock. Cal avoided serving up tenderised meat but often johns took a shine to a particular girl or two and they would want their favourite whether she was marked or not. He grabbed a roll of duct tape.

Cal took the rest of the day off, duct taped the girl's wrists, ankles and mouth, injected a small amount of junk into her veins and tossed the holdall onto the passenger footwell of his car. He drove the girl out to his abandoned looking caravan way out in the country, in a wooded glen on the edge of a crystal clear loch. There was not a single living soul for miles. He locked them both into his little van and tipped the girl out of the bag and onto the bed. He removed the duct tape but left her clothes. Cal popped open a beer and lit a smoke. Now to wait.

 

[skeptomaniac]

Anya had been a little more sceptical of the job than Petra. It wasn't advertised in the paper or online as far as she could see. Petra had just met someone who 'knew a guy' at their local bar. The guy who knew a guy was cute though and after more than a few vodkas Petra had wound up getting fucked by him in the parking lot. His friend had had his eye on Anya but she had remained aloof. Her parents were orthodox christians and she was not supposed to be at the bar with Petra. Petra's parents were also orthodox but she had chosen the path of rebellion some while ago after they tried repeatedly to arrange a marriage for her. Now she was unmarriageable and had been disowned as a result. Petra itched to get out of small rural community of Sălcuța.

Anya was not supposed to hang out with Petra but the way she saw it, she had been uncomfortably close to making a similar choice. When her parents had tried to sell her into other families, Anya had politely resisted by talking them out of their choices and quietly pushing her proud folks to bargain too hard over her dowry. They were not educated or difficult to manipulate. Anya had been determined to finish school and her next ambition was to travel to the city and study there. It would have to be part time while she worked but in five or six years she could have a degree.

Anya's parents had eventually begun brokering a deal with the head of their village over his son. The son's choice had fallen on her and Anya was supposed to be honoured. He was impressed by her studies but in the way a dog owner is impressed with a neat trick. He had no intention of letting Anya fulfil her dreams of college education. His future was wedded to the governance of this one small town. He simply saw Anya's achievements as cute and thought having a beautiful and literate wife would reflect well on himself. Anya would keep house and bear babes like every other housewife.

At this point, Anya threatened to go one of two ways. Either she was allowed to study and to take a husband of her choosing at a time when she felt ready for one or she too would put an end to the whole charade by engaging in promiscuity. She had been a dutiful and obedient daughter and she wanted her freedom and their trust. Anya won them over with tales of others who had attained an education in the city and lucrative careers as a result. Why should she settle down with this latest suitor when there were rich city men out there? Her parents agreed on the understanding that there would be frequent checks of her virginity and that any whisper of scandal would see her ostracised like Petra.

If Petra's job opportunity had looked remotely legit, Anya might have been tempted for a moment herself. It was a seductive dream, to be able to cast off her small village and its repressions for the secular freedom and egalitarianism of the west. She had had those daydreams when she got her I.D. and passport in order to be able to apply to college and as she could not drive, she carried the passport everywhere in order to prove her age.

So it was that fateful day when she had accompanied Petra's 'interview' they had both been snatched. More sophisticated methods like allowing Petra to pack a bag and say goodbye to her family like the other girls had were dispensed with in the face of her having been disowned. There was a ship leaving Constanta the following day and they were short on product.

Anya had lost track of the days but some long while later, they had arrived in Scotland. Cold, exhausted, grimy and terrified, the girls had been instructed to shower and shave themselves... everywhere below the neck. Anya had found herself unequal to this, to shave herself for these fucking animals. She had showered quickly and tugged on the sweats they gave her, tight as they were. They had been brought out to some rural pile and inventoried by some cocky Brit who looked them over like livestock. They had stayed at the back, delaying the inevitable. Then she heard her name.

"Anya! Where is Anya?"

Of course she held back, there had to be more than one Anya? The girls all huddled together like sheep being harassed by a snapping wolf. Then some broke ranks and started looking about them. Who was this brazen 'Anya' defying the Brit psycho and was she about to get them all killed? Anya reluctantly stepped forwards. A guilt stricken Petra hot on her heels.

He grabbed Anya by the throat and put her back to the nearest wall. His thick fingers delved into her knickers and found the illicit thatch of hair. He smirked into her defiant face and curled a finger upwards in the same way her mother had so many times to satisfy herself of Anya's virtue. Anya swore his eyes physically darkened when he found her hymen. She began to tremble and started speaking in order to calm herself. Panic and resistance would not go down well here. She could not prevent her eyes from watering.

*"De ce toată lumea condusă de bărbați nelegitimi și poftele lor depravate?"

Would it be better to work in a brothel with Petra or to be sold off to some rich bastard?

Petra was speaking out desperately but Anya did not understand.

**"Ai toate vor arde in iad."

The man bent down to stare her down, right in her face. He spoke in a low sneer and Petra miserably translated every word.

"This scrawny little thing? No tits or arse on it. I can't sell that. She looks like a child. My customers would split her in half. I'm not letting her loose and I'm not posting her back to fucking Moldova." He smiled evilly. "She is useless to me."

Both his hands closed over her throat and Anya didn't even have a whole lungful of air in reserve. Her blue grey eyes lifted upwards to focus on the only thing that now existed in her personal universe. Him.

Is this when I die? In a brothel thousands of miles from home at the hands of a madman?

At least I will die a virgin. Not a drugged whore... like Petra will.

Anya's eyes bulged and filled, spilling tears down her face onto his hands. She kicked and clawed but he might as well have been forged from steel. He just laughed at her.

He could have killed her instantly. He could have shot or stabbed her or snapped her neck. Bastard was enjoying this.

Coherent thought ceased and she began to convulse. Her tear blurred vision slowly clouded completely. Her chest felt like it was going to crack wide open in the pursuit of air. It spasmed uncontrollably... then everything went black.

~xXx~​

Birdsong. It was the first thing she became aware of. There was light on the other side of her closed lids but she wasn't ready to see it yet. Everything had fallen away from her when she died and now she was weightless. Anya wondered if her grandparents were waiting for her in heaven.

Then the scent of damp mattress assailed her. Wrong. It was completely wrong. She awoke further and her neck ached horribly.

He had killed her, the bastard man had killed her.

So why wasn't she dead?

Anya's eyes snapped open. There he was, smoking and drinking as casually as you please. They were in some sort of caravan but Anya did not have time to dwell on the new location. She scrambled off of the bed and staggered like a drunkard towards the door. Locked, of course. She looked around, even though doing so made her neck scream in agony. There didn't appear to be anyone else here.

She regarded her captor. He had called her scrawny and child-like, so it was unlikely that he wanted her for himself... wasn't it? Oh please don't let him be some paedo who was going to dress her up in fucking pigtails or something.

Fuck this. Fuck all of it.

Anya snatched up his cigarette lighter and turned her attention to the highly flammable synthetic material of her tracksuit. She'd go out in a blaze of glory and take this vile creature to hell with her.

*"Why is the whole world run by bastard men and their depraved lusts?

**"You're all going to burn in hell."

 

[SomewhatPsycho]

He was relieved when she roused. Tiny as the doe he had given her had been, there was always the chance that she simply wouldn't wake up. Cal watched her take in her new surroundings and try the door. Predictable. Sometimes he felt like there was absolutely nothing new he could experience with a woman.

Then she grabbed his lighter and tried to set the bottom of her tracksuit bottoms on fire. Cal had been so lulled by the fact she was trapped and helpless, so he was slow to react. Her hem was charring by the time he was up and responding. Cal kicked her hand and sent the lighter skittering off towards the living area. He picked the girl up and she fought so savagely Cal wound up putting her down again. He tossed her into the bedroom and blocked the door with his foot while he considered his options.

Of course he ached to fuck her but that just meant smacking her around the van for a while before pinning her down and violating her. It was... too easy. Maybe it was time to set himself more of a challenge. Cal put some money on the table, along with her passport and then unlocked the caravan door. He went into the bedroom. Cal got his phone out and brought up a translate app. He spoke into it in English and it spoke to the girl in her own language.

"Listen stupid girl. I saved you. I got you out of that place. I could not take your friend. I have your passport, some money. I can't help you any more. I have risked too much already. I had to lock door so you would listen to me, you understand? There are things for you on the table."

Predictably, she took the money and papers and ran. She could run for hours in any direction before she encountered anyone. Cal watched where she was heading till she was nearly out of sight, then he moved his car away from the caravan. He equipped himself with a knife and a loaded handgun. They were more for show in the event that she managed to run into someone but his quarry wasn't to know that. Cal lit a cigarette and set off into the dusk after her. His blood was really up now at the thought of hunting her down, beating her, ripping her clothes off with enough force to make her bleed and then finally ripping into that tiny cherry... holding her down and mounting her like a feral beast while she rent the air with her screams.

She was going to wish she had burned herself alive.