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7
Cole
"Ineed information on Judge Cynthia MacPherson, and on Judge Dane Billings," I told my researchers. "Background, time off, vacations, what they drive, where they go when they're not at work, who they're seeing, especially if they're not seeing anyone. Have they ever been written up or whatever the judicial thing is."
"Censure, I think," April said. She was young, Asian, tiny in a compact and organized kind of way. She had a mind like a steel trap and used some of it to remember very dirty jokes.
"We're also looking over the relationship between each judge and all police departments in the Valley," Scott said. He was my chief of security, a big, hulking, almost redhead who gave Annie the shudders just looking at him. She hadn't said anything. I'd just seen it. I was planning to make her strip in front of him one day when I knew he was on camera and she knew it but he wouldn't know it was for him. I'd seen him look at her, and knew he found her beautiful. She was. But just undressing her with him present would embarrass him.
I wanted to embarrass her.
But not until she came back from her undercover. It was coming up in less than a week as October moved inexorably toward November. I wasn't looking forward to her going in. She'd be marked, a tracker implanted, but things can malfunction, too thick of concrete and steel can block signals, and when you care about somebody, suddenly everything you'd have watched just because it made sense was everything you watched because fear and paranoia said if you didn't, the person you cared for would pay the price.
Cared for. I bought Annie Knox from a bad cop and used her as a human guinea pig for a rainforest opiate cure I was 99 percent certain would work. She'd refused to believe I owned her and I'd put together a contract that I made her sign so that she got the treatment in return for my getting to make her my sub.
Even after that she left me more than once, heading to California or back to Washington state, coming back when need was bad or when my life was threatened by a psychopath with a violent hatred for both of us.
Now Scott was telling me how we could keep Annie safe. The very fact that even as he spoke the voice in my head demanded, What if it doesn't work? Spelled out the trouble I was in. Annie Knox was just under my roof and sometimes in my bed.
She was taking up residence in my heart, and I didn't know how I felt about that.
I ran her the next morning. Sometimes we ran together at dawn, companionably racing each other and falling back to work on endurance rather than speed. Other times I pushed her, coached her, forced her to run faster or farther than she thought she could. Usually it was faster. As if was she had the endurance to do an ultramarathon if she wanted.
This morning I just wanted to be out in the desert with her. This was something we did together, even if I was sometimes her master rather than her training partner.
There'd be no enemas this morning, no forced breakfast she didn't like. There'd be a maintenance spanking, because anything else would freak her out, and probably me, too. Annie was assuming her cover the next day, which would require going to her classes in part dressed as her undercover persona. It seemed unlikely her classmates wouldn't notice some of the changes. That seemed a risk, but one she insisted she was willing to take, mostly because she wasn't willing to miss going to her criminal justice classes at UNLV.
"How far are we going?"
She wasn't even breathing hard. "Until you're panting," I told her.
She grinned. "Shouldn't we be somewhere else for that? Sir?"
I laughed at her. She was light and happy in the cool morning. I refused to believe it was because she would be away from me within the next day or so, but rather that she was happy to be doing her work again, as she saw it.
"Run faster, little girl. Or I'll find a nice stick and take your shorts right off you." It wasn't an idle threat. The desire to have her over my knee without giving her any pleasure in the process was growing. Something to remind her who was boss and something to remind her what to come back to.
Instead of running faster, she danced in place for a minute. "Don't push me," I warned, but I was laughing and she heard it. Next second she turned and ran, setting the pace, heading back away from the compound. I didn't know how long we'd been out and running. She had more endurance than I did. I watched her ass moving under the silky shorts with appreciation and followed.
Cook brought in fish, because I could, but it was centrally served and so was bacon and strawberries, croissants and eggs, orange juice and coffee. Under a special silver platter cover there was a special treat.
"Pop-Tarts!" She couldn't have sounded more amazed if she'd pulled off the cover and found fairies. "You're the best!"
I smiled. "You can have them in just a minute."
Her smile didn't falter but her eyebrows went up. "Sir?"
I pushed back from the table and patted my lap. "Shorts and panties down. Not off. Maintenance time."
She swallowed and I could see easily on her face that places she didn't look. At the camera pointed directly at the table from across the room. At the swinging door that separated dining room from cook's domain of kitchen. We'd done this before, but with guards she knew and never with a cook still serving.
"I'm waiting," I said. "Three. Two."
Annie shot out of her chair and circled the table to stand beside my chair. I noticed she went the long way around and smiled to myself. It was a long table but it still only bought her a few seconds before the pain and humiliation would start.
"Sir?"
The question caused me to stand, move my chair farther back from the table, and turn it so her naked ass would be pointed at the camera.
