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This story covers several categories. Non-Erotic - Erotic Couplings - BDSM - Romance - Mature. I finally decided on Mature because the main characters fall into that age group.

In life, all our decisions, and those made for us, have consequences. Some good. Some bad. This story is about Hela and the consequences of her being who she is, the consequences of the decisions she makes, and the consequences of decisions made by others.

******************************

I set off early and within an hour was on the interstate heading south. The weather was terrible and as bad as I have ever driven in. Torrential rain had reduced visibility to fifteen yards and I was in the first lane, doing thirty, trying to hang on to the tail lights of the car in front. Despite the weather there were still truckers, in their juggernauts, thundering past, flexing their egos.

Thirty miles south and the rain stopped. What a relief! But the surface was still wet and you needed to drive easy so I stayed in the first lane. A car flashed by in the outside lane. The driver must have had it in cruise control because a hundred yards on the car became airborne. It soared through the air, straight into the rear of the car in front, collided with the driver's side of the other car and bounced off to the left, on to the median, and rolled on to its roof. I took a quick look as I drove past and it looked bad. Whoever it was must have been seriously injured, if not dead.

I drove on. Someone else could stop to help and call the highway police. I had something more important to deal with than a car crash involving someone I didn't know. Leave it to the emergency services. Sounds callous but sometimes that's the way it is.

I pulled off the freeway to fill up with gas. Although I still had half a tank, I never, ever, let it go below halfway. I always like to have between half empty and full, because I never knew when I would need it. Particularly in my business.

There was a Dennys two hundred yards from the gas station, and my growling stomach told me it was time to eat. I was ready for buttermilk pancakes, bacon strips and sunny side up eggs. Delicious and washed down with cool, clear, water to flush out the badness from within me. Doesn't always work in my case.

Less than an hour later I was approaching the outskirts of a town, the location for the reason I was headed there. I was a long way from home, although I have travelled farther for a contract. Flying is often the best option on many occasions. But not this time. I find driving relaxing, listening to the music on the radio. Heavy metal from the 80's was my favourite. Certainly not the moronic and plastic rap crap that's so prevalent nowadays.

In my line of work, and as a freelance, sometimes putting distance between home and work is an advantage, desirous, and recommended.

Using a credit card in one of my various aliases, I'd booked a room at the local Holiday Inn Express. Money was no object, with the clients paying all expenses, but you knew what you were getting when you stayed at an Express. Even when you're only staying a couple of nights you want to be comfortable, and after the drive I wanted a long soak in a bath. I needed to relax and clear my head.

I decided to eat early to give me plenty of time to once again go over the information the clients had supplied. As it was summer, a plain blue skirt worn with a blue and white striped shirt was the way to go. Black shoes with sensible heels and a brunette wig to hide my red hair. No jewellery, except for earrings and a Macy's watch. Important nobody would remember me.

The hotel concierge recommended a restaurant within easy walking distance but I was a disappointed when I saw the outside. It looked as if it hadn't seen paint since Elvis was a teenager, and inside it wasn't any better. Plank top tables, without tablecloths, and what looked like uncomfortable chairs. But surprisingly, from its appearance and the early hour, the place looked full and I thought I wasn't going to get a table. A guy wearing Levi's and a button down white shirt, that hung over his pants, scuttled over. He must have been told that wearing his shirt that way hid his belly and made him look younger. But although it hid his belt buckle, his stomach was well on its way towards his knees.

He showed me to the worst table in any restaurant. It was only just big enough for two, which was fine, and squashed into a corner. But it was right next to the swing doors into the kitchen. One of those tables where, when you were eating, you had to keep your elbows in. Beggars can't be choosers and, as I wanted to eat, that's the way it had to be.

I'd just ordered when a guy on his own walked in, looking around for a table. The waiter went to him and you didn't have to be a lip reader to know what he was saying. I don't know what came over me but I got his attention and gestured to the seat opposite me. He said something to the waiter who looked at me, I nodded, Escort Fatih and he escorted the guy across.

The upside was that the food was marvellous. Looked as if it had been thrown onto the plate but it was delicious. I wanted something simple, so I didn't order an appetiser, and went straight to ordering a steak. I'm a red wine girl and so it had to be a large glass. It's supposed to be good for your health but I just like the taste. What the guy ordered I can't remember. It wasn't important.

I wasn't surprised when he propositioned me. Who wouldn't want to try their luck with me? I'm no supermodel but I'm a pretty good looker. He paid the check just like a gentleman should, and within minutes we were in his room ripping our clothes off. Neither of wanted to make love, we just wanted to fuck. I discovered he was in his mid-twenties, which was quite a bit younger than me, and he turned out to be fairly inexperienced. I had his face between my thighs, and to be honest, he was crap at eating pussy. Not a bad kisser but that wasn't what I wanted. I wanted to fuck and then get the hell out of there. I'd had a long day, it wasn't over yet, and I had a long day tomorrow.

I began with giving him a blowjob but stopped before finishing him off. Turns out he had come prepared, which was good because I wasn't in the mood to trail back to my hotel room. I ripped the packet open with my teeth and slid the rubber on his cock. Climbed on top, tip of his cock at my entrance, and slid down in one smooth movement. Down to his balls quick because his length was only average, rode him steady for a few minutes, keeping it easy because I didn't want him to come too soon. I could tell he was more excited than me. I stuck a finger in my cunt while I worked my clit with another finger. I checked my watch and decided to finish it whether he liked it or not. I began riding him hard and fast, working his cock with my pussy muscles. We came at the same time and I kept pumping him until he had nothing left. I thanked him for a great fuck, the lie slipping easily from my lips, and had my clothes on and out the door before he'd even got the rubber off.

********************

I wanted a nap before going to work so I returned to my room, set the alarm for 8pm and was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. I had only counted a few sheep when the alarm went off and I was awake instantly. One of those things I'd always been able to do. Switch from sleep to instant action in seconds. It has come in handy on many occasions.

So why was I in *quot;nobody's favourite vacation hangout?*quot; I'd received a new contract three days ago and the clients wanted it done ASAP! Some guy who had got so far into debt with my clients, and who was now apparently without sufficient funds, he was about to discover the consequences of being unable to discharge his obligations. There was only one possible course of action for my clients. Me!

Contact between a client and myself was always by email, with payment into an offshore bank account, to preserve my anonymity. I always received photos and relevant background information of *quot;the subject*quot; via encrypted memory stick.

He was a man who ran several businesses, most as a front for more dubious enterprises. Not that I was interested in how he made his money. He was just a problem to be solved.

I don't consider I'm sadistic by nature. But there have been occasions when it's been necessary to persuade subjects, against their will, to divulge information. This was one of them. So before leaving home I searched the web and found suitable, sound proofed, premises a few miles out of town. It was available for hire on an hourly basis and I booked it for forty eight hours.

The premises weren't close to town, which fitted my requirements, because I hadn't wanted to run the possibility of being seen entering or leaving them. That's why I'd waited until after dark. The GPS coordinates were accurate, and within ten minutes I was close to the location.

I'd been told to look for a large rock with a lightening flash carved in it. To turn off onto a narrow dirt road that looked as if it led nowhere. After three hundred yards I came across an old barn badly in need of repair. A well hidden door with a lock that looked as if it should have been on a bank vault and after entering the numeric code I entered.

Then came the surprise! There was a building within a building, clad in sound proofing sheets! A second similar door with another numeric lock. Behind the door a short corridor with three doors. I received a further surprise when I opened the door at the end of the corridor. A polished hardwood floor, a matching ceiling, above which was doubtless more sound insulation. The walls were quilted leather panels in red or black leather. This was just what I was looking for. A paradise for both a sadist and a masochist and everyone in between.

To say the dungeon was well equipped would be an understatement. A St. Fındıkzade escort Andrews cross; fetters wheel and suspension frame; leather body bags and strait jackets; shiny black leather swing and harnesses; spanking bench; metal cage; saw horse with pony saddle, bridles and cuffs; fully functioning stocks and pillory; floggers, whips, tawses, paddles, crops and even slippers hung on one wall; another wall had ropes; cuffs; gags; bridles and restraints; throne and torture seat; and a mirrored wall cupboard with, no doubt, other goodies inside. Even a saddle.

The throne itself was elaborate. Constructed, obviously by a craftsman, from polished ebony and with the padded seat and back covered in red leather. The horseshoe shaped back was decorated with bright steel handcuffs linked together by gold rings, and topped with a black tiara decorated with reflective stones. At the end of each of the red leather armrests was a set of balls with drooping penis. One black and one white.

Full height mirrors were fitted to the walls at intervals together with mirrors on the ceiling. In the corner was a shower the size of a double bath. I guessed what it was used for in addition to being used as a shower.

Now I understood why I had been told it wasn't necessary to bring my own *quot;goody bag*quot;, but I'd brought it along anyway.

Removing the clothes I'd worn earlier I changed into tonight's work clothes of sneakers, jeans, roll top sweater, and peaked cord cap, all in black, together with a couple of other necessary items. Checked I was ready to go, and then set off to catch my prey. I already knew his favoured choice of relaxation, and which club he would be in. Unable to keep a partner his leisure time ranged from picking up a street hooker for a quickie, to renting the services of a high priced escort for the night.

********************

From inside his car I watched him come out of the club, walking towards me on unsteady feet, his companion supporting him. He had obviously decided on a hooker and tonight's model was peroxide blonde, tall, slim, almost wearing a gold lame dress plus skyscraper heels. How she managed to stay on her feet whilst supporting him was amazing. He had one arm over her shoulder, the other inside her dress fondling her tit. He probably intended to take her somewhere quiet to fuck her, or in his condition, maybe just get a blow job.

I heard the click as the doors unlocked. The hooker walked around to the passenger side as he fell into the driver's seat. Gently placing her ass on the seat, she swung her legs in, closed her door, and bent over his lap reaching for his zipper. Locking the doors , he went to press the ignition. Rising up from the rear seat, I grasped his hair with one hand and wrenched his head back, and with the other hand I pressed the chloroform pad over his mouth and nose. As usual, it only took a few moments before he was unconscious.

The hooker, obvious to what was happening, was still bobbing her head up and down on his cock. I tapped her on the head, she looked up in surprise and, before she could see my face or make a sound, I had the chloroform pad over her nose and mouth and within seconds she was unconscious. I dragged him from his car, hoisted him over my shoulder, and dumped him in the trunk of my rental. I'd had enough practice to perfect the technique.

The subject had been married twice. A known wife beater who, because of his contacts and paying off the relevant authorities, had never had any action taken against him. His first wife had run away whilst pregnant and his second wife had an unfortunate accident when she fell down the stairs and broke her neck.

I got him back to the dungeon and fastened him, naked, into a chair. I changed into my black latex catsuit; knee high shiny black leather boots; four inch metal tipped spiked heels; and wearing a black latex hood that showed only my lips and eyes. Finished off with soft black leather gloves that reached up to my elbows and three imitation diamond rings on my right hand.

When he awoke he found himself tied to the chair. His calves were roped to the legs and his forearms roped to the arms. I'd fastened a collar around his neck and connected the chain to the rear of the chair's back, pulling his head back into an uncomfortable position.

His initial reaction was to call me a bitch and attempt to spit in my face. He missed, but I didn't. I slapped him across the face, hard, followed by backhanding him. The rings sliced into his cheek and he screamed as the blood ran down his face.

*quot;Who the fuck are you?*quot; he slurred. *quot;Why're you doing this to me?*quot;

I placed my foot on his cock grinding my heel into his balls. Tears ran down his face as he asked for a reason. His voice, now quieter, had that pleading tone, coupled with alcohol, that comes from someone who knows they are at the other person's mercy. Not that there would be any mercy!

*quot;Apparently you owe a lot of money to Gaziosmanpaşa escort my clients. I don't know how much and I don't care. The men you deal with are no longer prepared to accept your promises to repay them. You know they aren't men to annoy, and they wanted something done. They requested my help and are paying me very well for my services. Because I'm the best at what I do. My instructions are to dispose of you in any manner I think fit. After which they'll take over your businesses, and find the stash you have undoubtedly hidden away.*quot;

His fear hung in the air like storm clouds over a polished glass lake.

I reached inside my goody bag, produced a black latex oblivion hood, and slipping it over his head, zipped it up the back, leaving only his eyes and mouth visible. I buckled on the detachable eye mask, but decided to leave off the mouth gag for the time being, leaving him unable to see or hear.

I removed my hood, took my headphones from my goody bag, plugged into my smartphone and settled back to listen to some music. He struggled against his bonds but, after a few minutes, gave up. Eventually his head sank towards his chest. After twenty minutes, knowing he had lost all sense of time, I decided to continue his discomfort.

After putting my headphones and player away, and replacing my mask, I unbuckled his eye mask. His eyes blinked rapidly, readjusting to the light, and he appealed to what he thought was one of my vices. Greed.

*quot;Whatever you're being paid I'll pay double. I'll leave town. I'll leave the country. I'm sure you're clever enough to make up a good reason why there's no body.*quot; He was sobering up fast and his desperate pleading was amusing to watch.

*quot;How can you pay me double when you don't know how much I'm getting paid?*quot; I asked him, laughing. *quot;Where's the money going to come from? You've no money otherwise you'd have paid your debts.*quot;

*quot;I've got money stashed away,*quot; he babbled. *quot;It's hidden in my house. Release me and I'll get it for you.*quot; His eyes watered as he desperately sought for some way out.

*quot;You're appealing to my greed? But I'm not greedy, you dumb fuck.*quot; It was true. I get paid so much for my services that I don't have to be greedy. Although I am guilty of the sins of pride, lust, and wrath.

He screamed at me that he would triple my fee, despite still not knowing what my fee was. He apparently didn't realise what an idiot he was, so I told him. I stepped towards him, bent down until we were face to face, eye to eye.

*quot;You are such a stupid guy. You've just told me where your money's hidden, so I'll pass that information on to my clients. Your brain is about as useful as tits on a bull. But right now I need to be on my way because I want a good night's sleep, which I won't get staying here.*quot;

*quot;What about me?*quot; His pitiful pleas had no effect on me. They never do, no matter who's the target. A job's a job.

*quot;I need you sober, so you'll be here undisturbed, to get some rest before we meet again tomorrow.*quot;

*quot;So I'm sleeping on that bed?*quot; he said, looking at the soft mattress and sheets.

*quot;No. You're spending the night in those.*quot; I indicated the stocks, which were just behind him.

He craned his neck and then looked back at me in disbelief. *quot;I won't be able to sleep fastened in those.*quot; He sounded so surprised, as if he never expected me to leave him in such discomfort.

*quot;That's your problem, I really need to be going. I'm going to release you from the chair, so you can move to the stocks.*quot; I removed all the restraints except for those tying his wrists and ankles.

*quot;I'm going to untie the rope tying your right wrist. You'll then be able to untie the other wrist and your ankles. Then I want you to walk across to the stocks. Don't try to be a smartass. Don't try to attack me. If you do you'll regret it.*quot;

You could almost see the workings of his brain as he thought through his attack plan. He must really have been thinking how stupid I must be, to put myself in a position for him to overcome me.

I removed the rope tie by pulling the slip knot and quickly moved to sit on the throne. He undid the rest of his bonds, giving the impression of a defeated man, stood up slowly, and went to charge towards me, arms outstretched, hands ready to claw my neck. He only took one step. A second later he was lying on the floor, foetal position, clutching his balls, and screaming.

I remained relaxed on the throne, waiting for him to stop screaming. It was about two minutes before he was able to turn his head and look up towards me, the agony etched on his face. I lifted my hand and showed him the small black box I was holding.

My voice was calm. *quot;You are stupid! You didn't feel the cock ring because you were too drunk. I fitted it when you were unconscious. I did warn you not to attack me. Any more like that and I'll zap you again.*quot;

I held the control box up so he could see it more clearly. *quot;It's got five levels. I just gave you level three. Next time you'll get four. If you want your balls fried and you castrated then level five is the one.*quot; I leaned forward to emphasise my next words. *quot;Shortly you're going to crawl over to those stocks ready to be fastened in for the night. Any questions?*quot; He shook his head. *quot;Good boy.*quot;