Forgive Us Our Debts: The Bookie's Demand

By Brock Johnson

When Jim makes a bad bet, he must risk his marriage to make good with his bookie. When he reveals what he has done, Donna, his wife, calls his bet. As the blonde Donna rediscovers he desire for large men of color, her hapless husband discovers in himself his deep, cuckold desires.
Over the course of the evening, Jim will suffer joyously at the sight of his wife servicing, and happily satisfying herself and the two men who made his life a living hell.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tall Tale Depot
• Release date: Jan 27, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215591833

Book preview

I told you what you needed to do, now didn’t I? said Sammy the Book.

The Jim mumbled something through swollen lips.

What was that? said Sammy. He looked at the gorilla holding Jim upright and nodded. The huge guy, failed prize-fighter, lifted the not unsubstantial Jim by the neck and slammed him into the wall and let go. The aforementioned Jim collapsed in a sobbing heap on the floor in the back-room of the bodega where Sammy ran his book.

Sammy hauled back and delivered a skilled kick to Jim’s ribs with the sharp toe of his garish wingtip. Jim curled around the pain. Sammy stood over the writhing man and looked down at him. His lips curled with disgust. You are such a scumbag degenerate! He snarled. You must just love the pain and suffering of being a such a loser!

Eyes screwed up from the pain, Jim nodded vigorously, his cheek rubbing painfully against the filthy, concrete floor.

Fucking worm! Sammy signaled to Zeke, his huge, brutal enforcer. Get his wallet.

The bruiser snatched Jim’s billfold from his back pocket, the nearly banana-sized fingers ripping the denim. Wordlessly, he handed to his boss.

Oh ho! he said, pulling a thin wad of cash. You have this, but you can’t pay me? He nodded to Zeke.

With one hand, the huge, burly fighter, his obsidian face empty of all expression, yanked Jim from the floor with one hand. He pushed the pathetic gambler against the wall and looked at his boss. Jim stood upright only because of the massive paw pinning him against the wall. He mumbled, I need that money for rent.

That’s cute, said Sammy. He pocketed the bills. That should cover most of the vig. He hummed as he continued the dissection of Jim’s wallet. He pulled the credit cards. Probably maxed out, he said to himself. Might get a couple of bucks from a fence. Those went into a different pocket. He looked at the hapless Jim. You got nothing else?

Head hanging, Jim shook his head wearily.

Sammy nodded to Zeke again.

The failed fighter slammed his huge fist into Jim’s belly.

It was a few minutes before Jim could talk again. He would have collapsed if not for Zeke’s hand. In a twisted and sick way, he was somehow grateful.

Meanwhile, Sammy continued to tear his wallet apart. Other contents fell to the floor in a steady rain. His license. His work ID. The punch card from the car wash.

Oh, said Sammy, Who’s this?

Wearily, Jim raises his head and tried to focus on the object in his bookie’s hand. It was his picture of Linda, taken on their honeymoon. He tried to speak, but nothing came out.

Sammy pulled the picture back and looked at it again. Quite the honey you have at home, he