The Deal (The Fallen Angel Series Book 1)

by S C Cunningham

  The four walls had different activities. One had naked women standing in a row, bent over, leaning into a hole. A black curtain hid their upper body, as men took them from behind. On the second wall, a row of two foot ledges stuck out, the lower part of a female body, lying on her back, hips resting on the ledge, legs flailing, her upper body also hidden behind a curtain, being taken by men. The third and fourth walls had smaller holes at hip height for clients to stick there penis into and have an unknown mouth suck on it.

  With trousers wrapped around their ankles, men used the female parts to pleasure themselves, some fucking, some licking, some wanking over the skin on display. The women’s faces could not be seen, but fake moans of pleasure could be heard coming from behind the walls. The men lined up, stroking their cocks, waiting their turn. Some sat on sofas, getting their breath back, for the next dip into pleasure.

  Naked waitresses offered drinks, condoms, and tissues.

  “Classy,” Jack muttered, scouting the room for faces.

  Mara came up behind him, wrapped her hands around his waist, and grabbed his cock.

  “I’ve missed you,” she whispered, her breath warm against his neck, her cloying perfume filling his nostrils.

  He jerked forward, as if given an electric shock. “Don’t touch me.” He spat, spinning around to face her.

  She laughed and stepped forward to press against his body, she lay one hand against his knife-scarred chest, as the other cupped between his legs.

  “You’re mine, Jack, and you know it. There’s energy between us you can’t resist.”

  Jack stared at her for a second, letting her hands remain on him. His cock lurched.

  “Fuck off.” He shoved her away.

  She smiled at his hesitation, and the hardening of his beautiful cock, she still had it.

  Jack jumped down the staircase, and walked along the line of fucking, sucking, wanking men, surveying their faces.

  Mara strutted closely behind him, her voice in his ear, soft and sultry, just like she used to when they first got together. It reminded him of the snake in The Jungle Book. She’d always known how to get to him.

  “She doesn’t want you, you know. She told me.”

  “I know, thanks to you and your vicious tongue. Why are you so adamant in splitting us up? You want her sloppy seconds, eh?” he spat.

  He spied another door under the staircase where a sexy blonde in a short white uniform entered, carrying towels. He sidled through right behind her.

  Three massage beds filled the room. Three fat old bald men lay naked on top of them, each with two women and a man servicing them.

  He clicked his phone. “Pyke, I’m in the basement. Help me out here. The man I am looking for…”

  “Yep, Rudy Stonkavich.”

  “Well, I’m looking at three possibles. They’re all naked, with no clothing or ID to scan, and the light’s too dark for you to get a clear picture.”

  “Well, he’s a big Russian,” Pyke said.

  “Yep.”

  “Bald.”

  “Yep.”

  “Sixtyish.”

  “Yep.”

  “Fat.”

  Jack scratched his head. “For god’s sake, they all look like that.”

  “He’s into boys.”

  Jack felt elated to spot the middle male who had a cock in his mouth as one female sucked his cock and another licked his balls. But his smile dropped as he saw one of the other males handling his masseur’s genitals while a female rubbed her breasts in his face, and the other dropped hot wax on his cock. The third possible pulled the male masseur’s face towards him and gave him a full-on tongues kiss.

  “Shit, they all go both ways.”

  “He has a tattoo of a unicorn running out of his arse.”

  “Where?”

  “On his back…duh. Where else would his arse be?”

  “Very funny, wise guy.”

  “Have you seen any pink-haired girls with nose piercings there?” asked Pyke.

  “Nope, not that I recall. Why?”

  “Oh, nothing. She’s on our missing list. I thought there might be a connection.”

  Jack couldn’t concentrate with Mara whispering in his ear again, her hands pawing him.

  “I’ll get back to you, Pyke.”

  He clicked off his call, grabbed Mara by the arm, and shoved her across the room.

  “Leave me alone, for fuck’s sake.”

  “I’m bored,” she muttered, grumpy, dusting herself down. “So, what do you want me to do?”

  “Deactivate the one with the unicorn tattoo on his arse. I’ll be back in a minute.” Jack left the room. Leaving a confused Mara staring at the three men and wondering which had the unicorn.

  He walked back upstairs and through the wooden sex wall to find a dark, humid box room, with twenty or so naked and drugged girls.

  On two walls, the girls lay on raised beds with half their bodies protruding through a hole in the wall, some lying on their stomachs, some on their backs. Black plastic curtains drew across their bodies, giving the illusion of having been cut in half. The girls wriggled and cried out with pain, not enjoying whatever treatment the males on the other side of the wall enacted. A fake, pre-recorded soundtrack oozed groans and sighs from ceiling speakers, muffling the girls’ cries.

  The third and fourth walls had rows of hard, jiggling cocks of varying sizes and colours, sticking through smaller holes. Girls knelt on the floor in front of them, gagging as they sucked the men off. The room stank of semen and sweat.

  Jack scanned the disgusting scene, noting the only exit was a door, bolted on the outside, with an overhead camera surveying the dazed women. He reached up and nudged the camera’s angle away from the girls. He pushed his hand through the door and unbolted it, letting it fall slightly ajar.

  He reached out to the nearest girl. She lay on her stomach, her lower body from the waist down was sticking out through a hole, hidden by a curtain. She drifted in and out of consciousness, her body rocked backwards and forwards on the bed, as she was being taken from behind.

  He gently lifted her head and directed her face toward the door. He shook her shoulders, trying to stir her awake. He whispered in her ear. Through the hazy, mind-numbing drugs, she glimpsed at the open door and the shifted camera. The opportunity to escape slowly dawned on her. Frantically, she waved and whispered to her fellow girls, trying to get them to see it, too.

  One by one, Jack helped them extricate their bodies from the holes and stagger to the door. Some started to cry, not understanding what strange force was surrounding them. Jack corralled the girls in a pack, giving each other support.

  In the main room, unhappy clients shouted, furious the women had suddenly disappeared and were no longer providing them pleasure, but they fell silent when a single file of naked, dirty, drugged, sobbing girls staggered out of the sex wall door and shuffled barefoot through the room. Unseen, Jack guided them to the staircase, the way out.

  The men hushed, staring in awe, some in shame at the painful state of their sex slaves. The greasy, bedraggled young girls, who they had just been intimate with, were ugly with lack of sleep, lack of nutrition and the haunting eyes of drug addiction.

  Just as the girls walked to their freedom, a loud explosion blasted from the dungeon below, the whole building shook, as if an earthquake had split the ground. Dust and debris percolated the air. The men and girls clambered up the stairs, screaming to get out.

  Mara was suddenly by Jack’s side.

  “What the fuck happened?”

  “Err…I tried to get them to stand up to get a good look at their bums, but it failed.”

  “What failed?”

  “Electrocution…I just wanted a short, sharp shock using the wires from the wax melting pot, but what with the water and everything, it went a bit wrong. They’re all dead.”

  “What?”

  “Except the masseurs. They’re just under the rubble.”

  Sirens rang in the distanc
e, someone had called it in.

  Chapter Forty

  Jack and Mara watched the commotion from the side lines. Television camera crews had arrived. A helicopter circled above while armed Police charged up the entrance steps.

  Headlines and news spread like a fever, linking the incident to every outlet around the world: Russian oligarch’s private club had been attacked during one of his sex parties.

  Authorities escorted a cluster of crying girls, three dead bodies, and lines of shame-faced males from the building, including an MP, a Cardinal, a renowned Judge, a TV presenter and a premiership footballer, all under the glare of camera lights.

  “You’re not really cut out for this job, are you?” remarked Jack, arms crossed, leaning against a Police vehicle bonnet.

  “What? It’s not my fault,” Mara said, stomping closer to the vehicle and leaning on the headlight to check her nails.

  “We’re meant to sneak in, do the job, and get out without anyone realising they’d been helped, subtle-like.” He shook his head, watching the saga unfold around the planet. “Maggie is so not going to be happy.”

  “So, they had an electrical shortage. What’s the problem? They may not understand the scorching around the base of their cocks, but hey… the target is deactivated, whichever one he was, they all looked the same to me… I never did find the bloody unicorn.”

  Jack, lay back against the bonnet and peered up at the sky. He closed his eyes, tucked his hands behind his head, and started to shake with laughter.

  She hadn’t seen him laugh in a long time. She stepped between his legs, leaned over his body, placed her face close to his, and gazed into his eyes.

  He stopped laughing and stared back at her, wondering how someone so beautiful, could turn out so evil. Why had she been allowed to join their Unit? Had she changed?

  “You know, if you’d been a good person, we may have stood a chance, Mara. What made you so evil?”

  She could feel his breath on her lips as he spoke.

  “My father,” she whispered. “I don’t want to talk about it. But he is the reason for everything in my life. He always has been.” Tears welled in her eyes.

  “I didn’t know. Why didn’t you ever talk about it?”

  The concern in his voice surprised her. She hadn’t expected his kindness.

  “Do you believe we could have had a chance, Jack?” Her voice childlike.

  She dropped her body onto him, and snuggled her head into his shoulder. It was too much. He gently pushed her off him and stepped away from the car.

  “We best get back.”

  “How dare you!” She posed stiffly, hands on her hips. “Are you just shaking me off like a piece of dirt after all we’ve been through? After all I’ve done for you?”

  “What? What have you done for me? You killed me. This is not happening, Mara. I’m not falling for your wiles. I know what you’re like. You’ll say anything to get what you want.”

  When he turned to go, she raised her arm and slapped his face.

  He swung to hit her back but held his hand mid-air. If she thought she could elicit a reaction from him, she was mistaken. He walked away.

  Red with anger, she chased after him and jumped on his back. Her legs wrapped around his hips. She pulled at his hair and slapped his head like a banshee, trying to hurt him with all her might.

  He turned around, trying to shake her off, but she wouldn’t let go. They spun up in the air, twisting tornado’esque in a blur, round and round, until they tumbled to the ground exhausted. She immediately rolled over and scrambled to sit on top of his prostrate body.

  With strong legs astride his stomach, she pinned him down, held his hands up over his head and lowered her face close to his.

  “You never did love me,” she whispered. “I didn’t stand a chance. You should never have given me hope. You should have left me alone. It wasn’t fair.” Tears streamed down her face.

  He stared up at her in shame, knowing she was right. She never did stand a chance with Amy in his life. From the moment Amy didn’t come out of the woods all those years ago, she’d stolen his heart. He’d wanted to protect her, to be with her and her alone. How did he ever get himself involved with Mara? He was as much to blame for her madness as she.

  “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

  “You killed me.”

  “I know.”

  She buried her head in his chest, her long hair falling over his face. Her cloying perfume filling his senses. He held her as she sobbed, waiting for her tears to stop. He had never seen her this vulnerable before, had never held her this way, and wondered if things could’ve been different.

  Sensing his thoughtfulness, she raised her head, gazed into his eyes, put her mouth on his, and kissed him—a soft, loving, long sexy kiss. It caught him unawares. He didn’t push her away; he couldn’t, not again.

  Knowing what he was doing, he kissed her back, in a fucked-up, apologetic way, giving her what she wanted, saying he was sorry.

  Lying in the street outside the oligarch’s house, surrounded with camera crew, police, ambulances, and rubberneckers, they had sex on the pavement.

  He let her take what she wanted, what she needed, tears in both their eyes—his of guilt and pity; hers of knowing she’d never really have him, knowing he felt sorry for her, that this was goodbye.

  Although in plain sight, no one in the crowd could see them. But Pyke did. He had them on surveillance, watching the incident through street cameras. He lowered his eyes, and shook his head.

  Someone else had his eyes on the intimate moment, too. Gregori stood in the shadows, puffing on his cigar, glad at Jack’s weakness, but sad at Mara’s.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Alice

  Brighton, UK

  The trips to ‘play’ with his friends came every few days. Alice quickly learned to block her mind, to float off to someplace else as they manhandled her, grabbed at her, buggered her, raped her, gagged her, pissed on her, burned her, fucked her mouth and insulted her.

  Her mind protected her, pretending the disgusting treatment was happening to someone else, not her. Sometimes, they would grip her neck so tightly, she thought she would suffocate, thought she might die. She soon longed for those moments, willing them to squeeze harder, to kill her, to let her die, to let her go. But they would always release their sweaty hands, just in time for her to gasp a breath.

  Fat, ugly, rancid men piled on top of her, taking her body this way and that, with no feeling, no remorse, just for the fun of it.

  She often studied her abusers, wondering if they were fathers, if they were brothers, how they would feel if their child, mother, or sister were mauled in such a way and forced to perform unspeakable acts. But she found it difficult to see them as human. They had the devil in them; she wanted them to burn in hell.

  She learned she was not alone in the building. Although she never saw anyone else, he cleverly separated and isolated them. She guessed the other doors off the corridor housed numerous other victims he’d tricked into entering his lair. She surmised from their cries some were male, some female, some a lot younger than she. A few of the rooms held more than one person.

  Whenever she heard the classical music and the squeaking wheelchair, she cringed to know he was on his rounds, choosing someone to entertain at his evil, twisted parties. Sometimes ten men waited in the room, sometimes just one, but he would always hover about the room, stand in the corner, top up drinks, and oversee events like a good host.

  She noticed he was concerned about lighting, and often ushered people out of the way. She guessed the mirrors hid cameras, and that he was recording the sessions. Probably to blackmail his clients. A few of the faces, when she saw them, she recognised from newspapers and the television.

  She wondered if Maria was there.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Greystones,

  Co Wicklow, Ireland

  Amy sneaked off, desperate for some space, to be on her own.

 
She landed in Greystones, a beautiful coastal village in County Wicklow, just outside Dublin, Ireland—a reasonably quiet part of the world, where she could be left alone for a while.

  She scoured the streets until she found a near-empty internet café. She wanted to sift through web browsers to answer a few questions.

  She entered the café, wandered past the coffee counter, and followed the signs to a room full of desks and computers. She chose a desk in the back, a computer conveniently facing the wall and affording the right kind of privacy.

  She could’ve worked in the Unit office to do her research, but Pyke would’ve inquired about her activity, and she would have been sent out on a job. Let Jack and Mara take the reins for a while.

  Two student, a boy and a girl, occupied desks on the other side of the room, their heads buried in books, their ears plugged into music, their demeanour appearing as if they were lost in their own worlds.

  It took her a while to remember how to use the outdated keyboard, strangely old and clunky compared to the advanced resources in the skies. She would touch the screen to make a move, but failed to make it work.

  She gripped the mouse and studied the instructions on the wall to log on and get started. Initially, she struggled to get the keys and mouse to move, but after a while, she perfected the right amount of force needed. The mouse rolled off the desk a few times, when she’d misjudged and swept it too far, but the students, plugged into their headphones, didn’t notice her clumsiness.

  Firstly, she wanted to read the news about her death. She inserted her name in the search bar and pressed enter. A short entry in a freebie evening newspaper popped up.

  RUSH HOUR CHAOS AS BODY FOUND ON TRACK

  A woman died after being hit by a train on the Piccadilly Line during this morning's rush hour. Emergency services were summoned to Brompton Court London Underground station shortly after 8.30 a.m., after reports of a person on the track.