Disclaimers: This work is a work of fiction and is my property.
The story and characters are fictitious and any resemblance to anyone or any actual event is coincidental. There are three distinctly different main characters that will appear as the story progresses.
You should be legally allowed to read this type of material before continuing.
As it is based on an actual book, I had published a few years ago – free for your enjoyment – the story will not contain explicit material in all the chapters BUT don't fret, as it is more the exception than the rule.
Note that there will be a violent scenario. If this will trigger any trauma for you, please be aware of it before you start reading.
Please direct any comments or feedback to my email address at davidrolsynauthor2019@gmail.com.
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CHAPTER SIXTEEN Daniel
I take a swig of my fourth double brandy and coke, and recklessly shake the glass, while trying to say something to Koos. So much so, that it slips out of my fingers and smashes onto the concrete floor, shattering into a million pieces.
"Hey buddy. I think you've had enough." Koos grabs hold of me, as I lean down to have a closer look at the damage to my glass, nearly falling off the bar stool in the process.
"No. I'm fine." I slur at him.
"No, you're not. Come, let me walk you to your room." Koos' grip is firm and I don't resist when he pulls me by my elbow, off the bar stool, and leads me to the door.
"I don't need your help!" I yell at him but he ignores me.
"What's up with you, man?" I've never seen you like this." His concern's comical.
I burst out laughing. Actually, more a set of shrieks than laughter.
Flouting me, he leads me outside. The fresh air hits me in the face and everything around me becomes liquified. Well, to me at least. The spotlights and buildings, illuminated in the darkness, morphs into a mash of images, floating and flowing into each other.
"They look strange." I tell Koos.
"What looks strange?" He asks me.
"Everything ..." And I lunge forward and puke on the ground, in front of his feet.
"Come. You really need to get into bed. Leave it!" He orders me, as I lean down to study my vomit.
Koos, eventually, manages to get me onto my bed and takes my shoes and socks off. I panic and sit up to pitifully hit at him. "Don't touch me. Not tonight. I'm not in the mood."
"What are you talking about, man? I'm just taking your stupid shoes and socks off."
"Oh, ok. Continue." I waive my hand at him to continue and fall backwards. Out for the count.
The morning sun pierces my retinas, even though my eyes are still closed, and my head feels like someone has drilled into it with a hand drill. I can't breathe from the sharp pain.
I put my hand in front of my eyes and open them. The bright daylight still manages to fry my corneas and I quickly shut them again.
My mouth tastes like a sewer. Not that I know what one tastes like, but who's keeping score.
I lie back and the headache's grown notably worse. I'm nauseas and my mouth's completely dry.
Managing to get up with my hands in front of my eyes, I squint and walk into my bathroom. Leaning down, I drink from the tap.
The motion of leaning my head forward makes the throbbing in my head ten times worse and I take as much water as I can muster, before l slowly stand up straight.
I look at myself in the mirror. My beard's a mess, my eyes have bags under them and my hair looks like a bird has made a nest in it.
I wonder what James would say if he saw me now. He's stopped messaging or calling me three days ago. Not that I'd know what to say to him in any case. Better he goes on with his life and forgets he even met me. I can't believe what I did when he did come looking for me. He must've been hurt by my rebuff.
Well, such is life.
I'm still staring at that ugly guy in the mirror.
"You look like shit." I tell my reflection.
"I know." A voice says from the doorway.
Oh fuck no. It's Johan.
"I'm not in the mood, Oom. I don't care what you say or threaten me with. Go way!" I scamper pass him and sit on my bed.
"I wouldn't even, if you paid me. You look like shit and you're two hours late for work. This is the third day and people are starting to notice."
I don't reply but close my eyes instead.
He isn't finished. "Get your shit together. Clean up, get dressed and ask Chef André to make you something to eat, since you've already missed breakfast."
My eyes remain closed the entire time he's speaking and when I eventually open them, he's gone.
I do as he says and after having eaten an oily breakfast, consisting of bacon, eggs, sausage and toast, which I had to force myself to keep in, I head for the foreman's office.
Johan's waiting for me.
"You look a bit better. Now come, I need some relief." He goes behind me and locks the door.
I submissively go down on my knees and wait for him to take his dick out and shove it in my mouth. The pain in my head is still pounding. This isn't going to be fun.
As usual.
After Johan's had his fill, or should I say, he fills my gullet, he puts me to work in the store. He tells me that he's informed the owners that I'm not feeling well, and that I can't handle the tourists today.
Fortunately, no one squeals on me, because they are afraid of crossing him, but I'm grateful. I can't imagine dealing with the stupid questions and noisy brats today.
After my shift ends, I'm back in the bar early and skip dinner altogether.
I help myself to a beer and down it, making sure I get the warm feeling of the alcohol hitting my system. Even if this shit's bitter.
When Koos and the other guys show up, I've already downed three beers.
"Genade, Daniel! Drinking again. You're going to get yourself fired." Koos scolds me.
I ignore him and take another beer but before I can flip off the metal cap, by catching it just at the right angle on the edge of the bar counter, Johan grabs it out of my hands. Oh fuck, he's here too!
"That's enough Casanova!" He puts the beer back in the standing fridge.
For once the guys agree with him.
"Oom Johan. I think he needs to go to bed. He even skipped dinner. None of us know what's wrong with him." Koos speaks up.
"Don't worry your little head about it. I'll handle him." Johan snaps at him.
"Now get up and come with me. You're not that drunk yet and I'm not fucking carrying you." Johan barks at me and I do as he says, following him outside.
He walks me to my room and I expect he's wanting another blow-job. So, when we're inside, I go down on my knees in front of him but he looks at me like I'm an invalid.
"Nee, boetie. Not tonight. Get into bed and I'll see you in the morning, bright and early. Also, you are no longer allowed to drink at the bar and I'll inform the guys. You're acting like an idiot and will get yourself fired. If that's your intention, I'll still send your mommy and daddy those dirty little pictures, regardless. Jy verstaan?!"
"Yes. Sir!" And I give him a poor imitation of a military salute to emphasize my comprehension.
He walks out into the night air, closing the door behind him.
The next morning, I wake up with another, but less potent, hangover and make it in time for breakfast. The other guys just look at me, like I've a disease or something, but I don't let it bother me. They can all go fuck themselves, for all I care.
Johan's made good on his promise and bans me from drinking at the bar. Since my next day off is in two days' time, I'll have to wait for a chance to go to town and get pissed.
After dinner, I go to bed early but have nightmares of Johan asking me constantly to blow him in the office, the stores, the restaurant, in front of everyone and in-between the vineyards. In the last scenario, he cums bucket loads onto my face, so much so that I can't breathe and with that I wake up and run to the toilet to vomit my guts out.
I climb back into bed and after calming myself down, fall asleep.