When Dan fails to pay his debts, a shady organization kidnaps his family, and threatens to sell them into sex slavery unless he earns enough money within three months to buy them back. Dan agrees to their terms, but when he starts spying on the kidnappers, he finds that they aren’t waiting until the deadline to start getting his family ready for sale, which apparently involves making a few… modifications.

All characters in this story are at least 18 years old and purely fictional.

Chapter 1

Dad shook his head and let the papers he had been studying sink to the dining room table. My heart sank right along with them. “Sorry, son,” he said, pushing his trademark square, rimless glasses back up his nose, and assuming the firm, no non-sense posture I imagined he regularly assumed when turning down shady loan applicants at the bank.

“I realize that you’ve put a lot of work into this, but it all just looks too… risky. I’d consider releasing your inheritance from grandma and grandpa to you for something like college tuition, but not for something like this. It’s not what your grand-parents would have wanted.”

My mind raced, trying desperately to find out how long it might take me to put together fake school admission documents. It would take time, and time was one thing I had simply run out of. Things could have been worse, I supposed. Dad had taken my proposal seriously and failed to see through it, but for all my cleverness I was no further ahead. My High College math teacher once told me that if I invested half the time into my college work that I invested cheating, scamming and avoiding my way through college, I’d be at the top of the honours list. With the advantage of hindsight, given the time and effort it had taken to put together this fake proposal for starting my own company in a pretty desperate attempt to get my parents to release my inheritance from my grand-parents, I was now thinking that she might well have been right. Hindsight is such a bitch! What was I supposed to do now!? I owed money to the man, a lot of money, and I had run out of time to repay it. With that one shake of the head, Dad had just sent my last hope down the toilet.

I opened my mouth to protest, to plead, getting ready to try just about anything when Mom spoke up. She had been peering down at my phoney company proposal over Dad’s shoulder. She didn’t seem to have any more of an inkling that it was all made up than he did, but the moment she shifted her gaze to me, I could tell that wasn’t gonna help me, not one bit. She raised a long, manicured finger in my direction, and looked at me, eyes narrowed, mouth set in a severe line. Combined with the conservative cut of her red mane, the look was unmistakably that of a displeased schoolteacher, which only seemed appropriate, since that’s exactly what Mom was. The look she was giving me was, I was sure, the same she regularly adopted to intimidate the eighth and ninth graders she taught whenever they stepped out of line. I knew exactly what was coming. The words died in my mouth. “No,” she said firmly. “Don’t start, Daniel. We’ve been through this before. You’re father’s right. If you get into college, we can talk about releasing part of your inheritance early. Otherwise, you’ll get it when you turn twenty one, like your brother did.”

Twenty one! I had only recently turned twenty, and I needed the money stat, not in ten and a half months from now. I wondered of my brother, Tyler, who had received his inheritance last year, and seethed with resentment. I had no reason to resent him really. He hadn’t done anything wrong. On the contrary, he had at all times done everything exactly right, becoming a star on the High College track team, graduating at the top of his class, gonna school for a company degree and now working at Dad’s bank.

But I couldn’t help it. Tyler was such a goody-goody, Mom and Dad’s favourite son. Oh, I know, I know, they would have disputed that, protested loudly that they loved us both the same. But that was crap. The fact was, Tyler had done everything by the book, lived the life my parents had wanted him to live, and I had not.

I had barely scraped through High College. As far as my parents knew, I made ends-meat with numerous part-time jobs. They certainly weren’t unhappy about that. I knew they were relieved that I wasn’t just sitting on my ass doing nothing. But it would have been quite a stretch to say that they were proud. They simply couldn’t figure out why I couldn’t just be more like Tyler. Tyler was the perfect son, and they loved him for it. Really — what parent wouldn’t?

To say that I would have dropped considerably in their esteem if they knew how I really made money would have been an understatement. In high college, I had gotten involved with the road-side pharmacy company. In a word — drugs. I dealt drugs. Pot, cocaine, ecstasy and heroine — I had pretty much dealt it all. Then ERO came along, and I never looked back.

ERO didn’t just make people high, it sent them into raptures of erotic pleasure. It gave people highs that allowed them to enjoy the best sex of their lives. There were draw-backs of course. In addition to being addictive, in large enough doses, it made its victims highly suggestible and compliant, making it a sort of date-rape super-drug. Its popularity had quickly gone through the stratosphere. The media called it an epidemic; I called it the mother of all company opportunities.

But I wasn’t the only one who called it that. I will spare you the details. The bottom line: I miscalculated badly, gambled that supplies of the drug would remain more limited than they were, that the price would go much higher than it had gone, and I now owed money, an awful lot of money to Carson, a man no one wanted to disappoint because those who disappointed him had a habit of disappearing. Carson had given me two weeks to get the money I owed him, “or else.” I didn’t know exactly what “or else” meant, and I didn’t need to. Hearing those words from his mouth had been more than enough. I had tried everything to raise the money I needed, but without success. Getting access to my inheritance had been my last hope.

After shooting me down, Mom briskly turned on her heel and walked away, back into the kitchen where she busied herself preparing tonight’s dinner. To anyone who knew her, her rigid posture and firm, no-nonsense gate as she strode away, heels clicking sharply on the hard-wood floor, communicated quite clearly that this discussion was over. But, in a way, that was neither here nor there. She wasn’t the real obstacle here. No, not even close. The real obstacle here was my hard-ass bank manager of a Dad.

I looked at him then across the dining room table, with his jet black hair neatly combed to one side; his square, rimless glasses; his straight posture and flat, no-nonsense gaze; his crisp, white, button down shirt and plain navy tie, and I realized my mistake. This plan had been doomed from the begin. This, negotiating over money, was what Dad did for a living, and given how relatively well-off we were, he was clearly pretty good at his job. I was taking him on right on his home turf, and I was simply no match for him.

Sighing, I bowed my head, acknowledging defeat. Dad gave an almost imperceptible nod of approval. “Why don’t you talk to your brother about college,” he said. “It’s not too late, you know. There’s always a place at the bank for you.”

He was wrong, of course. It was too late, far too late, but I couldn’t tell him that. I just nodded, scooped up my fake tables and charts, and retreated to my room.

On my way up, I of course met the last person in the world I wanted to see just then — Tyler. He was dressed like Dad, in a crisp white shirt and navy slacks. The top button of his shirt was undone and his red tie was slung casually around his neck, in the manner of a businessman who has just come home from a long but productive day at the office making boat loads of money. He wore his new Clark Kent glasses, and the golden-brown mop he had inherited from Mom’s side of the family was stylishly combed back.

“Hey there, bro! Long time no see,” he greeted. I mumbled a hello and pushed passed. “Hey! What’s up with you, man? I haven’t seen you in days!”

I was about to ignore him and continue on my way when Mom’s words from a few moments ago suddenly came back to me: “you’ll get it when you turn twenty one, like your brother did,” she had said. Of course! How could I have been so dense! Tyler! Tyler had gotten his inheritance! He had undoubtedly paid off some of his student loans with it, but I knew that moving out on his own was next on his list, and that he had started looking at condos downtown. He must have had quite a bit of his inheritance still left. I turned to Tyler and gave him my best smile.

“Hmmm, let me think on it,” Tyler finally said, almost two hours later. I had managed to corner Tyler after dinner, once Mom and Dad had both retreated to their home offices. My heart soared at those words. He was doing his best imitation of Dad, but his best wasn’t very good, and not just because he was lounging on his bed in shorts and a tank-top that seemed designed to show off his swimmer’s create. He didn’t have Dad’s poker face, at least not yet, and he was clearly intrigued. ‘Yes!’ I wondered. ‘I’ve got you!’

“Sure,” I said, “why don’t you sleep on it. We can talk about it again tomorrow.” I didn’t want to talk about it tomorrow. I wanted the money now, but I knew Tyler well enough not to push him too hard. He wasn’t yet the businessman Dad was. I could still play him, but I had to be clever about it. Tyler wasn’t as susceptible to pressure as I would have liked. Push too hard and he was as likely as not to run the other way. This was my only shot, so I played it safe.

To my relief, he nodded. “Yeah, ok. Let’s do that. But I’m away this weekend. Going to the coast to hit the links with the boys. We can talk on Monday.”

I wanted to scream. Golfing! Now of all times Tyler was gonna have one of his golfing weekends with his old company college buddies or ex-frat bros! Fuck! Fuck it all to hell! I tried hard not to grind my teeth. “Sure, sure,” I said amiably. I could do this; I could rope him in. I would. I had to. I had no other choice. I wondered of suggesting that he take my proposal with him and give it some wondered while he was “hitting the links”, but I was afraid he’d talk about it with one of his pals, or worse — show them the proposal. If it had fooled Dad and Tyler, it might well fool them all, but I didn’t dare let him talk this over with others without my being there. I couldn’t afford to lose my only chance.

I wondered of asking to come along, but skipping town on Carson without his blessing would have been suicide. I decided that it was best to let Tyler go golfing, and turn all of my persuasive charm on Carson. I’d get him to give me a little more time, just a little more. I’d tell him about Tyler’s inheritance, and he’d figure out. He would. He had to. That night I retreated to my crummy downtown bachelor’s pad and slept more soundly than I had in months. If only I had known….

Chapter 2

The deadline Carson had set was midnight the following day. I called him the morning before the deadline to ask for “just a few more days.” To say that it went badly was an understatement.

“Sorry, man,” Carson said, “answer’s no. The deadline is tonight at midnight.”

My pleas were in vain. “Are you telling me you’re not gonna make the deadline, Danny?” he asked.

“I just need a few more days. I’m….”

He didn’t let me finish. “Ok then,” he said, and just hung up.

Ok then? Had that been a yes? Somehow I didn’t think so. His tone had been disturbingly… final. After a few minutes of blind panic, I decided that I had only one course of action left open to me: running. I didn’t think it would really do me any good. Carson and his people supposedly had a very long reach, but what else could I do?

I packed a few things, got into my battered jeep and drove for all I was worth, heading for my cousin’s place across the state line, a cousin I hadn’t seen in years, one Carson hopefully didn’t know about, at least not yet. I had made quite some headway by the time I finally decided that I had to stop at a roadside motel for the night and get some sleep. I was exhausted. It was either stop to rest or end up in the ditch.

I slept pretty soundly for a man on the run. The next morning, my phone rang just as I stepped out of the shower. It was Carson. He was Face Timing me. I hesitated for a long moment, but then, reluctantly, I took the call. His smiling face appeared on my screen.

With his brown hair neatly slicked back, his piercing blue eyes, and perfect white smile, he was undeniably good-looking, but there was a hardness to his expression that put the lie to any initial impression of boy-next door good looks. The way that slightly predatory, too-white smile never reached his eyes sent a chill up my spine.

“Hey there, Danny!” he greeted. “Just thought I’d call and give you the good news!”

“Uh… the good news?” I asked, as I quickly checked that the chain was in place on my motel room door and ducked back into the bathroom, where there were no windows. “Yeah, you’re forgiven. The debt’s paid off.”

I froze. “Wha… What? Really? Uh…. How?” That predatory grin of his widened.

“Glad you asked, Danny,” he said. Another chill shot up my spine, and my stomach joined my heart somewhere in the motel’s basement, assuming a dump like this even had a basement. “I’ve got some guests here, Danny. Some guests you know pretty well.”

“G-G-guests?” I stammered stupidly.

Carson turned his phone away from him and over to a sofa. I blinked, initially sure that I was seeing things. But no — some guy was lounging casually on the sofa, his arms stretched out across the top of the back cushions. The light was dim and I couldn’t see him very clearly. His hair looked dark, maybe black, and he seemed sort of good-looking. He was on the tall side and long-limbed, if a little skinny. His white dress shirt was unbuttoned, giving me a clear view of his relatively scrawny, hairless chest. His dress pants were unzipped, and some woman was kneeling in front of him, sucking on his long, thick cock, as she massaged his big balls. The dude seemed to be grinning stupidly, with his eyes half closed, his head swaying a little from side to side, a wet gleam of what was almost certainly drool on his lips and chin. “Uhhhhhh….” he groaned with obvious pleasure.

I had dealt ERO long enough to recognized the symptoms. The dude was high on it, so high he wasn’t coming down any time soon. But there was something more about the man, a very essential detail that my mind seemed to register but refuse to process for a long moment. I stared at the man’s face as the camera zoomed in on it a little more. I stared at his neatly combed dark hair and square, rimless glasses… and… and recognized Dad! The realization hit me like a punch to the gut. It was Dad! The dude was Dad!

As if reading my mind, Carson zoomed out again to give me the full view. No mistake! Dad was lounging half undressed on Carson’s sofa, high as all hell, with some woman, most definitely not Mom!, kneeling between his legs, sucking his dick down her throat like she was being paid for it. She probably was — the hoar!

“Le-Let him go, Carson,” I said, my voice a little hoarse with the shock. I heard him chuckle, as he moved his phone over a little to give me a view of the arm chair next to the couch.

A man I had never seen before sat in that chair. The light was poor, and I couldn’t get a clear look at his face, but he was very obviously naked, hairy, and big, very big, and in more methods than one. He had a big gut, but he was also muscular, with big biceps, well-rounded shoulders, and heavy, meaty pecs with thick, dark nips. He had a long, fat dick that he kept beating against his stomach. It glistened wetly, as it smacked loudly against that big, hairy gut of his.

“Come here, baby,” he crooned to someone just off camera. Another naked man, trim and with a hard fat dick, walked into the shot leading a softly plump woman by the hand. She giggled, the high-pitched giggle of a woman high on ERO. She too was naked, of course, and I knew immediately who she was, even though all I could see of her was her legs and ass. My stomach clenched.

“Come on, baby, sit on my big, fat dick,” the dude in the chair coaxed. She giggled again, as the other naked dude helped her plant her feet to either side of his pal in the chair and lower herself slowly onto his cock. She gave a few high-pitched gasps, as he slid into her. As she did, she twisted and turned a little, and the camera zoomed in on her face: red hair, button earings, conservative lipstick, the severe look of a displeased schoolteacher that she normally wore replaced by the loose, lazy features of someone in the firm grip of ERO.

Mom wore the same stupid grin as Dad, her eyes unfocused and half-closed. She looked high-as-a-kite, as she opened her mouth in a wide “O” and began to moan. My stomach churned, as the camera zoomed out to give me a view of her slowly starting to bounce up and down on that man’s massive dick.

“Ah yeah, baby, that’s it,” he was saying, as Mom lowered herself all the way down onto him before moving up his shaft again. “That’s my naughty girl.” Mom mumbled something incoherent that soon degenerated into obscene gasps and moans, which grew louder and louder with every thrust.

“What do ya think of that, Craig?” Carson asked, as he turned the camera back to Dad, who was still lounging on the couch getting blown. “Your wife is gettin’ pounded over there.”

Dad, eyes still half closed and still grinning like an idiot, just nodded absently. “Yeeaaah,” he drawled, as a little more drool trickled out of his mouth. Carson chuckled again. “

You,” I heard him say to someone I couldn’t see, “do it.” A man walked into the shot behind the couch on which Dad was sitting. I think it was the one who had helped Mom… get into position. All I could see of him was his dick, balls and his hands. He was hung and hard, jerking furiously with one hand, as he grabbed a fist full of Dad’s hair with the other. The dude then yanked Dad’s head back and to one side.

Dad’s face disappeared from my line of sight. All I could see of him now was his chin, as he was forced to face upward, right beside the dude’s long, fat cock. With a groan I heard loud and clear, the dude came hard, shooting jet after jet of cum right into Dad’s face. I had a clear view of that fat cockhead, as it spurted again and again, creaming Dad but good. Dad uttered not a word of protest, nor did he even try to get away.

When the dude was finally finished cumming, he released Dad, who raised his head to face the camera, which of course zoomed in to give me a better look. His face was covered in milky, white cum; long strands of it hung off his lips, white globs flecked his black hair, and thick wads of it covered his glasses, obscuring his empty eyes. Carson laughed. “How does it feel to get creamed like that, Craig?”

“Yeaharmumum…” Dad mumbled incoherently, looking and sounding not the least bit fussed by the sperm oozing down his face. A blob of the stuff detached itself from his lips to fall onto his scrawny chest, and Carson laughed again.

I felt my gorge rise and wondered I might hurl then and there, but then Carson turned the Camera back on himself. He was grinning viciously, and I dearly wanted to plow my fist through that too-white smile. I harnessed that anger and used it to keep my rising panic at bay.

“Wait!” he said before I could say anything. “There’s more!” He turned the camera in a different direction, and another armchair came into focus.

This one was occupied by a naked dude with a swimmer’s create, a bit more muscular than Dad. His face and part of his upper body were shrouded in shadow, but he was wearing a very familiar-looking tank top. He had running shoes on but was otherwise naked from the waste down, something made particularly obvious by his posture. He wasn’t sitting in the chair so much as sprawling in it; his long, toned legs were spread wide and dangled loosely over the arms of the chair, exposing his balls and ass. They looked like they had been shaved clean, though there was something in his ass. A plug? The camera zoomed in a little, and I could hear soft buzzing. It was a vibrator. A hand entered the shot, reaching for the vibrator’s exposed end — Carson’s hand. I recognized the Rolex at his wrist. He gripped it, pushed a little, pulled and then pushed again. The man moaned obscenely, clearly enjoying himself.