Chapter 15: The Boys Night In

"... then the Auction House guys turned up in their truck and hauled 'er sorry arse away..." slurred Tony to Jim as he finished recounting the tale of what had happened to Jenny.

"So, when's the next sale?" asked Jim, quietly pouring his distraught and inebriated brother another shot of scotch while refraining from adding more to his own glass.

"Couple a days. Gotta drop 'er medical records off to 'em in the morning... yer know 'ow it is?"

"Yeah." Jim knew the procedure well enough. A few days before the sale itself, the goods up for purchase were put on show at the Auction House so that prospective buyers could examine them. Wiser would-be customers also checked the medical histories of their possible acquisitions so as to avoid disappointments later. "What about Martha? How's she feeling?"

"Was all 'er fault anyways... I left 'er to bring the kids up while I's went out ta work and look at the balls up she made of it! Gave 'er the beatin' of 'er life... that'll learn the bitch!"

"Yes, Tony, you certainly did. But how is she now?" persisted Jim who knew that, once the anger and the booze had dispersed, his brother would deeply regret his actions with regard to Martha... and, quite possibly, towards Jenny too. Tony had always been the softer of the two brothers.

"I let Charlie call old Doc Collins just after the Auction House guys dragged... hic... dragged Jenny away. 'E were just startin' to treat 'er when I left to come 'ere."

"That's good, Tony boy... you didn't want to really hurt Martha, did you?"

"No... no, I don't suppose I did." Tony gave a rueful smile before continuing, "Guess I'll 'ave to go to the slave sale myself... gotta find a new pair of housekeepers for meself. That little burst of anger's gonna cost me, ain't it?"

"It sure is, Tony!" grinned back Jim. "Not good business, you know - selling one slave and having to purchase two. And you a bookkeeper too!"

Tony wagged a playful finger at his brother. "Not a bookkeeper, Jim. Not a bookkeeper. I's an Accountant... and don't you ferget it! Shit, but I need to visit your bathroom and point me pecker at the porcelain." Tony struggled to his feet and lurched rather uncertainly towards the stairs that lead up to the first floor of Jim's rather untidy bachelor house. As he reached the door, Tony turned round to face into the room again. "'Ows about some company fer the night? You know any loose women?"

Jim laughed. "All women are loose these days!"

"All except my Jenny," came the forlorn reply from Tony as he started to pull himself upstairs.

"Opps!" muttered Jim under his breath to himself while simultaneously reaching for his 'little black book'. "That was a bit close - gotta be more careful what I say - or, at least, how I say it. Now, who should I call?"

Linda Bjorklund lay naked on Jim's sofa, her glowing body coated in sweat. The actual sex with the brother of the man she'd first meet at the Whipball stadium could only just been described as satisfactory for her as he'd been just too drunk to use any finesse or have much in the way of staying power but what he was doing now was different. Linda had always enjoyed a little pain (apart from the almost obscene amounts of money she earned in her job, this was the main reason that she'd become a professional Whipball player in the first place) and this Tony had spent the last hour inflicting various mild tortures on her eagerly willing body. Right now he was sitting on the floor beside her smoking a cigarette but after every drag he'd carefully blow on the tip causing it to glow cherry red before applying it to the skin of her breast. Drag, blow, pain, pleasure. Drag, blow, pain, pleasure. Drag, blow, pain, pleasure. And so the cycle went on and Linda's next orgasm in the current series came ever closer. Her left hand was woven into the deep red thatch that covered her pussy as she gently fingered herself down there, the smoke from the cigarette curling gently over her stomach. Drag, blow, pain, pleasure. Drag, blow... and nothing. Linda opened one eye and looked to see what had happened - Tony lay slumped on the floor, his flaccid manhood resting gently on an inner thigh, the cigarette rolling gently towards the sofa across the carpet. As Linda's right hand reached for what was left of the white cylinder (her other hand was still busy working on her cunt), her earstwise tormentor gave out what was to prove to be the first in a long series of drunken snores. Eventually Linda managed to locate what she was looking for and, after a brief blowing on the tip, she rammed the burning end down upon her own nipple. A huge shudder ran through Linda's body as she reached the climax that she had been striving for...