The Desert Nexus
In the Ballroom
This was quite a mixer, tonight. This was an election year and things were getting serious. Tonight, in addition to the party regulars, there was a Senator and four Representatives in from D.C. standing around trying to look the part of concerned public servants. They were concerned, of course, but the well being of the country took a far back seat to the concern about being reelected.
It had been a year since our Australian jaunt, and not long after Katja had given me the news that the Sheik considered me to be his unofficial second in command. For some reason, he considered our plotting down under to be a brilliant stroke of improvisation. Actually, I thought it was an ad-hoc operation to fix a minor problem. There was absolutely no evidence leading back to his agent, Scott, and he would have been eventually exonerated anyway. All we did was to remove the inevitable cloud that would have hung over him forever from a serious criminal charge - proven or not. And, of course, we greatly speeded the legal process along.
Tonight, there were three unmarried beauties on the floor. Rita, obviously, since she enjoyed these affairs that almost drove me out of my skull with boredom. Zee and her friend, Penelope Elsenburg, were here. Several months ago Zee had dropped the bombshell on me that both of them shared a bed on occasion. Since she came to the States, she was always in the company of one man or another, so I had assumed that she was totally straight. Now, it appeared, she was either experimenting or had actually gone bi. I was still parsing out what that would mean in the future. Possibly it could range from an unbelievable stroke of luck, to a monkey wrench in the gears of my future plans for the girl. Would her feelings for a female lover override her loyalty to me and her father? Time would tell.
"Good evening, Penny," I greeted as the young heiress as Zee walked up to me. She returned the courtesy and I quickly looked around the crowded room with an exaggerated conspiratorial search. "It's beyond me why you come to these good-old-boy affairs. Surely two beautiful young women can find something far more exciting to do beyond rubbing shoulders with these fuddy duddies."
Penelope crinkled her nose at me. "Back at you, Rodger. I know that you hate this stuff as much as I do."
"Ah, oui, Mademoiselle. But it ees part of my job. My poor beesness must keep the powers-that-be 'appy."
She laughed and then replied quietly, leaning toward me. "Puut! My father insists that I keep tabs on the rulers of society, as he calls them. He keeps telling me that running a business empire requires a lot more than just knowing balance sheets and pipeline fees." A smart man. He was definitely right about that. Now she leaned even closer and whispered, "If we should happen to just slip out in a few minutes, you won't tell him if he calls, will you?"
I nodded toward a group having a heated conversation about - heck, who knows. Bill number 1234 or something equivalent. "Stop by and say hello to the Governor before you leave. If anybody asks, then I can say that the last time I saw you, you were in a talk-talk with the rich and powerful."
She pecked me on the cheek. "That's a dear, Rodger. Come on Zee, let's blow this joint."
I saw Bob, the governors aide, across the room, so eventually I sidled up beside him, and in a low voice, asked, "Have they found any traces of your wife yet?"
He looked around quickly, and not with a poker face. I made a note not to trust him with any important secrets in the future. "No, not yet."
I shook my head. "Shame. Well, I'm sure she will turn up eventually." In fact, I knew she would. Her "graduation" from what I had nicknamed the Stepford Academy should happen fairly soon. It would be very interesting to see what Bob got back for his money. Actually, I was more interested in what I would get for my money. I had four girls at Dr. Thao's in Vietnam going through some very special training that might or might not take. I had also hired Mademoiselle Colette Renard - Rita's sex mentor from a couple of years ago - to assist in the training. She was and had been overseas at Thao's, with the girls, giving them some additional skills, not all of which were sexual.
The Senator finally glad-handed his way around the room to where I was standing. I had planned to cash in a very small chit tonight. I didn't expect any problems, since my account was very flush with favors owed by various politicians and I had made very few withdrawals so far. Actually, with the Senator I expected enthusiasm, since I was the coordinator of a Super Political Action Committee that gave major support to selected public servants, including him. As he walked up to me, I stepped over to a window for more privacy. The unwritten rules of the room would prevent any kibitzers from approaching while they saw us talking.
"Nice turnout, tonight Senator," I started. "It's always interesting to actually see the political process in action."
The Senator looked at me with a wry smile. "Horseshit, Rodger," he said quietly. "I didn't get to where I am by not being able to read people, and I know that you, sir, absolutely hate these circuses." I started to reply as he held up his hand to interrupt. "Of all the people in this room, you are the only one that doesn't want help from me to climb the political ladder. And that makes you just about the only person here that I would trust with anything important. Or believe, for that matter."
I wasn't quite sure how to respond to that compliment, but decided to play it low key. "Actually, Senator, I was wanting to run a minor thing by you." He had no problem translating that to a request to cash a chit. "I have a young woman - a ward, actually - who will be graduating from the Ecole d'Etudes Politiques de Paris shortly. She is attractive, educated, multi-lingual - well, anyway, a young woman full of sugar and spice and bubbly enthusiasm. I've offered her a spot in my company, but for some frigging reason thinks she can help change the world by entering the political process." I shook my head to underscore my disbelief of her alleged attitude and waste of a young life. "So, I promised her that I would see if someone in office had a spot for a beginning intern."
He laughed and clapped me on the shoulder. "Hell yes. Send her over when she... No, hold on." He took out a business card, wrote a brief note on the back, then handed it to me. "When she's ready, have her come to my current location and show this to my aide. I'll personally get her placed in a real position."
I nodded my thanks and the conversation went back to normal for two men comfortable with their lives. For all his trust in me, what I had just told him was not exactly accurate. Well, actually, it was a total pack of lies, front to back. Mostly. Bonnie would be 'graduating' for sure, but not from a prestigious French university, but from a bootcamp-like force-fed training session in Vietnam.
Eventually, the get-together began to wind down, multiple deals having been consummated and promises having been made and kept. At this level, unlike campaign statements made to gullible voters, promises were always kept. Breaching of trust among the rich and powerful had really negative consequences - not as fatal as with the mob, but just as permanent. As always, I was glad when the last guest left and the girls began to clean up. I planned to hit the rack early - tomorrow was the start of my first vacation in a year.
Germany - somewhere in the Black Forest
Willi Schmidt was one of the few European agents of the Sheik to actually have his harem in his home country. He was rich and powerful enough to assume that he could handle the fallout of any security breaches. I guessed. Anyway, the Sheik had said that the tour of his establishment was a real treat and eye opener so I finally availed myself of the long-standing invitation to visit it. His mansion stood in the middle of a huge - for Europe - plot of forest. It must have been a square mile or more. I had learned from the Sheik that Willie had entered his agency as a very wealthy man, unlike most agents - like me - who had procured their wealth from slavery. He had become a girl-monger from an enjoyment of women. Really strange women, mostly.
After the flight, and limo ride to his place, he greeted me warmly and shortly I was relaxing from the trip in my suite, which naturally had a couple of nude female valets to serve my every need. These, I noticed, were just ordinary, if young and beautiful, girls. I certainly didn't see anything exotic about them. A couple of hours later, refreshed in several ways, I walked downstairs to meet my host in his study. After the usual greetings and exchange of news between friends, I asked about the progress of our female double from his operation last year - the ersatz Fraulein Hauffmann. I knew that nothing had blown up - I would have heard about that in spades - but since I had no need to know, I didn't get reports.
Willie smiled and refilled my glass. "Ja. It is unbelievable, but she made it without exposure until the father passed away. Now she is sole heir to his massive empire, and another type of agent for the Sheik." He leaned back in the cushion recliner. "With her at the helm, we have a much easier access to government... ah... forms and permissions. Not only here, but in most of Europe." He grimaced and almost shuddered. "I have to admit of many nights of waking up in an angstschweiß..." I shook my head. My German wasn't very colloquial. "ah... cold sweat... when I thought about what might happen if she was exposed."
"The Sheik's airline now has bevorzugte förder... ah... favored carrier... status in Europe now, thanks to her. It makes for a much easier task of moving... products... yes, products around." Products, of course, meaning warm and cuddly carbon based units. Finally, after more conversation and schnapps, he rose. "Now, let me show you my collection." He led the way out the back of his mansion and under a covered walkway to another building that housed an indoor racquet ball court - empty of anyone, of course. We entered a fairly cluttered closet containing the normal athletic stuff - extra rackets, balls, towels, floor wax and so forth. He pushed something that I didn't see, and down we went. The room was an elevator, obviously. Nothing that would startle me now. Or even impress me. Not after all the things that I had seen and done in the Sheik's service. Shortly, we were walking down a short hall to a set of double doors. They weren't even locked. Interesting.
However, once the doors were opened, my suave not-to-be-impressed demeanor left instantly. It reminded me of the Sheik's round harem room, but this one was even bigger, with a very tall curved translucent ceiling showing the remnants of the rays from the setting sun... Whoa! Translucent! How the hell could the ceiling be exposed to daylight this far underground? Hmmmm. It had to be an artificial effect. A question for later.
From the doorway, I could see many three sided cubicles around most of the wall. The single bed and minor furnishings meant that they were for the use of his harem. I could hear the girls across the floor, but couldn't see them. The center of the room was a garden, furnished with what looked like, to me, to be jungle foliage. A small stream wandered through it and I could hear water splashing somewhere. Suddenly, an older and very fat woman hurried up, wearing the weirdest Hollywood getup I had seen in a while. I smiled to myself. Apparently, it was a rule of the master/slave world that all harem mistresses be fat and gaudily dressed. The Sheik's woman was like that also, as was my own girl, Butterball - although her time of wielding the whip was before she hooked up with me. Willie made a hand gesture that meant something to her, but nothing to me, and she nodded and returned the way she came.
His indoor park... conservatory, I believe the proper name is, was beautiful and immaculately kept. Not a rock was out of place and not a plant had a single dead leaf. If I had had the room in my building, something like this would be a very relax...
I stopped as we rounded a curve in the path and some of his girls came into view. I looked at Willie, who was obviously enjoying my reaction, then back to the gaggle of girls.
I knew that Willie wasn't into B&D and that, rather, he collected 'exotics'. I just didn't know what that meant before. Now, the meaning of the word came into being in the scene before me. He motioned, and we continued to approach the girls. They acted like we were invisible, which I assumed was result of the hand signal that he had made to his mistress a few seconds ago. They just continued to chatter to each other as they sat, stood, or fiddled with something.
Every girl was abnormal in some way. There was an immensely fat girl on a round bed. And one with no arms. Another with coke bottle breasts. And one girl had the absolute largest knockers I have ever seen. Even bigger than ZZZ's I told myself, although I had no idea how big tits of that impossible letter size would be. She had a strange harness holding them up. Not a bra as such, but big bowls supported by struts attached to a wide belt around her waist and actual cables on each side of the cups leading to over the shoulder wide straps. Jeasus H. Krist. How would she ever...
I stopped as my eyes bugged out even more, if that is possible. I had just noticed a woman standing to the side. A normal size woman - young, wide hips, narrow waist, pretty face. But... I swear I shook my head to clear it, just like a character in a cartoon. This one had THREE boobs. Three normal sized and perfectly shaped jugs. No way. This has to be a prosthesis job, I told myself, even though I knew that Willie wouldn't have a fake in his collection. I watched as she moved. All three bobbled and jiggled normally.
"What?" I asked, as I suddenly realized that Willie had said something.
He pointed to a couple of comfortable chairs. "Have a seat. You look like you could use another drink." He was really enjoying himself at my expense. Somehow, I managed to back up and sit down, all the while never taking my eyes off of his collection. Someone placed a glass in my hand and I gulped it down without even realizing what it was. Eventually, I looked over at my host, still speechless. He finally took pity on me.
He began to point, and as he did, the appropriate girl walked up and stopped in front of us.
"This is Trio." The three tittied girl. "I found her in London." He gave me the story of her capture from a life of ridicule.
"Sheena." The girl with the huge boobs. Then Milo, the armless girl. Many more. A woman with multicolored tattoos from her hair to the tops of her feet. The huge female on the bed - not just fat - ginormous. Another with twelve inch long cylindrical tits that were only about two inches across.
Some more came up. One girl had golden weights on her inner pussy lips that had stretched them at least six inches long. Then one with three inch long nipples. Another with two working vaginas, side by side. There was a hermaphrodite, but this one wasn't a normal Trans with tits and a set of balls and a pecker. He... She had big jugs and a large dick for sure, but no balls. Under the dong was an actual pussy slit. Then others, all with some sexual difference.
Finally, the last was a... Whoa! I looked over at Willie in confusion. This was a young man. A normal man in a harem? Was Willie bisexual? Should I ask? He smiled and shook his head. "No. I don't schwingen that way. He's just salt to season the all girl chorus." He waved at the boy to approach. "Stretch was a gift from a... an... associate of the Sheik in America. I assure you that he doesn't have free reign of the girls, although he does get one on occasion." I was wondering why an ordinary boy would be sent all the way from my country - surely, any number could be procured in Europe much more eas...
The young man had come out from behind the armless girl who had been squatting on her haunches in front of him. It was then I that I finally noticed his exotic feature. His balls were stretched almost to his knees. I leaned forward to look closer, and finally realized that I was seeing three shiny metal rings encircling his scrotum - obviously the weights that had done the job. Sonofabitch! How long would a male have to wear those to have his sac stretch so far?
We sat for a while as I just looked in wonder. As we got up to leave, he said, "You may have any of these while you are here, of course, but, I will understand if you are... are... put off by the deformities. I enjoy them, but many do not. But, there are several ordinary girls up in the house for your use, also.
At the moment, sex was the farthest thing from my mind. I was still just bemused by the parade of strangeness that I had just witnessed. And bothered by something that he had mentioned in context with the boy with the long nuts. In my service to date with the Sheik, this was the second reference that I had heard of a person in my country who apparently wasn't an agent, but was an... associate? What did that mean? Did the Sheik have an equal in America? Was there a parallel organization like the Sheik's, but not closely affiliated with it? Probably not a competitor, since Willie's brief comment on the man was not colored with any emotion toward something like that.
This would take some investigation.
Over the last year
After Bonnie had been sent to be 'trained' in Dr. Thao's clinic, or whatever you might call it, Sally had interviewed dozens of other young women and had picked out three more. They were sent along to follow Bonnie. None of them were teens. I wanted young women, but ones that were mature enough to be interesting to older men in ways besides having an available cunt. And that were of an age to have been able to have graduated from college. Unlike the wife of Bob, the Governor's aide, these weren't to be broken, but to have their psyche permanently repointed to absolute loyalty. To me, of course. Dr. Thao wasn't sure that it could be done to the level that I wanted, but was willing to try. To that end, I made several trips to Vietnam to make videos for the purpose, and to appear in front of the girls so that the level of response could be measured.
Other training was needed, also. None of the four had any education or experiences beyond high school. Intelligent, yes. That was a requirement, but none could pass as anything other than what they were - shallow American cunts with a high school diploma. That was the reason for my hiring of Mademoiselle Colette. In their time at the Clinic, she force-fed them the French language, continental deportment, and many other aspects of being a college trained woman. And, they got an abbreviated course on Colette's specialty - sex. They would never become silk courtesans, but in a year's time she could have them far beyond the American female standard of lay back and spread 'em.
Meanwhile, Jean, back in France, was... well, arranging for them to graduate from various prestigious universities. That is something that is very hard to do inside of one year, and even harder if you have never been a student of the university, which, of course, none of them had. I had no idea how or what he did, but eventually the records of the associated university had a full transcript of the girl's years of classroom activities, including incidentals like interviews with her dean, and membership in various on campus societies. Even the passport office had records of her coming and going. It needed to be done thoroughly, since someday the girl might and probably would be subjected to background checks.
I made one last trip to Vietnam before the girls would finish their... well, training was probably a misnomer. But it wasn't like a dictator's forced indoctrination. For this to work, the girls had to enter it willingly. They had, but now we would begin to see if they now had... regrets.
I was walking in the garden with Sara, the third candidate that I had sent. She was dressed like a wealthy young woman - immaculate garments, a minimum of makeup, styled hair and so forth - all products of Colette. Her mother wouldn't have recognized the young sophisticate standing beside me. I wondered how much was real and how much was veneer. I had a canned conversation practiced, carefully choreographed by Sally, that was mostly subtle questions. And a pocket recorder to capture it all for later analysis. She had a small bracelet on her arm which I knew was a... well, a super patch, sort of like one that a tobacco addict wore to try to kick the habit. But, this one was light years more advanced than a mere piece of paper soaked with nicotine substitute. They had worn the sophisticated collars for most of their stay here, but now were tapering off to a much less chemical input.
The young woman was respectful and seemed to be happy with the idea of starting her new career. Even anxious to get started. Hmmmm. Was it real, or was it chemical? I detected no smoldering resentment, or false front, but, I reminded myself - I wasn't a trained psychologist. Hell, I wasn't even an amateur one.
Later, Dr. Thao gave me his analysis. "Their allegiance to you is real, and, I think, permanent. You are an admired authority figure to them and disloyalty to you would be almost impossible without risking a mental breakdown. What is unknown is the depth of the emotion." At my questioning look, he continued. "Let me put it this way. If someone offered them money to deceive you, they would reject it out of hand. They would even go to prison rather than betray you. But, in an extreme event, such as you ordering them to murder someone, would they comply or fall apart mentally? I don't know. I hasten to add, that the murder example is just that. I'm certainly not suggesting that you..." I held up my hand and nodded that I understood.
"That won't be a problem," I replied. "Their mission isn't going to be as female assassins or anything like that. Just a set of eyes and ears for me."
Before I left, there was one other item on my agenda. I laid out what I wanted and asked if he thought it was possible. The Doctor sat back and steepled his hands to his face. Several minutes went by as he looked at all sides of the question. Finally, "That is an interesting... ah... stratagem. It can certainly be done, but for a famous person, it would have to be subtle... beyond subtle. It would have to be exquisitely fine. Especially with someone who can afford all of the diagnoses they wish." He nodded. "Let me work on the idea for a while. Maybe even run some experiments." He shook his head. "I begin to see even more why the Sheik calls you his modern Machiavelli."
Back home, I began to carefully prepare for their return to the U.S. and their future 'careers'.
My first 'intern', Bonnie, had just arrived. Now I would see if the rubber would hit the road, or just have a blowout and veer off into the ditch, taking my hard earned money with it. She was sitting, poised, on a sofa in my new southeastern lounge, looking pert, intelligent and vivacious - nothing like the dumb cunt that left here a year ago. Sally had proposed a series of tests to see if the loyalty training took. Bonnie was reading her 'resume' that we had prepared specifically for her. It was impressive, if brief - good grades in political science from a top end European college, command of the French language and a passing familiarity with German, very good comments about her internship with a politician. A politician who, by the way, actually existed, but had never laid eyes on the young woman. The comments were strictly a product of Jean's power and money.
Sally and I had gone over and over the recorded audio that I had brought back from Vietnam. The girls always made the right answer, with the right inflection and on the surface, to a couple of totally amateur psychologists, it appeared that the training had 'taken'. But as Sally said, "We can't prove a negative. The only way we will know for sure if any are faking is when one of them screws us over."
I had given Bonnie an overview of her mission, but short on details and final goals. She understood that she was to just do a good job for her employer, like any young person just starting out, look for opportunities to move up, and enjoy life. Besides the money she would be paid, I would give her an under-the-table cash stipend on occasion so that she could live the good life far beyond the reach of a real intern - but not blatantly, I emphasized.
Smiling, I said, "Stand up." She did. "Now go through that door, shut it, then knock and enter on command." Excellent. Instead of striding across the floor like a teenager, she gracefully walked out, shut the door, knocked, then entered and glided up to stop before me. "Turn around." She spun on a toe with stylish grace. Colette had done an excellent job. The girl had the poise and charm of an upper class daughter. Of course, being stunningly beautiful didn't hurt, either. Time to push the envelope and see what develops.
"Take your clothes off." There was no feminine gasp of disbelief, no eye widening look of surprise. She just smiled, and alluringly began to disrobe. Shortly, she was standing there in the buff, a sexual statue. I slowly twirled a finger and she, just as slowly, turned around in place again. Then she settled in to that ageless female pose, with one leg bent and slightly in front of her, one arm at her side and the other on her hip. The little vixen knew what she was doing to me. Ok, so be it. I led her down to the my bedroom, peeled off my own clothes and said. "Ok. Show me what Mademoiselle Renard taught you."
She was good. Really good as she displayed her newly learned skills. She could put on a hint of shyness, awed by the presence of a 'great man.' Or come across as a sultry vixen that would squeeze the male dry like the grapes in a wine press. After one final bout, with me taking her from behind and holding on to her delicious tits, I gave all that I had left and collapsed beside her. For the next couple of hours, we just lay there, side by side, and talked. I laid out her potential career in much greater detail than before. Not an actual timeline, since I had no idea how it would develop, but what she was to watch for, and try to accomplish - tips, and hints. Anything I could think of. Meanwhile, I did a little titty tweaking and ass patting, but I knew that nothing else was going to develop today - sexwise, anyway. I was no longer a hardleg teenager.
A week later, after some more intensive instruction on behavior, she was off to DC and her interview with the Senator.
Brinker - my grunt that had been shot in Mexico - had fully recovered. Nevertheless, he had lost enough lung capacity to preclude him from future operations of that type, so I replaced him with yet another young ex-soldier. However, I couldn't just let him go. That would violate the loyalty code that infused my organization and besides, there was no way I was going to lose a man of his caliber. And I'm not speaking of his weapons skills, which were very good, but of his street smarts. His younger life, before the army, was not exactly spent on the right side of the law. In fact, he was a complete gangster punk destined for long stretches of prison throughout his life, assuming that he lived very long, which wasn't a given. Like me, the Army had given him pride, direction and skill to work within a unit and he still retained those. But, he still had his knowledge of his earlier 'career'. He could spot a cop, a hooker, a fence, a shill - fill in a word - two blocks away. After a day in a strange city, he could find the local fixer, the big fence, the numbers boss, the head pimp or anything else that existed on the shadow side. He was staying in an apartment under mine, next to the one that Cindy and Chip shared, when they weren't cohabitating at her house. He became my in-country troubleshooter - literally, if necessary, but nothing like that had happened yet.
One night, in bed, Rita brought up a topic that came as a mild surprise. Brinker had become infatuated with one of my girls - Cinnamon - and wanted to purchase her from me, but wasn't sure how to ask. "Hmmmm," I mused. I didn't see a problem. To me the girl was almost invisible, since I seldom used her for sex and like a good slave girl she stayed out of my way and sight if she wasn't needed. "What do you think," I asked.
She rolled over onto her back - it's difficult to sign when laying stomach to stomach in a bed. But it wasn't for sign-talk. She picked up her tablet that she used for complex communication and began to type. Shortly I read...
"Brink is trying to emulate you, even though he may not know it. He's tired of women who think he is just some minimum wage loser, because of his Bronx accent. The only way that he could convince them otherwise is to reveal that he works for you and is very well off, and he would never do that. He wants his own high quality squeeze, just like his boss."
I reached over and tweaked a nipple. "Are you giving yourself the title of High Quality Squeeze?" I asked. She wrinkled her nose and made a wry face at me, then set the tablet down and began to sign.
"It will give us a reason to get a new girl." She lowered her head and looked at me under raised eyelids. "You wouldn't mind sheathing your sword in a tighter scabbard, would you?" She rolled back over to me and began to handle the weapon that she had just mentioned. That ended the conversation for the moment as I inserted the topic of conversation into its familiar holder and began to polish it.
Later, I told Rita to tell Brinker that Cinnamon was his, and on the house. And to make sure that she was used well.
The other three girls had 'graduated' from Dr. Thao's and were placed in their new careers. Two went to other politicians as new employees, but the other, Julie, was on standby. As it turned out, she had a natural aptitude for languages and while she was waiting for an assignment, I had her intensively engaged in learning more of them. I assigned her to Zee, both to learn new languages and to pick up more tips about how the upper class world actually worked.
For the other three, the seed had been cast to the wind. Now it would be interesting to see if anything grew from it. I had plans to send some more girls through the same procedure, but not too many. It was too ungodly expensive, even for me - especially without knowing if the exercise would bring fruit someday.
Colette came back, her work for now being over. She was stunned by the size of the bonus that I gave her for the job well done. Once again, she used my place as a center of operations, so to speak, as she traveled around the world sightseeing and living the good life until I might need her again. But, not before a long long night the day before her first trip - a night that left both me and Rita sleeping until afternoon and Colette barely able to stagger to the airport taxi.
Time passes. My office
Zee was sitting in front of my desk and the door was closed. I was having a serious and delicate talk with the daughter of the Sheik. "...and please don't take this the wrong way, but I need to know where you think your relationship is going with Miss Elsenburg."
Zee was a wee bit upset. "Rodger." she answered in a raised tone of voice for her. "Penny is a friend, no more. A close friend, yes, but no closer than many others that I have made during my stay in your country." I could see her searching for words. "But my friendship will in no way affect my relationship with you or my father's business. Why would you think...?"
I held up a hand and waved it back and forth to get her to pause. "Woah, Zee! I wasn't questioning your loyalty. Not at all." That wasn't exactly the whole truth. I was somewhat worried that her female companionship might tend to override her duties. "The reason that I was asking was to see if your friendship went so deep that I needed to shelve my plans for your friend." Fortunately, I saw her relax internally. "I know firsthand that friendship can spring up at any time between any two people. Look at Rita and me, for instance. When I first met her, she was nothing to me but a pretty bed warmer that I planned to use for my stay and never see again. And now look at us."
She was relieved and began to make amends. "I am sorry for the insinuation, Rodger. I should know better. But to answer your question more fully, she and I have fun together - we enjoy each other, but it is nothing exclusive, either with me or her. But I have other friends that I enjoy being with even more." A pause. "Can you tell me what plans you have for her?"
I shook my head. "If you're asking me if I plan to take her and sell her in Tarkan's market, the answer is no. But she will be a powerful woman one day, just from the sheer size of her fortune and assets that she will inherit. Those can be used. But, I have to say that my plans for her are few and very tentative and there is a good chance that none of them will come to pass. It all depends on several things coming into being. But, I would like for you to remain her close friend for the present."
R & R was doing very well. We had expanded considerably and money was flowing in despite the worldwide recession. Until recently, that is. I almost always won my bids - I thought of a current contract to be the stepping stone to further business with that company, rather than a ticket to fleece the customer for all the market would bear. The attitude worked - most of our business was repeat contracts. Until recently. For some reason, our percentage of bid wins was way down. My sales staff worked on the problem without coming up with any reason that we were suddenly being underbid. So, I brought in the experts.
Inside of a few days, Sally and Chip called me into her office. "Sit down, Sarge," said Chip. "We got a problem."
I flopped into the easy chair and said, "Ok, hit me."
Sally slid a sheet of paper over to me. "Have a gander at this." It was a list of our losing bids in one column and a list of their winners in the next, along with the actual figures. I didn't bother to ask where they got inside information on the actual amount of the winning bid - Sally could hack into anything to get information, and she had explained many times that most companies had network security that would be insufficient for a lemonade stand. Shit! Virtually every loss was by just a percent or two of their bid under ours. That made the problem as plain as day.
I flipped the paper back to her. "Someone downstairs is feeding our bids to the competition." Both nodded. "Who?"
Sally shook her head. "Looking at the permissions setup on your server, any one of five people." She named them, or at least their login names. They would be unknown to her as actual persons. Even I could barely recall them by name. "Since we assumed that you want to know, we have a plan to nail him, her or them. Right?" I nodded and they filled me in on the scheme.
As I left the room, I was hoping that it was a woman who was screwing me. I would have her eating gruel out of a pot at Tarkan's before she realized that she had been fired. Or stake her out in one of his cells and offer her as a treat to his staff.
Cinnamon was as close to a helpless and totally owned slave as you could find in the twenty-first century, even considering that fact that actual slavery was totally outlawed almost everywhere. She was an illegal alien with absolutely no paperwork and she had no idea where in hell Dallas, Texas was. She probably couldn't find the country of America on a map. Heck, she probably wouldn't even recognize what a map was. She had no voice and no idea what the place that she originally came from was called by the rest of the world. All that being said, she had my tough-as-nails ex-grunt, one time young mobster, wrapped around her finger like a schoolboy in front of his first date. She had no education that Rita could ever determine, but in no way was she a dull and stupid cunt. Instead, she was gifted with a natural cunning, unrestricted by any book learning. Since they lived a floor down from us, Brinker 'hired' her out to do the same duties in my home that she had done before, with the exception of entertaining men. Of course, Rita saw her every day and kept me up-to-date on the charade that the little vixen played out of pretending that her man was in charge of their domestic scene. Rita silently laughed when I asked about how strict he was with her.
"He is about as pussy whipped as they come," she signed. "Brink would no more damage Cinnamon than he would throw his rifle into the mud just before going into combat." More silent chuckling. "Her biggest worry is that she might laugh when he thinks he is severely whipping her." I chuckled also. She continued. "Seriously, my biggest fear is that some punk might hit on her when they go out and for Brink to wind up in jail after sticking the guy's head on a fence post."
Relaxing in the western lounge
I was looking at the sheaf of reports that Sally had handed me. The culprit was one Mr. Thomas Harmon, a medium level salesman of R&R. Sally was going through her set of copies. "He's doing it out of desperation," she said. "Two ex-wives, two sets of alimony payments, a court order for half the original value of a house that has dropped in value by fifty percent in the last year. Hell, his required payments are about 96 percent of his gross pay, and about 130 percent of his take home check." She shook her head in memory of how she had almost been in such a dire financial situation when I hired her. "The guy has absolutely nothing left to live on when the payments are deducted. The only thing allowing him to eat is the payments that he is getting from our competitor."
I'll be damned. Here I was wanting to crucify the thief and my best employee was sympathizing with him. "So, you think we should let him slide?"
She shook her head. "No, Boss. It's just that I can feel what he is going through." She hesitated, then continued. "You aren't going to have his arms and legs broken, are you?" I just looked at her, detecting that she had more to say. Finally, she handed me some more papers. "Look here, Boss. His first wife is a cast iron bitch. She is living the good life with a well-off dude, but not in a married state so that her alimony doesn't get canceled. When he got a good position with you, and the chance to at least have some money of his own, the second ex went back for more money, and somehow convinced the court to give it to her. Of course, the fact that the sitting judge is a woman might have something to do with her interpretation of the law. He wound up with less than he was making in his old job. Anyway, he's really had the screws turned on him."
Wow, she was really simpatico with the guy taking my money. "You really feel for this guy, don't you?"
She sat back with a slight grimace. "No. Not really. It just struck a nerve when I saw another person who doesn't have a chance in hell of ever getting out from under the load. I was just lucky."
Hmmmm. There was a slight tremor in the force of my gray cells that I could detect and I wanted a moment to try to resolve it. She waited while I mulled it over. Finally, I said. "Ok. He has to stop the spying as of today - it's costing us big money. But... I'll talk to him after lunch and make him an offer he can't refuse. It'll be up to him to take it or not. If he doesn't, then it's jail." Sally nodded. Satisfied. "By the way. Get me the records of the legal mess with the ex's."
"Boss! I've seen their pictures. They aren't anything you would bother with. They wouldn't go for enough to pay for the gas to get them overseas."
I nodded. "That isn't my plan."
My R&R office.
On the summons from my R&R secretary, Mr. Harmon came into my office, looked at Brinker leaning against the wall, then sat in the chair I was pointing to. I could tell that he knew what was coming from the rabbit-in-headlights look that he had. I leaned back and started. "First, let me say that I have a full set of records here..." - I pointed to a stack of papers - "...that lay out in detail your transactions with Midwest Shipping." No expression change. "Your selling bid information has cost us... well, a lot of money and worse, some good customers. If the police come in on this, you're looking to be bunking for a long time with some dudes that aren't nearly as nice as me." He glanced up at Brinker, still leaning against the wall and putting on a good act as my enforcer. I wondered if my use of the word 'if' seemed to be of any significance to my employee.
I waited for any response, and he finally spoke in a slow and surprisingly firm tone. "I'm glad it's over. I hate that I did it, since you gave me a good position with your company and I turned around and..." He paused for a minute then pointed to the phone. "Anyway, if it is money you want, you might as well call the cops now. I don't have a nickel to my name and anything I have coming is already taken."
"I know all about your two ex's and what they have done and are doing to you. So, I know why you did what you did. Water under the bridge." I leaned forward. "However, there might be a way for you to pay me back, clear the books, so to speak, and on completion, resume your position with me." I held up a finger as he started to speak, and continued. "Let me say that the mentioned payback will have absolutely nothing illegal to it and I will pay you a stipend in cash so that you will at least have some money to live on. Your other two problems can be handled another day." I stared straight into his eyes. "Interested? Yes or no. Now."
The western lounge
Sally was with me, relaxing, sipping a cold drink and looking out over the city under the setting sun. I had told Rita that this would be a hush-hush session so that she would restrict any access except for herself bringing refreshments. Sally's interest was definitely up, obviously expecting a briefing on some fabulous scheme to kidnap the entire upcoming World Beauty Pageant or some NFL team's complete cheerleading squad.
I sat down, sipped my drink and started. "Let me tell you a story. Actually, it's a series of partial stories that I want put together."
"When I first started with Sheik Hassan - and by first, I mean my first day on the job. He showed me his fabulous harem and believe me, to a dumb grunt just out of the desert, it looked like a patch of heaven." I held up my hand as she was obviously about to demand a detailed description. "Some other time. Anyway, he pointed out a woman - an American, he said - and like all the others, she was naked and stunningly beautiful. Then, with a shock, I recognized her." Sally's eyes were wide open and her expression plainly said, out with it! "Do you remember the actress that disappeared a few years ago? By falling into the ocean, drunk, one night?"
She did. Her expression changed from anticipation to total disbelief. "Boss! You're not joshing me? Really? Her... She was captured... She's in a harem!?" I nodded and let it sink in for a few seconds while I sipped the drink. She was tossing the new data over in her mind and still having trouble believing the results. "Boss. I can't believe..."
I kept going. "A few weeks later, he pointed out another girl and I recognized this one also. You will recall the massive search for the actress that disappeared during a student flying lesson."
Now Sally was speechless. Comically quiet with her eyes wide and her mouth open. Then, very unwomenishly, "God Almighty damn, boss. You're actually telling me that..."
I motioned her to silence. "Interesting, huh? To take two such well known celebrities would take an organization with far more skills than we have developed yet. So... If that entity exists, it obviously feeds its products to the Sheik. So why would he need another and far less capable agent in parallel? Me."
Now, Sally was having problems even formulating a sentence. "But... but..."
Again, I waved her to silence. "This story is just starting. Fast forward a few months. I was staying at Jean's for a good part of the year to learn the business and while I was there, he showed me his laptop, which was set up to be as impossible to crack as could be made. It did the work mostly by destroying the data as fast as we used it. But, anyway, he said that it was set up for him by a 'good friend' in America, with a hobby like the Sheik's.'"
I let her digest that factoid as I relaxed and continued sipping. Rita knocked, entered and dropped off a plate of finger food and two more drinks. I smiled at her, causally swatted her behind and she lightly scampered for the door, closing it behind her.
"Let's move on. Again, months later I met Rita in a slave establishment in Turkey and made her tell me her story. When she arrived at the place, she was put into a cell with two other American girls and naturally, they told each other of their adventures, there not being a whole lot else to do when you are confined to a single room for months. One was a blond named Carla, who told the tale of being a wealthy client at a 'bondage spa' in this country and who went to sleep one night and woke up on a boat heading for the Balkans - although none of them actually knew where they were at the time."
I still had my associate's attention. I could detect no tendency to doze off during the tale.
"Now, lastly. Remember that earlier this year, I took a vacation to Europe?" She nodded. "Well, it really was a vacation. I visited another agent of the Sheik and again, he showed me his harem. I won't describe that one because you would absolutely know that I was bullshitting you." I stopped for a moment and remembered the unbelievable night and day that I had spent in bed with a three breasted girl. Like most American men, I had tittie fetish anyway, and this girl had fifty percent more goodies than any other... I shut off the internal dialog and continued with the story. "Anyway, he had procured an... oddity, shall we say... for his collection and just mentioned in passing that... it..." - I almost said 'he', which would have really have confused my listener, since I was describing a collection of girls - "...mentioned that it was a gift from an associate of the Sheik in America."
"End of story." I sat back and drained my glass and waited for her to sort through the data that I had given her.
It didn't take long. "Soooo... There is another... person?... organization?... in this country that does what we do? But, may or may not be in the Sheik's agency?" She thought that over some more. "Are you saying that we should find out?"
I threw out my hands. "Sort of. This is strictly between you and me. I just want to know. No other reason. At least for the moment. But I want our inquiries to be absolutely unknown. And this isn't any kind of super priority job for you - just something to dabble with in slow times, or when you need a break."
"So. No active enquiries or outside help?"
"Absolutely not! Just passive data mining, as you call it. No hacking or anything else that might be detected." Again, I threw up my hands. "I don't even know what I will do with the info if you find out. But it's something that has been nagging me all along."
Penelope Elsenburg's father clearly wouldn't last much longer. Although not able to move around without a valet and wheelchair, he was still as lucid and acid as ever. Penny had decided to take her almost obligatory world tour before he passed away. She knew that once that happened, her time as a carefree woman was over. Of course, Zee would be going with her, which was fine with me. It was their itinerary that was bothersome. A few of the places they planned to visit were not exactly, well... safe for natives, let alone for rich western girls. I asked her to come see me.
She was sitting in my study, with Zee and Julie - my unassigned intern - and we were enjoying cocktails. Using Zee as an opening, Julie had become a confidant of Penny, also. I had made sure that the young woman had access to enough money to appear upper class and wealthy.
The talk was general for a few minutes, but finally, I came to the point. "Penny. Can I offer you something as a friend?" Wondering what was coming, she nodded. "I'm not a whole lot older than you are, but I've been around a considerable part of the world - including a war zone as a participant. Some of the places you plan to visit are... well, they would be dangerous for a pair of senior citizens. For a pair of young girls... Well, let me put it bluntly. You could easily wind up assaulted and dead or wearing chains in a tribal lord's tent the rest of your life. Believe me, I know."
She spoke up. "I know what you're going to say, Rodger, and I appreciate it. My father said the same thing, but we can't drag along a couple of bodyguards. It would ruin the whole experience. Besides, if it is bad as you say, what good would even male escorts be?"
"Well, there are bodyguards and there are bodyguards. Believe me, if any of my men were assigned to the task, the bodies would get stacked very high on the sidewalk before you were harmed." I held up my hand to stop her from replying. "But that wasn't my idea at all. I have a female associate - Zee can tell you all about her - who is even deadlier than my men. Plus she is charming, continental, beautiful, and speaks about two dozen languages. I think you would like her." I looked up. "Zee?"
The Sheik's daughter spoke, "Katja is her name. She's a very good friend of mine - and Rodger's. And yes, if I was worried about trouble, I would rather have her beside me than a squad of police."
Penny nodded. "Well, ok. Sure. Tell..." "Katja," inserted Zee... "Katja that I will even pay her way."
I shook my head. "No need. She is very wealthy, also. Since Paris is your first stop, how about I have her meet you there?"
Later that day, I sent a massage to Katja about the discussion. Since I had previously inquired as to her availability for the mission, I knew there would be no trouble. In fact, she jumped at the idea. I think she was just bored at the moment, since no agent apparently had any operation going that might allow her to wield knives or shoot guns or otherwise engage in the violence that she loved. I asked her to come on over. Maybe I could do a little something about her boredom.
"Judge Slone?" Pause. "My name is Patsy Echart. I'm an intern to Justice Barnwell. He sends his compliments and has directed me to enquire as to whether you would care to join him and a few associates for an informal... ah... get-together that he is hosting tonight at the Petroleum Club?" Pause. "Excellent. There will be a limo at the main entrance of your hotel at six-thirty." Pause. "He asks for you to bring a good appetite, also. Good evening, your honor."
Katja handed me the phone. I pulled the battery and dropped it into the trash. The phone would be dropped into another random trash can shortly. She nodded to me, and without a word, got out of the car and entered the black limo parked next to it. I drove several miles to a large mall, parked and waited for the radio to signal the start of the action. I knew that it was very unlikely for a junior District Judge to refuse a chance to hobnob with a state Supreme Court Justice.
Our operation was carefully choreographed to avoid the ever increasing number of security cameras being installed on a daily basis. Even the car I was driving had valid, but incorrect license plates. The driver of the limo, Brinker, had sunglasses under a cap pulled down low, a wig and huge cotton balls puffing out his cheeks. And phony tattoos on his arm and neck. Katja was even more made up - she looked like a timid rural librarian on her first trip to the big city. Some of Jean's caution was rubbing off on me.
I desperately wanted some coffee, but a mall concourse might as well be Hollywood, as far as number of cameras went. Failing that, I wanted to check email badly, but wifi can be logged and traced and I was supposedly a couple of hundred miles north of here at the present. What the heck. I picked up a thick newspaper that I had purchased that morning. At least it had words in a row and gave me something to do, even if the news was now a day behind an Internet news site.
Almost an hour later, my encrypted radio came to life. "Is this thing working?" Katja's voice giving the first signal. The limo was in place at the judge's hotel. Then, no more than five minutes later, the success signal, "Hello. Can you hear me?" I let out a long slow breath. The quarry was in the bag. Now, we had to get the bag to the hunting camp.
In a half hour or so - it was rush hour traffic time - I saw the limo driving across the crowded lot, turn about two lanes over from me and stop. Immediately it started up again and disappeared into traffic. Shortly, Katja opened the passenger side door and slid in beside me. I cranked up and started out.
"Any problems?" I asked, knowing that from her silence so far that there hadn't been any. She shook her head. "The last memory she will have is looking out the side window. The injection hit hard." I nodded and drove our preplanned route. The Judge's cell was a high end smartphone with full GPS, one that I knew was being logged as we moved. Eventually some law enforcement official would pull that log.
A few miles from the International Airport, Katja made a call.
"Dobry vecher. Ya ichU DzhOna... Da... Da... Spasiba" This was the reason she was along - of all my inside team, she was the only one to speak Russian. Some more conversation ensued, then she hung up and nodded. She waited until we entered the airport property, turned the phone off, removed the battery, then handed it to me.
I let her off at the entrance and said, "Have a good trip." She was off to join Penny, Zee, and Julie in Paris.
A lounge. My home
Sally handed me a flash drive. "Be careful with this. This is the only copy." I plugged it in, waited for it to mount, then she said, "The password is the tangential function of theta of the right triangle rxy."
I looked up at her with a frown. "In my high school the concept of 1,2,3, many was considered to be advanced math."
She made a wry face, said, "Sorry," then leaned over and typed a line of jibberjabber. Changing her mind, she pulled the laptop in front of her. "It'll be easier if I just tell you what I found, rather than you having to filter through all this." I nodded.
"Ok, we begin several years before you started with the Sheik. St. Louis. One Mrs. Dame Merganser. Forty two years of age. Widow. Fabulously wealthy. Investigation paid for by remote relatives only came up with the fact that she cashed in her entire fortune and sold her mansion, and disappeared, and was never heard from again."
She paged down. "A few months later. "Little Rock. Twila Stewart. Thirty eight. Rich bitch. One day, she and most of her money disappeared - forever. This time, her relations went berserk with investigations but nothing was left but her real estate."
"A few months go by again. "Tulsa - or parts there 'bouts. Evelyn Lockhart. Thirty two. Moved all her money to bearer bonds and poof! Gone." She typed for a minute and three pictures appeared - the three women. "Notice that these aren't young beauties. In fact, they are fairly ordinary women. The only thing they have in common is that they were very wealthy and disappeared without a trace."
"Well, maybe..." I started, but she interrupted.
"Hang on. The counsel for the prosecution hasn't rested yet." Click, click. "This one is interesting. Memphis - remember that city for later. Susan Larson. Wife of the mayor. Rumors of a scandal. Then she gets some kind of illness that can't be cured here. Goes to Europe for special treatment and unfortunately, dies a few weeks later. Sound familiar?"
Shit! A carbon copy of Rita's adventure.
"Mrs. Saphron Donner. Thirty seven. Divorcee. Springfield... Missouri, that is. Rich, disappeared, but in her instance, left her wealth behind. She doesn't exactly fit the profile. "
"Jesus H. Keerist. Who in hell..."
"Ah ah ah... Down in front, Boss. The story is just getting started. And interesting. Jill Harris and Madelyn Albright, both in their late twenties and very good looking. Both wealthy divorcees and friends. From Memphis. Sound familiar?" I didn't answer - just sat, awestruck by the events Sally was describing and my admiration of her data mining skills. She would have been one hell of a catch for the FBI or CIA. "Get this. Both cashed in their wealth, then went to Europe on a vacation together, moved around a few days, flew back via Canada, then evaporated forever. That's three from the same city in the same timeframe."
"Fort Smith. Stephanie Johnson. Divorcee. Rich. Cashed in and vanished. Unlike some of the others, she was a real beauty."
"Little Rock, again. Carla Smith. Wealthy young blond beauty who inherited a fortune when her parents were killed in a car crash. First name ring a bell?"
Yes it did. Rita spoke of a Carla - blond and pretty - who was in a cell with her at Tarkan's and had said that she was a client of a 'bondage spa.'
"That's all I have filtered out so far. But, all of them were very wealthy, not married or were widowed or divorced, no children, lived in a circle of only a few hundred miles of all the rest, and except the woman with the alleged illness and one other, took their loot with them. And... vanished without a trace. Not a single clue has ever surfaced as to the whereabouts of any, except, maybe now with this Carla woman."
I sat back and tried to lasso my thoughts in my spinning head. Absolutely nothing fit the profile that I expected. Just musing out loud, I said, "It can't be for sex - too many were dowdy middle aged women. But..." a pause as I marshaled my thoughts. "...this Carla woman is a link to the capture business of the Sheik."
Sally inserted her thoughts. "There is so much money involved, that has to be the central reason. But..." She held up a finger for emphasis. "...the women had to have voluntarily cashed out their wealth with no coercion. After all, you can't pull millions of dollars out of assets and into cash by sticking a gun in someone's ribs and shoving them in front of an ATM. It takes months to convert that kind of wealth without raising red flags everywhere."
Late into the night I was still awake, with my redhead snuggled next to me, asleep and being totally ignored. About the time I would tell myself to drop it and get some sleep, my thoughts would begin to go round and round again.
Bill Griffin was a young attorney that was retained by R&R for the various legal stuff that a business had to do. After a couple of years, I pretty well had him sized up. A nice guy, married, and competent enough as a lawyer, apparently, but he would never be a leading attorney, or a partner in a major law firm for several reasons - he didn't graduate from an Ivy League law school (or worse, not from UT) for one, he wasn't part of the good old boy legal network, and, while far from poor, he had nowhere near the money to move into the upper crust.
So, I thought he might be perfect for the job.
"Bill. The reason I asked you to come up was to see if you would care to stand for District Judge?" That caught him by surprise, for sure. He had obviously assumed that my summons was for a legal reading or the like.
"Uhhhh... Wow! I... I always hoped that someday I could move into a judgeship, but it was just a daydream. But... Mr. Harris..." "Rodger," I corrected. "...Rodger. I don't have anywhere near the money to even start a campaign, let alone run one."
"Ah. That's the beauty of the situation. As you know, Judge Slone disappeared during the conference in Houston." He nodded. It had been a moderate headline story for a few days, until the next crisis happened in the world, somewhere. "The Governor will appoint a replacement for the rest of her term - about three years. If you agree, I will mention that you would be an excellent choice." I paused to let that sink in.
Sally spoke up. "Three years from now, you'll have a judicial record, experience, and I'm sure that campaign money can be found for reelection." I don't think he was hesitating, just stunned by being blindsided by the offer of the furthest thing from his mind.
Finally, he nodded, obviously still trying to believe this morning. "Sure. What the heck. How can I turn down an offer like that?"
After that it was duck soup. I had far more chits stored up with the ruling party than needed to make that a slam dunk. Eventually, he was at one of my topside political get-togethers being congratulated by all present on his new judgeship.
A special package arrived, courtesy of Dr. Thao. Inside was a beautiful oriental lacquered jewelry case which I gave to Rita as a present - but not before removing the false bottom and removing a small vial and a flash drive. In a few minutes, I had decrypted the contents of the drive and was reading the instructions. Wow. Shortly thereafter, I called Sally, Chip, and Zee into a meeting.
My bid embezzler was back from Dr. Thao's, and back at work downstairs. He had been the testee of the drug that I had received in the jewelry case. I explained to him that unfortunately, the medicine didn't work as hoped and a billion dollar possibility was out the window, but that wasn't his fault. He had performed as agreed and as far as I was concerned, his past actions were history and erased from the book. And, I told him that I had some hope that is domestic problems might be alleviated, eventually. Of course, everything I said about the medicine was false from front to end.
When I asked him of his experiences, he replied that the testing wasn't bad, but sometimes the drug made him dizzy and get the shakes. But nothing severe.
The other side of the world
I stopped by the Sheik's for my yearly visit, but nothing important needed to be discussed. I told him of my future plans, both in progress and planned, then headed for Tarkan's slaver market in Turkey.
I hadn't seen him for a year, and of course, he greeted me like a long lost brother. Over glasses of the swill that he considered beer, he filled me in on various topics.
"I have some candidates for your approval. Do you want them brought here, or go there to look?"
I shook my head. "We can go to them. I need to get on my feet and walk around anyway, after that plane ride. But first, my friend, I have a question about Rita."
He leaned back, propped his feet on his cluttered desk and waved his mug at me, foam and liquid splashing on the floor. "Go ahead. Shoot, as they say in your country. What could I tell you about your beautiful red haired doxy, except to say that I have never seen such a tough berker as you, so quickly bewitched by a set of mammeries and a slit." He laughed to show that he was making a joke.
After the laughter at my expense had died down, I continued. "I remember that she was in a cell with two young American beauties. How did you come by such high quality women, if you can tell me without breaking confidences."
He dropped his feet and leaned onto his desk. "Ah. Alas, it happens all too seldom, and almost never from the same source. Usually, it is just a lone female who did something unwise, like drink with the wrong person while on holiday in France. Or Italy, Germany - pick any country. She passes through the underground traders, and then I bid on her. Several times Sheik Hassan has sent them - I have no idea where he procured the women."
He took a swig, then continued. "A few years back, there was a man from America - a friend of a local business leader here. He would send upper class women over every now and then. And, he bought a couple of locals while here. I forget his last name, but the businessman, Ayhan Mustafa, would know. Would you like an introduction?"
Shit no! I damn sure didn't need it to get out that I was looking under carpets and behind doors of the slaver business. I needed to back out of this conversation before Tarkan began to suspect that my interest wasn't just casual. I waved my jug at him, hoping that some of my liquid would also spill out and relieve me from having to drink it. "No. It's none of my business. I was just curious how you got such attractive American women in here. Forget it."
"No. Let us not forget. I will take all the American females you can send. Please do. And, by the way, you will want to see the one that you sent, no?"
"Sure, but lets look at your prospective stock, first."
Shortly we were in the back of his establishment - with his female trainer, whom I secretly called his dominitrix - looking over a half dozen young females - all beauties. Five were of middle eastern extraction and one was oriental. None could have been over eighteen years of age. He waved at them. "As you requested all are uneducated and mostly uncivilized. And they are skeeny, just like westerners desire." Under the watchful eye of their female boss, I felt and probed each - more for the fun of it than any reason to try to choose.
"Do they still have their voices?"
"Yes. Do you want your selection muted?" he asked.
"No. It isn't necessary." I thought of something. "Did my capture have the operation?"
He shook his head. "It is scheduled. As you requested."
Finally, I pointed. "This one will do. Just to keep the transaction simple, how about if I trade my latest capture for this girl."
"Anladimsa Arap olayim!" he exclaimed, shocked. "Effendi, your woman is worth many times that of this amcyk! I cannot accept that trade."
The only word I could translate was amcyk - pussy. "Relax, my friend. What is a couple of women between such comrades as we?" I pointed over my shoulder. "Just make sure that there is no chance of my capture getting back to America. She was a powerful woman who could cause much trouble."
"That will be no reason to worry," he replied. "She will have little time to plot an escape. She will soon be voiceless in a scullery somewhere, and when she isn't working, I am sure that a prime western woman such as she will be spreading her legs quite often.
My bedroom at Tarkan's
I was relaxing on my large bed, deliberately in the nude and sipping from a glass of soda - with ice, no less. I didn't recognize the name on the can, but it was infinitely superior to the sewage that Tarkan served his best guests. Shortly, I heard the knock I was waiting for, called out, and a servant entered. "Mister Sergeant, here is the woman requested for your usage." I nodded and he pulled on a rope, causing the woman to stumble into the room to stand beside him. Her hands were manacled behind her, but except for the metal collar around her neck, she was baby naked. He handed me a silk loop with a key, bowed and left, pulling the door closed.
I swung my feet over the bed, and sat looking at the ex-justice. I knew she was thirty six years old, and, while not beauty contest qualified, was an attractive woman. Her normal sized tits had always been bound up in a bra, so they were still high and firm. Her brown hair had long since lost any kind of styling and was just long and straight, and now held together in a ponytail. She was still looking at the floor as she had been taught - probably not without a few sessions with the dominitrix's crop. Hairless all the way down, of course, but I had no idea if she was captured that way, or if Tarkan had had her depilated as he did all western women, or any women to be sent to a western destination.
I had already decided to do my language trick that I had used on Rita. The chances of this woman every seeing the States again were virtually zero, but it wouldn't hurt for her not to know that I was a compatriot. Some more of Jean's caution was rubbing off on me.
Very unlikely and sure enough, she quietly replied in English, "No Sir."
I tried again with a much more likely lingo. "Usted habla Espanol?"
She nodded. "Si senor." I would have bet on that, given that she grew up in South Texas. Ok, so I would be a foreigner who spoke Spanish.
Back when we were trying to unravel the bid mess with the employee named Harmon, Sally had extensively researched him, his ex's and all of his legal troubles. I had assumed that he had just been a man with a bad string of luck and an even worse choice of bed mates - which he was, but his troubles were given a lot of help by the local legal system. After Sally went back and pulled the history of his divorce judge, we realized that he had been screwed by more than his ex-wives.
Justice Judy Slone, I have to say, didn't exactly approach differences between a man and a woman with Lady Justice's blind eyes. Maybe the woman really didn't realize her bias, but her rulings would have made the opinions column of a woman's lib website look as conservative as the ravings of a far right fundamentalist cult. The male's attorney was always out of order, his motions were always denied, while the lawyer for the female just laid out what he wanted and got it stamped ok. In a very short time, both Sally and myself realized that we had our next capture identified. Because of this woman, my employee cost me several hundred thousand dollars, at least.
The judge was married, but as it turned out, only in law. Her significant other was four states away and had been gone for three years. I assume the reason for no divorce between them was the effect that it might have on their careers.
Long before the woman was missed she was safely ensconced in chains at our Luxor facility. In fact, it took several days before anybody missed her enough to call in the authorities, the assumption being that she just dropped out of the conference and had probably gone home. Then, the investigation got very muddy - nobody could remember her leaving the hotel, and she hadn't checked out. And her phone records showed her driving around the city until she apparently turned off her phone at the airport, but no record of her getting on a plane could be found.
It wasn't in the news, but the call to the Russian Embassy in DC, had to have had the authorities spinning all kinds of theories. Katja had called for an actual aide at the embassy, and claimed that she was ordered to report on the morrow with secret information. Of course, the embassy personnel had no idea of what she was talking about, but probably assumed that it was some covert operation going on. At any rate, they weren't going to tell any U.S. authorities anything and couldn't be made to anyway.
The missing judge became an unsolved mystery that was mostly forgotten after the next news story broke.
"Do you know what you are, now?" I asked, still sitting on the bed. I knew that she had been disciplined somewhat, but hadn't been sexually used since she got here since she was still my property.
"A prisoner of some kind, senor." I stood up and grabbed each nipple between thumb and fingers. She hadn't been here long enough for her reactions to change from free woman to slave, so she jumped and tried to step back. Not something that a woman really wants to do with a man holding on to her buttons. The sudden pain made her step forward again - with her hands bound behind her, there wasn't much else she could do.
"Why are you trying to pull away?" I asked, in reply, still not letting go, but shifting my hold from the nipples to her boobs. "You need to understand one thing right now. Your mind is the only thing you own. Feel free to think of and about anything you want. But..." I lifted her tits and squeezed, "...your body now belongs to me, and soon to the highest bidder to be used in anyway the owner wishes."
Her eyes were wide open and looking at me, despite her brief training about keeping her gaze down and averted. I assume that it was very difficult for a woman, so recently in a position in which her word was law - literally - to take in what I was saying. Or believing that there existed anywhere in the world a place that such words could be true.
"Do you recall your session in the punishment room?" From the sudden look of terror, I knew that she retained an excellent memory of it. I had instructed Tarken to give her the session as soon as she arrived, just to let her know the penalty of trying to assert that she was still someone of any significance. "If you displease me in the slightest, I will call out and you will be back with the whip kissing your skin." I pointed to the bed. "Lay down. Spread your knees..."
It only took a couple of weeks for my new possession to be delivered. I turned her over to Rita for her use and training and forgot about her. I had very little sexual need of a new young cunt, what with Rita's nightly attentions and Mademoiselle Colette coming by every other week or so - and especially after an occasional all night session with both of them.
It had been a busy year and I had neglected Rita in some ways. A week or so after the young girl's arrival, late at night, I happened to ask Rita to get a girl to clean up the lounge that we had been meeting in.
She signed to me, "Pepper will do it."
"Ok", I said absently, then "Wait a minute, who is Pepper? The new girl?" Rita nodded. "YOU gave her a name? Yourself?"
Rita stubbornly stuck her jaw out and signed. "Yes. She's my girl and my responsibility and needed a name. I gave her one."
"Hmmmm. Ok. Get her to clean it up in the morning. Let's get to bed." Shortly, I was waiting outside of the bathroom for her to finish her female ablutions. As she came out, I spun her around and snapped a pair of manacles on her wrists behind her back. Then I tied the end of a rope to the center of the binders, threw it over the convenient hook in the ceiling, used in the past for light bondage play sessions. She still hadn't gotten over her surprise as I began to draw her up into the strappado position. As her bound arms were pulled higher and higher behind her, she naturally bent over at the waist to try to relieve the pain from the unnatural position. Finally, she was almost on her tiptoes and I tied the end of the rope off.
I walked around in front of her, and waited. She could barely look up high enough to see my face. Finally, I said. "It seems that my little red haired bitch is putting on some airs." Her mouth was moving, but with her hands bound behind her, she was totally mute. "It also appears that the dumb cunt is telling her Master what her responsibilities are going to be." Now she was shaking her head violently.
Back behind her, I picked up a crop, aimed at her bare behind and laid a stroke across it - and not a light one. She jumped like she had been shot, the fingers of both hands pointing and spread widely and her leg muscles spasming. Since any movement down, or in any direction just pulled her arms up higher behind her back, all she could do was stand on tiptoe and wait. I gave her five more, slowly, then walked around and sat down in front of her on the bed. "I wonder if the Sheik still wants you? He offered excellent money. And I could get a new squeeze that didn't have the illusions of grandeur." Of course, the tears were flowing at full flood now - I wondered how much was from the pain and how much from the threats. Empty threats, I might add. Somebody else might manage to take her, but only after I ran out of strength and ammo. I reached out and bobbled her lovely tits, now depending at full stretch from her bent over body.
"What do you think? Would you like a new owner?" A violent shake of her head. "Do you think you can convince me to keep you around?" This time just as violent a nodding. She knew - she hoped - that I was just play acting, but in the back of her mind was the real fear that maybe I wasn't. There was no way for her to tell, and in my business - and she knew much about it - women could be uprooted and gone between dusk and daylight.
I got up and entered the bathroom, taking my time getting cleaned up for bed. Finally, I walked over and untied the rope at her back, but left the manacles on. Then I laid on the bed and waited. Still sobbing, she came around her usual side, clumsily climbed on and began to try to make amends. She hadn't changed. Although she feared punishment during the actual act, she craved it beforehand and for days afterwards, would be hotter than a firecracker as she remembered it. I made a note not to neglect her disciplinary needs for so long in the future.
After she emptied me good, I put my arm around her and said, "Are you going to remember just who is the master and who is the cunt?" Smiling, she bobbed her head, then snuggled up to me. "You know? Pepper is a good name for the new girl." She just wiggled closer. When my too full bladder woke me up later in the night, she was half laying on me, one boob on my chest and the other at my side and her head nestled under my chin - about as close as a woman can snuggle - especially one who still has her arms fastened behind her.
A few days later.
Penny's father had passed on and she was caught up in the throes of now having a full sized business empire to run. Actually, run is the wrong word. She no more ran her enterprises than the captain of a ship turned valves in the engine room or helped hoist the sails. She was at the apex of the pyramid and received reports and acted on advice from trained associates.
I was now a sort of friendly mentor and she often came by for advice, especially at the beginning. What I said was simple - just let your managers run it while you learn more by monitoring what they do. Zee and Julie were continually by her side now, offering moral support. In fact, they were closet board members, with more actual, if not official, power than the real ones.
Speaking of Julie, she was the only one of my Vietnam trained interns that I saw frequently. It was with her that I monitored the status of the artificial loyalty that was infused into their psyches. That I hoped was infused. So far, I could detect no hint that it was weakening or wearing off. Julie seem to think it was an honor to share my bed, which she did on infrequent occasions. But, I wondered, in her artificially altered state of mind, did she enjoy it or just pretend to so as to satisfy me? Time would tell.
Time passes. My ballroom
Another election coming up. Another set of politicians coming around for money, or connections, or request for the Super Pac to support them. I was losing one of my most powerful political friends - The Governor was retiring and his possible replacement was a woman. Of course, I was one of the first to know of her candidacy, but that isn't what gave the surprise. The reason that I supported her had nothing to do with my shadow business with women - her sex being an interesting but minor fact. But rather, I knew that she was very qualified for the position - far better than any of the other male klutzes that wanted the job.
No. The surprise happened during another soiree in my ballroom. This one was totally political, with an election a few months off and all of the machinery being cranked up to maximum for the campaigns. The atmosphere was thick with plots and schemes - or should I say, preparation and plans. I preferred the first description, but then, I also considered prostitution to be a more honorable profession than what was being practiced by these public servants. At least a john got something for his money, unlike the poor taxpayer.
Oh, yes. The surprise. The Senator and Governor came up to me, along with the governor hopeful, Mrs. Jessica Locklear. She was forty two, widowed - her Marine husband had been killed years ago in the middle east - and had been in politics all her life, including being the three term mayor of a major city. After a few minutes of conversation, I suddenly did a double-take over Mrs. Locklear's shoulder. After making sure I was really seeing the person, blurted out, "Bonni... Miss Fields?!"
Sure enough, it was my first Vietnam trained intern, Bonny Fields. She smiled and walked up to me to shake my limp hand. I looked at the Senator in confusion, and he seemed surprised at my mild shock.
"Didn't I mention it before?" he said. "I've lent Bonnie to Jessy for her campaign." He leaned over and continued in a pretend sotto voice. "She's quite the fireball when it comes to convincing wavering supporters."
"Well, Bonnie," I said. "Congratulations." She just smiled to accept my compliment. It took a while to free myself from the group, but I finally moved off. To circulate, but mostly to think about what I had just learned.
Then I noticed Bob, the current governor's aide, standing in a group and talking. Next to him, and holding onto his arm, was his wife, recently back among the living after having been rescued by the police somewhere in Europe. Her long 'captivity' hadn't left her with any physical scars, but as far as mental ones, time would tell. I had seen her many times on my trips to visit Dr. Thao's clinic, and knew that she had gotten the full monty treatment. I also knew that she was now a single minded female, her entire life's focus being to be pleasing to her man - and not just sexually. I hoped that Bob wasn't blindsided by the cloying, suffocating female he got back in place of the demanding bitch he had sent. If so, too bad. She couldn't be changed back.
Eventually, I moved around away from the conversations to catch Bonnie's eye. She had no problem seeing the very slight movement of my head toward the door.
Bonnie had walked in and kissed me. None of her high school companions would recognize the elegant and self assured young woman standing in front of me. Talk about a female makeover! She motioned toward the bed with a questioning look.
I smiled, but said "No. I need information more than I need a woman, right now. When did all this happen? Wait, hang on a minute."
Before she started, I sent word to Rita, then gave my redhead the mission of letting me know of the state of the party down the hall. Especially if someone wondered where either Bonnie or myself was. I had realized that my clandestine meeting with the intern would take a while, since I was developing a strategy on the fly.
She gave me the tale. True to my instructions, she jumped into her new position on the Senator's staff with enthusiasm. Anything needed, she would do, no matter how trivial or distasteful. It wasn't long before his staff realized that they had a new member who could be counted on to get her assigned job done - no excuses. Not only that, but she never claimed credit for her achievements - letting her others have the glory, although the big boss knew who actually deserved the credit. And with that attitude came trust, and more important assignments.
It also didn't hurt that she succeeded in a couple of hopeless assignments, given to her by flunkies not wanting a failure on their own record. This time she got full credit from the Senator after convincing certain powers to support the Senator in a legislative matter. She didn't mention how she happened to be so persuasive, but it probably had to do with her being a single, beautiful and outgoing young woman. She was still far too junior to be promoted high up the Senator's staff, but he had his eye on her and she started getting choice assignments, of which the current one was to assist a friend in her attempt to become the next governor of Texas.
Finally, as the political swarm down the hall seemed to be breaking up, I stood up and finished my instructions. "Ok, that's about it. Anything needed for her campaign that you can't get, call me. Anything. My Super Pac will start giving major support, starting tomorrow. I want her elected." I kissed her again, then closed with, "Good job, Bonnie. You're going to go far."
I just sat on the bed and thought. An outrageous possibility had sprung up when I saw the pretty intern on the ballroom floor. I gave it a twenty five percent chance of coming to fruition. With lots and lots of luck and hard work. And money.
End of Book 6
Copyright© 2012 by Morlock. All rights reserved.