The Storm
They arrived in suits, expensive ones. To say the pair looked out of place in a tire shop was an understatement.
Chad was the slightly taller of the two, and quickly established himself as the talker. Brendan hung back, but he missed very little. We had no background on either of them, but physically they were good-looking and well maintained. Mid to late twenties, with swimmer's builds, from what we could surmise beneath their high-end threads. They had the energy of successful, confident, heterosexual professionals. Dangerous!
We had been speaking with these guys reluctantly, for weeks before finally agreeing to meet. They had called out of the blue, well educated, articulate, and deeply unsettling. Their knowledge of us and our side business was unnerving.
As a standard means of protecting the business, we maintained internal "Chinese walls." One crew knew little about any others. These suited strangers however, knew far more about our operation than they should have.
Their persistence elevated them from a nuisance to a genuine threat. From the first phone call they had pushed for a meeting, yet they refused to reveal what they actually wanted. Instead, Chad steadily disclosed more and more of what they knew. With every conversation, our concern grew. These men had the potential to do serious damage to both the business and, by extension, us. We agreed we needed to understand exactly who we were dealing with. Until then, we had to assume they were hostile.
*
Somehow, they had come across a tender we had submitted more than two and a half years earlier. Our contractors had worked that account ever since, and as far as we knew, had done an excellent job. Ironically, that consistency was what first attracted their attention.
The question they asked themselves was simple.
How do these contractors keep turning up for this miserable job week, after week when we've never managed to keep anyone else longer than a month?
Working for the corporation in question, they began secretly observing the after-hours maintenance crew.
Our crew!
What they witnessed blew their minds. To them, it made no sense. They watched as the two Phantom contractors arrived and got nude. Our guys crawled in and out of every part of the hydraulic press to clean it like new. Covered in thick machine grease the boys simply dressed and clocked off.
That led to their next conclusion: whatever motivated these contractors, it had to be more than money.
They continued their surveillance and were further astonished, when James paid them a visit for his monthly review. The contractor’s boss fucked their willing arses!
Gradually they pieced together what they believed was happening.
Over time they clued on to the leverage point. The bosses held ‘life destroying’ footage. They finally had the complete jigsaw puzzle, at least in their minds.
Now they wanted a piece of the pie, our pie.
*
Before they arrived, I briefed James and Gary, not to confirm anything our visitors claimed to know. For all we knew, this was nothing more than a fishing expedition.
From our earlier conversations, I was convinced they suspected the existence of compromising recordings and coercion. If they knew about the hypnotism or day job wage grab, they weren’t letting on.
The pie was a hell of a lot bigger than their declared knowledge. It was also endlessly more complex, and personally incriminating for us as owners of Phantom.
Earlier in the week I called a ‘pest controller’ through to treat the office and workshop. I reasoned we wanted to put our best foot forward.
*
Hunkered down in the office, the after-hours meeting began badly, and rapidly deteriorated.
Within minutes of sitting down, they arrogantly revealed they had identified four of our contractor teams. They discussed how we were blackmailing rednecks into shit jobs and taking cock.
Listening to them dissect our business was like hearing someone describe a machine after seeing only a handful of its moving parts. They didn't fully understand it, but they understood enough to be dangerous.
They weren't entirely on the mark.
But they weren't far off either.
I could feel the freight train coming.
It arrived a heartbeat later.
In a classic pincer move, we extortionists were now being extorted.
Only two questions remained: what did they really want, and how long would it be before they uncovered the true extent of the business?
*
In conversation, they were surprisingly willing to discuss their background.
Amateurs.
They had been with the corporation for just under a decade. At twenty-seven, both had been recruited as university cadets, before being fast-tracked through procurement management by what they openly described as an "old boys' network." There was little doubt they were well-connected operators, with one eye on the corporate ladder and the other on trading stocks.
As they enthusiastically recounted their success story, Gary grew impatient with the self-congratulatory chatter.
"Get to the point," he said.
His delivery was blunt, but the message was clear.
To my surprise, they matched his candor without hesitation. Within minutes, we knew exactly what we were dealing with.
They laid out the landscape. Their corporation operated in more than forty countries and, in our city alone, maintained four administrative divisions. It was a business filled with influential men who were accustomed to getting whatever they wanted.
Chad and Brendan described themselves as lieutenants to an exclusive inner-circle group. They called themselves BSDs, Big Swinging Dicks.
Wankers.
They were deliberately vague about numbers, but I estimated the group consisted of around twenty members.
Our barbarians at the gate had devised a plan to entertain their ambitious peers. A themed evening of power fucking. On testing the waters, they found half a dozen members hot for the chance to dominate lesser being ‘red-necks’. The fact that the fuckee’s were male simply added to the forbidden fruit. I doubted any of the participants were gay, this was a pure ‘control’ trip and we would be mad if we thought it, was a one-off event.
I doubted any of them were motivated by sexuality. This was about power.
And if they were prepared to approach us this confidently, we'd be fools to believe it would end with a single event.
For us, the ultimatum was brutally simple.
Make the arrangements...
...or they would go to the police.
Cornered, we surrendered.
*
The next morning, we staffed the shop with casuals and locked ourselves in the office. We worked through their demands in detail, but the essence was brutally simple.
Provide six rednecks to be fucked at will, in a night of pure dominance.
Although they knew the identities of eight of our contractors, they didn't want to disrupt the two assigned to their own business. They wanted the other six, and they weren't making a request.
They were issuing an order.
We were commanded to attend, just in case any of the punks took exception to being anally abused.
The countdown clock gave us a week and three days until the impending Saturday event. We were to arrive with the guys; shaved, scrubbed, washed inside and out. Waiting would be blue collar gear for the punks to kit themselves in.
It really was themed around boss and worker.
I reviewed the list.
Vinnie, Theo, Scott, Jade, Danny, and Todd.
One by one, I pictured their faces. Then I imagined the six suited executives and how they would likely pound the guys.
For the first time in years, I was worried that the departure from our proven path was about to fuck up everything, especially for Danny and Todd, in being so new. They had barely found their footing.
As James, Gary, and I worked through possible strategies, one fact kept surfacing.
They had us over a barrel.
We said it aloud, deliberately.
*
Once we had settled the basics, I called Chad and suggested we meet to confirm the finer details. He brushed me off, insisting logistics weren't his concern.
That gave me an opening.
"So, who's handling building security?" I asked.
Silence.
Their grand plan suddenly didn't seem quite so polished.
They had overlooked the obvious.
I kept pressing.
Eventually, he relented.
I met Chad for coffee later that afternoon and left him with a few practical problems to think about. Before we parted, I presented him with a pair of miniature handcuff-shaped cufflinks. I thought the silver trinket would appeal to his nature, and provide a means to build a bridge.
He turned them over in his hand for a moment before smiling.
It seemed to hit the mark.
Time would tell.
*
When I arrived for work late on Monday morning, I found the pest inspector's report sitting on my desk. It confirmed exactly what we had expected.
The place was dirty.
I glanced pointlessly at the calendar, knowing full well we had just six days until the Chad and Brendan show.
I sat down and unpacked a disposable mobile phone.
The weekend had been mentally draining.
I had visited Vinnie, Theo, Scott, and Jade at their weekend jobs. Neither crew belonged to me, so my unexpected appearance immediately raised suspicions. There was no time for small talk. In both cases, I put them under immediately and got to work. There was a great deal to prepare, and I planned to revisit them later in the week to reinforce the instructions.
As usual, Danny and Todd spent Sunday on their regular container-clearing job. Being the newest recruits, they absorbed instructions more readily than the others. By the end of the weekend, all six had accepted what they needed without resistance.
The coming Saturday night would test them all.
But if everything went to plan, none of them would refuse to bend over.
*
For this time of year, the weather had been unseasonably warm. Thursday's temperature matched the days before it, adding to the general stress we were already carrying.
When I arrived and got set up, James and Gary appeared in the office. The workshop was hot, and both men wore a visible sheen of sweat.
“Did you convert the bonds, ready to make the call?” James asked bluntly.
“I got the phone,” I replied tersely. Annoyed at his lack of discipline in speaking freely.
“I’ll make the call from the building foyer at the time agreed. We need it to originate from the tower, remember?”
“Yeah, sorry,” he said. “I’m a bit fucked up at the moment. This whole thing is keeping me awake at night.”
“Are you confident about the bunnies for the weekend?” Gary asked, recognising the strain and deliberately changing the subject.
“They’ll perform,” I confirmed.
The words came out automatically, but I found myself suddenly exhausted by the entire situation.
“Sounds like fun,” James said sarcastically, as he turned back towards the workshop.
I looked up.
“See you in the morning.”
Showtime
Saturday evening arrived before we knew it.
Chad had reluctantly acknowledged the office wasn’t such a great place for a fuck fest. I had suggested a hotel suite to both antagonists on Friday morning, when we caught for final arrangements over coffee. It was a last attempt to influence the situation, and put a few key words in.
We were now heading for the Renaissance Hotel downtown. The place was older and upmarket, but it wasn't the Hilton. It was respectable without drawing unnecessary attention.
The three teams arrived at Phantom around seven. As expected, they were scrubbed and polished in tight jeans and tees. Fuck, we really had assembled a hot bunch of guys. Through gritted teeth, I introduced each to the other knowing they were seeing their own situations reflected in the punks before them. We crammed a people mover and departed. On route I wondered if there wasn’t money to be made in fuck parties.
*
The ride to the seventeen floor was as silent as it was smooth.
As the lift chimed our arrival, I had no idea what to expect. I sent Brendan a text to say we were on their level.
Two seconds later a huge polished door at the end of the hall, opened to a pair of grinning wolves.
The top floor suites were a series of rooms. From the entrance foyer I could hear medium level rock music bumping in the distant main lounge. There was a huge dressing room immediately off to the left of the doorway. Brendan ushered us inwards.
Once we were settled, he began handing out the redneck work gear as foretold. It was new, but clearly ‘worker’.
Vinnie and Scott and Danny found themselves with various coloured high-vis work shirts and super tight tradesmen shorts.
“You go barefoot and commando,” Chad instructed the group. “You won’t be in the gear that long anyway.” he assured, laughing.
Jade and Theo were given cheap looking generic uniforms. They could have been from any retailer but when dressed, I instantly thought of Huge-Mart.
Todd was the odd man out; his gear made him look like a garden hand.
Within minutes, everyone was prepared.
“Go to the bar and get yourselves a beer,” Chad instructed. “Your ‘bosses’ for the night are ready and waiting. If they want you to suck, do it. If they want to fuck, bend over”.
No lack of clarity there I thought.
The boys left.
Brendan turned back towards us. He began moving another set of bags from the corner of the room.
“Actually, we’ve had a few extra members turn up,” he informed, “looks like we will need you three to suit up as well.” I was shocked, bastard!
We hesitated, he pounced.
“Wouldn’t want any phone calls to the authorities, to stuff up your sweet arrangements, would we?” he added with clear and present menace. The pair smirked and passed us faded denim.
What the fuck could we do, we were a week away from having a complete instruction set in place, and nowhere near ready to try any attempted pathetic rebellion. We were fucked, or more accurately. About to be!
*
The three of us arrived in the lounge dressed in pure hick bib and brace farmer overalls. Like all the other punks our muscles and toned bodies suddenly on display for ‘selection’.
The nine ‘bosses’ were well on their way to being drunk. The music was louder in the main room and I was sure I could smell smack pipe. These guys were in control, knew it and were dead set on taking advantage of it.
One of the suits had taken a shine to Vinnie. The boy was already in a state of undress. He had been in the room less than five minutes and found his uniform around his ankles.
The ‘boss’ was exploring the super-hot muscles before him, his hand sliding up and down arms chest and shoulders.
Thirty seconds later the first cock of the evening appeared.
Vinnie found himself on his knees, carefully licking it.
“Get my meat hard, no hands”.
The boy went to work.
*
It hadn’t taken long for every worker to find themselves paired off to a boss.
The guy who targeted me was two or three years younger. He was instantly ‘touchy’, but aggressive in his method. I found myself dragged by the ear to one of the bedrooms.
The Big Swing Dicks were just that. From what I saw before me, almost all of the meat in the room was oversized.
On my knees, I felt a knob at my rear chute. It was condom clad as we had insisted, but the lube was light on and I knew it was going to be rough.
Four inches embedded itself into my internals before I could gather myself to move forward. I instantly felt two hands on my shoulders and with them, the outstanding three inches.
Christ!
Over four hours we were passed around like possessions. I took extended cock from three different guys, all high on meth and Viagra.
These hot shot execs partied hard and ran through anyone in the way; it was life at the top of a fat corporate, an absolute fuck fest!
Around 2am, the festivities waned quickly. I deduced the drugs must have had short half-lives, to lessen any potential impact on work. There was no doubt these guys were regular mid-week users. They knew exactly what they were doing.
One by one the Phantom crew made its way to the central bathroom and washed as much of the bastards off as we could. We were all going to feel it in the morning, but some of the guys were really going to suffer.
I later learnt two of the execs swung nine and ten inches. Todd and Theo were in for a week of recovery.
By three in the morning, we had been abandoned for greener pastures. Even Chad and Brendan exited to hit the ‘open till sunrise’ clubs.
We packed up our badly battered troop, and quietly made our exit.
For the first time in forever, Phantom wasn’t in control.
Internally, I was rattled.
Push back
Sunday was a write-off, as was most of Monday.
We had arranged a casual crew to take the shop’s load, but half of our contract punks missed their first day of the week.
Our cut of their pay would be reduced compounding the fact we also lost a weekend at the meat works and demolition yard.
The yet to be unloaded tire container in our back yard did nothing to improve my humor.
This menace was seriously fucking up our revenue streams.
On Wednesday I received the call I knew we were destined to get.
Chad started full of praise for the way our boys had performed, and immediately detailed his expectations of a repeat performance this coming weekend.
Apparently, the BSD members had been seriously impressed, the next nine wanted in.
My mostly recovered arse hurt just thinking about it.
I decided to play hardball. We needed time and two weekends in a row was going to push the guys too their limits, if not beyond.
“No” I stated clearly, “not this weekend, period.”
Silence.
“If you want to call the cops, FBI or whoever. Do it!”
“We’ll think about the weekend after but no deal for this Saturday or Sunday”.
I put the phone down and didn’t respond to any calls from BSD for the rest of the day.
I was nervous.
But it worked.
The next morning a seriously pissed of Chad was at the shop, but at least conceding the coming weekend.
The following Saturday, he assured was not up for negotiation.
He was blunt and poked his finger to my peck, more than once to make his point.
Thank fuck! We had the breathing space.
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