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"Amazing timing, any longer and I might have been fucking Lucy!"
"As if!"
"Excuse me, Missy? Kneel, stress position 1, don't move."
Laughter and the slap of a hand on bare buttocks.
The pony girl was on the table again, stretched out on her stomach, her tail being tugged by a man who warned her not to let it slip out of place. Not hygienic, but none of us were there for the food.
"Cole, however did you?"
"Please believe me, Robert, it wasn't my idea."
One of the other billionaires sent his girl over to give me a blow job or to take her to the St. Andrew’s cross, or pretty much anything I wanted that didn't cause lasting harm but hurt like hell. Or didn't hurt. He was that impressed. I indulged her and her Master to the point of screaming three times, twice for screaming orgasms at the end of a riding crop and once simply screaming until she broke into sobs. I stopped then, because the anger rose too quickly.
I had enjoyed her, though. The offer came from her Master because for a few minutes, everyone with their identities, their social and corporate lives on the line, had been shocked out of whatever boredom generally plagued them.
I felt it myself. The thrill of knowing my rights, of having a lawyer on speed dial who would have taken my call no matter what time of day or night or what day of the week or what major holiday. He owed me. It was through me that Keith had found the wife who was undoubtedly lying chained to the bedpost beside him. The fact that he was a damned good lawyer was just luck of the draw.
There'd been a thrill with the cops there. There'd been the game of figuring out how much we could refuse, not to mention what the holy hell they thought they were going to arrest anyone for. There'd been the moment of thinking that someone had brought an underage girl to the party, but once they ran her name through DMV and checked her driver's license, there wasn't much more for the police to do. Except leave.
In business, there's negotiation and if you're super rich and know the law where you're practicing and know what you want and where you'll compromise (nowhere) and where you won't (everywhere; why should I?) eventually it's not so thrilling.
In owning a slave, or training a sub, there's negotiation. There's knowing how hard you can push, how much you can hurt, how far you can break them down before building them back up is not healthy but mandatory, then stopping before that point. It's knowing if you can display them, expose them, humiliate them, spank and crop and birch and cane them and when they'll reach a point that no amount of signed agreements will remind them they negotiated their way into this and agreed.
How far you can push them before they walk out the door and back to Seattle and from there, to whatever college they choose.
The biggest thrill, the one that sent hot stabs of pain and delirium through me as if I were dreaming, was having Annie run into the room hard on Scott's heels. She didn't even know him. I'd replaced security completely after she left. Whatever she said to him, it got her through their protocol in time to make a huge difference.
Then there was the unfortunate thought that someone had set this up. Someone had gone to the DA's office with enough fake information that this seemed like an illegal gathering. Drugs or underage girls or prostitutes hired within Vegas City limits. There'd been that moment of thinking the pony girl might be what tripped us all up.
There'd been a moment of wondering if Annie had put her career on the line to warn me.
It didn't have to be about me. There was one state senator and another who was running for state senate among our group. Politics loves to find strange bedfellows and use the proof of them against the candidates they don't want to see in office.
And there had been Annie. While all the conversation raged around me I'd talked with her and with Scott in a corner of the kitchen. The other guests were either too excited about the raid to interrupt us or aware I'd need to talk to my chief of security.
No one questioned who Annie was or where she'd come from. Probably at first they simply assumed I had a female security. Why not? Be handy for other appetites.
I got the same story from her I'd gotten when she burst in. She was part of a study group with a kid named James who was interning at the DA's office.
Only it sounded like James was a little older than the average student. I didn't quite like how she said his name.
It only hit me on the second pass through her story that she was going to school here in Las Vegas. She had enrolled at UNLV.
I had let her go with as much good grace and as full a heart as I could manage. Letting her go with a full bank account was easy. Letting her go with that full heart and grace had been more difficult.
Annie Knox wasn't my usual sub. If I had such a thing. Over the years I'd had contractually bound women at my service and I'd had those I'd forced into situations they couldn't hope to win, only to serve out their time with me. The challenge of making someone face up to their most secret desires appealed. If at first it was non consensual – it actually never was. There was always the moment when they could stand up and refuse. The moment when they could make the decision to demand to be released.
They rarely did. I was good at choosing from those who hadn't yet acknowledged very real desires.
Not once had one of those women been one who didn't have the underlying requisite – the love of pain, the craving to be controlled, the longing to be punished and owned and used. And in some cases objectified.
Except with Annie. She hadn't yet accepted her nature and my surprise was that I loved her fight. I loved that I said kneel and eight times out of ten she knelt and the ninth time she argued and the tenth she might shout. It made me angry. It made me wonderfully furious and ready to punish, to turn her ass a nasty red and humiliate her in a number of different ways.
Watching all the while as something inside Annie bloomed from that behavior.
I'd bought her because I wanted to test the opiate rainforest cure.
