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‘You will do whatever we tell you to do unless you wanna see your wife dead, Mr. Marston.’
There were many things in the world that John Marston had seen and experienced in his time running with a gang and being an lawless outlaw that would make some sick to their stomachs. He’d also heard some things that would make others wanna kill somebody. But in this case, hearing those words, those deeply-sharpened words instilled into his mind like a deep-seated cut, were words that made him feel a rush of fear, a rush of desperation…and most of all…
It made him feel disgusted.
The Pinkertons basically had him where they wanted him and they weren't the type to make idle threats either. So when they brought him up to the office and gave him the rundown on what he needed to do, John was already at his wits’ end and the longer he didn't see his wife Abigail or his son, Jack, he couldn't help but feel more agitated with them. He went and killed Bill and Javier and now they were wanting him to finish the job by killing Dutch but Dutch was being a slimey, slippery bastard and at this point, John had enough.
But when he expressed this, showing how frustrated he was, Edgar Ross looked at him with a look that just showed pure contempt but it wasn't just contempt he saw in his face, no…He saw that son of a bitch chuckle and then smirk at him.
“Oh? Have you forgotten that we have both your wife and son in our custody, Mr. Marston?” Ross remarks, reaching for his lighter on his desk as he pulls out a cigar from his front suit jacket pocket. John suddenly stiffened up at the mention of his family, the mention of his wife…the mention of his son. Ross saw him do this too and just widened that sick smirk of his, “Maybe I should have your wife do something that will make you reconsider your defiant attitude. We know what your wife was and is, Mr. Marston and surely, you wouldn't want that for her, now would you?”
John clenched his fists, the very thought of what Ross was suggesting making his blood boil. His eyes grow slanted as he stares at both Ross and Fordham who is leaning up against the wall with a sick grin on his face too. God, he just wanted to kill them both and go and get his wife and son back already. He just wanted to be back home on his ranch and try to start anew. He was one of the last remaining few of the Van Din Linde gang and he wanted to leave that life behind so desperately, so badly so that he could have the life that an old friend of his wanted him to have..
But yet here he was, playing the fucking errand boy/hunting dog for the Pinkertons of all people, killing the last remaining members of his old gang in order to protect the lives of his family and to have the slate wiped clean of all his sins.
“If you lay a finger on her, so help me god I will-”
Ross’s laugh cuts John off as he lights his cigar and begins to take a few puffs from it, white clouds of smoke rising from his lips as he blows some of it out through his slightly parted lips. “Will what, huh? What will you do, Mr. Marston? Hm? Because to me, right now, you are basically our property. Our good little hound dog who is to do what his masters tell him unless he wants to be starved and beaten. And I don't think you want to be starved and beaten, now do you?”
John is silent as he glares down at the agent before glancing over at Fordham then back to Ross. It’s at this moment where John eventually relents and unclenches his fists as he sucks in a breath and says, “No, sir.”
“Good, then we have an understanding of where you are in this equation, now Mr. Marston.”
John remains silent, having to damn near bite his tongue in order to refrain from saying anything in response.
But then, it’s here where things began to suddenly take a turn from threatening to appalling.
“As a matter of fact, I think I have an idea.”
John’s eyebrows knit together in concern, his attention now on Edgar who is grinning at him mischievously, as if he had some sort of trick card to play from his sleeve. Only thing about that was that knowing Ross, he did and he was about to play it.
“Marston, why don't you be a good boy and strip for us?”
John’s pupils widen and his face goes from one of concern to disgust in an instant.
What did he just say he wanted him to do?
John glares and says with a hint of disbelief in his voice, “You can't be serious.”
“Oh, Marston, I’m as serious as a gunshot wound to the chest. Now strip, right now or else I'll have Mister. Fordham over there send out a little telegram to our boys who are holding your wife and son right now…”
John’s Adam's apple bobs up and down in his throat, perspiration forming on his brow as he looks over at Fordham who pushes himself off of the wall and adjusts his coat, as if getting ready to leave to do just as Ross told him to.
And it would be that threat alone that makes John’s shoulders sink in reluctance and defeat as he moves his hands up to undo his vest buttons. Edgar smirks another disgusting, perverted smirk that just burns into John’s mind.
This wasn't right. It wasn’t right at all and he had half the mind to draw his gun and kill them dead but again, that would be a futile effort. He was already considered a ‘wanted’ man and he was trying to save his family, not get them killed.
So for now, he complies with a sour look of disdain for Ross on his face as he takes his vest off. Once the vest was off, next was his shirt. And as he does this, Ross is smoking his cigar, blowing heavy white clouds of smoke into the air. And even as he does this, his eyes never leave John - watching him with a predatory gaze that makes John feel even more sick to his stomach.
But what would John do about it?
Absolutely nothing besides comply with these sick agents’ orders. So once the shirt was fully unbuttoned, it fell to the floor - joining the famed black vest that John always wore.
Now John was just wearing nothing but his pants and underwear plus his boots and socks.
And those would be coming off next.
“C’mon, Marston, you can move a little faster than that, can't you?”Ross muses, sounding a bit irritated and impatient as John reluctantly places his hands on his belt buckling. He wanted to snap at Ross but he thought better of it and instead quickened his pace by just a little bit, undoing his belt bucklings and dropping it to the floor, along with his gun belt.
He eventually steps back out of the pile of clothes and starts to undo his pants, keeping his head down just to avoid catching the gaze of any of the men inside of the room. And with a reluctant pause, he eventually pulls his pants down along with his underwear in one, fluid go - just to speed this up in spite of it revealing his bits and pieces to the twisted government agents in the room with him.
And once they were down, he stepped out of them along with his boots. And now, he was utterly, almost completely exposed for both of the men to see. He would instinctively cover up his genitals as he glares over at Ross who just chuckles before putting his cigar out in the nearby ashtray on his desk, now leaning forward in his chair.
“My, look at how much of a good little outlaw you can be when tamed…”
John’s face goes visibly red as he tries to hide his look of shame and contempt away but it’s hard when you have nowhere to hide, nowhere to hide in shame and disgust. So all he could do was just stand there like a nude sculpture being admired by predatory eyes.
“And now that we know you can do as you're told without question,”Ross begins before looking over to Fordham and nodding his head, a silent command that makes the other get behind John, making the brunet look back at him with a look of concern and even a bit of fear.
“Let’s see just how much of a good obedient mutt you can really be for us, Mr. Marston.”
And that’s when John finds himself being pushed down onto his knees, all without warning. He clenches his jaw and glares back at Fordham, shouting out, “What the hell you fixin’ to do to me?!
Ross has gotten up his chair, moving his fingers underneath his belt as he walks around to the front of his desk to lean in front of it. He then holds on his hands, other hand fiddling with a ring on his ring finger - it had to be a wedding ring John presumed.
Making this even more wrong.
Ross looks down at John, still looking at his wedding ring before looking back at Marston, “I’ve been married to my wife for…god knows how long. A beautiful woman. But she can’t do the things she used to do when we were younger you know,”Ross explains before moving his hands down to his belt.
John was starting to feel sick to his stomach. He watches with anxious eyes as Ross smirks down at him, slowly undoing the belt until it’s unbuckled before moving his fingers to his pants buttons.
“And I wouldn’t give any of these whores in a saloon a moment of time. Appearances matter, you know..So I wanna see how good that mouth of yours can be.”
John looks like he's going to faint from how ashamed and disgusted he felt but he has to keep himself up. He couldn't faint now, he had to do this - he had to obey or else his family would pay the price.
Then the buttons came down and there, Ross had pulled his pants down and pulled his cock out of his underwear, making John’s pupils go wide in disbelief. What he was seeing couldn't have been real, no this wasn't happening - he wasn't about to give a man oral sex. He wasn't —
Ross wraps his thick, wrinkly fingers around his half-hard cock, pulling back the foreskin and slowly revealing the flesh-pink tip that was hidden by it. A droplet of precum leaks from the tip of it and all John could think was how badly he wanted to kill himself at that moment. In his horror of beholding Agent Edgar Ross’s cock, he noticed that he was far bigger and larger than he would've perceived him to be, considering how old he looked.
He couldn't tell how many inches it was but based on a guess, he looked to be at least 7 and half inches or maybe even more which didn’t make the situation any better. John swallows nervously as he slowly looks up at Ross who grins down at him, “Aw, don't be getting cold feet now, Mr. Marston, just think about how your wife does it and you should be fine..”
“You're a sick piece of shit, you know that?”
“And your wife is a whore, and your son will be a bastard if you keep talkin’ back to me, Marston.”
And though John wants to be angry, to defend his wife and son’s name, he remains silent - eyes showing more defiance than before. Ross snorts before stroking his cock some more now, making it grow harder until eventually it was standing at attention. Then suddenly John finds himself being shoved forward with a hand at the back of his neck. “Now, enough talking. Show me how willing you are to obey.”
Ross reaches down, gripping John’s scruffy jaw and making him look up at him. “Open your mouth and mind those fucking teeth. If you try to bite me, I will have Fordham blow your head off.”
And with that, John grimaces before eventually opening his mouth wide and once it’s open, Ross wraps his hand around his cock, guiding it into John’s mouth. And once it was in, he tilts his head back and lets out a groan, “Fuck…”
John, on the other hand, felt like he was gonna vomit again. He could feel the warm, pulsing throbbing heat of Ross’s cock in his mouth, he could taste his salty precome and sweat on his tongue…
He scrunches his face up in disgust, trying his hardest to resist the urge to just rip the fucker’s dick off with his teeth but he doesn’t and just takes it like the obedient mutt they wanted him to be. Ross pushes more and more of his cock into John’s mouth until eventually, John lets out a gurgled sound, meaning that Ross had hit his throat.
And he in fact did, his heavy, hairy balls pressed against John’s chin along with his public hair against John’s nose. John felt like he was being choked, his eyes bulging open as he frantically looked up at Ross, eyes starting to water as a gurgled noise escaped from his mouth. Ross, on the other hand, was taking in the pathetic look of John Marston.
To have him like this was just a power trip in of itself. And all it took to get him like this was a little threatening and the very real possibility of him losing that so-called wife and kid of his. Family was a weakness and Ross knew how to exploit that well.
And there wasn't a damn thing that Marston could do to go against him now that he had his family in his back pocket like a lottery ticket.
Slowly, Ross pulls back some - cock halfway out of John’s mouth before slamming right back into his mouth, causing John to nearly gag but Ross wasn't gonna let him try and pull back. He places his hand on the top of John’s head and grips his greasy black strands of hair tight in a fistful, forcing him to keep his head down on it.
John starts to squirm about, gurgling and struggling to get free but it was no use because Fordham was holding his arms back and Ross was keeping his head down on his cock with no way to pull back, forcing him to hold Ross’s cock in his throat, unable to pull off it.
Drool and spit runs down from the corners of John’s mouth and chin, dripping down to the floor beneath him as he slowly but surely becomes worn down by the excessive force being used to keep him from bucking and trying to wiggle his way out of this predicament. Ross can’t he,p but let out a breathless moan, his own face a bit flustered, “Hah fuck, your throat takes me so well, Marston…almost like you, mmph, were made for this.”
John breathes frantically out of his nose as all the noises he made became nothing but muffled, incoherent sounds that would go barely unheard. Eventually, Ross would relent and pull back some but only by a little as the tip of his cock still remained fairly deep in John’s throat.
“Hollow your cheeks, Marston. Surely you’ve received a blowjob before from your wife.”Ross advises before sliding right back into John’s mouth, the latter groaning in response.
And after which, John would do exactly that - hollow out his cheeks which allowed Ross to slide his cock in and out of his mouth much more easily. Soon, all that could be heard throughout the office was the wet, messy gurgled sounds of John’s mouth working itself up and down Ross’s cock mixing in with Ross’s moans and insulting, degrading comments.
Eventually, Ross would pull out of John’s mouth completely, allowing him to finally get some proper air. John coughs almost damn near violently as air rushes into his deprived lungs like a tidal wave. Fordham lets go of John’s arms, allowing the latter to lean forward - planting his hands on the wooden floor beneath him as he continues to wheeze and take in deep gasps of air.
“Oh don’t act so overly dramatic now, John.”Ross comments, watching as John slowly lifts his head up, his long, stringy black hair dripping down around his face, some of it sticking to his forehead. His eyes and face were both red and he looked visibly worn out.
“Y…You damn near killed me with that thing.”John strains out, his voice now sounding a bit raspy. He rubs the front of his neck where his throat is and just takes in one good deep breath in and one deep breath out. Ross laughs, albeit a dry laugh as he looks down at John and just grins, “Mhm…sure. Now, break’s time is over. I haven't even cummed yet.”
And with that, John found himself being picked right back up from the floor and forced to keep his mouth open as Ross slid his cock back into his mouth, but this time…
“Now, Marston…show some enthusiasm, because surely your wife has shown you some...”
John glares up at Ross with bitter eyes.
Enthusiasm?! How the fuck was he going to show enthus…
It's here that he starts to remember…remembering the things that Abigail did when they were still having sex.
She would…use her hands sometimes…to do this thing with his balls…
John reaches his hand up and reluctantly grabs a hold of Ross’s balls, his brows furrowing as he looks back up at Ross before massaging them, making Ross grunt in response - his hands gripping the edge of his desk. John lets out a muffled sound in his throat as he starts to move his head up and down on his own accord while his hand squeezed and played with Ross’s balls.
If Ross wanted enthusiasm…
Well, John didn't have a choice but to give him what he wanted.
John moves his other hand up to rest on Ross’s thigh as he steadies himself, hollowing out his cheeks and bobbing his head up and down - being sure to sometimes hold his head down on it so it would go down his throat. And when it was in his throat, he would moan to make his throat vibrate, something else that his wife did that he really liked.
And now, Ross was loving it as his breathing quickened, his knuckles practically becoming white as he tightened his grip on his desk, “S…Shit, ahh…”
John pulls off of Ross’s cock, gasping as he does before stroking it with his hand. And while he does, he leans down and puts one of Ross’s balls in his mouth and sucks on it. His eyes still show a defiant fire within him as he glares up at Ross, stroking his cock while he basically juggled his balls in his mouth.
Ross was having a hard time trying to keep his hands from grabbing the back of John’s head and fucking his throat but he doesn’t.
Because it seemed that Marston finally was beginning to understand exactly what he needed to do. All for the sake of ‘protecting his family’.
John takes Ross’s balls out of his mouth and turns focus back to his shaft, stroking it a little before taking it back into his mouth, sticking his tongue underneath Ross’s foreskin to swirl it around the sensitive part of his cockhead. Ross curses loudly, his eyes shutting and his body leaning forward, “Fuck, god almighty M-marston where did you - aaah ….”
‘This has got to be one of the worst days of my life.’ John thinks, eyes still looking up at Ross as he continues to swirl his tongue around the head of Ross’s cock before eventually pulling his tongue out and going back to bobbing his head up and down on it - sometimes taking it deep into his throat and holding it there before pulling back only halfway just to do it all over again.
And Edgar Ross was at his wit’s end with how good John was sucking his dick. His commanding composure seemingly melts away as he feels himself getting closer and closer to releasing.
“Fuck, you suck me off, better than…ahh shit, my wife..”Ross mutters, eyes rolling as he tilts his head back and lets out a deep moan, his chest starting to quickly rise and fall as the feeling of pleasure intesified.
Meanwhile, Fordham had been struggling to keep his own composure, listening and watching as his boss got pleasured by the lowly outlaw that was John Marston while he was getting the meanest erection of all time. The sounds were sloppy, wet and god, he wished he could…
But then a filthy idea popped into mind.
While Ross had John’s mouth, he could have something else…
John, unaware of what was about to happen to him, continues to suck off Ross - now even more determined to bring this man to his orgasm just so he could get this over with. His jaw was getting tired and he desperately wanted to get out of this hell so he could go to the bar and buy a drink to wash out the taste of Ross from his mouth.
But then, he suddenly feels hands on his ass and that makes him stop - pulling off of Ross’s cock to shout, “W-What the hell you doin-!”
And before John could fully register what was happening to him, Fordham was positioning and lining his cock up with John’s exposed rim and with some spit, he glides it up and down along his rim before eventually pushing it up against it - seeking entry.
John starts sweating nervously as he looks up at Ross who is smirking at Fordham, as if he was proud of him.
Taking the initiative, taking what he wanted. Typical government lackey.
“Focus on Mr. Ross, Marston.”Fordham retorts and before John could protest further, Fordham has pushed the tip of his cock past John’s tight rim. The brunet’s pupils shrink - the feeling of Fordham breaching his ass was quickly registering in his mind and the first feeling that came from it was pain.
He never took anything there and now, he was. And it was hurting like hell - the burn making him wince as he leans on Ross for support.
“Marston.”Ross says, making the latter turn focus back to him - though there were tears forming on the rims of his eyelids due to the pain. It would only further intensify when Fordham pushed more and more of his cock inside of John’s ass, forcibly stretching out the tight insides of his hole - making John shout out in pain.
“S-STOP I- mmph!” John yelps but he is quickly silenced by Ross shoving his cock into his open mouth, shoving it down his throat to further muffle his loud pleas. It was already enough that they were doing this in the main office but again, this probably just sounded like they were torturing a suspect.
A good illusion to say the least.
Fordham groans, hands gripping John’s hips as he feels those tight, inner walls constrict around his cock like a vice grip. It was unlike anything he’s ever felt before in the best, most fucked way possible.
“F-fucking Christ, who…knew you’d be this…good, Marston.”Fordham groans out, trying to keep his voice stable as he pushes further and further inside of him until eventually, he was pressing against John’s ass - signifying that he was all the way inside of him.
John, on the other hand, was forced to continue giving Ross attention, his mind struggling to contend with the intense feeling of pain that was coursing through all the nerves in his body. But he knew that he had to power through it, he just had to. So, in an attempt to try and take his mind elsewhere or at least make it less harder on himself, he tries to relax his body - to loosen up the tension.
He tries to think happier thoughts, tries to think about the new life he would have when this was all over. He wanted to teach Jack how to hunt properly and how to handle a farm.
He wanted to be able to hold Abigail again, to make sure no harm came to her. To give her a better life than what they had before.
It’s these thoughts that make John’s body relax - it’s these hopeful thoughts that make him open his eyes to look up at Ross and begin to take the metaphorical reins of the situation despite what Fordham was doing.
And soon, the pain began to slowly fade and his body was beginning to accommodate Fordham's length, the latter cursing as he slowly pulled out halfway before sliding right back in and when he did this, he hit a spot inside of John that sent an unfamiliar sensation throughout John’s body.
He does it again.
John felt his knees suddenly becoming weak and he was struggling to focus - eyes now looking a bit glazed over. What was that? What was…
Fordham slams right back into him again, hitting that spot once more. John lets out a gurgled moan around Ross’s cock, the feeling he’d been experiencing now registering in his muddled mind as pleasure - a feeling he hadn’t been feeling at all throughout this entire endeavour.
But that was more or less because he didn’t want to be doing this. He was more focused on getting this over with more than anything but now…
Fordham groans, now building up a pace that had John struggling to make a single thought now. He was hitting that spot inside him much more frequently now, sending more waves of pleasure throughout John’s body.
And with that, John became almost more enthused with sucking off Ross, drool now running down his chin as he strokes his cock and sucks on his balls again and this would be just the action that pushes Ross over the edge, the older man throwing his head back, moaning out, “S-Shit I’m gonna -”
John quickly takes Ross’s balls out of his mouth and guides his cock back into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the tip of it.
And that would seal the deal.
Ross’s cum spills into John’s in thick spurts and John would sucking on it - as if trying to get all of it out. The older man looks like he was going to faint but he catches himself and recomposes his demeanor, breathlessly looking down at John who looks right back at him with half-lidded eyes.
After Ross finishes, John pulls off of Ross’s cock and keeps his mouth closed. Ross smirks, “Open up.”
John slowly opens his mouth back up to reveal the milky white semen in his mouth. Ross reaches down and grips John’s chin and tilts his head up to make sure he was looking right up at him, like a dog and its master.
“Swallow it.”
John shows reluctance but he would immediately swallow the somewhat salty mess of semen down and with that, Ross lets go of his chin and reaches into his suit jacket, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe his cock clean before tucking it back into his underwear.
Ross chuckles as he walks back around to the back of his desk, buckling up his belt and unbuttoning his pants.
“Good boy, Mister Marston..now let’s see if you can do the same for Mr. Fordham.”
That’s when John feels himself being forced down onto the floor by a strong hand and Fordham laughs, “Oh, h…he’s doin’ just…s-swell, hnn..”
At this point, John couldn’t bring himself to feel argumentative anymore. He’d already done the unthinkable so what would be the point in trying to keep resisting and denying? His spirit was broken and they had him right where they wanted him.
So what could he do now?
John’s eyes lull upwards as Fordham starts to pick up the pace of his thrusts, his cock slamming hard and fast into John’s prostate, practically acting like a battering ram. And John was helpless to stop it from breaking down the metaphorical barriers that he’d set up in his mind to resist the abuse.
They were breaking and John was crumbling. His cock was leaking profusely from the tip, precome dribbling onto the floor underneath him as with each thrust Fordham made, John was falling into the carnal pool of ecstasy - unable to resist the bliss he was feeling.
He’s drooling onto the floor now, moaning like a desperate whore. This wasn’t right but he couldn’t stop it.
Nor did he really want to anymore.
“Oh g-god…pl-please,”John stuttered, his raspy voice shaking with desperation as Fordham reaches down and grabs a fistful of his hair and yanks him up off the floor, sending a pained cry flying out of John’s mouth.
“Please what, John? Use your big boy words.”Fordham murmurs, slowing down his thrusts until he is still, pressing his cock against John’s battered prostate. John squeezes his eyes shut, blinking away the tears that run down his scarred cheeks - he trembles ever so lightly as he sucks in a breath, preparing to throw away what little dignity he had left.
“P-Please..keep goin’...d-don’t stop nngh…”He weakly rasps out and Fordham couldn’t help but snort at the plea but it was more than satisfactory because immediately, he starts to move again - slamming in hard and fast, ripping broken sobs and desperate moans from John’s mouth to the point where John’s throat was hurting from all the screaming he was doing.
Soon, everything was starting to become too much for John, his orgasm encroaching upon him like a violent wave in the horizon. Fordham’s grip on his hair tightens and his grunts and moans grew louder and his thrusts became almost primal and animalistic with how rough he was being.
At that point, John couldn’t string a sentence together anymore - his voice far too broken and his throat so sore that it hurt to even try to speak. The only sounds he could make were quiet whimpers and sobs.
Fordham curses as he reaches the final stretch, his thrusts becoming increasingly erratic - all signs pointing to him getting ready to cum. “Fuck, I’m gonna…”
John gasps, wincing as he bites down on his bottom lip - he was close too, so fucking close in fact that all it would take was just a few more strokes.
And that’s what Fordham gave him. He slams into John a few more times before finally, John cums untouched. His cum squirts out of his cock in thick, ropey streaks to land on the floor beneath him and onto his stomach. He shudders and trembles throughout the whole ordeal, seeing a piercing white in his vision as he continues to cum.
As he does, Fordham would follow suit, spilling his load inside of John’s ass, moaning as he feels John’s inner wall clench around him, as if to milk it all out of him.
His grip on John’s hair would go loose and John, now beyond exhausted and drained of what life he had in him, collapses onto the hard floor beneath him. Once Fordham came down from his orgasm, he would slowly pull out of him and watch as his cum flowed out of John’s ass in thick, white globs.
All the while, Edgar Ross was sitting behind his desk, smoking another cigar. He pulls open a drawer from behind his desk and places a spare handkerchief on the top of his desk as Fordham stands up and walks around John’s limp body, grabbing the handkerchief to clean his dick off before tucking it away back into his pants.
“How do you feelin’, Mister Marston?”Ross asks loudly, getting out of his chair and to his feet to walk around his desk. John pants softly as he weakly pushes himself up off the ground, looking up at both Edgar Ross and Archer Fordham.
And the look on his face was a look of a broken, violated man who had looked as if he lost everything - his dignity, his honor, his shame…
“Mm, now I hope this gives you a newfound vigor to do as we want, Marston. Now, when you leave here, remember that Dutch is still alive and we need him dead, is that understood?”
John weakly nods his head and with a hoarse voice, he says, “Yeah, I…I understand.”
Ross smirks before putting his cigar back in his mouth and reaching into his pocket to pull out what appeared to be a wad of cash. He thumbs through the money before taking out a 20$ dollar bill and throwing it down to the floor in front of John.
“Would only be fitting to toss you somethin’, consider it a reward for your performance for us today, hehe.”Ross says, snickering as he puts the money away back into his pocket.
John felt sick to his stomach upon seeing the 20$ that was on the floor in front of him.
They just treated him like he was a whore in a whorehouse so how fitting it was that they decided to pay him like one.
“Now run along and return when you have something on Dutch.”Ross instructed, nodding his head towards the door.
And with that, John has to force himself to get redressed again because his body was just a trainwreck at that point - feeling achy, violated sore and gross all at once.
But once dressed, he picks up the 20$ and makes his way out of the room, leaving the two corrupt agents behind. But once he was out of the room, a way of guilt and disgust washed over him.
All that…to protect his wife and son from harm…
This was going to be something that he would have to take to his grave. His family wouldn’t know what kind of hell he went through to insure their safety.
This would be his shame.
He stares down at the 20$ in his hand before shoving it into his pocket and with a limp in his step, he quickly makes his way out of the government agents' office and out into the street.
First things first, he was going to the bar to get a couple of drinks and then he was going to find the hotel in town and hope they have a bath he could use.
He was gonna scrub and scrub his skin until it was raw.
And as he walks down the sidewalk, he thinks to himself, ‘When this is all said and done, Edgar Ross, you’re a dead man.’
And how right he would be…
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END