Thug Trade: The Extortionist's Lackey
Thug Trade: The Extortionist's Lackey
Midpoint
Thug Trade: The Extortionist's Lackey
Gavin Rockhard
Copyright 2016
All characters depicted in sexual situations in this publication are eighteen years of age or older.
These stories are about fictional consenting adults engaging in taboo and controversial sexual acts. Nobody involved in the creation of this ebook, including authors, editors and models, support immoral or illegal acts in real life. Cover models are not intended to illustrate specific people and the content does not refer to models' actual acts, identity, history, beliefs or behavior. No characters depicted in this ebook are intended to represent real people.
Eddie found the shift to be difficult, much moreso than he was expecting. He hadn't really given it any thought. Working for a few hours as a store clerk was easy, after all, and it didn't even matter. He had to work those hours, but that wasn't the point of why he was here.
He was at a fancy olive oil shop in the Bronx. It sold olive oil imported from Europe, along with actual olives of hundreds of varieties, some fancy cheeses and jams, something called a "spaetzle-maker" that looked like a torture device, and a few kitchen appliances and sundries. Eddie had not given any thought whatsoever to working the shift.
The register was confusing. The customers expected him to know everything -- they even asked him for a spaetzle recipe, but all Eddie could think of to say was that there was a recipe in the box. He assumed there probably was.
Finally, about two minutes after he locked the door, there was a firm, insistent knock. Eddie had been told to expect that; he shivered with anticipation. He didn't see the men outside, but they must have been hiding somewhere, waiting. When they saw him lock the door, they came to knock on it.
There were two men in suits. One of them was Mr. Goronzelli. He was middle-aged, leanly built, lanky, with a certain sex appeal that no doubt had lots of women creaming themselves at his smooth demeanor. But he wasn't exactly sexy. He was angular, gaunt-faced, bony beneath his finely tailored suit.
The other was much more interesting. He was named Sam really, but he went by Alberto -- his middle-name -- because it sounded more Italian. He was only twenty years old, and he was brimming with muscles that didn't fit in his suit, which was not finely tailored. It was an off-the-rack, ill-fitting suit, sleeves extending past his wrists, a few stray threads over his chest, a faded stain near his waist. He had dark eyes, swarthy skin and a square, angular jaw.
When they walked in after Eddie unlocked the door, Alberto had an intense, nervous energy. He looked around the shop as though checking for hidden gunmen. He made sure the door was locked, and he closed the blinds so no one could see in.
"Hello, gentlemen," Eddie said. His throat was suddenly parched. There were a lot of ways this could go wrong, and right now, his mind raced with all of them. "We're, uh, closed, sirs."
"Yes, I know. I believe you have a package waiting for us?" Mr. Goronzelli said. He placed one delicate finger on the counter, near the little bell he could ring for service if there was no one up front. Eddie's gaydar popped on -- nobody had suggested Mr. Goronzelli might be gay, but it made sense and there was something distinctly feminine in his mannerisms. His voice had a graceful elegance to it. "My name is Mr. Goronzelli."
"Oh, yes, yes, sir," Eddie said. "My father left this for you. He said not to worry about it, he would make it right later. Sorry I don't know what that means, it's just what he said to tell you." He handed over a package.
All this was a lie. Eddie knew exactly what was going on, and he knew what was supposed to happen. Of course, when it came to extortion, anything was possible.
"I do not like that your father is not here to meet me. He should not be sending messages through his son," Mr. Goronzelli said with a scoff. "How old are you?"
"Nineteen, sir."
Mr. Goronzelli counted the money from the package slowly. When he was done, he frowned and counted it again. Eddie pretended to be surprised. Alberto stood motionless behind Mr. Goronzelli.
"You are two hundred dollars short," Mr. Goronzelli said. He put his hands on his hips. "I'm afraid your father miscounted."
"Well... we have, uh... Business hasn't been good," Eddie said. He stammered. He didn't need to pretend to be scared, even though there was two hundred dollars crammed into his shoe, just in case he needed it.
"I do not want a lesson on economics, young man," Mr. Goronzelli said. "How much money is in the register?"
"Uh... Not much. Only about a hundred dollars," Eddie said. "I'm not allowed to open it though, not after close-"
Mr. Goronzelli slapped him. Eddie shrieked, and Alberto came closer as though going to punch him. Mr. Goronzelli stopped him. "What's your name, young man?"
"Eddie."
"Eddie... You should know that I am not an ordinary man picking up a few dollars. I have been working hard for your father this month. There is a great deal of crime in this city. I have ensured it does not come here," Mr. Goronzelli said. "I am simply collecting your father's payment for next month's protection. Do you see? If you do not pay, you will have no protection against crime next month. It will be a self-fulfilling cycle, because you have no protection, you lose your income for the month due to crime, which means you can not pay protection the following month either. It is, my dear boy, a conundrum." He paused, then he leaned forward. "So I suggest you get the money out of the register, and any other money you may have hidden somewhere. It is vitally important that this bill gets paid."
Eddie's hands shook as he opened the drawer. There was a hundred and twenty dollars in there. "Here, this is it. We don't have any more."
"You are still eighty dollars short," Mr. Goronzelli said. "I do not allow shorts, of any amount." He nodded at Alberto, who grabbed an expensive bottle of olive oil. He slammed it on the counter.
The bottle didn't shatter. Alberto frowned and did it again. He rubbed his forearm as though it hurt.
"Alberto!" Mr. Goronzelli snapped at him. "Are you retarded? That bottle is not even glass. This is plastic." He grabbed the bottle out of Alberto's hand. "Excuse him, he's very dumb."
Alberto wrinkled his nose and rolled his eyes. He grabbed a different bottle, this one balsamic vinegar. He weighed it and nodded to himself, then smashed it. This one was glass, and the smell of sweet vinegar filled the air. He tossed the broken bottle on the floor.
"Please, sir..."
"Are you close to your father, Eddie? Because I suspect he made you work tonight so that you would bear the brunt of punishment," Mr. Goronzelli said. "It is terrible for a man to treat his son like so."
"Uh, yeah... we haven't been getting along," Eddie said.
"Well, 'tis a pity for you," Mr. Goronzelli said. "If you went to an ATM, would you be able to get eighty dollars out?"
"No, sir."
Mr. Goronzelli clucked his tongue against his teeth. "Why don't I stand here and wait? You can brainstorm ways to raise eighty dollars. It is not even very much money. It seems horrible that I must punish you for want of eighty dollars. I will consider my punishment while you think."
A long, awkward silence filled the air. Mr. Goronzelli rolled his eyes. He turned his head to look at Alberto. "Well? Alberto?"
"Oh, yes, sir," Alberto said, his first words since walking in. He blushed. He took a step forward. "Yes, sir. Yes. Sir. Yes. Okay. Yes, sir." He was distinctly, obviously nervous. He looked even more nervous than Eddie right now.
"He's still new. I apologize for his slowness," Mr. Goronzelli said with a wry smile. "He was supposed to do something whil
e I pretend to 'think'. He is ruining this."
Alberto took a deep breath. "Uh, okay then, uh... deadbeat. I guess... I guess we gotta, you know... do... somethin'..."
"Compelling threat, Alberto." Mr. Goronzelli sighed.
"Hey, oh, uh, Mr. Goronzelli, sir... I think he might be, you know..." Alberto blushed a deep red. He flashed a limp wrist at Mr. Goronzelli. "I think he might be a faggot."
Mr. Goronzelli slapped him. "Do not use such hurtful language, Alberto."
"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir."
"Don't apologize to me. Apologize to him."
Alberto scowled at Eddie. "I'm sorry, sir. I ain't mean to call you a faggot."
"Oh-" Eddie was interrupted.
"Alberto!" Mr. Goronzelli pushed Alberto against the counter. Since Alberto was much heavier than him, it was clear that Alberto moved because he was supposed to, not because he was pushed. Alberto blanched and bent over the counter. Mr. Goronzelli pulled his slacks down, revealing a big hairy ass, nice and plump, the size of Mr. Goronzelli's whole head. "What did I say about speaking properly? You ain't an animal."
"I'm sorry-" Alberto glared at Eddie as though this was his fault. He yelped when Mr. Goronzelli rammed a finger into his asshole, then smacked his left asscheek. Alberto grunted, his entire face turning red. "I'm sorry, sir. I am trying to learn to speak better."
Mr. Goronzelli smacked his other cheek, which made Alberto moan in agony as his asshole clenched Mr. Goronzelli's finger. "Good." Mr. Goronzelli pulled out. He wiped his finger off on Alberto's hairy asscheek. "You may continue."
Alberto stood up and pulled his pants back up. He glared at Eddie. "So, uh, I gotta, you know... You gotta pay."
"I don't have the money."
"Well, okay then. I mean... it ain't okay, I got...I mean it isn't okay!" He shouted his correction right away. "I gotta do a punishment. Or whatever."
"Alberto, you said you were ready," Mr. Goronzelli said. He clucked his tongue on the roof of his mouth. "I'm sorry. Alberto here is new. I was misled as to his abilities."
"I can do it! I swear! I just... I ain't, you know... I haven't. I haven't done it like this."
"You said you'd been collecting debt."
"That was different."
"How?"
Alberto bristled. He took a deep breath. "It just was.. different, okay? There was... There wasn't nobody watching, I guess. You make me nervous, Mr. Goronzelli."
"There was nobody watching, Alberto. Not wasn't nobody. That's incorrect."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Goronzelli."
"You don't need to explain to the deadbeat what is happening, Alberto. He is a deadbeat. He will figure it out when it happens. Explanations make you look weak," Mr. Goronzelli said.
Alberto nodded. He took a deep breath. He went behind the counter and stood in front of Eddie.
"Okay, then, man... get on your knees and suck my dick." It sounded like he was so nervous he struggled to get those words out. His big muscly body shook.
"Oh!" Eddie pretended to be surprised and reluctant.
""See? I think he's gay. That's prolly why his dad made him do this. He's gonna enjoy it, Mr. Goronzelli," Alberto said.
"It is your job to make sure he does not enjoy it, Alberto."
Alberto sighed. "But... Yes, sir."
"I'm not gay," Eddie said. He wasn't sure it sounded believable, but Mr. Goronzelli seemed to accept it -- Eddie was genuinely nervous, so it helped to cover up his inability to act straight.
Mr. Goronzelli cleared his throat as Alberto gingerly forced Eddie to his knees. "I intended to tell you that I am not behind this, that Alberto here is simply a brute who would gladly rape anyone at anytime. I force him to refrain from doing so. I aim his barbarism at those who do not pay. So your protection fee would go towards finding other outlets for his cock." Mr. Goronzelli chuckled dryly. "But obviously, you can see that it is not true. This is Alberto's first time. You told me you could do this, Alberto."
"I can. I just didn't think.... I didn't think it would be like this, you know..." Alberto closed his eyes. He unzipped his slacks and let a big uncut cock flop out through the fly.
"Next time, Alberto, make the deadbeat take your dick out. It is more humiliating for him."
"Yes, sir." Alberto's voice was tight and pinched, like he was about to cry.
Eddie wanted more than anything to start sucking, but he also wanted to tease Alberto and continue the illusion that he was straight. So he gagged and looked away. Alberto had a nice, fat hoggish cock, which Eddie knew most straight guys would be scared to look at.
"C'mon, suck it, man," Alberto said, sucking on his teeth. He didn't look down. He kept his eyes trained straight ahead at the wall.
"Alberto." Mr. Goronzelli said through slitted teeth. "I'm beginning to think you've never actually done this."
"I... I did not originally say that I did, sir. I'm sorry. I never said I'd, you know, raped guys." He gulped. "I was just... I didn't lie. All I said was that I'd gotten money from guys and I threatened guys with, y'know... sex. They paid up. So I never had to do it. All I had to do was threaten it. I never said I actually did it. All I told you was that I threatened it."
"Alberto..." He sighed. He placed one hand on Alberto's arm and squeezed his bicep. "You disappoint me. Don't worry. I will not fire you."
"Yes, sir, thank you sir."
Mr. Goronzelli grabbed Alberto's dick with one hand. Alberto gasped and looked away. He covered his eyes with his arm. Mr. Goronzelli stroked his dick.
"Alberto, look at me."
Alberto did, hesitantly. He had to look down to see him, and his muscles stayed flexed and rigid beneath his ill-fitting suit. He twitched all over as Mr. Goronzelli pushed his limp dick into Eddie's waiting mouth.
It was soft and warm. Eddie actually loved sucking on limp dicks, feeling them harden in his mouth. But he managed to make himself gag and retch like a straight man would. He got Alberto's dick nice and wet, and soon enough it did perk up.
Mr. Goronzelli kept his hand on Alberto's cock. "There, there," he said. "Just relax. It's okay, Alberto. Americans have the wrong idea about homosexuality. You are an Italian though, not American. For Italians, homosexuals are bottoms. You are no less of a man for plucking this boy's masculinity like a ripe tomato. You are, in fact, more of a man for it, Alberto."
"Yes, sir." It did not sound like Alberto agreed. He winced as his dick throbbed in Mr. Goronzelli's hand.
"Now take his head in your hands, Alberto. Use your hands to hold him in place. You may fornicate with his throat."
"Uh..."
"Alberto, right now you are receiving a blowjob. That is not a punishment. I mean, it is, but it is not a sufficient punishment for someone who has disappointed me. You must make him feel more violated."
"How...?"
"You are a big tough man, aren't you? Just do what comes naturally," Mr. Goronzelli said. His hand left Alberto's cock and roamed over his chest and back. He undid Alberto's tie and slowly undressed him. Alberto's cock still stuck out from the fly of his slacks.
Alberto closed his eyes. He let out a croak and hissed. His hands gripped Eddie's scalp. Eddie was giving a deliberately bad blowjob to provoke him into a violent facefucking, but Alberto seemed to be paying almost no attention to what was happening to his cock. Even as Alberto began to pivot his hips and fuck Eddie's throat, it was clear that Alberto's attention was on his boss undressing him.
Eddie was now positive that Mr. Goronzelli was gay. He pawed over Alberto's body as though trying to be supportive, but Eddie sensed the real reason. He had to suppress his own urge to do the same, but he did grip Alberto's muscular asscheeks -- that made it look like he was begging Alberto to stop.
Once he got started and his dick was rock-hard, Alberto did fuck a little better. His dick rammed into Eddie's throat, making Eddie genuinely choke a few times. But Eddie was well-practiced at sucking huge cocks, so he managed to swallow it to the root.
"Tell him things, Alber
to," Mr. Goronzelli said softly. He had Alberto's huge barrel chest bare now, and he massaged his shoulders. "Tell him what to do. Give him instructions."
Alberto's voice sounded very weak, despite his huge muscles standing rigid and flexed. "Uh... Suck my dick. Man. Do it. Now."
Eddie gurgled, gagging, choking up saliva that soaked Alberto's haggard suitpants.
"No, Alberto. Be more specific. Tell him things like that he must avoid using his teeth. Tell him where to put his tongue and his lips. Make him do these things, Alberto. It does not matter where you tell him to put his lips. It matters that you are giving him orders, and he is obeying."
"Uh... lick my dick. Right here." Alberto pointed to a spot on the top of his cock. He scrunched his eyes shut as though it would hurt.
Eddie did so. He slathered spit over that spot. He was sure that he was no longer coming across as straight -- he was sucking more enthusiastically than any straight man would. But it seemed Mr. Goronzelli and Alberto were more focused on their own relationship than Eddie.
"Now, uh, get your tongue right there, and keep it there," Alberto said. He took a deep breath and plowed Eddie's throat violently, forcing his dick down. Eddie kept his tongue in place, so it stuck out of his mouth even as Alberto's dick rammed down his throat.
Alberto was drenched in nervous sweat. His chest hair -- a broad mat of black hairs -- was matted to his muscles. Mr. Goronzelli rubbed his fingers through the hair and even sucked on each nipple. Alberto watched him with an annoyed expression, but he didn't dare remark on it or ask any questions.
"Now, Alberto, it is time for you to sodomize him."
Alberto yelped like the idea terrified him. Eddie realized at the last moment that he should react the same, so he begged Alberto not to do it.
"Please, man, don't fuck me..."
"Tell him to shut up."
"Shut up, man," Alberto said. He grimaced, and again he looked like he was going to cry. "Get up. Bend over the counter."
Eddie moved very slowly because he pretended to sob. When Mr. Goronzelli prompted him, Alberto grabbed Eddie by the hair and picked him up. He bent Eddie over the counter and pulled his pants down. He gagged at the sight of Eddie's buttocks.
Thug Trade: The Extortionist's Lackey Page 1
