Someone with real power

You peer between the legs of the men surrounding you, seeing a stocky grey haired man flanked by two much larger men standing just inside the door of the warehouse. He stalks into the room, command etched in every part of him, and you see Jimmy rising to his feet in deference, while the men around you tuck their wilting cocks away.

"Uncle Tommy!" Jimmy says, his voice shocked. "Good to see..." His words are cut off by the newcomers hand slapping him across the face.

"What the fuck, you little pissant! What the fuck you doin' here?" His eyes roam over the room, focussing in on your kneeling naked body like laser beams.

"Who the fuck is she? I'm asking you a question you horse shit mother fucker! Who the fuck is this bitch?"

"Uhh...She's a dancer...we brought her here...." Jimmy's words are cut off by a slap from the older man.

"You brought here here! Here! You stupid, worthless little turd! I oughta clip you right fuckin' here you motherless fuck!" The older man is at least six inches shorter than Jimmy but there is no question of his dominance. Jimmy virtually grovels in supplication.

"I'm so sorry, Uncle Tommy, I made a mistake. It was a bad idea."

"You fuckin' right it was a bad idea you fuckin' mope," the older man says, turning to you with a look of concern in his eyes.

"You ok, sweetheart?" he asks you, then sees your bound hands. "Why she all taped up? What the fuck is with that?"

"She was waving her hands around, trying to claw us," Jimmy says, looking embarrassed. The older man looks at him with scorn.

"So all you fuckin' guys couldn't control one fuckin' little broad? What kinda fuckin' mooks are you? Cut that shit off her."

A moment later you feel the tape being cut, then peeled off your wrists. You fall forward, holding yourself up, looking up into the face of the older man.

"Thank you..." you murmur gratefully. "Thank you Mr. Da Costa."

He looks at you with surprise. "What you call me sweetheart? What's that you said?"

"Ummm...Mr. Da Costa?" you repeat, puzzlement and alarm growing in you. You've recognized him from some pictures in new stories, but you feel a rapidly growing unease at his reaction to your recognition.

"So tell me, sweetheart, who do you think I am?"

"Ummm...Mr. Da Costa... that is Tommy...."The Hammer" Da Costa," you murmur fearfully.

"Well ain't you the clever little bitch," he says giving you a smile that hasn't a trace of friendliness in it. "Observant too." He turns back to Jimmy, pushing him again. "See what you done you fuckin' mope, you fuckin' by blow. You bring this fuckin' broad in here, in HERE! Just so you could pull a train on her like a bunch of fuckin' mooks from the projects. You fuckin' stupid piece of horse shit, mother fucker, you!" He slaps Jimmy again, who cowers away from the blow.

"Top of it all, you can't even control a broad, buncha guys like you. You need to tape her up like a buncha fuckin' pussies. I'll show you how to control a bitch like this," he says, stepping forward and grabbing a handful of your hair and pulling you to your feet.

"You get a bitch by the hair like this, you pretty much can do what you want," he says, pulling you towards a workbench, ignoring your squealing protests.

"But if you need her in one place, there's better ways," he adds, lifting you easily onto the workbench, while still holding a handful of hair as you squirm and whimper. Stretching you on the bench, he pulls your head back, and you feel something tighten, pressing against the side of your head, squeezing it hard, locking your head in place.

"Be still, bitch. I got your head in a fuckin' vice. Any trouble outta you and I'll twist it so tight I'll pop your fuckin' eyeballs out."

You look up into his cruel face and see no pity there at all. He reaches somewhere out of your sight and shows you a heavy hammer.

"You want to know why they call me 'The Hammer', bitch?" He asks you, hefting the tool easily in his hands, his merciless eyes staring into yours. You're so terrified you can't even begin to beg.