Don't worry, he's going to tell you.

"Some people think they call me 'The Hammer' 'cause I supposedly busted up that mope Angie Troncato with a hammer. Had his head in a fuckin' vice just like you are, an' busted his fuckin' head right in." He slams the hammer down on the bench beside you with tremendous ****, his eyes looking at your terrified face as he moves around the bench.

"So they say. Fact is, nobody knows what happened to Angie Troncato except him and whoever did it to him. And Angie, well Angie ain't talkin'." He arcs his hand over his head and slams the hammer down beside your neck. He smiles at you, hefting the hammer as though considering options. You're utterly consumed by panic, stricken voiceless and unable to do anything but whimper, tears running from your eyes, your hands clutching at the edges of the workbench, expecting to see the hammer swinging down to crush your lovely face.

"That's what they say anyway," he says with a chuckle, dropping the hammer. "But what the fuck do they know?" He walks to the foot of the bench, looking up your lush helpless body, naked except for the white thigh high stockings. He cocks his head on one side as he looks at you, taking in every detail of your quivering flesh. Looking at you as an ancient priest might have gazed upon a sacrifice stretched upon an altar.

"There's a better story about how I got called 'The Hammer'," he says in a conversational tone as he pushes your knees apart, fully exposing your pussy. You're still wet, your arousal still simmering, the glow of your orgasm not utterly faded. He looks at your flowering lips, a smile quirking the corners of his mouth.

"You smell like a cunt that needs fuckin'. You smell like you're sorry I didn't show up half an hour later so these fuckin' mooks could really have pulled a train on you," he chuckles. "That right bitch? You a cock hungry slut?" You're too terrified to answer, your mouth incapable of anything but a low whine. He smiles at you as he stands between your spread thighs, his eyes fixed on your face locked in the vise.

"Well, anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, the other reason I got called 'The Hammer'," he muses thoughtfully, then smiles as if an idea has occurred to him. "It's easier to show you than tell you." He undoes his belt and unbuttons his pants, taking them off and handing them to one of his men before turning back to you. He drops his boxers, exposing a formidable half hard cock, stroking it slowly as he moves between your thighs. You watch the thick foreskin withdrawing as the cock fully erects, standing stiff and hard and magnificent.

"Meet 'The Hammer' sweetheart," he tells you as he starts to rub the tip between the swollen wet lips of your labia.