by West, Sam
3. Get gangbanged by three or more men.
She panicked for a moment when her mind went black, then breathed a sigh of relief when his voice came to her clearly and she hastily scribbled down the disgusting words as he said them in her head…
4. Have sex with a dog where you are obliged to get the dog to fuck you.
5. A man or men must piss and shit on you.
6. Swallow sperm six times.
There, she was pretty sure that was it. She double checked her list, knowing it was more than her life was worth to get even the smallest detail wrong.
My God, she thought, not for the first time. I really can’t do this shit.
But you have to…
Before she did anything else, she needed clothes so she could get the hell out of here. She wasn’t thrilled going back into the bedroom with the dead body and she kept her eyes averted while she looked around for her clothes. She found them shoved under the bed. They were ruined and they hung in shreds from her hands where they had been cut from her body with scissors or a knife.
Now what?
She went to the drawer where she had seen some neatly folded t-shirts and took out the darkest one with the least obvious logo she could find. He hadn’t been much taller than her, and even though she was a lot fatter than him, the t-shirt fit just fine. Her bra was ruined, which upset her more than anything. It meant her big tits bounced and swayed inside the t-shirt which made her painfully self-conscious, but there was nothing she could do about it. Next she found a pair of jeans. They were fashionably baggy, so she was able to get her fat legs inside them but when she went to do them up the two ends of the waistband were inches apart. It wasn’t too much of a problem however, the t-shirt obscured that fact and she just looked an ordinary, if unattractively dressed young woman.
Her shoes were still OK to wear, which was a relief. Her rucksack was also still fine and had escaped getting splattered with blood so she shoved the bankcard and lamp in it along with the five grand. Unconsciously she hugged it to her chest. This time she would guard this bag with her life. A dark hoody hanging on the back of the door completed her new outfit and she was set.
She left the apartment feeling fitter and healthier than she had done for years.
Bring it on. I’m going to complete these tasks if it kills me.
I can’t believe I’ve got over a billion quid in my rucksack.
Pam walked the streets of Elephant And Castle, her head reeling with that fact. That, and what she knew she had to do.
What the fuck should I do first?
She stopped in the street and pulled out the macabre list she had stuffed into the pocket of her jeans. She examined it for a second, shaking her head at the sickening magnitude of her tasks. Part of her wanted to get started straight away and get it over and done with. A tramp with a filthy grey beard and a bottle of what looked like vodka lay sleeping in the doorway of a nightclub.
Her stomach lurched and clenched in disapproval when she thought about pulling down his holey trousers and sucking him off.
No. Not yet. Not with a billion pounds in her rucksack, and, more importantly, the lamp. She couldn’t risk losing her bag, she had to keep it somewhere safe whilst she went about business. For the first time in a very long time, she smiled. She knew exactly where to safely stash her bag and with that thought in her mind, she headed for the tube station.
“I’d like to book a room for the night, please.”
The immaculate young blonde behind the reception desk of The Ritz Hotel eyed her up in obvious distaste.
“I’m sorry, we’re full.”
“Bollocks. I heard you on the phone just now. You said to whoever you were speaking to that they were in luck, that you only had two rooms that were vacant tonight. That means you still have one room going spare.”
“I’m sorry Madam, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
“But that’s not fair! I have money. Fuck it, I’ll even pay double.”
“Please leave Madam, or I will be forced to call security.”
Pam glared at the beautiful woman. She knew she was beat. Beat and humiliated. She glanced around at the opulent surroundings and cursed herself for her bright idea of coming to The Ritz. Was it so wrong of her to want to inject a little bit of glamour into her life? To try to make this day even a fraction more bearable to soften the blow of all the disgusting things she had to do?
Apparently it was.
“Fuck you, lady,” she hissed, leaning over the gleaming marble reception desk. “Ever heard of Karma? You’ll get yours, bitch.”
The girl visibly paled, and Pam saw her hand dart forward towards an unseen spot under the desk.
Pam got it. She had pressed the panic button for her to be escorted out.
Or arrested.
Pam quickly turned heal and walked down the padded carpet of the huge entrance foyer with the chandeliers glinting overhead. She had to get of there, and fast, she would never complete the day’s jobs if the police took her.
Once she was out on the broad street in Westminster, she ran, bumping into people as she careered along the pavement.
When she could physically run no more, she hunched over her knees panting.
I look like shit, she thought miserably. I wouldn’t let me stay in a five star hotel either.
The morning was creeping on and so far she had achieved nothing. Dressed as she was and being more worried about the contents of her rucksack than anything else certainly wasn’t helping matters either.
I need to buy clothes, right now. When I look proper I’ll be able to book into a hotel and then I can get on with what I have to do. You’ve got work to do Pam, stop being so shallow and get on with it.
Two hours later she stood at the reception desk of another hotel, this one quite ordinary and in Clapham South, situated opposite the Common. It was a massive place and cheap, and a large number of its clientele were foreign tourists here to see London on the cheap. Big, anonymous and non-discriminating. The kind of hotel she should have picked in the first place.
Earlier she’d hit Oxford Street and chosen a handful of outfits for the day. Currently she was wearing a pair of well cut, blue jeans that was way outside her usual budget and a plain white blouse. She’d even stopped off at Boots and had a makeover from one of the dolly birds at a makeup counter.
Who are you kidding, you can’t polish a turd, she thought, when she caught her reflection in a mirror behind reception.
Still, at least she looked almost normal, and the equally ordinary woman behind the desk didn’t seem to be taking offence at her, not like the other snotty cow.
“Just the two nights?” the woman asked her, dividing her gaze between her and the computer screen in front of her.
“Yeah.”
“No problem. Room five one four, third floor, here’s your key,” she said, after putting Pam’s card through the machine.
She tried to hide her look of surprise that the card actually worked. But then, why wouldn’t it? It was magic, after all.
Magic. A truly magical day lies in wait for me.
Once in her room, she dumped all five shopping bags on the double bed and swiftly sorted through her stuff as she munched on a large pie from Greggs. She pulled out the slutty outfit she had bought, complete with the type of shoes she never normally wore for fear of breaking her neck, and laid them out on the bed. She planned on popping back to the hotel later to change into it.
The lamp and her bank card should be safe locked away in the room while she did what she had to do. The remainder of the five grand she divided between the pockets of her jeans and the compartment in her posh, new leather shoulder bag.
She finished her pie, drank her coke, used the bathroom, and with a final, worried look in the direction of her rucksack, she left the room, locking it behind her.
She had chosen Clapham purely because of its vibrant, mixed atmosphere. Lots of pubs, lots of drunk men in the party spirit, a big park where she
might find a dog or two, and, of course, tramps.
She was hoping that she could get everything done here so she wouldn’t have to stray too far from the hotel.
She had already decided what she was going to do first. She was going to look for the cleanest looking tramp she could find, fulfil the disgusting task and then go back to her hotel room and scrub herself clean.
The Common was vast, and plenty of people were out enjoying the unseasonably warm September weather. A poodle pranced past her and she eyed it warily.
How in God’s name am I going to get a dog to fuck me?
“Come, Rufus,” a young woman in the distance called to the dog, and it threw her a disdainful look as it passed her again, as if the damn thing could read her mind.
She shuddered and pushed all thoughts of that task out her head. First things first, one disgusting thing at a time.
Up ahead, a possible candidate caught her eye. A shambolic figure sprawled out on a park bench next to the duck pond. There was an empty space all around him, an invisible force field keeping the families feeding the ducks at bay.
On shaking legs Pam approached him.
“Hi,” she said, stopping a few feet in front of him, blocking his view of the pond.
He didn’t look as old close up. Maybe late thirties as opposed to her original guess of sixty plus. Neither did he look as dirty as some she’d seen loitering on the streets of London.
It took him a moment to focus on her, as if he didn’t quite believe that another human being was talking to him. He muttered something unintelligible, his eyes clouded with madness and booze.
“How would you like to earn two thousand pounds?” she asked him.
He sat upright on the bench he had been lying on, clutching the bottle of booze in the brown paper bag in his fingerless gloved hands.
“Spare some change for the homeless, lady?” he asked, his speech slurred.
“No, no, you’re not hearing me, I’ll give you two thousand pounds if you do a few things for me. Here,” she said, fishing in the pocket of her jeans for the wad of cash and handing him it. “Take it, there’s just over five hundred there.”
That seemed to sober the man up. He reached out to take her money, staring down at the thick wad of notes in disbelief.
“What the fuck?”
“Come with me into the trees and if you let me seduce you I’ll give you more.”
“What the fuck?”
“Please, can we just do this?”
“Fuck off.”
“I’ve just given you five hundred pounds! And I want to give you more if you’ll just come with me.”
The man lurched to his feet, waving his bottle in front of him.
“They’re coming for you lady, they’re everywhere, no one’s safe.”
Oh shit, I’ve picked a good one here. Well done Pam.
“Fucking whore, fucking slag, I fucking hate ducks, quack quack, fucking bread in the fucking water.”
Now the man was waving his arms wildly above his head, making strange noises deep in his throat. It might have been an impersonation of a duck quacking, but she wasn’t sure.
And neither did she care.
“Keep the money,” she muttered, turning abruptly to leave.
“Fucking slag!” he called after her. “Fucking whore! It’s all lies lady! Don’t believe a word he says, he’s going to trick you, he will fuck you over.”
She broke into a sprint, eager to put some distance between them.
She slowed down when the pond was no longer in sight, his words echoing in her head.
He will fuck you over…
Just the ramblings of a mad man, a sad derelict who had lost everything, including his mind. Even so, she shivered, unable to shake the feeling that his words were somehow prophetic. She found she was trembling, and she knew it had little to do with the fact she was panting and out of breath from her short jog through the park.
Come on Pam, get yourself together. You have to do this.
OK, fine, so she had picked a lunatic, it was no big deal. Plenty more where he came from. She would walk back into the main part of town and see who else was available.
She was walking back up through the park towards the main road when the sound of male laughter made her snap her head round. Three young lads of around twenty were sprawled out on the grass, smoking cigarettes. Like the tramp from the duck pond, there was plenty of space surrounding them as if passers-by were too scared to enter their territory. They didn’t look totally dissimilar to the two guys that had mugged her. They wore the same uniform of hoodies and baggy jeans and trainers that probably cost more than she earned in a month.
“What are you looking at, dogface?” one of the boys called out.
His words were met by raucous laughter from his mates.
Ordinarily, she would’ve walked on, head down and humiliated.
But these weren’t ordinary times. She stopped in her tracks and turned to stare at them. Instantly, the laughter died down.
“I’m looking at you, pretty boy,” she called back.
This time the resulting guffaws of laughter sounded distinctly uneasy.
“Oh yeah? Then why don’t you come over here and suck my cock, dogface?”
How many women had he verbally abused in this way? She wondered. And more importantly, how many women had actually taken him up on his crass offer?
She smiled humourlessly to herself and walked over to the group, figuring that the poor boy was about to get the shock of his life.
“Get it out, then,” she said, standing over them with her hand on her hip. “And I’ll give you the best fucking blowjob you ever had.”
“What the fuck is your problem?” one of the others asked.
Pam detected the note of fear in his voice and it made her uneasy. Scared young men were liable to act rashly and lash out. She didn’t want to get beaten up, she just wanted to cross ‘gangbang with three or more men’ off her list. Or at least get a few blowjobs under her belt if nothing else.
“I don’t have a problem. Like your friend said, I’m a dog. Ugly birds don’t get much cock.”
“I oughta fucking knock you out,” he replied.
“Wait,” his friend said, the one who had made the offer in the first place. “You heard what the ugly bitch said. Let’s see if she puts her money where her mouth is.”
More uneasy laughter rippled through the group.
The lad sprawled backwards on one elbow and freed his cock. He held his flaccid member in the palm of his hand, pointing it at her.
“Come on then, bitch.”
Well, it’s now or never.
Pam sunk down to her knees before him and leaned over to take his cock in her mouth.
“Jesus,” her target said, sucking in a sharp intake of breath.
Pam got to work, sucking the thing into almost full stiffness.
“I can’t believe she’s actually fucking do it!” the third lad said. “Shit, what if someone sees?”
The lad who had his cock in her mouth abruptly pushed her off him and she toppled backwards.
“Come on, let’s take this bitch into the trees and see what else she does.”
The three guys got to their feet and Pam followed. No one on the Commons paid them the blindest bit of attention.
“You don’t have to do this,” the shorter of the three said to her.
“What the fuck you saying that for?” the guy whose cock she had just been sucking said.
Pam looked at him. Physically he looked much the same as the other two; buzz cut hair, designer hoody, skinny build. But there was genuine concern in his eyes that was lacking in the other two.
“I want to.”
He regarded her for a second, then nodded his thin, ratty looking face with the dark brown eyes.
“Whatever,” he replied.
“Come on,” the ringleader said, “what is this, a fucking mother’s meeting?”
Pam followed the three younger men
into the wooded area. Once they were shrouded by trees the ringleader pulled her behind the nearest, fattest tree trunk. He pushed her roughly to her knees by her shoulders and in one swift movement freed his cock, shoving it unceremoniously past the startled O of her lips. The other two stood in front of them, blocking the view if anyone should pass by. Not that there was anyone here amongst the trees with them. Not yet anyway.
He proceeded to fuck her face with abandon. Pam was no stranger to deep throat but he was too rough and she was frightened. Her throat constricted around his hard shaft and her gag reflex went into overdrive, each of his hard thrusts pushing the rise of vomit back down again. Her head felt fuzzy, like it was screwed on too tight. The cock was cutting off her airways and she bit down the rise of panic, forcing her throat to relax.
I have to get them to fuck me, she thought in desperation. This would be a wasted opportunity otherwise. She didn’t want to have to go through another encounter with a group of men, she would rather get her blow job count up by finding lone men and doing each one individually.
But she couldn’t voice her desire to be fucked because of the cock slamming down her throat. She felt the damn thing swell in her mouth, a sure sign that he was on the brink of climax.
She tried to pull away from him, but his fingers dug into her shoulders. Pam squirmed in earnest, desperately trying to wiggle out his grip.
“Fuck me,” she said, but it came out more like uhh eee.
“I think she said fuck me,” the other lad said, the one that didn’t look remotely kind in any way, shape or form.
“Did she now?” the ringleader said. “We’ve got ourselves a real horny fucking slag here, haven’t we?”
His cock popped out of her mouth, red and shiny, glistening in the dappled sunlight that streamed through the thick, green canopy.
“I want you all to fuck me.”
Oh God, I really can’t believe those words just came out my mouth.
Suddenly she was scared. It hadn’t felt completely real until this point, not even with the cock choking her. But now, surrounded by three adrenalin and testosterone fuelled young men, she realised fully for the first time she was in a whole heap of potential trouble.