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Forgiveness

Date: 1/21/2015, Categories: Dark Fantasy, Anal, Blowjob, Coercion, Enema, Extreme, Female Domination, Gay, Humiliation, Masturbation, Non-consensual sex, Prostitution, Transvestite, Author: The_Technician, Rating: 93.3, Source: sexstories.com

runs a very exclusive ‘escort service’ over on Aiken Alley. You can go talk to her, but the only way you are going to get forgiveness out of that ice bitch is if you pay for it. Now, get out of my office and go home and learn how to be a man.... or are you still just ‘Baby Brother’ like everyone called you back then?” I looked up “escort services” and found “Violet’s Exclusive Escorts.” It didn’t give an address, but it did give a phone number and I called it. “I need to speak to Violet,” I explained to the young woman who answered the phone. “Nobody speaks to Violet on the phone, honey. Too many electronic ears. You tell me what you need to say to her, and I can take care of you.” “No, I have to speak to Violet. I need to ask her to forgive me for raping her in the park ten years ago.” There was a long pause with voices in the background. The young woman then asked, “Is this Baby Brother?” I answered, “Yes,” and she replied, “Just a moment.” Seconds later, a different voice came on the line, “Come to 1137 Aiken Alley. Come alone, and don’t park your car near here. Park it at the big parking deck on Adams Street and walk up the hill. Be here tonight at 8:30 on the dot. This is your one chance to speak with me. If you ain’t here on time, you missed your one and only chance to find out what really happened to your brother and his three friends.” I couldn’t eat at noon or in the evening. I was too nervous. It was only 7:00 o’clock when I parked my car in the parking deck. I ... walked around downtown for an hour or so, and a little before 8:30, I walked up to Aiken Alley. Technically it was Aiken Street, but it had been a home for houses of prostitution for so many decades that everyone referred to it by the name it had back when these streets were mud and horses pulled fine carriages up the hill to the “sporting houses” on Aiken Alley. At exactly 8:30, I knocked on the door. A young black girl opened it, looked at me at said, “You must be Baby Brother. Follow me.” She took me to the back of the house and up a long staircase that wound back on itself a couple of times. It felt like we must be on the fourth floor, but the house didn’t look that big from the street. We finally reached the top and the girl pressed a large button next to a strange-looking door. A few moments later, a buzzer sounded and the doorway– actually a section of the wall– popped open. The girl grabbed me by the arm. “This way Baby Brother,” she said and pushed me through the door. As soon as I was through the opening, I heard it close and lock behind me. The click sounded as loud as any jailhouse cell door that I had ever heard. The room was very dim, but I could tell that there was a figure sitting at a small desk-like piece of furniture against one of the walls. “So, you are Baby Brother,” she said. “What brings you to me, and why shouldn’t I kill you like I did your big brother and his friends?” My knees went weak and I almost fell to the floor. She had killed Tony... and Chuck ...