I watched Peaches - who used to be known as by the name of Susan - cycle through the entire gamut of emotions, as she thought about what she had just been through. The relief that she found herself still alive was followed by disbelief that she was now in a cage with the young man that she had been playing tie up games with. Then wondering about the metal around her waist and up between her legs. Before putting her in the cage with the boy, I had his chastity belt removed, but had his wrists on individual chains leading up to the front of his collar. He had a free pecker now but couldn't reach it to give himself relief. Since Peaches had a chastity belt on, her pussy was out of bounds, but her asshole was open and free. I was interested in how long it would take them to realize that.
I sat across the cave in my lounger and watched. Since he was almost in a permanent state of erection from all the activities of the girls, and his lack of relief for days, he was almost instantly interested in Peaches's presence. He moved over to her and said something, then reached for a tittie. She slapped his hands away and moved to the corner of the cage. I got up, motioned to Pancake and handed her a crop, then walked toward the cage. As I got closer, he saw me coming and immediately squatted in the position that he had been trained to do. Peaches was still in a state of denial, apparently, since she just sat crouched in the corner of the cage. Pancake walked to the other side of the cage, then laid the crop on her back through the bars. Peaches screamed and turned around in shock to look at Pancake.
"What the hell does the cunt think it's doing?" Pancake shouted. "The Master is here. Get in position!"
Peaches immediately scrambled to her feet and squatted beside the boy, facing me. I looked at them both for a moment. With her knees widely spread, Peaches's crack was wide open under her swinging boobs. His were open too, with his sac hanging down but his tool pointing up and at the ready. I walked back in front of Peaches. "Listen up, bitch. You are the junior slave around here. In fact, you are so junior that you almost don't exist. If anyone - anyone at all - wants to pinch, pull, slap, poke or finger anything on your body, you will not object. In fact, you will help, if needed. Understand, bitch?" A pause. Pancake gave her a light swat with the crop and got her started.
"Yes, Master." she wailed. "This girl understands."
I nodded to Pancake, then went back to my lounger.
It took a few minutes for them to move, making sure that I was not standing nearby. The boy immediately sat down beside Peaches and began to gently feel of her body. She just lay back against the bars and gently cried. Then he just leaned back with her and held her in his arms.
Well, I'll be damned, I thought. I would never have expected a young horny kid to have any significant amount of empathy.
I was now up to five slaves - four females and a male. If, or more probably, when I got another I was going to have to make arrangements to unload a couple. For right now, I was just going to relax and have fun training the new ones that I had. The first item, the day after Peaches arrived, was to strap both of them over a rack and flush them out. Then a strap harness was strapped to their belts, and an anal trainer inserted in both. Then, as a thought came to me, I had Chocolate restrained and fitted her with a harness and trainer also. So far I hadn't used her poop chute because her asshole was tightly virginal. She didn't like it, and wailed in her own language till I had Pancake put a ball gag on her. Chocolate then had her wrists manacled behind her and was then turned loose, but the other two were put back in their cage. Of course, they had to lay down or stand up since they couldn't sit with the trainer in their asses. Eventually, Chocolate quieted down and I had her gag removed.
Later, as I sat at my desk in the area the slaves were never permitted to enter alone, I looked up from my computer and saw that Cupcake was taking advantage of Chocolate's manacled hands. She had the big girl kneeling in front of her and with a hand in her hair, was pushing Chocolate's face into her pussy. That got my nut pressures to rising, but I just watched.
A couple of days later, the three, after being cleaned out again, had the next size trainer inserted. Then again a few days later.
By now I had purchased several large parcels of land adjoining my property, and now owned over a thousand acres around the mountain, on my side of the road. There was now a six foot chainlink fence enclosing about thirty acres around the hotel, and including the entrance to the cave. This should keep random wanderers away from the hotel area.
One beautiful day in spring came along - warm and clear with a gentle breeze and the scent of flowers. I decided to give my three lovely ladies a real treat. After giving orders to Pancake to make a picnic lunch - although she didn't know that was what it was for - I led them to the entrance of the cave and began to unlock the doors. They were first stunned, then overjoyed at the idea of going outside. As they exited the cave and stepped around the screening scrubbery , they all stopped and looked around, awed at the immense vista of the valley below. The hotel wasn't visible from here, but I had stopped worrying much if they knew it was nearby. The girls were bubbling over with excitement.
I told them to get into the waiting four wheeler, and we were off down the mountainside trail to the creek far below. They were still naked and wearing their collars and wrist and ankle bracelets, but I calculated that the the chances of encountering a wandering hunter or hiker were very low, and wasn't fatal even if one did come by. Besides, we were still well inside of the boundaries of my land. At the banks of the clear, rocky bottomed creek, I told them to go swimming. Pancake and Cupcake immediately jumped in with a whoop. Chocolate walked down to the creek's edge and gradually walked out into the water. I assumed that the reason for the caution was that she probably couldn't swim. I jumped in also.
After an hour or so, the chill began to set in and one by one they climbed out and sat on a rock to dry. I told Pancake to lay out the thick blanket under the trees and serve lunch. Time almost stopped for me. A day that was just about as perfect as nature can provide, a beautiful view of the unspoiled rural countryside, and three naked vixens laying around in various poses. Finally, I decided that just viewing was not enough, laid Chocolate on the now cleared blanket, knelt between her raised knees and proceed to bury my rod in her honeypot. The other two girls moved up and began to add their own stimulation, one of them rimming my asshole and prostate alternately with her tongue and fingers and the other moving from place to place fingering my balls or rubbing her tits on my back or offering her various parts for use of my tongue.
It could have actually been one of the two places my safe words were named after - Shangri-La or Xanadu.
Mrs D. scheduled for another one day session. She was the woman who liked to piss on herself. Unknown to her, the session would be extended indefinitely. When she showed up, I escorted her to the only remaining bondage room, laid her on the hammock bed made especially for her fantasy, chained her down and left for the night.
The next morning, I made everyone pee into a bucket. Then I went up to check on Mrs D, whose name I had decided would be Pudding. Just like always, she was laying there in her puddle waiting for me to release her so she could furiously masturbate. I lifted up her head, and held it for a few seconds. As soon as she opened her mouth to ask what I was doing, I whipped out a solid ball gag, jammed it between her teeth and wrapped the velcro straps behind her head.
Utter surprise came over her face. She had never had or requested a gag before. She was even more surprised when I picked up the still warm bucket of pee, and emptied it over her body, then whipped out my wang and pissed in the middle of her chest. She started to shout something around her gag, but unfortunately I couldn't understand a word she was saying. I left her there still trying to shout, laying in six inches of piss, and went to breakfast.
After breakfast, I unfastened her wrists, then with her struggling, locked them behind her back. Then I undid her ankles, dragged her over to the sawhorse rack, bent her over it and fastened her down still wet from all the liquid. By now she knew something was badly wrong.
She had never done anything beyond her all night sessions of being spread on a bed. I had no idea if she was ever into fucking, anal, girls, boys, or whatever, When I strapped on a fairly small butt plug trainer she squealed and squalled as it went in. I assume that she was surprised, but wasn't certain since she was still wearing the ball gag. I left it in for two hours.
When I returned, she was still wiggling. I unstrapped the plug, and slowly pulled. It took some effort at first, then then it almost flew out. She must have been really straining. I sat down on a stool in front of the sawhorse rack, and held up a whip. Not the little trainer this time - this was the big punishment strap. "I'm going to take your gag out for a while and feed you. But you must not speak at any time, understand?" I don't think she did, since she continued to try to protest under the gag. I unbuckled the gag, and let her spit it out, then backed up beside her and waited. The wait was only milliseconds.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?? YOU AREN'T SUPPOS…!" WHACK. The stroke was square across her lower back as hard as I could swing. That brought an immediate series of screams at the top of her lungs. In a minute or so they ran down, and she tried again, "YOU CAN'T…!" Another WHACK just as hard. And another series of screams.
"For a college educated cunt, you seem to be fairly stupid. What part of don't speak didn't you understand?" I sat down in front of her and fed her a taken apart sandwich. First I wadded a half slice of bread into her mouth. "Eat!" When she swallowed that, it was followed by a piece of lunch meat. Then more bread, over and over till she had eaten the whole thing. Then I held a glass with a straw to her lips and said, "Drink!" She got about half down, and I said, "All of it." Soon it was gone. Before she could decide whether to try to protest again, I pushed the gag back in. Just to show her that I was serious, I moved her arm bracelets two more links up the chain attaching them to the back of her collar. I could see her shoulder and arm muscles strain against the unnatural position.
Next, I inserted the enema bladder and started filling her up. Again, this apparently didn't coincide with her expectations as she tried to make clear around the gag. After the third filling was expelled, I knew that she was going to be empty for several days, especially since she wasn't going to be overfed. I then inserted and strapped on a medium anal plug and left her wiggling and trying to shout around the gag.
That evening I reduced the strain on her arms, removed the gag with the warning again, not to speak, then fed her another small meal - part of a hot dog this time. She could see, through the window in the door, that it was nightfall, long after she should have been released. But with the whip laying across my knees, she didn't risk another word. She had been tied in that position for most of the day and was probably feeling horrible cramps. I examined her limbs to make sure that the circulation was flowing and saw no problems. I wanted to raise the psychological pressure as far as I could, so I started on my final routine for the day. First I strapped a straight metal rod in her mouth which made her hold it open. Not painful, but still fairly wide. I held up a small object in front of her face for her to examine. It was a small transparent balloon about the size of a golf ball, knotted closed and filled with some brown substance.
"Remember when you blew your shit out earlier?" I waited, but she just looked. I put a moderate stroke across her back. With an "EEEEEEEE" through her wide open mouth, she vigorously nodded. "Well," I continued, "In this bladder is some of your shit that I collected." It wasn't - it was chocolate fudge syrup. I then pushed it into her mouth, followed by a small ball gag. I slipped the metal rod sideways to remove it, then finished strapping on the gag. "Be very careful. The bladder is very thin and will break very easily. Then you will have a mouthful of your own shit to eat." Her eyes were showing total disbelief.
"As you might be surmising, your bondage session has been extended." I reached down and grabbed both tits, and began to massage them vigorously. Something else that was different - she had never had me touch her in any sexual way. "But," I continued, " the good part is, since you are apparently not enjoying yourself, there will be no charge for the session."
I moved behind her and removed the medium butt plug. When it was out, her asshole was open and about an inch across. Before it started to close up, I started the next larger size, about the biggest that I calculated that she could take without damage this first day. With lots of lube, I slowly pushed it in up to the flange, then buckled on the harness. Regardless of the fear of the contents of the balloon in her mouth, she squirmed and shouted around the gag as it went in. It had to be really stretching things.
Next, it was time to initiate her into her new life of slavery. l spit-lubed my dong, stepped up behind her and began to insert it into her virginal, to me, pussy. I bent over, grabbed both tits, and began to pump. At this point, her gagged wails hit a new volume. Eventually, I blew my load up her twat, then left her to contemplate her new future as Pudding, the real slave girl.
That night, I took her to the cave, turned her over to Pancake with orders just to cage and feed her.
A secure email went out that night, discussing both Peaches and Pudding.
It was time for the Bondage Hotel to shut down. I couldn't just quit, so I made plans to do it gradually.
A trip to Mexico got me a contractor who was experienced in hard rock tunneling. I made sure that his small crew got temporary work permits and that nobody was from any area closer than a thousand miles. They started digging a diagonal shaft, about six feet wide and eight feet tall, at the top of the hill, forming the rock into a staircase leading down toward the cave. When they reached the level of the cave floor, they changed to a horizontal passageway. Of course, none of them knew what the tunnel was for or what the destination was. Every night after work, I would use a laser rangefinder to measure the distance they had tunneled, plotting the end of the shaft as it approached the cave.
In the cave, I prepared for the penetration. In the far back of the dungeon I erected a wooden wall, and on the day of the expected breakthrough, put my harem behind it, chained in place. I warned Pancake to keep everyone quiet until I returned. That morning, they drilled through the remaining rock and I stopped the work. There was a foot square hole connecting the cave with the tunnel that I would later expand into an opening.
Then, I had the contractor build a wooden partition at the start of the stairs, blocking the main tunnel, then fill the top of the hole with loose rock and dirt. When they were done and the ground leveled off, no sign of the tunnel entrance was showing. They were paid off and sent on their way.
Next, I had an architect firm on the mountaintop doing preliminary sketches of what I had planned.
By now, I was a legitimate millionaire, in addition to being an illegitimate multi-millionaire, and had new plans for he mountaintop. I would build my house where the hotel now stood. Not a giant mansion, but an upscale bachelor pad with no expenses spared. It was kind of sad to see my old inheritance bulldozed and loaded into a series of dump trucks, but life moves on.
I informed my few remaining clients of what was happening, and that once the new structure was complete, then the sessions could begin again.
Soon the foundation of the house was poured, with my making sure that it was properly positioned over the hidden shaft. I leased a hotel room in the town down the road a piece, so that I would have a legitimate address while waiting for my house to be finished. Of course, I still spent my nights in the dungeon, just visiting the hotel often enough to establish my presence there.
After the anal training sessions, it was a very short time before the boy discovered the open channel in Peaches butt, and began to make full use of it. In fact, in a week or so it was apparent that he was making too much use of it, as I could tell that his incessant penetrations had made Peaches sore and raw. I didn't need to have a disabled girl here, so the next day, at his end of his morning depilation session, I told Pancake to squeeze the juices out of him like an orange under a steamroller. This was to the girls' liking and they took to it with a vengeance - Chocolate also, as soon as she understood what was going on.
Pancake was senior, so she climbed on top of his stretched out body and proceeded to start squeezing the jism out of his dong with her warm pussy. After her, and an interval of recovery for him, it was Cupcake's turn and she also got her twat filled. Finally, Chocolate straddled him with her big hips, swung her massive titties above his face, and eventually pumped out another load. He was about dry, but I wanted him empty, so after an hour or so of rest, all three girls started in trying to see if the oil patch was really pumped out. With Chocolate straddling his face, Cupcake bouncing up and down with his cock in her anal channel, and Pancake massaging his prostate with her fingers along with sucking his balls, he eventually blew another small gusher.
Exhausted, he was released from the examination rack, then fastened bent over onto the sawhorse rack. This would be my first foray into man on man action, and was interested if I had been missing anything. The girls all gathered around giggling, waiting to watch. I waited till Cupcake filled his rear hole with lube and then slathered on a goodly amount on my rod. I stepped up and Pancake guided me down the path. As I slowly went in, it was obvious that the boy did not consider himself to be bisexual. He gave out a loud stream of "NOOOOOOO! NOOOOO NOOOOO…" as he furiously tried to wiggle his ass out of the line of fire. Shortly, I was inserted up to my balls, then discovered that one of the disadvantages of using a man, is that there are no chest handles to grab. I had to find something else to keep my hands occupied. Finally, after feeling around for a while, I found some warm stuff to hang onto and play with. His tight and warm little channel felt really good, just like a cunt's rear hole, obviously, since assholes are about the same, no matter what the owner is swinging or not swinging up front. Eventually, I gave him a full load all the way up.
After this, with a raw pecker, sore balls and a widened asshole, and now inside of his re-installed chastity belt, he was returned to the cage where he lay down exhausted. Interestingly enough, his cage mate with her sore asshole from his use, and who had been watching the action from her cage, lay down and snuggled up with her titties pressed into his back and with her arms around him.
I had to have some relief badly that night, and decided to try Chocolate from the rear. Because this was her first time, I decided to restrain her fully. She was stretched out on the mattress, face down, with her arms spread and fastened to the headboard, and her legs widely spread and chained to the foot posts. Kneeling behind her, my target was plainly visible in the crack of her big hipped butt, now raised with a couple of pillows. Pancake was standing by, amused, and at a motion from me, liberally anointed the little brown dimple and my cock with ass lube. Then as I moved forward over Chocolate's back, Pancake guided my rod to the proper entry point. Then I slowly pushed it in, as Chocolate squirmed and complained in her own language. Shortly, it buried up to my balls and I just lay down on the big girl and enjoyed the feeling of the tight warm hole - and the sensations of Chocolate writhing and wiggling under me.
While the act of hiding something that you desperately don't want anybody to find out about is scary enough at the start to prevent a person from taking any chances, like anything else, the need for vigilance becomes less and less as time goes on and nothing happens. This time it was a client asking for a conference. That raised the hackles on my neck. This was Mrs M, aka Madelyn M. A long time client, she liked fairly strict bondage and pain. Her family life was just about the norm for her type - that is to say, it sucked. Another husband who was making money and long since regretted having tied himself down to a woman that he was thoroughly tired of. The request meant that she wanted something far out, like bringing her boyfriend, or thinking she wanted a long term bondage.
She knew that the bondage sessions were in abeyance at the moment, but I had to agree to see her. It was too dangerous not to know what she was planning.
Shit. I knew it. As the van pulled up to the corner that I was standing on, I could clearly see that it contained two people. The back sliding door opened and I climbed in, looked in the front passenger seat at the second individual and discovered that she was one of my clients also. It was Jill, a divorcee who had been coming to the hotel about two years - about a year less than the driver, Madelyn. This was going to be a request for a double session, probably with lesbian overtones, plain as day. We drove for a while, then pulled into an remote parking lot serving the airport. Well, at least she hadn't let her guard down completely. This was a good place for a private talk.
"All right, girls," I started. "Come on back here and spill it." They, climbed through between the seats and both sat in the captain chairs facing me. I would have to look at my records, but it was obvious that Madelyn was a client that had recommended my services to Jill. That would be the only way they could know about each other.
They looked at each other. Then Madelyn started. "You have probably guessed that we would like a double session."
"A long one," Jill added. Gosh, it was getting boring the way I was right all the time.
I kept my face passive. "Keep going."
"Well…" began Madelyn again. "My husband and I are going to separate for a while. Jill and I are supposedly going to tour through Europe for the summer."
"Which gives you the perfect cover for a summer long B&D session in the mountains." I looked both of them over. What they were wearing would feed a thousand people for a month in the city of my friend Ayhan. Rich bitches with empty lives looking for something they will never have at home. "Why a double session?" I knew why, but waited for them to tell me.
They both looked at each other, waiting for the other to start. Finally, Jill said, "We have been… playing with each other. You know… girl stuff… with…" If I didn't get them moving we would be here all night.
"Let me guess. You both have probably been tying each other up, then performing some minor girlie actions with each other but you're too embarrassed to go very far." Both of them were turning slightly red and were having trouble looking at me. Well, that hit dead center, I thought to myself.
"Yes, sir," agreed Madelyn. "We like the idea but we just can't carry it very far. Being forced to would be… well,..."
I sat back and thought for a minute. I leaned forward. "Ok, girls. Here is the deal. The double session, lesbian play, any of that is no problem at all. But I should tell you that every girl who has been in a B&D session for longer than a month, has never gone back to her normal life." That was the truth, and the absolute truth. However, I was hoping that they would see it in a different perspective than the actual fact. "If you want to do this, then you have to agree that it will continue until I decide that it should end. In other words, you will be real slaves in a real situation and will have no control over your immediate destiny." Or their future one, for that matter. "Think about it."
Both sets of eyes widened as my statement sunk in. I continued, "The both of you have reached the level where you are tired of playing. You want to experience bondage for real, correct?" They sort of nodded. "If you don't want to do it this way, then you will be condemned to just play out little bondage acts the rest of your sexual lives. This is a way to find out what it is really like."
The girls looked at each other for a long time. Finally, Jill asked, "How would we do it?. And where? The hotel is gone and your house isn't finished."
"Oh, I have more than one place to play with women," I answered. Now I was planning on the fly. I didn't need two prominent women to just suddenly disappear from the same city. There would need to be some fuzziness put in their leaving. "First, you would actually go to Europe. Take a plane to Paris, say. Then take the train to another city, Berlin, maybe. Then a flight back to Vancouver. From there you would drive back across the border and come up here."
Madelyn blinked. "Why all of that?"
"Because I don't want the police investigating the disappearance of you two. It would be highly embarrassing if they were to burst in on you when you are chained to the ceiling with your tits hanging out and your legs spread. We aren't breaking any laws, but they wouldn't understand that until long after every Internet tabloid newspaper had both of your names and pictures on the front page."
I could tell that they wanted to talk. I said, "You two go somewhere and talk it over - and for god's sake, make sure it is a private place. If you do want give it a try, then you can communicate with me the normal way."
"Just one other thing," I closed with, "You will need to plan what to do with your assets if you decide to do what we have been talking about. If you just leave it in the bank, or brokers account, or anything like that, and you decide to not to come back, then that financial institution will confiscate it after a certain time of inactivity. If you want, you can convert it to cash or bonds and leave it in a hidden customer's safe that I have. Many other women have done that." I didn't particularly want their money - I certainly didn't need it - but I was telling the truth about it being confiscated after being inactive for a while. Why give it away?
They drove me back to downtown and I headed home.
Assuming that Madelyn and Jill were eventually going to join the cave set, my client list was down to a widow and a single married woman, besides Stephanie. I had been tempted for a long time to just snatch Stephanie during one of her sessions. I really enjoyed giving her the business. Given the state of her marriage, there was nothing that she would leave behind of importance. Her husband certainly wouldn't care, even if he noticed that she was gone. But, she was my only real contact to the real world and had far more knowledge than myself about how society really worked, despite my new zillionaire status and grafted-on continental polish.
The widow was Mrs T, my sub who liked to be hanged on occasion. She was descending into sub'ism rapidly and I assumed that one day she would become a full timer, also.
The remaining married client, Mrs S, was into very mild B&D only, usually just acting out a mild kidnapping scene. I didn't expect her to cause problems or increase her depth of bondage.
At this point, I began to interview some new clients, only this time being far more exclusive in whom I accepted. I wanted only widows or divorcees, or, if married, women with no family and a dead marriage.
Eventually, I was going to have to cull the herd in the cave, so to speak. Especially if I got two or three more. Three full time slaves are great, and the single male was just spice, but a half dozen or more was overkill.
My house was coming along nicely. Of course, I expected nothing different since my architect and contractor were on a spare-no-expenses project. One of the parameters that I had specified was that it had to be completely fireproof, which precluded any major use of wood in the construction.
A couple of months or so later, both Madelyn and Jill met me at another parking lot. They gave me a suitcase containing lots of cash and negotiable instruments. When I opened it, I looked at the contents and said, "Well, it's obvious that you both have made up your mind."
"Yes, Sir," replied Madelyn. "We're leaving for London on Friday. We'll message you when we get to Canada."
With that, I headed back to the cave.
The boy had been in his chastity belt for almost two weeks, in close proximity to a woman who was now without her belt. The lure of her usually open slit, and warm bottomhole, neither of which he could do anything with but finger, was raising the internal semen pressures to the boiling point. I knew that soon, he would blow it off with a wet dream if something wasn't done.
I manacled his hands, removed his belt, then had the girls put him in the hot tub. Within fifteen minutes the 104 degree water had him nice and soft. Then I had the girls restrain him vertically, in a big chain X. He was rutting so bad, that when I began to fondle his balls, his rod immediately sprang into a hard vertical state - despite his dislike of homosexual activity. I knew if one of the girls did that, he would blow immediately. He had a good sac that was holding up a decent pair, and the hot water had him dangling nicely.
I selected a couple of 38 millimeter stainless split shaft collars. These were industrial devices that were used to clamp motor shafts together, among many other things. They were also the exact item that a small and far out segment of fetishism used for play. Some men like the feeling of dangling balls, and cause their ball sacs to stretch by hanging weights on them. It wasn't my thing, because I didn't want any risk to my package of jewels, but I had seen some examples of it on the 'Net. Some guys over years had caused theirs to stretch almost to their knees. Apparently the feeling is delicious if you are into that.
These collars were nothing but a round piece of metal, about two and a half inches across, a half inch thick, and with an inch and a half hole in the middle. The two halves were placed around the upper part of the scrotum, then bolted shut with two allen screws. The hole was small enough to just go around the stretched ball sac, but way too small to allow the nuts to slip through and let the weight fall free. Each collar weighed about 6 ounces, so when I was finished he was being stretched by about three quarters of a pound. These didn't come off unless you had the exact fit allen wrench.
The forums on the 'Net claimed that any orgasm while in these weights was superior because the testicles could not close up to the body, but were held away by the weights. I didn't didn't know why this would be, but was interested to find out.
This time I selected Chocolate to do the honors. She moved up to the stretched out boy, lifted herself up and settled down on his swollen member, then put her arms around him and squashed her full boobs against his chest. I knew this wasn't going to take long, if he could actually come with his balls ballooned out three inches below the normal position. She reached around, stuck a finger up his hole and began to stir. That was all it took. He jerked in a long spasmodic orgasm that went on and on. A disappointed Chocolate climbed down from his deflating rod, dripping a copious amount of liquid from her twat. The boy just hung there mostly by his arms until the girls released him and took him back to his cage.
Obviously a man can shoot off with his nuts held out. And he had had a good orgasm, but I didn't really know if it was because of the weights or just because he had a couple of weeks of pressure buildup. He would wear the weights permanently.
A couple of weeks later I received an encrypted message saying that my wanna-be lesbians were waiting in a nondescript hotel in Canada. I had already made plans through my bookie for a coyote to pick them up and get them across the border without the procedure of showing their IDs or passports and then to get them back to the local area. The details weren't given to me. I met them in my van, gave a thick envelop to the coyote, then drove to the local airport parking lot - once again, a wonderful place for anonymous meetings.
"How was the trip?" I asked after parking and sitting down in one of the captains chairs in the rear of the van.
"It was great," exclaimed Madelyn. "Did you know there is a sex show in Amsterdam that features all kinds of bondage and discipline stuff? They actually had people tied up and put in all kinds of stocks in public!" Of course I had seen it. I thought it was a totally amateur production - very loose bondage and trivial, almost playful, discipline. Being lightly stroked with a cloth whip while in a set of stocks that can be escaped at any time is not even slightly erotic to me.
"Sure," I said. "Lots of fun, wasn't it?" I reached around and picked up a carry out bag. "Hungry? I stopped and bought some Chinese takeout."
Jill grabbed at the sack. "God, I'm starved. That chauffeur you sent wouldn't stop for anything. All we got to eat was lousy sandwiches in gas stations." I uncorked a bottle of wine and poured each a glass.
Shortly I said, "Go ahead and finish." I moved back to the drivers seat. "We might as well get going. You probably want to get some rest."
Around her mouthful of take-out, Madelyn asked, "Where to? Your house isn't finished, is it?"
Over my shoulder, I replied, "Not yet, but you'll see where we are going when we get there. Just relax." A state that I knew was inevitable just as soon as the GHB in the wine took effect. In about 30 miles or so they were slurring their talk, and shortly thereafter just sat back glassy eyed.
It was dark by the time we got back to the mountaintop. I lead them both, stumbling, down the path to the external entrance to the cave, then inside and turned them over to Pancake with orders to cage them and begin their training the next morning.
The next day, I had an interior designer do a walkthru to give me her idea of furnishing the house, as soon as the finishing touches were in place.
A landscaping crew was beginning to clean out the brush and most of the trees that were blocking the view of the valleys. No grass - I had no interest in keeping up a lawn, with all the attendant mowing, watering and fertilizing. A local gardening contractor was hired to design a natural, low maintenance landscape.
That evening, I entered the dungeon and noticed that both of my new possessions were stretched out taut, standing titty to titty, between the whipping posts. Both were wearing a new set of red stripes on their backs. I walked up beside both and began to explore their bodies. I looked at Pancake, standing beside me with her crop. "Have they been cleaned out?"
"Yes, Master. First thing this morning."
"How about the rules?"
"Yes Master. Your girl has informed them of everything that is expected of them while they are here."
I reached around both with either hand, then stuck my middle finger up each girls asshole. Both were nice and tight. After a little stirring, I asked, "Well, slave girls, is this what you expected your new bondage session to be like?"
Surprisingly, Madelyn said, "No… Master." Jill just shook her head.
"Get used to it," I continued. "This is your new life, from now on. But, don't worry. You wanted some lesbian action - that is what you are going to get." I decided that I might as well enjoy the situation while they were nice and spread. Cupcake was standing by and watching so I motioned for her to lube me up with her mouth. The well trained Pancake knew what was happening, and as I stepped up behind Jill, she guided my rod up into the waiting anal channel. Jill had probably never been screwed in the rear - certainly, anal play was not something that she requested from me before - and the new experience had her moaning and thrashing in the chains, although she knew better than to say anything. Reaching around and grabbing each boob for leverage, I pumped her good until I finally filled her butt with cream.
"Feed and water 'em," I ordered. "Then cage them with a medium hogtie." They would be sore by morning after a night in the unaccustomed position. And probably wet from pissing on themselves. I wasn't going to bother to rename them, since I didn't expect to keep them for very long.
I received a call confirming that my plumber was on the way. A few hours later, a van with the very unoriginal logo of "Joe's Plumbing" pulled up between the buildings. I expected that Francois would step out, but this time it was a different man, about age thirty or so - well built. He introduced himself as Pierre, an associate of Francois, but I couldn't place his accent. And in his line of business, I suspected that personal inquiries would be highly unwelcome.
I led him to where Peaches and Pudding were chained. They were then force fed a pill, and we retired to my office to await the effects and to finalize the transaction. Shortly thereafter, the truck disappeared down the road.
By the end of the summer, my house was finished. It was beautiful. Ok, that is my opinion, but it was beautiful anyway. I called my original digging crew back, who sawed a hole in the concrete above the buried staircase, and began to empty and clean the dirt out. Then, with the lights off in the cave and covers over all furniture and equipment, and my harem bound and gagged and hidden in the back, they finished punching through the final foot or so of rock. I now had a hidden, weatherproof access to the dungeon from the house. The new entrance to the dungeon was through the floor of a room hidden behind a bookcase in the library. I furnished this hidden room to look like it was the hiding place of my valuables. It had shelves with jewelry, gold coins, some stacks of money, and other expensive, but useless to me, items. Hopefully, if it was ever found, the intruders would be fooled into thinking that what they saw is all there was. But, under the thick rug was a hydraulically lowered trapdoor leading to the new passageway. This door fit into the pattern of the wooden floor so well that even on hands and knees, you couldn't see the seam where the door actually was. It would take a considerable amount of probing to find it even if a searcher knew it was there. The original entrance to the cave was covered with more rocks - enough to really hide it from any searchers, but not so much that it couldn't be forced open from inside in an emergency. I didn't plan to ever use it again.
The replacement for the hotel was a very large windowless room in the center of the structure, also behind a moveable bookcase, and that was liberally supplied with all the equipment required to dominate any sub.
Once the interior decorator had finished the inside of the house, excepting the two hidden rooms, and the normal furniture was delivered and set up, I began to add the little accessories that would enhance my living experience.
I invited the sheriff to tour my new place, and asked that he keep an eye on it during my extended absences. To underscore my request, I made an eyepopping (for him) donation to his reelection campaign coffers. After that, I was pretty well insulated from local civil problems, like speeding and parking tickets. I could call in with a request or a problem and a deputy was immediate dispatched to service my needs.
While I had Madelyn and Jill in the dungeon, I decided to honor their desires to try a little girl on girl action. I informed Pancake that anytime they were out of their cage, their wrists would be manacled behind them. And that they were available to be used for relief anytime that any of the three girls needed it. During that first month, both got a full measure of pussy eating and ass licking. A day didn't go by that I didn't see either slave with her face pressed between the spread legs of one of my regular girls.
Especially Chocolate. She would sit in a lounger or bean bag chair for hours, with her hands in the hair of her servicer, continually pulling the slave's face harder into her pussy. Rather than having to waste time getting up to piss, Chocolate would just say in her broken English, "Time to drink, beetch," then proceed to empty her bladder into the sucking mouth of her servicer.
Of course, the first time that happened, the demand was received in total disbelief by the slave girl - Jill in this case. Drinking pee was not an action that was even conceivable by either new girl. The result was that she jerked her head back and warm piss streamed down her face and Chocolate's crack onto the floor. Since I had allowed my three girls to inflict minor punishment for infractions, Chocolate jerked Jill's head up by the hair and delivered an open handed slap on the slave girl's face that could almost have been heard outside. Pancake, of course, was charged with seeing that the supposedly minor punishments didn't get out of hand, or turn sadistic, but saw what had just happened and gave Jill some more encouragement with a couple of strokes of the crop on her butt.
My girls were very sad when the two new slaves were suddenly trussed up and removed from the dungeon. Francois had arrived in yet another vehicle, packaged them up, and departed, leaving my dungeon back to the normal population of three females and a male.
The boy, by the way, was swinging his nut metal much lower now. The weight was really taking effect. I removed the collars and replaced them with weights specifically designed for the task that I had ordered from a sex shop overseas. That is to say, they were rounded like a donut for comfort and continual wearing. He now had a single and a double weight, for a total of about eighteen ounces. When he was allowed to fuck a girl, his nuts would swing back and forth, hitting the girl's behind with a definite noticeable smack.
I resumed having sessions with my three remaining clients. Stephanie was the first and was very impressed with the new B&D parlor. Once again, as she was stretched in the rack, and I was striping her rear with a light whip, the temptation to haul her down the secret passageway to a new and permanent life was very strong. But, I still hesitated - she was just too valuable a link to society to waste at this time. After all, it wasn't like I couldn't have her just about anytime or anyway I wanted, or that I didn't have enough slaves already. She kept hinting that she wanted to see my "other" dungeons, such as the one that Melody was being held at. I assumed that she had been trying to find my other locations, that, except for the cave dungeon, didn't exist.
Mrs T, the hanging lady, was also an enthusiastic returnee, although she opted for punishments other than stretching her neck for now. Still, she requested and could take punishments that would have had many grown men babbling for mercy.
My married woman still scheduled for her play sessions of being kidnapped. I had found that she was a traveling sales lady so that explained her sudden and random requests for a session. She could do so with little risk of exposure since she spent most weekdays on the road. I still met clients at random locations and drove them to my house myself.
I had decided to not except married clients again. There were just too many things that could go wrong with that kind of client and I put out the word not to recommend me to any woman who was married.
I accepted a new divorcee, Mrs B. She started light bondage but I had a feeling that she would graduate to heavier stuff fairly quickly. For one thing, after her first all day session, she tried to schedule a week long appointment two days later.
After settling down in my new abode for a few months, I made plans for another business trip to Europe.
Paris and points east...
I enjoyed myself in Paris for a couple of days, then the following morning I was relaxing in the first class carriage of a train that years ago would have been called the Orient Express.
Three days later, from the train station at my destination, I took a cab to my friend Ayhan's mansion. Of course, I had emailed him that I was coming and was expected. I was greeted at the door by himself as a long lost family member, and was soon sitting in his den with a glass of wine.
He lifted a glass in my direction. "My friend, your gifts have been enjoyment beyond measure. I can only hope to return some small portion of my gratitude someday."
"Were they as exotic as you had hoped? " I asked with a smile. "After all, they are no different than millions of other American women."
"Ah, but you are wrong, my friend." He rose from his chair. "The difference between your millions of women and your gifts, is that these are mine. Come, I will show you."
We climbed the long balustrade to the living quarters, then down a hall to his huge and exquisite bedroom. As we entered, I saw at the foot of his bed, two women sitting on a pallet - Twinkie and Cherry Pie. As they saw us, both immediately got to their hands and knees, facing us with their heads bowed. A word from Ayhan, which they understood but I didn't, both stood up, but still with their eyes on the floor.
I immediately noticed that there had been a major change in my "gifts" from the time that I had sent them - both were far gone in pregnancy. And these were women, although I had forgotten their exact ages, who were way on the wrong side of thirty. Possibly even uphill of forty.
Somewhat taken aback, I said, "My God, Ayhan. "You've been busy." At the sound of my voice, the girl who I had named Twinkie, made a small gasping sound as she recognized my voice, looked up for a fraction of a second, then immediately back at the floor.
Ayhan laughed. Moving over next to Cherry Pie, he reached up and weighed a breast, then moved his hand lower to feel around her huge midriff bulge, then her plump bottom. Her companion got the same treatment, plus a little finger action between her legs. "Have you ever seen more beautiful women?" he asked.
To me, they were a pair of knocked up, middle aged women. And considerably more plump than when I had last seen them. Obviously, my friend was feeding them enough to reach that middle eastern look that was more desirable here. But there was only one answer that I could make to that question. "I have never seen a more beautiful pair, Ayhan. I am glad that my little gifts to you were satisfactory."
After a few more minutes of inspection, in which the two women never looked up, we returned to the den. After another fill up of our glasses, "You have, of course, brought more pictures of your ladies?"
In answer, I pulled a flash drive from my pocket and flipped it onto his desk. With a smile of anticipation, he immediately plugged it in and began to peruse the images. I knew that he would take his time, commenting on every picture of every girl, so I just sat back and relaxed.
Then he suddenly sat up in his chair. "A male? I thought you had no interest in that area." The explanation for the young boy took an hour, including many questions from Ayhan before I was finished.
When I had concluded, he looked at me and said, "That gives me hope that you will like my little gift in return." I looked at him with interest, but all he said was, "It is over at Tarkans. We can visit him later."
I sat up. "That is good, Ayhan. "I need to see Tarkan, myself."
Ayhan looked mildly surprised. "Ah, you wish for another skeenny woman?" he said, jokingly.
"No. I sent more two women to him."
Ayhan stood up with what had to be an exclamation. "Ah. More, what did you call them… Swells? Here? Now?"
I motioned him back into his chair and started on another long explanation of the current circumstances. Once I had finished, we agreed that we would visit the slaver later in the afternoon.
That afternoon, we got in his chauffeured limo and headed for Tarkans. As we got out in front of his door, it suddenly opened. Standing there was one of his bouncers - ole knife face - who gestured for us to come in. Fortunately, he didn't try to smile or make any other civilized gesture of greeting - that would probably sent the average tourist running screaming down the street. I might have followed.
Just inside of the hall stood Tarkan, who immediately crushed me in a middle eastern greeting by grabbing me with both arms and kissing me on both cheeks. His other bouncer stood just down the hall. He waved us past the auction theater, into what I always assumed was the rear of the structure that contained the holding rooms.
It wasn't. We continued much further into the building than I had gone before. Apparently, Tarkan's establishment was huge.
He opened a door and I gestured for me to enter. Inside were several other women, all naked, sitting on pallets. I noticed that these were not the usual type of female that I saw at the last auction - these looked to be of European extraction. They all instantly got onto their hands and knees with their heads bowed and touching the floor. On the end of the row were two of my four slaves - the last two. I smiled and nodded, and we left. Tarkan locked the door behind us and we headed upstairs.
We relaxed in Tarken's garage sale looking office, and enjoyed more of his wine. After Tarkan quaffed his usual outsized glass, he said, through Ayhan, "I have taken the liberty of summoning the thralls you sent last month."
Ayhan looked surprised. "My friend, you sent two others, besides the two today?" I gave a short explanation of the events, which he translated to Tarkan.
Tarkan grinned, and replied, "You can be a very rich man if you can supply girls like these." I just smiled. There was no use in explaining that I was wealthy far beyond his conception of wealth. Far more, even than Ayhan, who was probably one of the richest men in the country. Besides, money to me was just a means to an end. I had no interest in spending my life just piling up more loot that I would never use. I had better things to do and enjoy.
There was a knock on the door, then it opened and two totally naked girls were pushed in - Peaches and Pudding. Like Ayhan's new girls, these kept their eyes on the floor. Tarkan stood up, picked up a small whip, then walked over to the pair. He said a single word - something like "Sermek." They both immediately assumed the classic female display stance with one leg in front with the knee bent, one arm at their sides, and the other held just below their bellies.
"Ara!" he barked - at least as close as I can spell it. They then stood straight, legs spread and hands behind their back. "Kokmek!" They both dropped to their hands and knees, facing us, heads bowed. Tarkan, slowly ran the end of the whip up and down their bare backs, then came around and sat back down in his chair.
"They're coming along nicely, Tarkan," I said. If the two girls recognized my voice, they didn't react to it.
"Yes, Meester Tatum," he said, again through Ayhan. "Do you still want to hold them here? I could have them sold by nightfall. The bidding will be great."
"No," I replied. Just keep training them, along with the two new ones. I may have some more shortly." I thought for a moment. "My main concern is where they will go. If they get loose and back to America, it would be… well, bad for my business."
Tarkan reached over and filled my glass. "Be assured, Meester Tatum, no girl sold through Tarkan's is going to return to her old life."
There was another knock on the door. Acid face, the other bouncer, entered and said something to Tarkan. He nodded.
Another girl was pushed into the room. Young, very nicely breasted, skeeney, as my friends would put it, and she was… My eyes froze, then I realized what I was seeing. The… girl was sporting a dong bigger than mine. A hermaphrodite, or in more modern terms, an intersex person. I looked at Tarkan, then Ayhan. They were laughing quietly.
"She is my present to you, if you want her," said Ayhan. What The Fuck, I thought. When did I ever hint that I wanted a… But curiosity stepped in and I walked up to the girl… boy… whatever. "Go ahead and inspect her."
I could see in her smoldering eyes that this was no timid toy. Plus, the fact that she was wearing close chains on both ankles and wrists meant something. One thing that I had noticed about slavery in this part of the world, was that the chattel were seldom restrained. If this person was confined in this way, then there was a reason.
I stooped down in front of her and inspected her equipment. Like all women in this part of the world, she was not depilated, but in spite of the bush, I couldn't see any testicles. I reached up and lifted her dong higher, at which she spit some curse at me. Her guardian immediately laid into her back with a stroke of his cane. She squealed slightly, but didn't scream like any normal woman would have.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Tarkan make a gesture, and the bouncer turned her around, and forced her into a bent over position with her legs spread - at least as far as the chain would allow. From behind, I saw that the girl… boy… - what the heck - I was going to consider her to be a girl from now on. I saw that directly under her penis was a vaginal opening. So this was one of the rarer forms of what the porno industry called a trans. Rather than breasts and a full set of male parts as the vast majority of intersex persons had, this one actually apparently had a working set of both types of sexual genitals - and titties. Like Chocolate, she was brown, with black hair - except for not being plump, she was an ordinary middle eastern woman - if you didn't count all the additional and missing hardware between her legs.
I stood up. Looking at both my friends, I said, "I don't know what to say. She will certainly be a unique addition to my dungeon. Thank you, my friend."
Ayhan wagged his finger at me. "Be aware, my American friend. This person is not tamed. Don't let her get ahold of a knife or your samosas with her hands or mouth until you have broken her."
On the plane back to the US, I mused over my new acquisition. Girls, a boy, and and now, a both. What next, I wondered.
I had only been gone two weeks by the time I got back to the dungeon. But it was a long two weeks with only a single episode with one of Ayhan's female servants. I let Pancake and Chocolate share my bed that night, and they worked over my jet-lagged body with enthusiasm. The next day, I enjoyed Cupcake before breakfast and began to work on the next phase of my plan.
I had Pancake bring the boy over to my desk, arms manacled behind him, and ordered him to just stand beside my chair. He had been without relief the whole two weeks and immediately got an erection as I idly played with his dangling, metal stretched nuts. I suddenly realized that I was in real danger of getting a sperm bath, and called on Cupcake to relieve him of his load with her mouth. After that, I could pull and wiggle and probe without worry as I sat and examined. I noticed that his sac had really stretched under the pull of the weights that he was wearing. As I swung his balls back and forth, I closely watched his face to see if they were sore from the constant pulling. Apparently not, as he just stood there - now contented after his relief session with Cupcake. I wondered how long they would actually stretch over time. I had seen Internet pictures where some men had them almost dangling to their knees.
Two weeks went by, then a dilapidated RV drove into my driveway. Francois delivered a crate that had my present inside.
Inside the cave, the girls were in awe of the new occupant, and I told them that her new name was Coco. I warned Pancake of her untrained and possibly violent status, and gave her a set of instructions on how she was to be treated. When she woke from the drug, she stood up and looked around, not sure of what was happening or what her new status was. I had Pancake give her some food, and all the water she wanted, but told her to do nothing else. To make sure, I locked the cage and kept the key. Tarkan had said that she was from a tribe somewhere east in Bulgaria or Romania and probably spoke some dialect from that region. She might have well have spoken Martian for all the good it did me.
Then a stroke of good luck hit, when I found that Chocolate could make herself understood, somewhat, to the new occupant. By now Chocolate could speak fairly understandable pidgin English, and could follow orders and conversation as long as it was kept very basic. I had her explain to Coco that she was now owned by me, and would have a pleasant life as long as I was obeyed. I had no idea how the topic was received, or even if Chocolate explained it right, but it would soon be put to the test.
Coco needed a shower, badly. I opened the cage, and had Chocolate motion her out. She refused and backed into the far end of the cage. I had been afraid of that, and got ready as I told Pancake and Chocolate to pull her out. As soon as they got within range, she began to fight. I waved them back, stuck my electric prod between the bars into her ribs and pulled the trigger. She screamed and fell back against the back bars. Her eyes were wide open and staring at the prod, which I am very sure that she had no knowledge of. I waved to the girls, but Coco fought them off again, but much more feebly this time. Another jolt of the prod was all it took. After that they pulled her out of the cage, unresisting, but still trying to keep her eyes on the prod.
All three girls scrubbed her down, and started to teach her how to use a toothbrush. Afterward, she was led to the examination table, eyes still warily watching me and the prod that I had in my hand, and was fastened down. While the girls began waxing and beginning the electrolysis procedure, I took the opportunity to examine her in detail. Her titties were large and normal, of course. High on her body, that meant that she couldn't be older than her 'teens. Her penis was also normal, uncircumcised and and of a good size. I wondered if she could ejaculate, and if so, was she fertile? With no testicles I didn't see how she could be, but that would be easy to check, if she ever shot any out. Did she have a prostate? Who knew?
With a thin dildo, well lubed, I slowly began to probe the slit under her dong. If I ignored the nice piece of hanging meat at the top, her female parts looked like a normal pussy on any other girl. It was soon obvious that she wasn't a virgin, if that word had any meaning with her physiology. The dildo slid all the way up without any visible discomfort so it was at least a pseudo vagina. Which brought up another question. Could she get pregnant? Again, this was way out of my knowledge path.
A couple of hours later, freshly waxed and shaved, she was back in the shower, then put back to her cage. I warned the girls that she was to be treated kindly. If there was any teasing, tormenting or the like, all three would be sporting new stripes - lots of bright red ones.
My bedroom was a penthouse by itself on what would be the third floor, if there had been any other rooms up there. It had a glassed, panoramic view of the valley on three sides of the mountain. I had been in very expensive tourist traps with far inferior views. The bed was kingsized, with lots of attachment points for entertainment, although these were now mostly concealed or at least, unobtrusive. The average person probably wouldn't even notice them. Usually, at night a specified girl would be towed down the passageway, hands behind her back, and chain on her collar, to my bedroom where the end of the chain would be locked to some ring by the bed. The chain was long enough to get to the bathroom, but no farther. Usually the girl for the night was just a bedwarmer since I normally had long since exhausted my nuts in the cave during the day.
Fortunately Coco didn't turn out to be psychotic, or anti-social or a violent psychopath. I had no idea what her past was, how she had been treated or what scars she might be carrying internally from society's reaction to her physical characteristics. Coco was accepted by the rest of the harem, still with some fascination about her physical characteristics. I made sure that the girls treated her with kindness and lots of smiles. Chocolate and Cupcake would take her little treats of candy, or cakes or the like. And Coco responded to the kind treatment by returning smiles and words in her own language. Once she got over the uncertainty of her new surroundings, it turned out that she was endowed with a full set of sexual desires, only with her it totally centered on her penis. The use of her pussy, by either me or the boy did nothing for her. But she could bang any of the girls as well as any man.
The first time she fucked a girl - Pancake - I took a sample of her cum and inspected it under a microscope. There was no sign of any sperm, which is the result that I expected. My amateur researches into the subject had already pretty well assured me of the fact, that no testicles = no sperm.
She was introduced to the bondage equipment, gently. I had her strapped over the sawhorse rack, and screwed her for the first time from behind. Her pussy felt just like any other cunt - warm, wet and tight. Given the nice tits hanging down, and the psychological feeling of the situation, I had no trouble shooting a load into her.
In fact, she turned out to be just another horny teenager. I finally had the girls fit her with the male chastity belt to punish her for continually insisting on fucking several times a day. Interestingly, while she didn't like the whip any more than the other girls, except Pancake who got off with it sometimes, it was the electric prod that terrified her. Just my picking it up would cause her to drop to all fours and babble pleas in her own language. I never had to trigger it again after the first day.
I began to notice that the attitude in the cave was beginning to resemble that of a club, where the activities were assumed to be for the benefit of the members, rather than me, the owner. I decide to remind everybody that my satisfaction was the only thing of importance. The next morning, after breakfast, everybody was restrained in different parts of the cave, out of normal hearing of each other. All were wearing gags, except for Coco who wasn't trained for long term gagging yet. Then at night, they were loosely bound, hog tied, in either a cage or a pallet on the floor.
The only sex allowed during this time of restraint was for me. I would walk around after breakfast, inspecting each, doing a little fingering and poking, sometimes squirting a load into one of them. I gave them a choice. They could either accept this bondage punishment for two weeks, or take a dozen hard strokes at the whipping post. All decided to take the bondage except for Pancake, naturally - she loved the threat of the whip, even though she feared the actual punishment itself. I spread her up, picked up the wide punishment strap and whaled her back and bottom as hard as I could swing. Her screams echoed through the cave for the first few strokes, then became a lower volume as her voice began to give out. After letting her hang on the chains for a couple of hours, I roughly used her pussy, then released her.
Mrs. T couldn't think up any more violent B&D exercises than she had already experienced. After all, being hung by the neck until almost dead was just about the limit this side of actual death. Or so I thought. I should have known. On her next session she showed up with a branding iron. This was no toy - it was a genuine iron that spelled out SLAVE in letters about three quarters of an inch tall and the whole word was about three inches long.
"Where in hell did you get this," I demanded.
She just smiled. "You have your secrets - I have mine."
Ok. This was another cusp in the stream of fate. I sat back and thought for a while. I didn't want another slave, except for Stephanie, but I couldn't put a permanent brand on a woman and just send her back out into the world. I could see far too many ways that a deep and sexual mark like that could cause major problems. So, I would give her a choice.
"Mrs T," I started. "This is a serious escalation of B&D that goes beyond my rules about doing no permanent damage." She started to speak, but I held up my hand to stop her. I continued, "Unless you want your status as a slave made permanent."
She didn't seem surprised. "Permanent?" she asked.
"Yes. A few clients have become genuine slave girls to me and others. They decided that they were tired of playing bondage and discipline games and then going back to the real world to the life that they were trying to escape in the first place." That was true - Cupcake and Pancake voluntarily placed themselves into slavery. "If you wish it, you can follow them. Otherwise, we can continue on as we have, but I can't brand you with that. If you got in a wreck, or otherwise got hauled to the emergency room, or even just went to your doctor for a checkup, the questions would be fairly insistent and would probably be asked at the local police station eventually. Not to mention the fact that there is virtually a one hundred percent chance that the news of your brand would get in to the newspapers and onto the Internet. That would probably cause considerable talk in your social circle."
I waited as she assimilated what I was saying. "How would that work?" she asked. "I mean… where would I be…" She was having trouble with visualizing the actual details of what was detailing. I gave her the usual spiel, telling her that she wouldn't actually know where she was going till she got there, and that it was real - if I wanted to sell her to a bordello then I would do so. I had long since realized that a threat like that, rather than being a statement that one would assume would scare a potential sub off, was actually a major turn on. I also walked her through the necessity of converting her possessions into something that could be brought along.
"Just think about it," I said, finishing up. "You don't have to decide today. You don't have to decide this year, or ever, for that matter. We can go on as usual until you come to a decision - or not." With that, we adjourned to the B&D room and commenced a few days of her usual severe treatment.
An email came through from Ayhan telling me that my girls were ready for sale at Tarkans, so I replenished the supplies in the dungeon and hopped a plane for Europe.
My four girls shared a room with several other women in the back of Tarkan's. Their training was coming along nicely, as was their weight. It wasn't my thing, but they were starting to plump up nicely. Of course, some of the added pounds went straight to their tits. Two of them especially were now swinging some nice pairs of hangers. They spoke far more Turkish by now than I did, but of course, most of the learned words had to do with commands. I doubt that they could have asked where the local library was.
When I entered the room, all the women fell to their hand and knees, with their heads bowed. That gave me the opportunity to walk behind them and do a little inspecting of various orifices. I lightly swatted each girl who wasn't mine across the back with the borrowed whip. "You, you, you and you get over and kneel facing the wall. And you also." I was left with my own four crouched on all fours, tits dangling under them.
With the end of the whip, I reached over and gently chucked it under Jill's chin, causing her to lift her head. "How are you feeling, slavegirl?"
"A girl is… ok, Master," she answered in a low voice. "
"A slavegirl can speak frankly," I said. No answer. I tapped her back with the whip. "Speak!" I demanded. "Tell me about how your days go here."
"A girl is worked hard, Master" she began. I waited. "We… the girls get up early and are made to clean floors and… " She paused with a grimace. "…bathrooms and the kitchen before the girls are allowed to eat. If the work isn't done right, the girls are whipped and given no food." She stopped.
I lifted Peaches head with the whip. "Keep going," I demanded. "What training do you get? Are you used for sex?"
Peaches lowered her head and said, "Yes, Master. At any time during the night or day a girl may be fucked by anyone. A girl is taught to obey commands and how to stand and kneel properly." From the look of her back, and the horizontal stripes, this girl may have had problems following orders. She also looked as though she might be pregnant.
I tapped Madelyn. "How are you punished?"
"A girl can be severely whipped, Master," she said. "Or denied food. Or hung by the wrists for hours."
To Pudding, I asked, "What is the punishment you hate worst?" Maybe I would learn something. Very quietly she replied, "To be put in the cesspool, Master."
Say what? "Explain."
She continued. "If a girl is unsatisfactory, the girl may be thrown in the cesspool and the grate locked. It is deep and the girl will have to hang onto the grate above to keep from sinking into the… " she hesitated, "… piss and shit that is flowing in from above. Then the girl may be thrown into a cage for days without being cleaned. And without a… waste bucket. It is very bad, Master."
Holy shit - literally. That would be a novel training aid, but I probably wouldn't install one in my dungeon. I think I would rather just keep a good old American-style buried septic tank.
After some more questions, I decided that they would probably be glad to get out of that place, wherever they went. It definitely didn't sound like a four star vacation spa.
That afternoon, Ayhan and myself were seated in the auction theater waiting for the action to begin. The potential bidders that were filtering in now were far different than the clientele that I had seen at the last and only other action that I had attended. These men were orders of magnitude wealthier than before. From the garb, they were from all over the middle east. And there were far fewer of them - about seven, not counting their servants and associates.
At the bell of the fourth hour, Tarkan greeted the small crowd in two languages, Turkish and, I assumed, Arabic. Then he turned it over to his barker. The first girl was brought out, very unhappy at being naked in front of a room full of men, although I assumed that she had been in that state for weeks or months. She didn't let her unhappiness interfere with the commands that the barker's assistant gave her. I suspect that she was told what would happen if she did anything untoward, while the distinguished guests were looking her over. And what would happen would no doubt be unpleasant in the extreme. Maybe the cesspool treatment.
The bidding was spirited, but very low key. Finally, she was sold to a sheik-looking customer in the front row. The next girl was brought out. I suddenly noticed that this girl had an identical bandage on her throat that I had seen on the first one. I turned and asked Ayhan about it.
"Those girls have had their vocal cords removed. Sometimes, it is done…" He stopped for a second at my look of disbelief, then began again. "The women who are brought here from places like the Balkans, or Bangladesh, or other primitive locations, usually have no idea where they are. Even if they wanted to try, they would have no idea of how go back to their homelands. Some don't even know what name their country is known by in the rest of the world."
We looked up as the bidding started on the new girl.
He continued, "An educated woman might not know where she is, but would have no trouble telling someone where she was from. She would also know that any building with a foreign flag out front is probably an embassy. However, if she cannot speak, then she becomes just another stray woman who belongs to some man somewhere. It is done quite often."
Holy shit on a shingle, I thought. For all my pretending to now be a sophisticated continental world traveler, I realized that I was still just a rural country boy way out of his league.
Tarkan came back and sat down beside us. Finally, my four came to the box, one at a time. I was glad to see that their throats were free of any bandages. They were greatly admired, from the frequency of the hand raising for bids. First came Pudding. After some low talk with Tarkan, Ayhan pointed at her purchaser and quietly said, "He is an oil dealer from the Iran."
Jill and Madelyn went to a Sheik from Kuwait. They would be together. Maybe they could continue to practice girlie stuff on each other after all.
Peaches went to a rich Turk from Istanbul who had bought one of the earlier women.
Later, Tarken happily settled up with me for the proceeds. The amount that each woman brought was unbelievable. All four girls brought close to a quarter of a million dollars.
On the plane back, I kept wondering just how extensive was the trafficking in female flesh around the world. I had just seen one bit of it, in one city, in one country. And a fairly civilized country, at that. What was it like in the more primitive parts of the world?
When I got back, I already had a puzzling email from Ayhan. In it, he informed me that a very important man wished to have a conference with me at the location of my choice. Of course, Ayhan would not give the man any information without my permission. The message said nothing about what was to be discussed, but that didn't require a great amount of thought. I messaged him back with instructions for a meeting wherever and whenever he wanted. I suggested New York City. I assumed that the location would be a lot easier for a foreigner to find, rather than some remote town in a state he had probably never heard of.
I didn't have any qualms about the request. I trusted Ayhan. Besides, I needed to keep him as a friend in the future instance of my having to haul ass out of my country on a moment's notice. That is also the reason that I kept the balance of my fortune overseas. And had duplicate passports.
Meanwhile, I was enjoying putting Coco through her paces. The girl-boy had a sex drive that made the ordinary teenage male seem like a neuter. She would fuck anything with a hole and could do it several times a day. If I didn't allow her to screw anyone at the moment, she would just as likely go back to her sleeping rack and jack off. She hated the male chastity belt almost as much as the electric prod and it would have her begging for relief inside of one day.
I strapped the boy over the sawhorse rack and had Pancake insert a ball gag. Then I waved to Coco and then just pointed at him. I was wondering if she would be willing to use a male, or if her wants were all for female flesh. I should have known - if I had pointed to a watermelon with a hole she would have started pumping it.
She stepped up behind the boy, wet her large dong, then proceeded to insert it up his bung hole - and not exactly gently. She was fairly large - considerably larger than either the boy or me - and the instant the head began to enter, her target began to thrash and shout around the gag. It was obvious after all these months that he was never going to learn to like the penetration of his bum by a dick. Coco was unconcerned - he could have been shouting death threats or quoting love poetry to her for all she cared. She grabbed hold of his waist with both hands and proceeded to ream his asshole unmercifully. By the time she shot off, the view of her pumping the boy with her large tits bobbing up and down and back and forth got me hard as a rock also. When she backed off and sat down, I stepped up to the now dripping and still open hole and inserted my rod up to my balls. To the sudden amusement of the watching girls, I also grabbed his waist and began to stir his shit till I blew a wad to mix with Coco's.
Coco was being just a little too uppity. She sat there with a self satisfied look on her face as though she had proved something. I told the girls to unstrap the boy, then pointed to Coco and said, "Put her in his place." Shortly, she was bent over and gagged, legs spread, head in the stocks, wrists behind her and attached to a short chain from her collar. I walked around her, reaching down to massage her dangling tits for a while, then motioned to the boy. "Go to it," I invited. "Use any hole you want."
This was too good for him to pass up. With the girls giggling in the background, he walked up behind Coco and stuck one finger in her pussy and another in her asshole and wiggled them around for a while. Then he walked around in front of her, stooped down to look her in the eyes, then lightly squeezed her nipples with both thumbs and index fingers. He looked up at me with a query expression. I nodded and he pinched both hard enough to get a major scream around the gag. With a smile, he moved around to her behind and began to feed his hard dick into her poop chute. Coco had never been used anally or widened and her opening had to stretch considerably to accommodate the boy. Of course, it did, but only to an accompaniment of squalls and squeals from the other end of the hole. I noticed that her usually hard pecker was limp as a wet noodle - she was definitely not finding this to be erotic. But maybe she would show some more consideration next time.
He took his time. The sight of his metal stretched balls swinging back and forth violently and slapping Coco's crack was erotic in itself. Finally, the show was over and I gave Pancake orders to leave her strapped to the rack till bedtime. I would let the boy feed and water her for dinner. And if he wanted to give her something besides water to drink, so be it.
The next morning, while deciding just what I was going to do to which slave today, the driveway alert chimed. Walking over to the monitor on my desk, I could see a car slowing climbing the hillside. I immediately headed down the passageway and up the stairs to intercept whomever would be knocking on my door. Sure enough, I watched a big woman exit her automobile, climb the steps and ring the doorbell.
When I opened the door, she asked, "Mr. Tatum?"
"Yes," I answered.
"My name is Carolyn Standish. One of your clients gave me your address."
WTF and Holy Shit squared, I thought. Some goddamned women has violated every security rule in the book this time. I couldn't believe that any of them would make a screwup like this, after all my warnings. I thought fast and the first item was to find out the entire story of what the hell was going down here.
"Please come in," I offered, stepping back. "I'm following some very important financial news at the moment and I need to be at my computer." She followed me down the hall to my office and took the seat that I indicated. As I sat down, I looked more closely at the woman. She was way overweight, by at least fifty pounds, probably about thirty five years of age. Not grossly flabby, but well on the other side of chubby. She wouldn't be bad looking at all if it weren't for the extra poundage. The tits were very large, but what their size would be if she was of a normal weight I couldn't tell. But she just didn't fit the profile of my usual clientele. I spread my hands and said, "You have me a disadvantage, Ms Standish. Please tell me what you are talking about. What client?"
She smiled. "I understand, Mr. Tatum. "I appreciate that you consider the privacy of your client to be of utmost importance. That is very important to me, also." Meanwhile, under the guise of monitoring something, I had a search daemon started to search on this Ms Standish, with what little data I had - name, car type, license plate, etc. She continued. "Mrs L gave me the information on your services, but it's only now that I have had the nerve to come here."
Mrs. L. Shit! Of course, this woman didn't use the words Mrs L, she used the whole name of my ex-client. It was, of course, Evelyn, aka Cherry Pie - the dumb bitch who almost blew the deal on herself and me, got divorced over it and moved away from the scandal. I wondered what she left behind that was now going to have to be dealt with.
I looked at the woman over steepled hands, glancing at the monitor. Nothing yet - hundreds of Carolyn Standishes but no matches. Something was wrong here. Of course, that didn't have to be her real name. I tried something else, then said, "Continue, please."
"Well, I would like to avail myself of your services. Mrs L said that you had a wonderful regime that she just loved. I can't start today, but next month would be fine. Could you tell me what your fees are?"
By now, my uneasy feeling was developing into a galloping worry. No woman of the financial class that came up here ever gave a damn about what something cost. And if I answered that question, then I was admitting to something that I collected fees for.
"Ms Standish. I am totally confused now. Evelyn and I had an affair a while back, but that was settled with her husband and she moved on." Bingo! Her car was registered to the BG Corporation. Now, what the hell was that? I looked up at the clock. "It's getting late. Would you care to go to dinner where we can discuss this?"
She tried to hide her relief, but I could see that she wanted away from here. Why? "Certainly, Mr. Tatum. May I use your little girl's room for a moment? I walked her out in the hall and pointed.
"Meet me at the front door. I'll step upstairs and put on something a little more decent." In my bedroom, while I was changing out of my dungeon coming and going clothes, i.e. shorts and a polo shirt, I was also on the phone to my bookie, using the phone number for special clients. After requesting some spare no expense info, I went back downstairs and met Mrs Standish. We were soon in my car heading for the city.
An hour later we were seated in an upscale restaurant - at least as upscale as a city at the base of the Ozark mountains can have. This wasn't exactly a midwestern Manhatten. After the waiter delivered our aperitifs, I sat back and began.
"Ms. Standish…" I started. "Please call me Carolyn," she interrupted. "Carolyn, you may think that I have been fencing with you. And I have." I had noticed that she closely examined her wineglass before the waiter poured. I assumed that it must be habit, since nobody on earth knew of my use of certain chemicals in drinks. "Evelyn was a very desirable woman and I like older women." That was totally true. Of course, I also liked women of any age, from puberty to far beyond menopause, so it was only part of the truth. I continued, "She had some different ideas for sex that I am sure she would have never put to her husband. I am sure you know about bondage play."
"Sure. B&D S&M," she acknowledged.
"She loved it and I practiced it on her when ever we met. I had no objection. To me, like most men, sex is sex. But there were no 'fees.'" I took the tiniest drink of wine - I needed all my wits tonight.
"Mr. Tatum. Don't you like the wine? We can get another bottle if that one is unsatisfactory."
I smiled and leaned over in a confidential gesture. "Actually, I only use alcohol as a social prop during conversation." I pointed to my glass. "It acts as a diuretic on me. If I were to drink two glasses of that, we would have to carry on this conversation through the door of the men's room for the next two hours." That was a total lie - probably not the last one I would tell tonight.
I continued, "But as far as the fee you spoke of, this wasn't a monetary transaction as if I were a gigolo or something. She is a very financially well off lady…" Goddamn, I almost said was. "and I have to say that I am exceedingly wealthy. There was no need of payment in either direction." Ok, here goes. "Would you tell me what she told you about our relationship? And what your relationship is with her?"
At that moment our meal came, which was fine with me. It was obvious that she liked alcohol, and I wanted her to have as much as she would drink and for it to have time to work.
She also liked food - of course, anyone looking at her would know that immediately. She spoke between forkfulls, "As far as how we knew each other, we were classmates in college. After that we went our separate ways and only got back together a few years ago." That was total bullshit, I knew, and without any research. Evelyn had gone to an upper crust college for women and showed it. In fact, the Ivy League sheen was so thick that it dripped off of her. This woman, on the other hand, was obviously a product of the public schools. Besides her speech patterns, her manners were totally plebeian. For one thing, she was using her salad fork on her main course, something that Evelyn would have considered heresy.
"She told me, in confidence, of course, about your bondage hotel, and your servicing of rich clients for secretive bondage sessions. That got me excited at the time, and it still does. I finally got up the nerve to come up here and ask for the same thing."
"Hmmmm," I mused. "She really shouldn't have said all that without asking me first. But, I haven't seen her for a while. When did you talk to her last."
Putting down her glass, she replied, "Well, I had lunch with her sometime last year, but I've been really busy and we just haven't connected lately." Gotcha, I thought. Unless you were a guest in Ayhan's bedroom last year, you have just been caught out in another big fat lie. A couple of real liars, us.
I pretended to look around, then said in a low voice, "We really can't set up a session here in public. You need to give me a date when I can meet with you and talk about what you want. There are all kind of B&D sessions, from mild to severe, kinky to far out. I have no idea what kind you want and you may not know either."
"I can call you on the phon…"
"No!" I interrupted. "I do absolutely no business over the telephone. You might as well just take out a newspaper ad for all the security you get over the public airways. In fact, never drive to my establishment again. If you decide on having a bondage session, I will meet you somewhere and drive you to the mountain myself. In fact, when you want to have our first info meeting, I will meet you at a hotel somewhere. The only use of the phone will be to arrange that first meeting. I never bend those rules."
That pretty wrapped up the sex talk of the evening. I refused to discuss it further, except to give her a phone number to call if she wanted to arrange a meeting.
After arriving back on the mountain top, I invited her in for a nightcap, but she wished me goodnight, and left.
Over the next few days, I thought over the events of that evening, but until I got more info there was no use in planning anything. How the hell did she get all her info? Did Evelyn actually tell her? I didn't try to do any further investigating on my own, since I had already contracted for experts to do the digging. By the end of the week, a courier dropped off a thick packet - my bookie, aka my financial advisor and the Big Fixer, if not cheap, was very efficient. And I had never once placed any kind of wager with him.
Before the packet arrived, I didn't have anything but guesses about what Ms Standish's game might be, although I was very sure that she wasn't looking for someone to rope her to a bed and start screwing. But now, the contents of the investigation were very revealing.
She was one half of the BG Corporation - a third rate investigative agency. In movie lingo, she was a private dick, although a long way from the Hollywood version of a hard bitten, whisky drinking introvert with a trench coat and floppy brim hat. She was the Shirley Geoff half of Billings and Geoff, Incorporated. Her partner was much closer to the film reel type - an ex cop, male, let go for excessive drinking and violence in his arrests. They spent most of their time on petty investigations of infidelity for divorce lawyers. Apparently she had been, or still was, an attorney whose practice had not been very lucrative. There was more - much more. Apparently my bookie's hirelings had spread around a considerable amount of my money, because I had just about everything known about her life clear back to the time her tits started growing.
The interesting part was that she had been hired by Evelyn's husband back when she first got into trouble with her "affair" with me. One thing that I couldn't figure out, and there was nothing in my investigation info that would tell me, was that how "Carolyn" had such a detailed knowledge of my operation. I doubted that Evelyn had told her - I certainly couldn't think of a reason why she would have spilled the info.
The only theories that I could formulate at the moment were that… 1. Someone wanted to find out why Evelyn disappeared, or 2. Blackmail. Time would tell, but I began to make my counter plans to handle both possibilities.
At least I knew now that none of my current clients were at fault.
A bombshell came from Stephanie at her next session on the mountaintop. As it turned out, her husband and she had decided on a "temporary" separation for a few months. That was the handwriting on the wall for her marriage - I didn't have the exact statistics of how many separations ended with the couples getting happily back together, but I knew that it was close to asymptotic zero. She would be a free woman in a year or so. I would have to think about that.
Mrs B was not into pain from an external device, like the whip, but she loved extreme restraints and tight harnesses. She requested a locked waist harness with an unremovable dildo fastened into it. She wanted to wear it when away from the mountaintop and be unable to remove it. I nixed that idea, for several reasons, not the least of which was that I knew that after several days of continual penetration by a wiggling plastic object, her pussy canal would be a mass of excruciating sores. She would have to settle for being continually penetrated in both holes while here.
Another client was accepted. Another divorcee - Mrs N. She was one of the unusual ones who actually wanted sex during her sessions. Other than that, she was fairly ordinary - normal bondage and light to moderate pain.
Three days later, the call from "Carolyn" came through to set up a meeting. I gave her the address of our rendezvous location, and we agreed on a time. I warned her not to divulge the information to anyone else, since I didn't want her compromised. Strictly for show, I neither cared nor was afraid of her telling someone. Hanging up the phone, I drove to town to make reservations and certain other arrangements.
She was right on time. I was sitting in the hotel suite, surfing away on my laptop when she entered the room. I acted pleased to see her, which I actually was, and asked her to sit down. She did, but her attitude was not that of a woman planning on entering into a contract of sexual bondage. In fact, it was more like that of an ambulance chasing attorney about to ask for a ridiculous award for a minor injury.
"Did you decide to…" was as far as I got.
"Mr. Tatum," she interrupted. "I didn't come here to play games. This is business."
"Hmmm," I replied. "Maybe I don't want to do business with you. Your attitude doesn't really turn me on."
"Nevertheless, you will hear what I say. Then if you want to leave, it's your choice." I heard the door open behind me, and looked around, already knowing who I would see. Sure enough, her partner stepped into the room, and leaned against the now closed door. He made no threatening action, and didn't even speak, but even so, I knew that the door wasn't going to be opened again until his female partner ok'ed it.
"I have proof that you have been running a gigolo service for wealthy women. When Mrs L had her little affair with you exposed, she was keeping a diary of her… escapades, shall we say. I found it under her mattress when I was looking for… stuff in her bedroom. Fortunately for her, her husband never knew of it's existence. She never actually wrote down directions to your hotel, but from the description she gave many times… well, there aren't so many abandoned hotels on mountaintops that the right one couldn't be found fairly quickly."
She opened her briefcase and pushed some papers over to me. "These are copies of a few pages from her diary. Notice that she describes in detail how appointments are made, how she got to the hotel, the chains, whips, enemas… lots of stuff that would be very interesting to the authorities."
I let her ramble on as I read. Finally she slowed to a stop, somewhat puzzled, I think, at my lack of response. Finally, I decided that since the prosecution had apparently rested, then it was time for my defense.
"Oh, come on Carolyn, " - she still hadn't mentioned her correct name - "…yes, Evelyn and I had quite an affair. And she loved bondage, but so do a lot of women. She told me that her marriage was over and I believed her." No response. "As far as your other ridiculous accusations, the idea that I was running a hotel bordello on the mountaintop is, well, just that - ridiculous. Something like that would probably last about two weeks before the locals noticed what was going on. I have had women up there. Quite a few. It's is a fact that I like women." I needed a drink from my glass of now watered down soda. Then I went on.
"And as far as her diary, what you have is the runaway fantasies of a sex crazed woman." That goddamned Evelyn! Keeping a diary! Shit! She could thank her lucky stars that she was about twelve thousand miles away. If could get hold of her, I would literally nail her to the wall of the dungeon and whip her skin off.
I continued, "I mean look at this - " I pushed a page of the copied diary across the table. "She describes an entire computer network connecting dozens of women with this alleged bondage parlor. They pass encrypted messages and look at a catalog of sexual routines that they then order from home." I put on an expression of incredulous disbelief. "For one thing, it's a matter of record that my house and the hotel before it had and has absolutely no access to the Internet. The only way I have it now is through a satellite service and that is totally inadequate for this sex communications network she describes." I hoped I was sounding sincere.
She leaned forward over the table. "There is also the fact that she has disappeared, totally, along with her money. And the friend who got her started with you has also vanished. In fact, she discussed the fact that she feared that women who caused trouble or got into trouble with you might never go home again."
Again, my look of disdain. "So not only am I running a female sex shop, but I kill my clients and dispose of them at will. Where? In shallow graves all over the mountain? Have you ever tried to dig a six foot hole in an Ozark mountaintop? Dynamite may do it but a shovel won't. And I don't have a license to buy high explosives." I leaned forward close to her face, then backed up a bit when I heard a rustling behind me. No need to get the ersatz Sam Spade excited. Fisticuffs was not my long suite. "Lets cut to the chase here. What do you want?"
"One million dollars." She waited for a second to see if I would explode or something. "For that you get the diary, all of our field notes, including the ones we made in the original adultery investigation, and we disappear from the case. A million is nothing to you. An investigation for missing women is." A million wasn't much to me now. But I wasn't such a country rube that I didn't realize that after that million had been spent on booze and gambling, that they wouldn't be back for more.
I looked incredulous. "You want me to give you a million dollars for a woman's fantasies, and some work notes for something that wasn't even a crime?" So far, everything had gone pretty close to what I had assumed would happen, in the case of this turning out to be blackmail, which of course it was. Except that is, for the startling information about that dumb broad and her diary. But my next move was far more uncertain and I was hoping that it wasn't going to wind up with me broken in half by her partner. I was playing to two audiences, so even my words had to be correct. I jumped to my feet. "This is bullshit. From my knowledge of the law, blackmail is a far worse crime than shagging a rich female without her husband's permission." I turned around and began to move rapidly toward her pug ugly bodyguard. "Get out of my way. I've heard enough."
I was on high alert and with a quart of adrenaline pumping through my veins. Nonetheless, I barely got my open hand up before his fist hit it and my face like a ton of bricks. My interposing hand prevented anything in my face from breaking, but I still flew across the room, against the wall and slid down to the floor. There was a deafening explosion that I, even in my stunned state, recognized as a gunshot. I didn't feel it hit me, but I assumed that I would in a short while, maybe, if I was still here to feel it. But, instead of angelic or satanic voices, the next thing I heard was "Mr. Tatum. Are you OK?" As my eyes began to refocus from multiple comets and stars, down to only double vision, I recognized the sheriff kneeling over me. Then I noticed the woman flat on the floor with a deputy's foot planted squarely in her back, and not particularly softly.
I moved my jaw back and forth, and my neck up and down and decided that they both were still connected to my head. That only left the bullet hole and I began to look up and down trying to find it. I suddenly stopped when I noticed the body laying on the floor. A body that had a close resemblance to the male partner of the blackmail team. Then I suddenly realized, with massive relief, that the bullet was received by him.
The sherif helped me to my feet, then back to the chair at the table. "Jeez, Mr Tatum. What were you trying to do? We had the situation under control. In another minute or so they would have been in cuffs."
I shook my head to clear it. Another definite mistake since it tried to fall off, or felt like it was going to. "I don't know. I was so mad I just wasn't thinking." Another lie. I knew exactly what I had tried to do. If both were hauled off to jail on just blackmail charges, even in this conservative state they would have been back on the street with minor bail before nightfall. But, if I could goad the man into some assault and battery, that would be a whole different set of charges. It seemed to be a good idea at the time, but I never planned on gunfire coming into the act. In retrospect, I should have remembered that I was an expert on computers, pussy and whips - not on law enforcement field work.
I looked down at the remains of "Carolyn's" partner. I was about to ask a stupid question, like "Why did you shoot him?" when the sheriff anticipated me.
He pointed to a massive pistol in the corner of the room. "See that? When he knocked you down, he yanked that out from under his jacket and started to point it at you. Maybe he was just going to try to put the fear of god into you, but we couldn't take the chance. When we heard you hit the wall, Bill opened the door, saw the pointed gun, and plugged him."
Sumbitch, I thought. At least my plan of having the sheriff hidden, listening from behind the door to the adjoining suite worked. But next time, I would farm the operation out to professionals. If I wanted to see this kind of stuff again, I would buy a DVD.
A couple of hours later, the formalities of the law were finally over, and I excused myself saying that I was going to check in with my doctor to make sure that nothing was out of place in my head. I also expressed my fulsome gratitude for the work of the local sheriff's department and assured them that I would shortly express it in a far more physical way than just words. Then I got in my car and drove like hell over the state line for the big city and my bookie's place of business. I needed to spend a lot more money, and spend it fast.
In an hour and a half, I was laying out my needs and stressing the need for speed on the first item. Then it was back home to to familiar territory and nursing to my now swelling face.
In a few days, a panel truck pulled up to my house with a delivery of several plain boxes. I hauled them to my dungeon office and went through them item by item. These were the contents of the BG Corporation's office. Fortunately, the wheels of law enforcement turn fairly slowly, and my "contractors" got there before them. To my relief, not only did the boxes contain the files about me and Evelyn, but also the incriminating diary. It made interesting reading, but I got the shakes every time I thought of this document showing up in some court.
Shirley, aka Carolyn, was arraigned and given a bond of fifty thousand dollars. There was little chance of her making a bail of that much money since the state required the entire amount, but some unknown soul put up the money and she was released. A week later, the sheriff arrived at my house with the news that she had apparently skipped town.
"That is one stupid bitch, " he commented. "She was looking at a year or so at the most, before. Now the judge is going to throw away the key when she is hauled back in." I pretended to worry if she might be looking to get even. "Nah," he said. "She isn't that type, besides it would do her no good at all if something happened to you. All it would do is get her a cell for life, instead of a few years." He shook his head. "Nope, she will try to disappear in some city far away, but that kind always turns up eventually after a mistake. We know she doesn't have a passport, so she can't leave the country. Or, if she does, she will wind up in a jail a lot worse than mine."
Eventually, the sheriff's department received funds for three brand new, high end, fully equipped patrol cars. The money was given anonymously, but, of course, the source of the funds was known by the members of the small office.
Shirley/Carolyn was never was caught. I could have predicted that, since she had been delivered to my house in the trunk of a car two nights after she posted bail, bound and with a sack tied over her head.
What goes around, comes around.
Some things that are round, get rounder.
End of Book 3
Copyright© 2011 by Morlock. All rights reserved.