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A Field Of Candles By LongDarkRoad Chapter 17 Time Shall Unfold What Plighted Cunning Hides

A Field of Candles

By LongDarkRoad

Chapter 17  

Time Shall Unfold What Plighted Cunning Hides

Geneva was kneeling naked on the floor. Nicole and Christina sat at the table, drinking wine. Both had taken turns spanking the kneeling woman, Christina with more vigor than Nicole, who still did not really like this particular aspect of domination. But in the end Geneva’s ass was well reddened and she now waited obediently.

Christina had brought over a basic slave contract and she had just gone through it with Nicole who was now signing it. Nicole took the contract and a pen and placed them on the floor beside Geneva. “Sign on the bottom, my slave.”

“Y-yes, Miss N.” Geneva murmured, before adding her name on the indicated line. Nicole then took the paper and placed it before Christina to be witnessed.

After completing this task, Christina stood and walked over, standing behind Geneva. “Place your face on the floor and raise your hips.” Christina commanded and Geneva did as instructed. Christina then rubbed her shoe aggressively against Geneva’s shaved pussy, eliciting moans. “Ooooh, this bitch loves that, Miss N.” Christina remarked with a smile. “Stand slave and put your hands behind you.”

When Geneva had done this and was standing, trembling slightly, Christina stood beside her and asked quietly, “You know your owner is going to have you marked with a tattoo?” she purred.

“Yes, M-miss. I know that.” Geneva said, breathing hard.

“And you accept and agree to that?”

“Ye-yes, yes I do. I will be Miss N.’s p-property.” Geneva added in a quiet voice.

“Very good,” Christina said, running a finger down

Geneva’s face. “Very good indeed.”


”Hey,” the shorter of the two men called, although it wouldn’t have been in English, as both men were Serbs, “She’s coming.” The second man peered cautiously out the window and watched the tall, hooded figure come down the street.

The two had been watching the little yellow bungalow on Eighth Street in Belgrade for five days. So far there had been two sightings of a tall woman entering the house, but they had not been able to get a photo of her face. The second man readied his camera and then started taking shots. Tenth shot in, the woman lowered her hood and looked around quickly before entering.

The man rolled though the sixteen shots his camera had taken and smiled. There it was, at last, a shot of the woman’s face. He sent the series of shots off to his boss, Olivia Sheffield, and awaited her instructions.

Across the street, in the little bungalow, Amara Manos slouched into a chair and called Nicole’s number. It was Saturday and she would be home; they had arranged it.

“Amara.” Nicole’s voice came into her ear and Amara smiled.

“Hey there you, it’s been only two weeks since our last call, so I’m improving, yes?”

Nicole laughed. “Yeah, you’re improving in some areas; now if you could just get the whole sex thing worked out…”

They laughed.


Powell and Doukas sat in the early evening on their patio by their pool. Although it was late January the weather on Gran Canaria and Las Palmas was mild enough that all they needed was a sweater for her and a jacket for him.

As they sat, waiting for their coffee and dessert, finishing their Ouzo, their talk again was relaxed and engaging. As a treat, Doukas had brought in a chef for tonight to prepare a traditional Greek meal. They had started with salad (Greek!) of course before dining on a flavorful and filling Moussaka.

A server now brought the conclusion to their meal. Daphne sampled hers and asked, “Ummm, this is wonderful. What is it?”

“Galaktoboureko,” Doukas answered.

“What?” Daphne said; “Ok, ok, that’s good.” She added, as it looked like Doukas would explain. “I’ll take your word for what it’s called; but what is it?”

Doukas laughed, “Custard.” He grinned.

“Ahhh, it is lovely. Mmmm, and the coffee is excellent, as usual.”

“We Greeks take our coffee seriously, my dear,” Doukas murmured, drinking his. The chef had been warned that the coffee needed to be the best; or else. He wasn’t interested in finding out what the ‘or else’ was, Doukas’s reputation preceding the man, so the coffee was the best.

“You like your food, Louis.” Daphne smiled at him across the small glass table.

Doukas accepted another glass of Ouzo and sat for a moment in thought. “You know, when I was thirteen I was on my own. I lived, literally, on the streets for years. I came to appreciate a roof over my head when I could find one. I learned what time certain restaurants threw out left over food; that was how I survived.” He sipped his drink, Daphne watching silently.

“After I began to make money, I dreamed of a house; I dreamed of eating in nice restaurants. When I became wealthy, I began buying houses. I have them all over, as you know. But I also appreciate good food. Very much. I appreciate every meal.” He smiled at her.

“You can’t really appreciate something if you’ve never

gone without, right?” She said quietly.

“That’s exactly it.” Doukas said, raising his glass in salute. “Although some meals are much better because of the company.”

They laughed.


“Hey,” Dani exclaimed, poking her head into Nicole’s little office, “this just came for you.” She dropped an envelope, addressed, ‘N. Martin’, onto Nicole’s desk. There was no return address.

“Thanks, kiddo.” Nicole said, before adding, “So, how was your weekend, nudge, nudge, wink, wink?”

Dani laughed, “I think we’re starting to get used to the arrangement. I probably spent only an hour with my face between Shannon’s thighs, and Luke screwed her once, so, yeah, things are starting to slow down.”

Nicole threw a balled up piece of paper at her assistant, “Get out, you’re making me horny and it’s not fair.”

They both laughed.


Following the information in the letter she had received, Nicole had left work, driven home, dropped off her vehicle and taken a cab to where she was now. She looked out at the row of mostly warehouses and depressing looking brick buildings with some commercial shops, but there was little traffic and only the occasional person or two on the street.

When Nicole went to pay the driver he said it was already looked after and drove off. He seemed happy to be moving on; Nicole looked around her with unease and found the address on the letter. Just then her cell buzzed and she fumbled with the device a little getting it out of her coat pocket while wearing gloves.

“Yes,” she finally said into the device.

“Where are you?” Sheffield’s brusque manner greeted

her. It was the odious woman herself who had sent the missive earlier.

“I’m here, near the building. Wait, I think it is right in front of me.” She began walking toward a three-storey red brick building.

“Ok,” The phone went dead.

Nicole approached the front glass doors, opening them with caution. “Hello?” she said, but no answer came. She stepped inside and heard footsteps, the unmistakeable clack of high heels on concrete coming toward her, but from the briskness of the tap she didn’t believe it was Sheffield.

It wasn’t, although when the woman came into view she was similar to Sheffield; large. This woman though was not as heavy, although she did have large breasts. She was also black, or brown at any rate. Like Sheffield she was all business and said in greeting, “Ms. Martin. Follow me.” and turned, heading back up the corridor she had just come down, her hips rolling beneath her tight black dress. Nicole followed along, a feeling of dread within her.

“Damn,” she murmured.


Doukas and Powell went inside, the darkness now settling around them. Their villa was placed high on a piece of land that itself rose in elevation, and so had a wonderful view. The building’s architect had used this rise in design, and the living room of the villa had floor to ceiling windows offering a stunning view of the ocean, although at this moment it was a dark, quietly moving mass.

With the inside lights dimmed, the two sat, drinking more coffee, chatting. Doukas was not usually a loquacious man, but Daphne Powell had that ability of getting men to open up. She was a listener; she was not pretending to be one, and she genuinely enjoyed hearing Louis Doukas talk.

“So what was your first smuggling operation, Louis, How

did Dionysus come about?”

Doukas looked at her with affection. “I don’t know if there is time for all that, my dear,” He replied, but she was persistent and he began.

“Well, let’s see; it was a series of events, really, that happened.” He rubbed his prominent nose for a moment in thought. “When I left home, with very little, I did have one or two things belonging to my mother which I took, I guess, for sentimental reasons. It was years before I really bothered with them, hiding them in various places as I scrounged around. One was a letter to my mother from her sister in Athens.

At age eighteen I decided, without much thought, to travel to my home town and see if I could find my relatives. I did, my aunt and uncle greeting me warmly and with astonishment, believing me long dead of course.”

Doukas chuckled here. “My uncle was a bit of a crook it turned out and he had a good friend, a man named Gabriel Kantos, who gave me my first job, driving one of his trucks. Kantos, it turned out, was a slightly larger crook than my uncle.”

Doukas chuckled again over this. “Anyway, my dear, my past must be very boring to you; it is wonderful how you can listen.”

Powell laid a delicate hand on Doukas’s arm. “I’m listening because I’m interested. Now, how did this Kantos person evolve into Dionysus, or did he? You can’t stop here for heaven’s sakes.”

Doukas chuckled some more. He was actually enjoying this. “Fine, fine, here you go. Both my uncle and Kantos had real jobs; Kantos had a couple of trucks, and a boat and did hauling, at least that was the way it looked. In reality, Kantos was actually a smuggler; he could be hired to bring in just about anything for money; he had no scruples. I drove a truck for him and before long was doing everything.” He paused here to sip some coffee.

“Ok,” Daphne noted, “at least we now have trucks and a boat; that’s a connection to Dionysus.” She smiled.

“Yes, yes it is. But more than that, both my uncle and Kantos were kind of models for me; men who had one job but a more lucrative line as a side issue. I liked that, actually. Ok, let me speed things up with a couple of highlights.”

“Fine,” Daphne said, “But I’m finding this very interesting, so continue.”

Doukas sighed and took a breath. “When I was twenty-one my uncle up and died; heart attack; Boom! Here one day and then gone. My, um, grieving aunt took up with another man in jig time; I’m pretty sure it was already happening before, but she moved away to Italy a month after the death. I was sort of at loose ends, and had begun arguing with Kantos about many things. He was, to me, the kind of man that cannot see the forest for the trees.”

“But you could, my dear. And I mean that sincerely.” Daphne smiled.

“Well, the trees for me were drugs. Kantos was taking risks bringing in stuff that would fetch maybe five thousand American dollars on the street, while right next to him on the same stretch of beach, a shipment of drugs was coming in with a street value of two hundred thousand. He couldn’t get it; he didn’t want to understand it. We argued and it got quite nasty; he threatened to have me run out of town.”

They sat in silence for a moment, this story now up in the air. “And what did you do, for heaven’s sakes? Did he run you out of town?” Daphne prodded.

Doukas gazed out at the ocean. “No, no he didn’t. I didn’t give him the chance. I shot the son-of-a-bitch, dumped his body in the sea and took over his business. So, there. I guess you can say I was a self-starter.” He smiled a rueful sort of smile at her.

After a moment, Daphne spoke softly, “Oh my, my, my, but you are something, Louis. I believe your story. I do. All of it, even the bad parts. It’s a terrible story, when you think of it, yet I still like you just the same. Oh dear.”

She laughed, softly as well.


Nicole followed the rolling hips down a dingy corridor until they turned a corner and stopped in front of a large, uniformed man holding a rifle, his face partly covered. He looked nasty and threatening. The woman opened the door with a modern key card and they entered. This room was small, like a parlor. The woman turned and with a dour face said, “Remove your clothes.”

Nicole stared and stood unmoving. The woman rolled her eyes and gripped Nicole’s collar, “That man outside would be more than happy to come in and remove them for you, but I’m not sure he would stop with just your clothes, got it. Now get ‘em off or I call him in.” 

Was everyone connected with Doukas stupid assholes? Nicole pondered, then remembered Amara and realized no, but still…. In a few moments, trembling with cold, shame and anger, Nicole handed over her black thong. The woman took everything in the same dour manner, efficiently folding the clothes and stuffing them into a clear bag.

“This way,” she said when Nicole was naked, although she needn’t have bothered, as there was one door out to the hall and this other door leading into another room. Nicole followed her again, her feet cold on the bare concrete. In this second room, about twice the size of the first, the floor was still bare. In it there was a long narrow table with some electronic equipment on it, a large, very sturdy wooden chair, ominously bolted to the floor, a cot against one wall, an old school metal filing cabinet and a desk.

In front of the desk stood Olivia Sheffield. She had a small smile on her broad face.


When the document arrived, Peter van der Strom was not surprised; he had been expecting it, in fact. He knew his marriage was basically over, at least emotionally, years ago. Now that Sophie was off at college and he was essentially settled in London, divorce made sense, although he did feel a twinge of sadness.

As he was reading, Ronald came into the sitting area of their flat. Peter showed him the document and Ronald nodded, “Not a surprise, eh old chap.” Ronald laid on the cockney accent as a ’bit of a lark’ to lighten the mood; he knew Peter found it amusing.

“No, it’s not. Still, I’m feeling a little sentimental.”

“Understood,” Ronald said, sitting beside Peter and putting an arm around his shoulders. It was an odd relationship in that Peter was older and taller, but Ronald was the dominant one. “So,” Ronald murmured, “I believe you were going to make me breakfast, right?”

“Oh, yes, so sorry, got distracted.” Peter stood and smoothed his smock, before heading out to their little galley kitchen.

“I like that dress on you.” Ronald called, as Peter’s lanky frame moved out the door. He turned and smiled a self-deprecating smile, reddening a little as he always did when Ronald complimented him.

Ronald laughed.


Sheffield looked on with that same annoying bemused smile as the other woman, obviously her helper, fastened Nicole in the heavy chair. Her wrists and ankles were restrained with thick straps; a strap went around her waist and two straps went around her thighs; finally a strap went around her neck; Nicole was immobilized.

When this was all completed, the woman attached and inserted electro receptors, pads and tube; two pads on Nicole’s nipples, one above her heart, one on her throat, and two on her temples. The woman inserted the short tube into Nicole’s vagina, with Nicole protesting to no avail. When everything was attached, the woman went behind the table and fired up the equipment which looked to be several monitors of various sorts, a computer and some other devices.

Sheffield came to stand in front of Nicole, looking down at her with scorn. In her hand she carried a clipboard.

“Is this really necessary?” Nicole spat at the woman.

Sheffield stood quietly for a moment, then lashed out with a backhand that caught Nicole full on the side of her face. Sheffield then gripped Nicole’s face with an amazingly strong grasp that hurt, “Shut up, whore. You talk when you are asked.”

Nicole could taste the blood in her mouth and she struggled to keep her fear and rage under control.

Sheffield leaned back against the desk. “Now, Ms. Martin; I am going to ask you some questions, and you have both a carrot and a stick when it comes to the answers. First off, we have you hooked up to record your vitals, telling us if you are lying. Ms. Cezair here is an expert with this. However, more importantly, I already know the answers to most of these questions; but you don’t know which ones. If you give me a wrong answer, this will happen.”

She nodded her head and a jolt went through Nicole. It stunned her and was quite surprisingly painful. Nicole screamed, then struggled to find her breath; there was a ringing in her ears.

“That was a four, Slut; the dial goes to ten; unfortunately, if we left you on ten for more than thirty seconds, you would die. We don’t want that to happen, do we?” She smiled a malevolent smile.

Nicole shook her head; fear had now gripped her. Sheffield wasn’t just a bitch; she was a crazy bitch.

Sheffield then came and waved a piece of paper in front of Nicole’s face. It was a check. “But, Ms. Martin, even for a slut like you, we have a carrot. See, here is a check made out to cash for twenty-five thousand. Along with this check you will have our promise that our business with you is over. Finished. You will be free of us and clear of your debts. A very good deal all round, for you. All you need to do is tell the truth. Do you understand?”

Nicole nodded her head. She didn’t know really if she could trust this bitch, but Doukas had made the point that he wasn’t a liar; and for some reason Nicole believed that. “Ok, let’s begin.” Sheffield said. “First, are you a lesbian?”

Nicole snorted, “You know that.” she spat out, then considered. She didn’t want another jolt and she didn’t want to be hit. “Yes, I am a lesbian.”

Sheffield smiled a thin smile reminiscent of Doukas. “Quite so; we of course know you love to eat pussy. Now, did you and Amara Manos have an affair?”

So, Nicole thought, this is really about Amara, “Yes, we did.”

Sheffield moved to the door and exited. In a moment she returned with a cup of tea. “Ava, would you like anything?”

“Thank you Ms. Sheffield, I am fine. Both those answers showed as true, by the way.”

Sheffield nodded, then continued. “Have you been in contact with Manos in the last few weeks, by phone or in person?”

Nicole did not see the harm in answering this; after all it was Doukas who had given Amara leave to ‘use’ Nicole. “Yes, both. I have spoken with her several times since our ‘trip’, and she came to visit me once.”

“Has Manos ever spoken to you about her, em, assignments for Mr. Doukas?”

Nicole pondered, then replied, “All she has ever told me, once or twice, was where she was. She has never told me what she was doing; she said it could put me in danger.” Sheffield looked over at Cezair, who nodded.

“Has she ever spoken about doing work for others?”

Nicole stared at Sheffield. “I, uh, honestly don’t know. She doesn’t ever tell me details at all. I assume she only works for Doukas; she has never, never mentioned anyone else.”

“When the two of you last spoke via phone, did she say where she was?”

“Um, once she was in Romania, and she told me that. The last time she said she would be out-of-touch. Mostly I got the feeling that she was just at her home; I think that’s Belgrade; I, um, I’m not sure how I know that, but that’s what comes to mind.”

Sheffield regarded the woman; she was answering easily without any thought, not the sign of a liar. “What gave you the impression she was at home?”

“Hmmm,” Nicole considered this. “Well, she was smoking weed; one time I think she had been in the shower. I don’t know, the chatter just seemed like someone sitting around their house. There were never any other, like noises. It never sounded out of doors. Maybe I just assumed….”

Sheffield paused to drink some tea. “Has Amara ever confided her feelings to you, positive or negative, toward Mr. Doukas?”

Nicole hesitated for just a moment before saying, “She didn’t, um, like him.”

“She said that?”

“Not in, so many words. There was a history there, you know, um, between them; from way back. Doukas had harmed her in some way and, well, she had never totally forgiven him.”

“Did she ever confide in you any plans she may have had for…revenge?”

Nicole’s heart beat hard; this was a difficult question; she didn’t want to betray Amara but she was in a bad situation. If she lied, Sheffield would very likely know, she would be punished, or worse, and the

truth would be known anyway.

“I’m waiting, Ms. Martin.”

“Um, she said simply that Doukas had told her once that they were even, but she didn’t feel that way. Ummm, that they were…even. But she did not elaborate, you have to believe me. There was no specifics; just the emotion.”

This was actually very interesting to Sheffield. She knew the relationship with Amara preceded her own relationship with Doukas, and that had always bothered her. The fact that he had never given her details about what had happened with them, also bothered her. Now it was coming clearer.

Amara appeared to be shielding Martin, which made sense, so she would not let her in on anything remotely dangerous. But Martin had told her enough as it was.

For as they were doing the interrogation, Cezair was also running Nicole’s phone through a diagnostic device, mapping the locations of all her calls, in and out. Sheffield now wandered over and looked at the results. Cezair indicating that several calls had bounced off the same cell tower in Belgrade as the ones made to Tel Aviv.

That was it, as far as Sheffield was concerned. It was too much of a coincidence. Whether Amara had assisted the Mossad or not, she had been in touch secretly. That was treason.

Sheffield wandered back to Nicole, Cezair joining her. They released all the bonds and then fastened Nicole’s wrists behind her. After this was accomplished, Nicole was lifted off the chair and Sheffield sat down in her place, lifting her skirt and revealing she was wearing no under garments. Nicole was now on her knees staring at an extremely heavy dark brown pubic bush. For the first time Cezair cracked a smile and Sheffield let out a guffaw.

“We can’t miss out on the chance to have a real, live lesbian work on us, can we Ms. Martin?” She smirked.  “Service me and then Ava and you are done for the day. Be enthusiastic, because both Ms. Cezair and I enjoy laying on the paddle. She nodded in the direction of an implement hanging on one wall.

With everything that was happening Nicole had not noticed it. Both women laughed as Sheffield pulled Nicole’s face to her belly. (End of Chapter 17

One thought on “A Field Of Candles By LongDarkRoad Chapter 17 Time Shall Unfold What Plighted Cunning Hides

  1. Great, I really like it! Youre awesome

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