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A Gathering of Clowns by LongDarkRoad Chapter 5 The Astute Servant; The Master’s Plans

A Gathering of Clowns

By LongDarkRoad

Chapter 05 The Astute Servant; The Master’s Plans

“AAAAaaaahhhhh”, Da Costa cried out into the throw pillow, effectively muffling her pleasure. Emily waited for the contractions to subside, then she kissed the neck and shoulders of the woman, but left the dildo inside her. “Had enough?” she whispered into the dark mass of hair.

Da Costa chuckled and pressed her buttocks against Emily’s groin, “Well, I think that was number three, which is just crazy,” she murmured and wrapped Emily’s arms around her, placing her partner’s hands on her breasts. From where she was lying, Da Costa could see the ornate clock on the mantle. It had been chiming the hour and half hour, but the two women had paid no attention, too involved with their own ferocious passion.

“Oh God, is it really two-thirty?” She asked in amazement.

Emily snorted, “We’ve been busy,” she slowly withdrew her phallus from Da Costa’s pussy, then unbuckled her harness. “Do you want to stay for breakfast?”

Da Costa rolled over. “As lovely as that would be, I need to go, but,” she lifted up and kissed Emily’s mouth, “how about we have dinner, I guess it would be tonight, now.”

Emily smiled, “That would be very cool. Any place come to mind?”

“Let me think, and I’ll text you later. How does me picking you up at seven-thirty sound?”

“That sounds cool as well, although I’d rather just curl up with you now.”

Carman sat up, and shook her head with a little smile on her face. “It would be so easy, Miss Gorgeous, but I hope there will be another time?” She arched one eyebrow, then began picking up clothes.

Ten minutes later they were standing by the massive front doors. “So, see you in a few hours. Get some sleep.” Da Costa murmured, leaning down to kiss Emily; she had her heels on now so was that much taller than the girl.

Fer shure, and I’ll wait for your message. This was so good. I’m looking forward to us, um, working together.”

“The only problem,” Da Costa winked, “is deciding who is working under whom, hmmmm?”

They both chuckled.


Being Saturday mid-morning, Stafford Hawkins wondered if his sister Georgia would be around. He had word from Da Costa that the project with nephew Tad was worthwhile, and he was prepared to split the proposed nine million with his daughter, if his conditions were met. And they were specific and very personal, from his past, their past, really, and only Georgia could make the call. Hawkins was quite sure she would, now that he had done his research.

Ever helpful assistant Winters was with him today and tasked with trying to connect with the sister in Arizona. It did not prove difficult as she was at home.

“Stafford, thank you for the call. Have you managed to meet with Tad?” She asked pleasantly.

“Good day, Georgia. Daughter Emily met with your son and took his project to someone she, um, trusts and has given it a green light as they say; we two will work together, but I am prepared to ensure the finances on this.”

Georgia’s sigh of relief could be heard over the phone. Truth was, she was in debt severely due to Tad’s ambitious undertakings and her inability to say no to him. However, all signs pointed to this being something that could work, artistically and financially, but they had run out of options; that was the only thing that had forced her to contact her estranged and complicated younger sibling. “Thank you Stafford, this means so much to us.”

Stafford actually chuckled quietly, a rarity for him. “Just so. However, before you celebrate, sister, my offer does come with one condition, and it involves you, directly.”

Georgia paused; Stafford always was unpredictable. “What is the, um, condition, Stafford?” she asked quietly.

Hawkins could not keep the smile off his face. “You remember when we were younger and you used to parade around in your, eh, underthings?”

Georgia froze; this was not the direction she thought the conversation would head; this was out of the blue. Of course she remembered those days; she had delighted in tormenting her brother; she knew exactly how her teasing affected him. It was, concerning, that he was remembering those times, now. “Um, how do you mean, Stafford?”

Stafford actually chuckled a second time. “Oh come now, sister. Let’s not play games. Of course you remember what you did; obviously I remember too. My condition is that I wish to have some pictures of you today, doing the same thing, but with the ending of my choosing, not yours.”

Georgia stifled a gasp and then sat is stunned silence. This was too bizarre to consider. “I really don’t see how I can agree to this…”

“Fine. Suit yourself.” Hawkins said quietly, and then the line went dead.

Georgia sat there, staring in disbelief at her telephone. Suddenly tears started dribbling down her cheeks. This couldn’t happen. She had managed to keep her financial manoeuvrings secret from husband Don for months now, but with a full financial audit looming the game would be up. She needed at least two million of this money, right now, and Tad had agreed.

With shaking hands she called her brother back. Winters answered and asked her to hold. What if he went into a snit and refused to talk to her? How far was she willing to go? His distinctive (how she disliked it, Georgia pondered) voice came back on. “Yes, sister?” he asked, with what she thought was a bit of a sneer.

“So what exactly do you want to do?” she asked, her tone flat.

“Let’s be clear; this will be our final conversation. There is no negotiation and no arguing, understood?”

With anger rising, but also panic, Georgia replied quietly, “I understand the, expectation. Please tell me what you want to do.”

On the end of the line Stafford Hawkins was smiling broadly; he had waited a long, long time for this. “I will have my assistant, a woman, go to your home; she will arrive Monday afternoon so you can make sure your husband is out of the way. She will take photos of you with my cell phone, it produces excellent pictures. They will be of you in your undergarments and then without anything.

You will pose however you are told to. You will be cooperative and when she is satisfied she will text me and I will arrange for the money to go to your account. I’m assuming you have need for some of the funds now (how could he know?). Are we clear?”

Georgia sat silently; frozen. What was there to do? She controlled her voice; there was no way she wanted the little bastard (as she thought of him, although he was certainly taller than her now) to know she was crying. “So, I will be…n-naked?” her voice was almost a whisper.

Stafford chuckled again; this was some kind of record for him. “You always were sharp, sister.”


“So, can we talk?” Melanie asked, as Emily was just heading up the stairs.

“Sure, Mel-owishus, be back down in a sec.”

In a few minutes the two women were again seated on the

patio outside the kitchen. Chantico brought out a pot of tea, giving both women a kiss on the cheek. As Melanie poured, Emily asked, “Ok, what’s up?”

“Well,” Melanie said, stirring her cup, “I think we should talk about our two, um, servants.”

“Ok, like how?” Emily sipped her green tea.

“Well, do you have any sort of, I don’t know, a plan for Chantico. I think she needs to know and I would like to know.”

Emily looked thoughtfully at her aunt. She didn’t really have a plan. When it came to sexual stuff she never did. “You like her, don’t you?”

Melanie considered being evasive for a moment but then thought ‘why?’ “Yes, I do. I mean. I’ve always, you know, liked her. But you’re talking about the, em, sex and yes, I am really enjoying being with her. She is so …loving, she makes me feel so good, like the song says. Really.”

“Why don’t you just have her with you. I’m serious.” Emily added, as Melanie looked uncertain. “You’ll share her, if I ever have an itch for her. No shit, pardon me, but I am blown away that you two are, like, in-sync. You’ve been a hermit or whatever for too long.”

“I think you’re thinking of monks; the guys in monasteries who don’t have sex. Supposedly.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever. Those dudes. How long has it been since you had sex that made you feel satisfied, hmmmm?” Melanie didn’t answer. Forever didn’t sound good, even if true. “I had no clue how Chantico would react, but she’s like the fuckin’ fish, sorry, in the water.”

“Ducks,” Melanie said.


“I think it’s ducks to water.”

“Whatever. So are you cool?”

“I’m cool.”

“That’s cool.”

“Um, cool.”


The other part of the discussion involved Downing. Emily had already decided; she liked abusing him, but that didn’t need to be every day; in fact, that would get boring real quick. She just needed to have him under control and for him to sense that. So he had agreed that he would be able to sleep in his room, but in the dog bed, and that was until his mistress deemed him worthy.

When he got home from work he was to change into a T-shirt with nothing else and stay in his room until or unless summoned. Most of his abuse would happen on the weekend. Downing kept secret the fact that he wasn’t minding the abuse at all, especially when Chantico masturbated him. He had always enjoyed pain, which was why he and Melanie were not compatible, and why he had always needed to seek his companionship elsewhere and in secret. The only person who knew of his desires was, of all people, his father-in-law.


Georgia jumped, literally, when the doorbell chimed. She had been both dreading and wanting this, finished, all morning. She had picked up the phone no less than three times to tell Stafford to jump in the lake, or words to that effect; but of course hadn’t done anything, but wait. And fret. She needed to get through this and move on and now it seemed like her brother’s henchman, or woman in this case, was here.

Heart pounding and palms sweating, Georgia made her way to the front door. Don was out on a client golf affair and would not be back until dinner time, so she had the afternoon clear.

She opened the door and saw a woman much like herself, albeit much younger. Tall, dark and slim, Carman Da Costa smiled and said, “Georgia Allan? I am here on behalf of your brother.”

Georgia wasn’t sure what she expected; someone nastier perhaps. “Yes, please come in.” Georgia led the way down a hallway and Da Costa appraised her; a slim, athletic woman, for someone in her fifties, with hair much different than her brother’s; thick and dark, done in a short and attractive style. Like Da Costa, the woman leading her had smallish breasts but long legs leading up to round hips. Da Costa had been afraid of someone fat, for whatever reason.

They entered a pleasant sitting room furnished comfortably in a quiet and expensive taste. “May I offer you something?” Georgia asked once they were settled.

“No, no thank you. I am fine. I would like to get started, as I am sure this is something you wish to be done with.” She smiled sympathetically. Da Costa might be efficient and blunt, even brusque, but she wasn’t cruel. She wasn’t sure what his sister had done to provoke Hawkins’s wrath, but it was something, and now she would be humiliated. Da Costa felt no pleasure in being the agent of this punishment.

She took out Hawkins’s cell phone. “So, I know you and, um, your brother, have discussed what will happen?” Georgia nodded. “Good. I have a set of instructions and I will simply follow them. This is not any choice by me, you understand, it is what Mr. Hawkins has put down.” Georgia nodded again. “Please stand,” Da Costa said and Georgia stood; and so it began.

Da Costa did compliment Georgia Allan, and meant it sincerely, that she had certainly taken care of her body. It was slim, trim and still well-muscled. Da Costa remarked to herself she hoped she looked like this in her middle age.

The series of photos began with Georgia clothed, and then progressed with her gradually removing specific articles until finally, after twenty minutes, they came to this. “Okay, Georgia, we’re almost done. Please stay on your knees, just like that, but put your face right down on the carpet.” Da Costa snapped that pose. “Okay. The final shot. Please, um, reach back and spread, uh…” With trembling hands, Georgia spread her buttocks and Da Costa took the final shot.

“Thank you, Georgia. You may get dressed.” Da Costa said quietly. However, the woman simply stayed in her kneeling position; Da Costa then realized the woman was weeping. Going to her, Da Costa knelt and helped the woman to a kneeling positon, then hugged her close, allowing her tears and disgrace to subside.

She kissed the woman on her face, gently, lovingly, and then on her lips, slipping a hand between the woman’s thighs and finding the natural and untrimmed pubic patch, before gently inserting a finger into the woman’s sex. Da Costa lay the woman down, now fingering her steadily and more aggressively as she also fondled the substantial clitoris; all the while kissing and talking softly.

In a few moments, with a series of contractions, Georgia cried out, her legs then going into spasms for several seconds.

As her orgasm subsided, Georgia clung to Da Costa as a drowning woman might cling to a buoy. Da Costa gently closed the woman’s eyes and gathered up her clothes, letting her lay quietly. She then began dressing her gently and efficiently. When the woman was fully clothed, Da Costa helped her to the couch and they sat together. Georgia hugged Da Costa, whispering “Thank you,” against the side of her face.

Da Costa leaned back and looked at her. “I am sorry. I really am.” And she was. She kissed Georgia affectionately several more times, with the older woman responding, even touching her face softly. “I will go now. The money will be transferred to you in a little while,” Da Costa said with a small smile.

When they got to the door, they paused and looked at each other. Georgia spoke. “I have never kissed another woman.” She smiled. “It was, lovely really. You are lovely.” Da Costa reached out and squeezed the woman’s arm, and Georgia continued. “I, um, wish I could see you again, but I’m sure that’s not possible.”

As it turned out, Da Costa would be in Tucson on Saturday for two days. “You could drive up and stay with me.” she said, with a smile.

“You would be okay with that?” Georgia looked on in amazement.

“I would love to see you again. I really would. Give me your cell number and I will text you the details. Could you get away?”

“Absolutely, my dear. I will be up there with bells on, as they say.”

They hugged one last time and Da Costa went out. Once in her car she sent one set of the photos to Hawkins and one to Emily. She then deleted the info of this last message, inserting a device in the phone that removed any digital residue of the transfer. She certainly didn’t want Hawkins to know of the second set; but it was a good way to prove to Emily whose side she was on.

After their dinner and time together Saturday, following the night of love-making Friday, Carman Da Costa knew who she wanted to align herself with.

She hadn’t planned on becoming a Harlequin; some things simply happen.


In his office, Stafford Hawkins sat, looking at the photos. Da Costa had followed his instructions precisely, which was her manner. Such memories came bubbling up in him; Hawkins spent little time ever in thinking back, but this was too persistent, too encompassing.

He called Winters in; the young man donned a mask and stood as directed, thinking it odd that in here he was required to wear this mask but at the condo neither he, nor Hwang nor…anyone else, wore one.

Odd. But that was not his concern. “Yes, sir.” He stated and stood awaiting. Although Hawkins did not turn, he could always see the people reflected in his computer screen. ‘Like Plato’s shadows on the cave wall’, he would muse to himself; his own personal joke. He would sometimes, in his wilder moments, imagine having the staff awaiting on him like this wear jester’s hats. It was how he imagined them.

“Winters, find two, uh, companions, for me for this evening. Both need to be dark-haired and of course slim. Have them there for eight.”

“Will do, sir. Will there be anything else?”

“No, just what I have advised before. That is all, Winters.”

“Very good, sir.” The young man turned and left. Hawkins’s ‘advisement’ had been girls that were unshaven; but that was hard to find these days. Everyone had tattoos and piercings, and almost all at least trimmed their pubic bush. Winters had spoken with a woman a while back who said, for an increased fee of course, she would try to accommodate the request. Winters was already calling her as he headed back to his office.


Georgia Allan sat staring at her computer screen. There it was; or, rather, there they were. Three deposits for three million each. She had already called her bank manager and would need to go in, in person, to complete transactions this large. Oh my God, she said to herself. And all it had cost her was her dignity.

But, she had met that lovely Carman woman, who had already texted her. Georgia felt a surge of excitement, something she hadn’t felt in years, pass through her at the thought of meeting the woman again. Kissing her, touching her and being touched. She slipped a hand down inside her jogging pants and closed her eyes. It was just like the old days. The old, old days, she smiled. The jokes on you, Stafford, she thought, gently fondling her clitoris.


“Thank you, Ms. Da Costa, you have done very well.”

“You’re welcome, sir. It went as planned.” They were in Hawkins’s office. It was Tuesday and Da Costa’s first meeting with the man since her quick trip east and her meeting with Emily.

“How, may I ask, um, was my sister?”

Da Costa wasn’t certain what this meant, but she answered directly. “She was shy but cooperative and glad when it was over, sir.” She stated.

Hawkins smiled. “And what of the meeting with my daughter.”

Da Costa worked now to keep her tone even; she certainly did not want to reveal any emotions here. “She, and Mrs. Downing, are both interested in things keeping on as they are. You as CEO, the management team as it is. Nothing radical for changes.”

“Hmmmm,” Hawkins murmured, although he chastised himself again for not watching more carefully the trusts he had created. A moment of weakness, he told himself. And it had come back to bite him. “Does my daughter, intend to stay…long, in Glendale?” He asked quietly.

Da Costa paused, she didn’t really know. “She said nothing to me, sir. She seems, uh, settled.”

Interesting, Hawkins pondered; his daughter had never really ever seemed settled. “And this; project?”

“I had a chance to look over the manuscript when I was meeting with, your daughter (she had almost blurted out Emily; why that would be a problem, she didn’t know, for sure) and it looks very good. They have hired a director with staff already and are in the process of casting. Everyone seems to feel this will do well.”

“Thank you, Ms. Da Costa. That is all.”

Being dismissed, Da Costa left. She needed to check in with Ross. Hawkins meanwhile brought up the video from the evening before. He didn’t record all his sessions, but he had recorded last night. He watched with interest the two attractive and very young looking, dark-haired girls, strutting around in their white bras and panties, just as his sister had done.

But then they were punished, as she should have been. Their panties were pulled down and they were spanked, albeit by each other as Hawkins watched. He never directly participated. After their asses were nicely reddened, the girls engaged in oral sex, with the receiving girl being on her knees and the pleasuring girl positioned behind. As he watched this, Hawkins brought up the recent photo of Georgia on her knees, buttocks spread.

He smiled and noticed, with amazement, that he had an erection. It had been a long while.


Helena, Montana; 1978

Stafford was in quite a state. Sister Georgia had been particularly seductive tonight. She had left her bedroom door open and he had seen her completely naked from the back, her white ass round and tempting, before she pulled on her white panties. But even then she had walked around her room with her small but still alluring breasts exposed.

Stafford was now reclining against the pillows on his bed, in the darkness, pants down to his ankles; pounding his erection relentlessly, feeling the release building.

Suddenly his door flew open, and the imposing bulk of Bufford Hawkins blocked out the light. “You disgusting little perverted piece of shit.” The elder Hawkins spat out as he whipped the belt off of his trousers.


Emily and Carman Da Costa were sitting on one of the outside balconies. Carman would be leaving in the morning for Tucson and they had been discussing the latest developments. “So Father-Dearest is okay with staying on as CEO?” Emily asked; she didn’t believe he would toss in the towel. He might liquidate everything

else; that was just assets, really. “What do you think he’ll do with all his…millions?” she added.

Carman regarded the young woman. “Your father plays his cards, as they say, close to his vest. He hasn’t left and continues to look after the day to day stuff, with our assistance of course. I wish I could tell you more; I think you know what he is like?”

Emily smirked. “Yeah, I think I know.” She sipped some wine. “Whaddya doin’ in Tucson?”

Carman smiled; she wasn’t going to relate everything; not yet. “I’m finalizing the sale of one of the companies. It is with a group of Arizona investors; it’s mostly just paper-work, but they did have a property as part of the offer, so there will be a little discussion.”

“You’re back Monday?”

“I’m back Monday.”

“Then we’ll have to have some fun tonight.” Emily smiled and Carman laughed out loud.

This girl was too much.


Helena, Montana; 1978

Stafford lay on his bed; he had stuffed a blanket in his mouth to prevent his cries from being heard, as his father had whipped his bare ass. He continued to chew on it now, as he lay recovering. His door was still open and someone, not his father, was now standing there.

It was either his mother or his sister; he could not tell which. Whoever it was just stood and stared, saying nothing.

(End of Chapter 05)

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