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"Take off the cloak."
She instantly colored and looked around the room. The cook was here, and a maid who was serving. Security was right outside the open door.
"Annie."
"Sir?"
"Did I ask you to inventory the room?"
Her color deepened. She untied the cord at the neck and let the cloak fall over the back of the chair.
"No. Stand up, fold up the cloak, put it on the chair next to you, sit down and keep your legs open wide."
She did as she was told and sat back down, legs over the sides of her chair. I bent and looked under the table at her shining sex, came up smiling. "I haven't forgotten you need a shave."
She mumbled a yes, sir I couldn't quite argue with, and blushed an even deeper shade of red.
"Tell me the rest."
Because we had down the part where she got sent to the judge – it seemed logical and even if it wasn't exactly what would happen something close to it would. One way or another, she'd go before a judge like Conway and things would fall into place.
Over the salad we'd talked about what if he didn't come on to her and came to the conclusion it didn't matter. Not every judge who rotated into such cases was going to be a part of trafficking. Not every judge who was would be interested in every girl. They were obviously moving cautiously. And not every one of those that were part of it would want to fuck her or get sucked off by her. Some would just see her as a commodity.
That had made me angry enough that I'd taken her over my lap, rearranged the cloak she'd been wearing then, and paddled the hell out of her ass while she kicked and protested. Then I got her a second helping of fish, the one she was still arguing with. With, not about. Because she appeared to be swearing at it.
Her other question had been if she was sent directly from a holding facility she wouldn't have time for a wire, which didn't bother her like it did me – she was determined to do more than bring down an outside player. She wanted to get taken into the ring itself. But she was worried about having to show up in just some old outfit.
"You could dress like a pop starlet threw up on you every day," I suggested.
She stuck her tongue out at me and added, "Sir."
I just laughed. "It doesn't matter what you're wearing, Annie Knox, you could be sexy in granny panties."
She looked stricken. "Please don't make me prove it!"
"When?" I asked "How soon do you want to do this?"
Annie looked up and instinctively crossed her arms over her chest. I'd deal with that later. "This week? As soon as possible. I'm thinking with the disappearance of Conway they might be looking at getting what they can and moving on."
I hadn't thought of that and told her so. I called for the cook to come in and take the plates and in between the first load and the second I told Annie to put her arms down. She blinked and did so, coloring again as the maid and cook cleared the table.
When the table was cleared, I said, "Before you went undercover for PD, did they give you a physical?"
Her eyes flashed to mine, her mouth opening, and for once she went pale instead of red. "No. No, of course not, half the people who were in the communities I became part of were –"
"Annie." I said it softly and she stopped at once. "You're lying to me."
She dropped her gaze. "Yes, sir. Only, please. Please don't. Please."
Because that was truly one of the things she couldn't adjust to. Not that I wanted her to. Anything that became commonplace lost its ability to hurt and humiliate. "Up on the table," I said. "On your back. Legs tented. And open. Hands under your head. Let's go, Annie. You don't want to make me wait."
But she dropped to her knees in front of me, head bowed, heels up, on her toes and her hands tight behind the back of her head, one of the hardest stress positions for her. "Please, sir."
I didn't touch her, because real anger rather than pretend was starting to rise. I'd been through enough med school before changing to pharma to do a simple physical and to humiliate the fuck out of my sub as I did.
"On the table, Annie. Don't make me tell you again."
She was crying as she did.
