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A Field of Candles by LongDarkRoad Chapter 13 The Dark Paths Of Duplicity

A Field of Candles

By LongDarkRoad

Chapter 13 The Dark Paths of Duplicity 

”Seventeen.” Slap! “Eighteen.” Olivia Sheffield was delivering blows with a wooden paddle on the brown but now also reddened, round and lovely ass of Rosalind Kane. Kane was making sounds but her gag of panties and construction tape muffled them. Tears, that had started around, ‘seven!’, had now pooled below her face, which was inches from the floor as she was bent over a wooden crate. Slap! “Nineteen.” Slap! “Twenty.”

Sheffield put the paddle on the nearby desk and lifted Kane by her hair, untying her wrists and hauling her to kneel before Doukas. They were back in London and back in Kane’s office; apparently Thomas Hardy was wrong, you can go home again.

After settling Kane, Sheffield took her paddle and with a nod to her boss, left. Doukas gently peeled off the tape and removed the sodden panties, then handed Kane a tissue. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose and looked up at the man, then looked away.   

Doukas began, in his mellow voice. Today, he was almost priest-like; quiet and serious. “We all make mistakes, Miss Kane. And we pay for them; do you agree?” Kane, her ass stinging, nodded her head. “And then we try to do better, yes?” Kane nodded again. “Good, we are in agreement.” Doukas then stood and unzipped his fly, then produced his hardened cock. Kane did not resist. She just shut off her mind and let Doukas use her mouth to masturbate with.

Today; however, was different. After a few moments, Doukas withdrew his penis and turned Kane around, still on her knees, and had her face away from him. He brought her hands around and tied them again behind her. “Please don’t spank me.” she blurted out, her ass still tender.

“I am not going to spank you, Miss Kane. That is my assistant’s, um, specialty.” He chuckled darkly. “No,

but I do have a question for you?”

“Y-yes?” Kane offered, tentatively.

“Do you remember our first time,” Kane could hear Doukas opening his briefcase.

“Yeah, um, yes.”

“I asked you about our relationship, you to me. What was the answer.”

Kane pondered and then it came to her. Of course, “You, um, said that you…own my, um, arse.” She spoke quietly, and then became alarmed, as she felt Doukas applying some gel to her asshole.

“Wh-what are you doing?” She could not hold the question in, but Doukas responded by slapping her ass, and she cried out.

“I do not intend to spank you Miss Kane, unless you annoy me, understand?”

“Ye-yes. Yes.”

“Good. Yes. I own your…arse, and I will make that point now.” Kane could feel the head of Doukas’s penis pressing on her asshole. No, no, no, she thought, but slowly, with the help of the gel, Doukas’s fat erection was soon in, to its five inch length, making Kane feel very uncomfortable. She had never had anal intercourse and this was not pleasant, at least not at the start.

In a few minutes, Doukas’s stomach and thighs were slapping rhythmically against Kane’s ass, and she was grunting. Once he was fucking her, it actually felt odd, but okay: but she felt degraded. Humiliated. It seemed to take him longer this way than the other, but in a few moments, he called out and slammed hard against Kane’s buttocks; holding her by the waist and keeping her against him. Then he slumped down onto her back for a moment.

After a brief rest, he extricated himself and she heard him, likely using her panties to clean himself. He then untied her wrists. She could hear his footsteps, leading away; then the door open; then close.

Then she was alone; she stayed, her face against the floor, her eyes closed. Son-of-a-bitch, she thought.

Fucking son-of-a-bitch.


Nicole was looking through Geneva’s laptop. Geneva was ‘on loan’ to a lesbian friend of Nicole’s who liked dominating MILF’s. Nicole still enjoyed Geneva, but it was like all the relationships she had been through, with the exception of Amara who lit a spark that had not previously been lit; Nicole eventually grew tired. But like Susan, Nicole still felt something for Geneva; she liked her and felt a responsibility for her; so she would find her other avenues of pleasure.

Today Geneva would be with Mrs. James for the day; she would have her ass paddled and she would end on her knees pleasuring the woman; and then she would come home; and maybe Nicole would make use of her, but only if she wanted to, not because she needed her.

What was interesting to Nicole on Geneva’s laptop were the photos of her daughter, Sophie. A striking, tall, dark-haired (took after Peter, not Geneva) athletic girl. Her nose was too prominent for the girl to be considered beautiful, but Nicole liked what she saw. This was the kind of girl, age-wise certainly, that got Nicole’s motor running. She would like to find out more.


Rosalind entered the pub and squinted; it was dimly lit; but of course, as a pub it had been standing for over two hundred years, so it could be allowed its eccentricities. Kane made her way to the back, where she met up with an old and dear friend of her father’s; one of his sketchier ‘blokes’; a fellow who had done prison time and knew both sides of the legal system; as well as some notoriously bad dudes. And he was someone she had known pretty much her whole life.

“Oh, blimey, would you look a’ this. It’s been bloody ages and you are a sight,“ Alastair Stewart exclaimed,

standing up and giving Kane a hug.

“Hello, Uncle Ally. Thank you so much for seeing me.”

After they had some drinks brought and got past the gossip, Kane became serious. “I need to ask you something, and I really need you to hear me out, Ally.” She said, looking across at her companion.

“Righty, gul, have at ‘er. Y’know I’ll do me best.” He raised his pint glass.

Kane sat silently for a moment; she knew this was a road very hard to turn back from once you were on it. “Do you still know any, um…hit men? I mean serious guys who will take someone out for cash.”

‘Uncle’ Ally just stared. It was not the question he was expecting.


In the Paris offices of Dionysus, the distinguished gentleman felt his private phone vibrate; he answered with irritation. “Yes. He’s done what? When? Damn.”


Dani and Nicole were the last ones left at their table, as the clock moved toward eleven; Friday night or not, everyone else had left.

“So how come you’re still hangin’ babe; what’s with the faithful Lucas?” Nicole asked; they had ordered one final round and the two drinks were just being placed before them.

“Lukey is in Boulder?” Nicole sipped her draft beer.

“Oh my lord, and no announcement was made that Dani was loose on the town?” Nicole teased. They laughed and then each had a sip of their beverage.

“Hey, Nick. How’s things goin’ with Mrs. Peter. Good thing the boss has been stationed in jolly ol’ England, hey?” Dani smirked.

“Yeah, that worked out well. Geneva is lovely. We have had fun, but we’re not getting married or anything. Um,

she and Peter, keep this between us, hey, have a pretty lame marriage. She needed some serious lovin’ and it’s been good.” They sat quietly again.

“Okay, Nick, and don’t get weird here, but I want to know somethin’.” Dani began, with hesitation.

Nicole looked at her assistant, “Yeah, what?”

“Promise you won’t get weird.”

“Yeah, yeah, what are you on about? Spill it. How will I know if I’ll get weird? You’re bein’ weird.”

Dani laughed. “Okay.” She paused. “Okay. Um, what does, um, pussy, uh, taste like?”

Nicole almost fell off her chair. “What the Hell? Dani, you little girl-girl. What does it taste like? And of course you ask the resident muff-muncher.”

“Well, who else would I ask. An’ don’t tell me it tastes like chicken.”

“Ha!” Nicole spat out. “You know, there is a way to find out for yourself.” Nicole smiled.

“C’mon, c’mon, just tell me, I don’t need to find out for myself.”

“Lookit, I can’t turn you lesbo or anything. You have a man; you just wanna know something. Sooooo, come with me and find out. C’mon Dani, why not?”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Come into the ladies with me. C’mon, I dare you, And then you’ll know what all the fuss is about.”

“You’re daring me?”

“I am. Come on.” Nicole finished her wine. “Come on, bitch.” Nicole grasped Dani’s hand, and they headed for the washroom.

“Nicole, wait, Slow down. Nicole.” Dani protested, but not all that strongly; there was a part of her that was, interested.

They were at the door to the restroom and Nicole charged through, a big grin on her face, and hauled Dani to the far stall. “Nick. Nicole, N…” Dani wailed, but not loudly. Nicole however was determined.

Once inside the stall, she forced the slightly smaller girl against the cubicle wall and kissed her, Dani kissed her back. Then Nicole lifted up her own skirt and pulled down her nylons and panties, before sitting on the toilet. She pulled Dani down to the floor and brought the dark girl’s face between her legs, with minimal resistance. Dani’s mouth fastened on Nicole’s sex and she began to suck.

“Oh, Jesus, Dani-girl, that is nice. Oh, yeah. Oh, shit….”


Nils Woodford, one of the five directors of Dionysus International, was agitated; one could tell, as he was drumming his fingers impatiently as he awaited his connection. After what was only a moment, Grant Shillings came on. “Where were you, in Dubai?” Woodford complained.

“Keep your woollies on, Nils. I do have other callers. So what’s this about an emergency meeting?”

“Doukas has something up his sleeve; why else would he summon us to London for December fifth?”

“Hmmm. Only a week away. What do you think?” Shillings, the younger of the two, asked.

“I’m not sure but I don’t like it. I’ll be in touch with Carstairs and Gryba this afternoon. You need to reach Bard.”

“Yes, I have a call in to him now.”

“I don’t like it,” Woodford whined.

“So you said.”


Nicole Martin entered the van der Strom offices and cast a quick glance at Dani Flood, apparently hard at work at the reception desk. Dani though looked up with a quick glance, then a wink and a kiss. With a smile on her face, Nicole continued on down to the new (albeit small) office she had just moved into. After settling her things, she buzzed Dani down. The girl entered in a rush. “Nicole, you can’t start….” But Martin silenced her with a powerful kiss and the two stood in embrace.

Dani tried again, “Nicole, please, we need to; no, Nicole stop; oh, God, Nick. Ummmmm.” At this point Nicole had her pants down and was grinding Dani’s face into her crotch.

“Lick me, Dani, and don’t stop. I’ve been thinking of your mouth since Saturday morning.” Dani buried her face in the musky but delightful shaved ribbons of flesh of Nicole’s pussy, lapping furiously. Suddenly Nicole’s phone buzzed to life and Dani sat up straight.

“God, Nicole, you are something. I have to get back. See you.” They kissed, with Nicole quickly licking her juices from Dani’s face. She then turned to her cell.


“Hey, Ducks,” Alistair wheezed into the phone. He didn’t own a cell but he somehow always managed to find a phone when he needed one.

“Uncle Ally,” Rosalind replied. “So what have you come up with?”

“Now, my dear, you are really serious about this? Um serious serious?”

“Deadly serious, Alastair. If I don’t get this guy out of my life, I am not sure how long I can go on.”

Alastair was silent for a moment, deep in thought. He didn’t mind doing a job here and there for a quick score, but contract murder, even in his sketchy life; was a big, big deal. “Ok, let’s forget about how dodgy this is and talk, um, fee, aw’right? This is a bomb, luv, a big fucking (‘scuse me) bomb; can you handle somethin’ like this?”

“How big a bomb we talking, Uncle Ally?”

Another pause. “Twenty thousand quid, ducks.”

Alastair’s voice rose, as this sum of money was beyond  him.

Kane paused. This didn’t surprise her, she sort of had an idea, and of course for her now it wasn’t as much of a ‘bomb’ as it would have been just two months ago.

“Agreed,” she said quickly.

There was a pause. “Well, I’m gobsmacked, luv. I am, and that’s the truth. I guess I’ll need to see a man about a dog, now, won’t I?”


Monday, December fifth in London started out below freezing but with some thin sun breaking through the overcast. The day, for some, would turn out sunny.

Louis Doukas came into the expensively furnished board room of Dionysus International’s London office, in the heart of the financial district. The room was done in blue/grey shades; all the chairs were blue leather and the board room table was dark, almost black, mahogany.

Around that table sat five individuals, four men and one woman. A few feet from the table was a small desk where the efficient looking Ms. Kasmir sat, her laptop open and ready to take minutes. Behind Ms. Kasmir’s petit, black clad form was a side board with coffee, tea, scones, butter tarts and bran muffins as well as the usual fresh cream, real butter and genuine strawberry jam.

Accompanying Doukas were the determined looking Olivia Sheffield and the mild mannered but now alert Peter van der Strom. Doukas handed Sheffield his Himalayan fur overcoat and sat at the head of the table, van der Strom to his left; Elena Kasmir just slightly behind and to his right. Sheffield, after getting Doukas his coffee, seated herself on the blue leather couch against the wall, where she could see and react to her boss.

The five seated around the table were the Chair, Nils Woodford and the other directors: Grant Shillings, Emma Carstairs, Paulos Gryba and Bradley Bard. Shillings at forty was the youngest; Bard at seventy, the oldest.

“Good morning, everyone,” Doukas began in his mellowest of voices. “Kindly excuse the urgency of my request, but as council has confirmed (a brief nod to van der Strom) it is within the rights of the CEO to make such a request.” He paused and looked around the table, like a father with his charges, albeit one was several years his senior.

Woodford cleared his throat and began in his nasally way. “Understood, Mr. Doukas. You have the chair for this meeting (slight bow of the sleek greying head; he looked somewhat like Doukas’s younger brother, were he to have one). Please proceed.” He paused, looking like he had eaten something unpleasant. The remaining board members looked as if their chairs were uncomfortable; all but Bard, who seemed to be enjoying this.


Amara was in the shower when she heard her cell, “Damn! Why does that always happen…” She managed to get to the device on the fourth ring, standing and dripping water from her lanky frame onto the tiles of her bathroom. “Yes,” she answered.

“Catch you doing something?” Gilad’s dark voice asked.

“Yeah, I was in the shower, spy man. I would think you would know such things.” She replied.

“Oh, so now you think we watch women in the shower, hmmmm. I would not object, but no, that is not on our program.”

“Yeah, right. What’s up?”

“Well, anything you have noticed with Mr. Doukas?”

“No, but then I have not seen much of him for a while. I think he’s been busy with riding herd on his corporation. Who knows, but I have not been in the loop. What have you heard?”

“Well, my bosses are incensed by the string of sales that we know he was involved in; it’s almost like he was targeting Jewish art. I have not seen the document, but my understanding is that they have put out a termination order on him.”

Amara stood, naked and still for several moments. “A kill order? Holy shit.” They paused.

“Enjoy your shower, Am. Not too much with the attachments, ok.” Gilad laughed.

Amara laughed back, “Which attachments would that be, Gil, I have several, including two penis-shaped ones.”

Gilad laughed loudly, “Two? Why two?”

“Come on, you know. A large one, black of course, and my much smaller Jewish model.”

“Oh you bitch.” Gilad laughed, “I owe you for that, but then you’ve never seen me, so of course you wouldn’t know.”

They both laughed.


Doukas was smiling. He looked a little like the Cheshire Cat. “So, we have a shareholders meeting coming up very soon, and I believe there is some, um, issue with…my leadership.” Doukas paused and looked around; only Bard met his gaze. Sheffield sat with a small smile on her face as well. Van der Strom simply watched, hoping he would not be called upon to resolve any multi-million dollar disputes.

“The leadership of a company I founded and have built, with some assistance I grant you, to a significant position. But, I understand, it is the directors’ job to direct. So, you shall. Anyone present wish to make a motion regarding the current CEO?” The silence in the room was, as they say, deafening, with only the soft tapping of Kasmir’s fingers to be heard.

Woodford cleared his throat again and appeared to steel himself for a daunting task. “All respect, Mr. Doukas, but the board feels that a new hand needs to be upon the rudder, so to speak, as we navigate this changing world. Nothing lasts forever, sir, and too often companies are afraid of making change; of letting go of the past and embracing the future.”

Doukas tapped his hand on the table in a clapping gesture, “Well said, well said, Mr. Woodford. I understand and, thus, applaud your sentiments. And your course of action?”

Woodford cleared his throat again, glanced at Kasmir and began, “I move, seconded by Grant Shillings, that Louis Doukas be removed from the role of CEO.”

If Doukas was alarmed, he did not show it. If he was angry, it was not evident; he was, in fact, cool and calm; Woodford looked at him.

Doukas spoke, “Hearing the motion, I would ask if there is anyone to speak to it?” The tap-tapping of the laptop was again the only sound. Doukas continued, “Seeing no indication of discussion, I would call the question. However, as a point of privilege, and I believe this holds (he looked at van der Strom, who smiled) that I may request a secret ballot. Yes?”

Van der Strom nodded, and there was slight fidgeting from Shillings; Woodford had on his poker face.

Doukas turned to Kasmir, “Dear Elena, would you please prepare some ballots; there is paper in that drawer and everyone has pens.”

Kasmir retrieved the paper, tearing three sheets carefully in half, and passing them out.

“So, you only need to write in favor or not in favor on your papers. Then please fold the paper in half and place in the middle of the table.” The tension was palpable as the directors marked their ballots, and carefully folded them. When all were ready, they tossed the slips on cue into a small pile.

“Elena, kindly retrieve the ballots and pass them to me.” Elena did this and Doukas sat with the five folded papers before him. He opened one and placed it up: in favor (small smile/grimace from Woodford); a second was opened: not in favor (Woodford’s face darkened); a third was soon sitting: not in favor (Woodford looked like he was going to choke); the fourth said “in favor” and Doukas looked around. “It appears we will have a close vote. All the best to you. I will abide by what this says.”

He opened up the final paper and laid it down: not in favor. Bard grinned; Gryba sat stone-faced; Carstairs regarded her hands; Shillings turned pale; and Woodford struggled mightily with his rage.

“Well, thank you all.” Doukas smiled, then went on, ”So, moving forward, Peter van der Strom will assist the accounts in finalizing the report to the shareholders. It will be a happy report, with our profits this year and the dividends that will go out. And I am certain the rank and file will rest easy knowing a steady hand is still upon the rudder. Now, please help yourself to the wonderful spread that Ms. Kasmir and Ms. Sheffield have provided; there is of course, fresh cream.” Louis Doukas smiled benevolently.


Doukas had retired to the small office just down from the board room while he attended to some business. He looked up at the gentle rap on his door, calling out, “Do come in.” Emma Carstairs entered and stood quietly in front of Doukas’s large desk. She was looking down and clasping and unclasping her hands.

Doukas smiled. “I appreciate your support, Mrs. Carstairs.” Emma continued to look down. Doukas took a fat envelope from his desk and passed it to her; she put it in her handbag without opening it.

After a moment she said quietly, “And my son?”

Doukas regarded her, then opened the left hand desk drawer, and regarded the cell phones, now five, sitting there. He picked up number two, looked briefly at the contacts, chose one and pressed the call. In a moment he spoke. “You have young Carstairs in view. Good. You may leave and send the others back; this affair has ended. No, no further action. Good.” Doukas hung up.

Carstairs looked at him. “You have what you wish. Do

you want my resignation now?”

Doukas stroked his chin. “No, Mrs. Carstairs, although in the future, I would remind you that betrayal is more vile than assault.” Carstairs stood in silence. “Enjoy your trip back to Stratford.”

Carstairs turned to leave, then hesitated, “Just because I was in discussion with them, doesn’t mean I intended to vote with them,” she said.

“Really?” Doukas asked quietly. “Well, that is now water under the bridge.” He smiled his thin smile.


Woodford sat in a corner booth, nursing his second double scotch. Shillings slid in across from him, placed his order for a bourbon and regarded the other. “He hasn’t asked for our resignations.”

“No. I have no idea of his plans, but I am convinced they are not pleasant. He prefers to grind things under his heel.”

Shillings drink arrived and he sipped it. “So, now what?”

Woodford looked across the table, darkly. “There are more ways to skin this particular cat.”

Shillings regarded the other with concern. “That sounds ominous Nils. Is it really down to that?”

“You can sit there with your ass kicked and ask that?

Silence settled on them; the voices in the room seeming to recede. Woodford’s mind mulled dark and vengeful thoughts.


(End of Chapter 13)

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