Purgatory (1)

[Ben]

To say that I had a rotten mood since the morning would be an understatement. I wanted to smack someone so hard that their head would fly to the other corner!

The evening visit to the Cloaca and acquiring the antidote cost me dearly. On the other hand, one could understand Jeff. Firstly, he's a trader, secondly, the only doctor in all of Cloaca, and thirdly, he's my friend. The news that ghouls appeared near my den didn't exactly make him happy. Giving me the last antidote in such a situation was quite risky.

However, I didn't stop at just one antidote and discreetly pocketed a half-tube of a miraculous ointment from Jeff's house, capable of curing Cynthia of her ailment. But I wasn't in a hurry to give this tube to my guests. Once the girls get rid of their sores, they'll strip me clean and run away, if not worse. No, you won't get it so easily. You owe me, and until you pay off, I won't let you go.

With this thought in mind, I descended to the first floor, woke up Emma, and ordered her to follow me. I didn't bother dragging her to the shed this time, deciding that my room would suffice. Closing the door, I approached the bed and turned to face the girl. Emma understood everything without unnecessary words and began to undress. No arguments, no curses directed at me. That's something new.

"Always be like this!" - I thought, sitting down on the bed.

Struggling out of her clothes, the redhead came to me, knelt down, and immediately got down to business. Carefully treating every millimeter of my shaft, the girl took it in her hand, lifted it up, and began doing the same with my balls. But instead of trying to push me away or avoid my hands when I started to gently squeeze her breasts, Emma, to my surprise, moved the hand working on my dick aside to make it more convenient for me. Flattered by her readiness to please me, I started massaging her breasts much more gently. Moving her face away from my crotch, Emma covered her nose with her hand and sneezed.

"Bless you," I said, tugging at her tiny nipples.

"I will. I definitely will," she replied, then took my buddy into her mouth and started sucking.

She wasn't as skilled as Cynthia, but much better than the last time. It was because the girl was trying really hard. Not because she suddenly developed some unknown tender feelings for me, but because she was grateful for saving her from the afterlife and was simply trying to thank me in this way. I wouldn't be surprised if, at that moment, the redhead imagined someone else in my place. Removing my hands from Emma's breasts, I stood up.

"Move to the bed and lie on your stomach," I ordered, switching places with the girl.

Doing as I said, Emma propped herself up on her elbows, just in case I wanted to caress her breasts again, and resumed her activities. Only this time, she looked not ahead but straight into my face. It was then that I realized I wouldn't be able to enjoy her intimacy this time because looking into her eyes made it difficult for me to hold back from releasing myself right into her mouth, something Emma was definitely not prepared for. But why not give it a try?

"Do you want to taste my sperm? Will you do that?" I asked, just to be sure.

Emma mumbled something like "Uh-huh" without letting my buddy out of her mouth. Although even if she objected, it wouldn't have stopped me. At least I gave her fair warning.

"Great. As soon as I say, open your mouth wider," I explained.

The girl nodded briefly and started sucking faster. I tried to delay the decisive moment as much as I could, but it didn't last long.

"Come on!" I exclaimed in a choked voice, abruptly pulling my member out of Emma's mouth and stepping back.

Remembering my wish, the girl opened her mouth wide. The first, longest stream landed right on Emma's tongue. I quickly turned to the left, and the rest flew onto the floor. Wiping off the last drops, I put on my pants and looked at Emma, who closed her mouth. She grimaced as if she had just eaten a lemon and, as it seemed to me, stopped breathing. Deciding that I had already had enough fun, I said:

"Okay, don't torture yourself. If you can't swallow, just spit it out."

And that's what Emma did. Wiping her mouth, the redhead got up from the bed and started getting dressed, but I caught her hand and turned her face towards me.

"Where do you think you're going?" I asked with feigned severity.

"But it's all over," the confused Emma said uncertainly.

"Not yet. Lie on your back."

Magnificent blowjob, performed with feeling, significantly improved my mood, and I decided to please Emma in return. As soon as the girl lay on her back, I sat at the edge of the bed and began massaging her breasts with circular movements using my left hand. With my right hand, I started caressing her clitoris. Emma moaned softly, lightly shaking her head. But when I inserted two fingers into her slit, the moans grew much louder. Flattered by such a reaction, I switched to the other breast and started moving my fingers inside her pussy back and forth. At first, Emma wriggled like a live fish thrown onto a frying pan, transitioning from moans to screams. Desiring to muffle her cry a bit, the girl covered her mouth with her hand, but it didn't help much.

When I began working my fingers even faster, Emma was screaming at the top of her lungs, completely forgetting that her mother was sleeping downstairs. It didn't take even half a minute before she reached climax, which she greeted with a loud cry, arching her back and throwing her head back. She remained lying on her back for a while, staring at the ceiling, trying to catch her breath.

In this state, Emma didn't even notice when the door opened, and her mother peeked into the room. Cynthia looked at me disapprovingly, as if I had done something wrong, and then left the room and closed the door. That's right, envy in silence. It's not my fault that life has been tough on you. And if you can't reach climax on your own, at least be happy for your daughter. After giving Emma a few more minutes to rest, I gathered her clothes and placed them on the bed.

"When you're dressed, don't rush to leave," I said.

Emma raised her head, looked at me wearily, and asked, "What are you up to now?"

"Not what you're thinking," I replied and approached the table.

Deciding that after bringing her to orgasm, the redhead would hardly want to harm me, I took out a pair of scissors with worn-out handles from the drawer in the table.

"Cut my hair," I gave her another order.

Judging by Emma's expression, she was slightly surprised, but she didn't object. Fully dressed and with her shoes tied, Emma got to work. The task was complicated by the fact that there wasn't a single mirror in the whole house. However, I didn't need any fancy haircut. I just wanted Emma to trim my long mane and my beard. The entire process took her around 30-35 minutes. When the haircut was done, I turned to face Emma and saw surprise in her eyes.

"Did you expect to see something else? How old do you think I am?" I asked with a smile.

"I have no idea. Before, I thought you were around 45-50," Emma honestly admitted.

"And now?"

"Now, I don't know what to think anymore."

"Don't think about it. I turned 33 this year."

"33? Are you serious?"

"As serious as can be. There's a broom under the bed. Notice any hair you trimmed and throw it away," I gave her one last instruction and left the room.

When I arrived at the shed and washed the hair stuck to my head, the radio hanging on my belt came to life. Answering the call, I heard Jeff's furious voice:

"You piece of cow dung!"

"Good morning to you too, Jeff," I replied, not at all surprised by such a greeting.

"Come here right now, or I'll cut off your balls!"

"How will you do that if you're in Cloaca right now, and I'm in my den?"

"I'll find a way, you filthy rat!"

"Rat? And what exactly did I rat out, if you don't mind me asking?" I feigned confusion.

"Don't pretend to be a moron! I went to meet you, lent you the antidote, and you stole a tube of ointment from me!"

If you're going to lie, you might as well go all out.

"What ointment? Why would I need some ointment?"

"Indeed, why?," Jeff said mockingly. "You were asking about it not too long ago, and this morning I found one tube missing. A strange coincidence, isn't it?"

"Indeed, strange. I needed the ointment not for myself but for the girl, and I found it somewhere else. You saw it with your own eyes yesterday! Does it look like she needed your damn ointment?"

"No, but..."

"Well, if not, then go to hell. Anyone from your sheep could have taken that tube, not capable of distinguishing aspirin from a laxative! You know very well how your guys like to stick their dicks into anyone and then wonder why their pants are itching and where the rash came from! When they catch some infection, who do they run to for help first?"

A long pause hung in the air. Apparently, Jeff was seriously pondering my words and was no longer as sure that it was me who ransacked his hideout.

"Alright, let's assume someone else did it. But you still owe me for the antidote," he said.

"I remember. I'll pay you back as soon as I can."

"Of course, you will. And we'll help you with that."

"We?"

"Me and Bob. He's standing right next to me and really wants to have a chat with you."

That was not good at all. Bob was the boss in Cloaca. The first half of the thugs hated him, and the second half feared him, but both groups obeyed his orders without question. Although Cloaca accepted me as one of their own, my relationship with Bob left much to be desired. It was all because I flatly and categorically refused to join his gang and move in with the rest of them in Cloaca. I had always been a loner and disliked it when someone decided how I should live and what I should do. Bob said it wouldn't be a problem, but I knew this vengeful bastard was holding a grudge against me and was looking for an excuse to set all the dogs on me.

"Hey there, scumbag," Bob greeted me as Jeff handed him the radio.

"Hey, Bob. I don't know if you noticed, but yesterday, I brought a backpack full of supplies to Cloaca for..."

"That's precisely why I didn't send the guys after you. The problem lies elsewhere. Last night, I sent a few guys to scout the area around Cloaca. They ran into ghouls. Two of them got bitten. One in the neck, the other just above the elbow. Do you know what the most infuriating thing in this situation is?"

"I have no idea," I replied, trying to assess the truthfulness of the story about the confrontation between Cloaca's guys and ghouls.

"The wounds themselves were minor. We had to put a bullet in Sam's head, and Clark had to cut off his arm. If we had the antidote, we could have avoided that."

And what do I have to do with all of this? If he's looking for a scapegoat, Jeff is a better candidate for that role! I'd gladly shift the blame onto my friend, but there was no point in doing that. Bob had already decided that I was to blame for everything, and I wouldn't be able to convince him otherwise.

"But that's not all. After you left, something else disappeared from another guy, not just from Jeff," Bob voiced another unfounded accusation.

"Then look for the rat among your own guys. What's it got to do with me?"

"Carl saw everything and is ready to confirm that you didn't leave the gates empty-handed."

Carl was the name of the fool for whom I got the ghoul's dong. Most likely, Carl himself stole that crap, but he would never admit it. The guys from Cloaca were scum with their own standards. They saw nothing wrong in robbing, killing, and raping, but stealing from their own was considered the most heinous sin, and those caught stealing were beaten to death. As for me, I thought they beat you not for stealing but for getting caught. The only way to get out of such a situation was to prove your loyalty to Cloaca's interests, and not just with words but with actions.

"What do you want from me?" I asked directly.

"I have two conditions. Yesterday evening, I wasn't in Cloaca, but the guys told me that you brought a pretty young doll with you. I don't care who she is or where she's from. Give her to us as the first installment for a day."

This was to be expected. If the redhead had spent the night with Jeff, by morning there would be nothing left of her. They would have beaten her half to death first and then the whole town would have taken turns having their way with her. Even if, by some miracle, she survived Bob and his crew's twisted games, she would be completely broken. I categorically rejected such an outcome. I didn't pull her back from the brink of death just to let her be ruined like that.

"It won't work. A couple of hours ago, she packed her things and left for good," I lied.

"Too bad, very unfortunate. Then only the second condition remains. You'll have to go somewhere," Bob said.

I held my breath, preparing to hear the details. As Bob explained everything, I once again regretted getting involved with Cynthia and her daughter.