A different perspective…

It was getting late and they had run out of time. One of the whores had somehow gotten out. That shouldn’t have been possible, but here they were, packing up and moving out. It was the only safe option they had. Who knows who that bitch ran off to, and who knows when someone would come knocking. The man took a drag off a cigarette, and let the quick nicotine buzz hit. He didn’t look like much, just a typical biker. Jeans, cowboy boots, a tattered leather jacket with no insignias on it, and of course aviators. He always kept his hair slicked back too. He liked it that way, and so did the ladies. Or so he told himself. The only thing that wasn’t average about him was the meat he was packing. He grinned at the thought of it. It hadn’t always been this way, but thanks to a little help from that demonic little polaroid, he had a good 9 inches going… that was while flaccid.

He took another drag off his cigarette as he sat in the circular leather booth. He had enjoyed many nights in this exact spot having hotties suck his cock and ****. It really turned him on to see the tears and strain as they **** his cock past their vocal cords. The thought of it now was making his pants tight. It’s a real shame, he rather liked Kenzie. He reached into his pocket to pull out a polaroid photo of her. It simply read “THROAT GOAT.”

He hoped that he could’ve had more time to experiment with her and the camera, but he was just too damn busy with these other goddamn sluts. When she disappeared he went searching for her file that usually kept all the photos, but when he opened it he only found this single one. The man who had procured her had fucked up big time. After finding out who compromised HIS whole operation, he forbade anyone from touching the camera, and he to make an example he took a photo of that man who fucked things up for him and simply wrote “PILE OF FLESH.” The results were disturbing, considering he was still somehow alive, but the message was received. There were no fuck ups, or the consequences would be dire.

The man’s mind drifted back to Kenzie. He had high hopes for her. He started remembering a time he got to **** that little mouth of hers…

“You stupid whore, take it all the way to my balls!” Kenzie slammed her face down onto his cock against her will. Her own body betrayed her, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t disobey him, or anyone for that matter.

The man was now raging hard remembering this.

“Yes Master! I’m a little slut who loves to serve!” We had told her to always end her replies like that.

“You like that you fucking cock whore?!” He slammed his rod down her throat before she could reply and she gagged and coughed up spit as she tried to respond with his dick in her mouth. Eventually the length of his cock slid out of her throat and made a popping noise as it exited her mouth.

“No! I fucking hate you, but I’m a little slut who loves to serve!” Her voice was raspy, from the brutal face fucking no doubt, but she got the words out.

He was playing with his boner through his pants when the van arrived. “Bout fucking time,” he grumbled. He opened the doors to the front and helped back in the van. “What took you so goddamn long boys?”

“Sorry boss, flat tire. Had to change it on the side of the road.” The thug replied.

The man in the leather jacket stared daggers at him, but eventually decided it wasn’t worth wasting even more time on him. This was the final load, and then they were gone. He had one more woman to move, and some more files and recording to get to their new hideout. Once this was done, he could stop worrying.

“Okay just help me—” There was suddenly shouting all around them.

“GET THE FUCK ON THE GROUND! GET ON THE GROUND NOW!”

The man moved on instinct, he ran back into the building right as the van’s tires started screeching. He heard gunshots, but didn’t dare look back. He ran straight back to his office, slammed the door shut, and started looking around frantically. He moved to start grabbing anything he felt was of value. A few flash drives, his notebook, a few of the safety polaroids, and a baseball he had from a mets game that was signed by one of the players. What? He knew it was silly but it was special to him.

He thought about what was left but too panicked to fully process what was going on. A new girl? Some tapes? Was he in any of those? He heard footsteps and then banging on his door. He went to the fire exit and ran into the alley in the back. His personal car, a 1967 Mustang fastback, was there waiting for him. He hopped in and started the car. It was a convertible, and he had forgotten to close the top after parking it last. The beast growled as it came to life and he slammed the accelerator to the floor. His tires screeched until the tires finally found traction and bit into the floor. The leaped forward as he flew out of the garage into the alley way, but right before he exited onto the road he saw two men round the corner in front of him at the end of the alley way.

Ducking his head down the men took shots that wizzed overhead, but he didn’t give a fuck about them as he sped forward. One stepped out of the way in time, but the other bounced off his hood, and off to the side. As he drove away he thought about the men left in the building. He didn’t really care about them, he was out, and that’s all that mattered, he just hoped that they wouldn’t talk. He had pictures of most of them anyways, he would tie up any loose ends if needed.

He drove away quick, and didn’t look back. After his adrenaline started to wear off his mind started racing… “FUCK! FUUUUUUCK! Fuck fuck fuck fuck!” He started screaming into the wind. His mood changing from panic to pure rage. He thought quickly about who that could’ve been, but also the headache he was about to experience. He would have to keep a much tighter grip on this whole operation. No more lending out the polaroid, and no more trusting anyone..