"I tell you, Tommy boy, I been waiting for this moment a long time. Every time I had to get off in my hand or some jailhouse punk's mouth, I thought of your wife. I can't wait till she gets home." 

"Leave her alone, you bastards!" Officer Tom Barkley screamed. He pulled futilely at the handcuffs--his own-- that secured him to the kitchen chair. The effort almost caused him to tip over, and the three other men in his kitchen laughed uproariously as a frantically attempted to right himself. 

There were three of them. One was a white guy, an obvious biker type, with long stringy black hair and a scraggly Fu Manchu mustache. Tattoos covered his bare arms and chest. He was enormously fat, his belly drooping over his belt. The other was a stocky Hispanic with what looked like a permanent sneer on his face. 

Tom only recognized the biggest and meanest looking one: Marcus Dupree, who Tom had arrested five years ago on a charge of dealing in cocaine. Dupree was a huge black man, almost seven feet tall, with a shaved head and a face badly scarred from jailhouse knife fights. He seemed to exude a menacing power as he stood up and approached Tom. Tom stopped struggling and looked up at the man towering over him. 

"Every day you was testifyin' against me," Dupree said softly, "I saw your sweet little wife in the audience. Was she proud of you, Tommy? Was she proud of you for puttin' that badass nigger away? She sure kissed you like she was proud." He chuckled. "Wonder if she'd be so proud if she knew what you done with my cocaine after you put me in th' joint. You get a good price for it, Tommy?" 

"I --I don't know what you're talking about." 

"Lying sack o' shit," Dupree sneered. He almost casually backhanded Tom, rocking the chair legs back. The two other men snickered. Dupree bent down and looked Tom in the face. Tom tried not to flinch at the overpowering stench of alcohol on the man's breath. "You think I don't hear stuff in the joint? I heard you got a couple hundred grand for my product. No wonder you got a nice house like this on a cop's salary." 

"I can get you the money," Tom said, almost pleadingly. "I can pay you back." 

"This ain't about money," Dupree said. "But you are gonna pay me back." He gestured at the other two men. "After conferrin' with my associates, y'see, I decided to change careers. Duke and Tito convinced me that there was more money to be made in pussy than in coke. So I decided to go in the entertainment business." 

"You're a pimp," Tom said contemptuously. 

"Not yet," Dupree said amiably. "But soon." 

Suddenly Tom caught his meaning. For a moment, he was too shocked to speak. Then he said, "You're crazy. Amy would never--" 

The three men laughed again, nastily. "Oh, I think when we get done wit' dat bitch, she's gonna be real happy to do anything we want her to do," Dupree said. 

At that point, the Hispanic guy spoke up for the first time. "Don' you worry, cabron," he said. "We got some techniques to make a bitch get industrious." 

Dupree leaned down and leered into Tom's face. "Think about it, Tommy-boy. Think about sweet little Amy layin' up in a ten-dollar hotel downtown, taking niggers and spics down her throat, in that tight little pussy -- but that ass is what'll be the big seller, I think. That sweet brown hole gonna be a big moneymaker. But don't worry, Tommy. Maybe we can arrange for her to do you for half-price." 

The three men laughed again, and Tom redoubled his efforts to get free. At that moment, there was the rattle of a key in the front lock. 

"Amy!" Tom bellowed, "GET--" he was silenced by Marcus' big hand clamped over his mouth. Duke and Tito silently vanished from the kitchen, heading for the front door as Marcus leaned down and whispered in Tom's ear. 

"Showtime," he said. 

"Tom?" he heard Amy's voice. "Tom, what's AIEEEEE!" he heard a scream, abruptly cut off, and a crash that sounded like the coat rack in the front entrance being knocked over. There were brief sounds of a struggle, then Tom clearly heard Tito's voice. "No noise, puta, or you're dead." 

"Man," Tom could hear Duke say. "Marcus wasn't lyin'. Look at the tits on this bitch." There was a chuckle, then Amy cried out in pain. Tom leaped against his cuffs, but only succeeded in cutting his wrists on the cruel metal. He heard a sound like cloth ripping, followed by a low moan of despair from his wife. 

"What are you bastards doing to her?!" Tom yelled. 

Marcus chuckled. "Cut 'em some slack, Tommy-boy. They been in the joint a long time." 

"Tom!" Amy called out. "Tom, are you there? Help me, they're -- they're, AAAAH!" 

"Oh, does that hurt, puta?" Tom heard Tito's sneering voice say. "Your nipples are sensitive, eh? How about -- this?" Amy squealed in pain. 

"Hey, boys," Marcus called out. "Let the rest of us enjoy the show!" 

In a moment, the two men returned. Duke was holding Amy's arms pinned behind her and pushing her in front of him. Her long curly brown hair was disheveled by her struggles, and her big green eyes were wide with pain and fear. Her expensive silk blouse had been torn open and her bra ripped off to expose her 38DD tits. 

The position in which Duke held her arms caused her breasts to thrust out even more prominently, and as Tom watched, Tito reached down and gave one of the firm, full mounds a vicious squeeze that left Amy whimpering. 

Then the Hispanic man grinned evilly at Tom, turned back to Amy, and bent down to take one of her large nipples between his lips. Amy squirmed to get away, but Duke only laughed at her attempts to escape and held her fast. 

Tom tried to turn his head away, but Marcus grabbed his chin and yanked his face back towards the horrifying scene being played out at the kitchen sink. "Keep yo' eyes open, Tommy," Marcus whispered, "Or I'll cut your eyelids off." He chuckled. "Don't want ya to miss nothin." 

Tom gave a sob of anguish and opened his eyes. Tito was still sucking at Amy's breasts, slurping like a baby at its mother's nipple. Duke was whispering something in Amy's ear that caused her to whimper in terror. When the biker saw Tom watching, he extended his wet tongue and gave a long, sensuous lick to her cheek. 

Tom looked at Amy. There were tears in her eyes and her voice was a little girl's plea as she said. "Tom? Help me, please, Tom. Don't let them hurt meeeeee--" 

Tito released his lip-lock on her breast, stood up, and punched her in the stomach as hard as he could. Only Duke's vice-like hold on her arms kept her from being doubled over by the force of the blow. She gasped for breath, the wind knocked completely out of her. 

"See, bitch?" Marcus said. "He can't do shit for you. We gonna do anything we want." He jerked his head towards the living room. "Get her in there." 

As Duke and Tito dragged the still-struggling girl past him towards the doorway to the kitchen, Marcus turned to Tom. "We gonna just let you listen fo' a while, Tommy- boy. Enjoy the show." 

"Tom?" Amy's voice was rising as they dragged her off. "What were they doing!? Help me! Tom? TOM!" Her scream was nearly drowned out by the men's laughter as they hauled her into the living room. 

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