A House of Slaves
Chapter 9 Memories (He has changed but then…)
With both Maria and Belvedere encouraging her, Melissa made her way through another joint, and then lay back, a smile on her face and her eyes closed. With the dope, the sherry and the orgasms, she was ‘high as the proverbial kite’.
“Up and awayyyy,” Melissa blurted out, and then laughed.
Belvedere and Maria exchanged a look and then a laugh as well. “Kindly fetch a sheet from the hall cupboard, my dear. One of the older ones,” Mrs. B. directed.
“Yes, Ma’am,” Maria, still naked, replied before heading off. She returned in a moment with a bed sheet.
“Lift her please,“ Belvedere directed, and as Maria raised Melissa’s torso off the couch, Belvedere slid the sheet under her. Melissa’s arms and legs were still tied and spread. Standing, Belvedere picked up the leather harness and strapped it on. She then placed the dildo, hard rubber and brown in color, into the harness base. A section of about two inches of it slid up into her own vagina, the remaining phallus itself was smallish, at five inches. Belvedere did not want to start off too large; it had been a long time since she had taken a virgin, but she appreciated what this would be like for Melissa, even as she now was.
Maria spread Melissa’s labia, both inner and outer folds, and allowed her own saliva to drip down into them before massaging it in. Meanwhile, Belvedere was coating the dildo with lubricant. When she was satisfied, she placed the brown, cone-shaped tip against Melissa’s opening and slowly pressed. After about three inches had disappeared inside, Melissa reacted, attempting to move her hips away from the invader; but of course she was tethered on the couch with nowhere to go.
The hip movement actually helped the process, and with a quick thrust, Belvedere plunged the phallus in. Maria suckled Melissa’s engorged nipples as she cried out and Belvedere began to thrust in earnest. In a few moments the initial discomfort was forgotten and Melissa was thrusting her hips in a steady rhythm. Belvedere motioned to Maria, who then untied Melissa’s straps allowing the two women to fuck energetically. It only took minutes, and Melissa’s hips jerked off the cushion and she clung to Belvedere, her mouth gaping open and a long “AAAAAaaaauuummmmm” escaping.
Slowly Belvedere withdrew her toy, coated lightly with Melissa’s juices and blood, and unstrapped the harness, handing them both to Maria, who took the object with amazing affection, smiling up at her employer, before picking up her dress, gathering up the soiled sheet and heading off.
Belvedere turned Melissa and nestled the woman’s head onto her own neck; the young woman, even in her stupor, responding by kissing and nuzzling Belvedere gently. Then they dozed.
When Aquina arrived, she found Melissa dressed and sitting in the entrance area on a chair. No one else was around.
“Hi, uh, my Mistress,” Melissa said, a quirky smile on her face.
There was an envelope on the floor with ‘Aquina’s’ name on it. “Hi yourself,” Aquina said as she picked it up and then looked at Melissa. “You’re…stoned,” Aquina noted, a smile spreading across her face. She did not bother to check inside the envelope; it would no doubt hold the twenty-five hundred she and Mrs. B. had agreed upon.
“What?” came the reply.
“Oh, nothing. But we’ll need to talk later; for now we need to get going.”
And she took the young woman by the hand as one would a child and headed for her car, her point now proven.
Thursday evening and Aquina, Brandon and Kevin were seated in the cozy kitchen nook area, eating the meal Kate and Anna had prepared and served them. Eric was now in one of the bedrooms with Kate. Anna and Melissa were down in their crates eating their food on plates on the floor; dog dishes, with their slave names, nearby with cool water for them. Jake was not present and no one had heard from him.
Aquina handed the envelope from Mrs. B. to Brandon; he looked at it then her, before passing it to Kevin.
“There’s twenty-five hundred there. That was what Melissa earned this afternoon from one well-to-do client, which is what I was saying about her…value.”
Kevin whistled in appreciation as he counted the cash. “No, it’s twenty-eight hundred, Aquina. There’s a note.” He glanced at it and passed it to Aquina who read it.
“Thank you, Dear, for this wonderful delight. I would definitely like to have her again, and I have two friends who I know are interested. Please call. B.”
Aquina smiled. “That is what I mean.” Kevin and Brandon exchanged a look, with Kevin nodding his head. Aquina carried on, “But that’s also what Jake can mess up with his bull-in-the-china-shop approach. We can’t let him have Melissa. She is worth too much to us and she is also a major liability.”
Brandon looked at her. “You’re right, A. I have already spoken with Jake. Which is maybe why he isn’t around.”
This time it was Aquina and Brandon who exchanged a look.
* * * *
It was Friday, and it seemed to Aquina, ‘at last’. The days, at times, had seemed to drag along; it had only been a week since Melissa’s capture, for example. But upon reflecting, a lot had actually happened.
And tonight was important, certainly to Aquina. She didn’t want to spend any more time chasing low value drug dealers and baby-sitting slaves or whores. She wanted to unlock something bigger; and Sanders McHugh was the key.
(Miami, July, 2001)
Fourteen year-old Aquina Morez was sitting on a rickety wooden chair in the place Jade Dawkins called his home. It was a humid evening, the air was so heavy condensation left droplets on her skin. Aquina sat in a sleeveless Tee shirt and shorts, waiting. She was already tall and muscular, but thin.
Dawkins had put his hands around her throat again last night. He had fucked her and sold her on the street and she understood that; but he could not threaten her. He had done it two months ago and she had sworn then; never again.
And so she waited, a steak knife under her thigh. She heard him come in. He was having trouble with the lock; good, that meant he had probably been drinking; he would be less able to deal with…surprises.
Dawkins stumbled up the stairs, half a bottle of wine in one hand. He fell into the room and then noticed Aquina there.
“Yo, Bitch, what you AT!?” he snarled, from his knees.
Aquina did not answer, she simply sat and waited.
Dawkins clambered unsteadily to his feet. He was not a big man. And seeing him on his knees, he looked…even less.
“Fuck’n’…whore…what you doin’? …say sumpin’, Bitch.” He was on his feet and coming toward her. Aquina waited, waited, controlling her breathing, preparing herself, putting her mind on auto-pilot. Suddenly he was on her, his fetid breath in her face, hands to her throat; and then she moved.
Almost as if she were watching a movie, she saw a hand come up, the shiny blade of a knife gleaming in its grasp, before it embedded itself in the man’s chest; all six inches, up and in. Dawkins froze, a look of bewilderment on his unshaven face. His hands relaxed, and Aquina pulled the knife out and slid off the chair.
“Uuunnggh…you…uh!” Dawkins blurted, grabbing her right arm. Aquina switched the knife to her left hand and drove it savagely into Dawkins back, through muscle and ribs right into his lungs. Dawkins fell to the grimy wooden floor, blood was already coming out of his nose and dribbling out of the corner of his mouth. His eyes were open but unfocused. He was still breathing, but it wouldn’t be for long.
Aquina sprang to the doorway of his sleeping area and entered, ripped up a floor board and took out his stash: four hundred in cash and a baggie of pills.
‘His life savings’ Aquina thought, and began to laugh, the beginning of hysterics, before she regained control and remembered her plan. Quickly she was up and out and finding the old bike she had stashed and then off through dark, back streets to an address she had memorized and chanted to herself like a prayer.
Two hours later when Sanders McHugh’s BMW pulled up in front of his place on Sunrise Dr., he noticed a figure slouched against the side of his building, and when the figure stood, he recognized it to be the young street hooker named Aquina; the one he had given his card to.
“I need your help,” she said, looking up at him.
That face, he thought once again, fu-uck. “Sure Doll, let’s get inside.”
“I’ve killed Dawkins,” she stated, without emotion, like you might say ‘I was at a movie’.
“…Dawkins, stabbed him, and ran. Help me.” And then she had her arms around his neck; but she still wasn’t crying; just holding on.
All this came flooding back to Aquina as she stood on the step waiting for Sanders to arrive. The disgusting Dale Dzyuba was here already; he had started pawing Heather thirty seconds after coming in. And Bob ‘Gus’ Gusbertson, two-term Ward 3 Councillor. He had a big smile on his face as Mindi sat on his knee and laughed at his jokes. His hand ran casually up to her thigh.
These two girls were in their black party dresses. Kate and Anna were wearing red dresses, with no underwear. Dzyuba and Gusbertson had been told the house rule for tonight; red dresses could be fucked; black could be fondled. You could tell by their eyes they wanted to do both to all.
Aquina saw the big car approaching from a distance; a Lincoln, black, as large as cars were made these days. When it stopped in front of their place, the driver’s door opened briefly, then closed, before Sanders came out the back door without assistance. He didn’t want a fuss in this middle-class neighborhood.
As he approached, a smile began to spread across his meaty but still attractive face. He has changed, Aquina thought, but then, so have we all.
Stopping in front of her, he stared and then shook his head. “My God, Baby-girl, you are more beautiful than I remember. Look at you; what the f…” But she cut him off, hugging him, just like she had fifteen years ago.
“Oh babe, it’s so good to see you,” she whispered into his ear.
With the five K limit, the players were not encouraged to go ‘all in’ or for the ‘big score’, but to work the game pot by pot, and since all four men were decent players it ended up being an interesting and competitive night. It was agreed that if there was no clear winner the game would end at midnight; it was five to, and Gusbertson let out a shout; he had won the last pot.
The councillor was the biggest winner, being up thirty-eight hundred, to which McHugh dryly observed, “Yeah, it figures, politicians walking out with our money in their pockets.”
Gusbertson laughed and replied, “You know Sanders, that we’re always very careful with your tax money. ‘Course, in your case, we usually don’t get much.”
“Yeah,” Dzyuba chimed in, “They’re too busy squeezin’ it outta little guys like us, dat’s for sure.”
Without a lot of discussion, the clean up began. Gusbertson, who had had his hand up everyone’s dresses throughout the night, now headed down the hall with Kate, who had given Aquina at least one long ‘look’ that evening.
Dzyuba tried to haul Heather off, but was blocked by Aquina. “You know the rules, Captain.”
“I don’t plan on bangin’ her, Missy. Just, yu’know.” Dzyuba made a face that he intended would indicate oral sex. Aquina, aware of his hygiene issues, cautiously leaned in a little and said. “Fifteen minutes, and just a blow.”
And then she spoke with Heather. “Just suck this jerk’s dick as quick as you can and get out. I’ll be watching. Any problems, I’m in.”
“Thanks,” she whispered and headed off.
Sanders had gathered his things and was heading for the door. He turned and looked at Aquina, who joined him. “That your boyfriend?” Sanders asked with a head nod toward Brandon.
“Not really,” Aquina replied as they went out the door. She paused there adding, “He’s my partner.”
“I’m not sleeping with him, if that’s what you’re wondering. At least, not yet.” She then looked directly into Sander’s face. “Thank you, Sanders, for… everything. I…I’m sorry, we lost touch…”
(Miami, August 2002)
Sanders was in trouble, Aquina knew that before he gave her the little pistol (My Deuce Deuce, she called it) and told her to stay out of sight.
He had been walking a tight rope for a while, with his criminal and political activities; it was only a matter of time before he seriously pissed off the wrong person.
From her hiding place in a bedroom, Aquina heard the loud voices; two other men; she could tell. She heard Sanders pleading for his life and decided it was now or never. She came out with the .22 gripped in the stance Sanders had taught her and she had practised with; right hand holding, left hand supporting. The large, black man blocking her view, turned; an angry scowl on his face, and raised his huge gun at her.
Without thinking or anything, she pulled her trigger and two holes appeared in the black man’s forehead and he collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut. The second man turned her way with a look of surprise, and then began to raise his semi-automatic weapon, but Aquina fired three times, hitting the man in the chest with all three shots; the bullets placed so closely it looked like one large hole.
And then Sanders was by her side, gently removing the gun from her hands and putting an arm around her.
“Holy fuck Aquina, you are…somethin’. Sit down over here.” He had given her a shot of whiskey to drink, which she did, but she hadn’t needed it. Not then, anyway. The reality of what she had done didn’t hit for a whole day. For the moment she had just sat and stared at the bodies. “You saved my life, kid. You know that, right?”
With that event, Sanders changed. He put his considerable personal talents full into politics, moving finally to a ‘fixer’ role with the state senator, and then made the decision to move to Washington, where a young and former child prostitute would prove a problem in the circles he was now moving in.
But he did not simply abandon Aquina. Although she was initially angry and frustrated by his decisions, he
helped her move north, first to Buffalo, where he paid for her room at a boarding house, had her enroll in night classes where she worked to finish her high school diploma, and where a funny thing happened. Aquina proved to be an excellent, no, an outstanding, student. Always a good reader, even living on the street, she now found that she also loved math. Devoured it.
She was the youngest student in the group which included people in their twenties and even immigrants in their thirties. By the end of the first session, students were coming to her for help. She was very, very good, graduating in two years with honors and a small scholarship, which, when added to the twenty-five grand Sanders had set aside for her college, allowed her to complete a degree in business administration, at age twenty-two.
It was after that that things went south, figuratively, for her; she actually moved west, following Sanders. Then Aquina decided to pursue the quick money that working with certain…individuals…would give her, and Sanders had told her he could not support that. And that was that. They had stopped communicating. It had been almost eight years since they had spoken.
Until she decided to send him a note. And now, here they were.
“I made my decisions, and I know now they were not all the right ones. I should have listened to you. I should have come back to you…”
He held her and listened. “Hey, Baby-girl, we all gotta live. We all gotta stand on our own. But that don’t change nuthin’ that matters. I wouldn’t be standing here at all, if not for you. Everything else is just…shit. It don’t matter.”
He looked at her, almost tenderly. As tenderly as he could, anyway.
She leaned into him again, murmuring, “But, I’ve got to ask it, what do you want? I want something, and I know how this works.” She straightened up and looked at him; he had a little smile on his lips. “There’s always an ‘ask’, so level with me.”
Sanders continued to just look at her for a moment before beginning, “Ah, that’s my girl; always direct and no nonsense. That’s why we were a good team; neither one of us likes bullshit. So yeah, there’s an ‘ask’, a big one, but then I have something sweet for you. And your…partner.”
The slave girls, including even Melissa, who had changed quite remarkably in a week, had cleared away the breakfast dishes and vacuumed floors and swept up and now were sitting, naked, downstairs on the couch. They all had ankle ‘bracelets’ that would restrict any movement beyond small steps, but none of them had any intention to leave for the present; but one never knows. Right now, they were watching a movie.
As Aquina pointed out, slaves were worse than pets as a full time job. She needed to talk with Brandon and couldn’t be dealing with the women at the same time. Eric was at his place, Kevin was still asleep and Jake had now been ‘A.W.O.L.’ for two days. So this was it for the girls; something to keep them busy, like five-year-olds; but since Anna hadn’t watched a movie in years, and Kate and Melissa enjoyed the break, it was all okay; for now.
Aquina did have another possible ‘client’ for Melissa, and she would be following up with that later.
For now, Aquina and Brandon were sitting again in the little kitchen nook and she was filling him in on what Sanders had to offer; and what he wanted in return. It was, of course, complicated.
What it boiled down to was that he needed inside help to track down where his daughter was being held and why she had not been processed for bail. Then he wanted her to have a bail hearing that he (or his lawyer) could attend; that was it.
In exchange for their help, he would offer the group, and then just the two of them separately, two blue-chip real-estate deals that would bring in decent money. The first, smaller deal would be offered to the group together. The other would be strictly for Aquina and ‘her partner’.
One deal would need eighty grand to get in and likely pay three hundred ‘large’, as Sanders said. The bigger deal on the other hand, would require a quarter million buy in; but would pay back at least double that; this Sanders guaranteed, and he did not bullshit.
Brandon sipped his coffee and listened, occasionally asking a question, but being very reserved for the most part, almost preoccupied, considering what Aquina was telling him. Finally he spoke, but it was not a question Aquina was expecting, right then anyway.
“So, what’s the deal between you and Sanders,” he sipped his coffee again, not looking at her. Aquina decided right then in that moment to give Brandon the whole story; and she did. How she met Sanders, what she did to Dawkins, how she killed two men to save Sander’s life, how he had helped her financially, how they had gone separate ways, and now, how they had got back in touch.
Brandon sat in silence for a while. It was a lot to process. “Wow. I knew you were a bad ass, A., but…three notches on your belt…“
“That you know of…” she smiled.
He shook his head, “Yeah, right…well, I don’t have any, yet.” He finished his coffee, and visibly took a breath. “Do you, love him?”
It was her turn to sit for a moment in silence. “Yes, I do…now,” she said, “but not like you think. I love him like a…father I guess. He means a lot to me. He is only one of two people to ever care about me and help me; with no strings attached (he hadn’t ever asked for sex from her, as attractive as he found her, he couldn’t, keeping her at a distance instead. It was Aquina who was the one that was more than willing, back then.)
She got up and moved to the sink; Brandon now focused on the plan. “So, how the hell do we get two hundred and fifty thou? You got a stash in your mattress?”
Jake sat in the dark; it was early morning but the blinds were drawn. He had slept in the chair all night; drinking and then falling asleep. He knew he needed to make up his mind; either go along with Brandon and his snotty, know-it-all bitch girlfriend, or cut ties and go on his way, alone. He had no doubt about what Eric and Kevin would do; they were Brandon’s brother and cousin after all. No, Jake would be on his own.
Or not. Even in his resentment, he could see opportunities; but could he put up with this crap; with being the guy taking orders? They had his wife, and her sister, who he had lured, and now wasn’t even allowed to see. What. The. Fuck?
No, something would have to change, but he needed to keep things cool; this could blow up in his face. If he wanted his revenge, he needed patience. He got up to get changed and go to the house; at least those bitches could make him coffee and breakfast, the way things were supposed to work.
“Hold that thought,” Aquina replied to Brandon as she headed downstairs, checked on the ‘girls’ and then returned. “Okay, I don’t have that much scratch, but I do have twenty-five G’s and so do you, separate from the boys. We need two-hundred more…and I do have, an idea; maybe even a plan. But let’s get the others up to speed on this smaller investment; that is something that can be completed now.”
“We actually have that much?”
“We can scrape together eighty; it will be close. But Sanders has already said he would buy out our share right away; meaning we wouldn’t have to wait long for our return. But, nothing happens without the info on his daughter.”
“And your plan for that…?”
She looked at him again with a little smile on her face. “Our little lawyer friend, Abrahamson. He works under the First Assistant DA.’s office of this county. I’ve got to believe this is info he could find out. I’ve invited him over for tonight…”
“Then let’s hold off telling the others anything until this is clearer…” Brandon added.
Aquina was just about to reply, when the door opened and the hulking form of Jake Tucker entered.
Adam Abrahmson looked in the mirror at his reflection; it was a continual source of annoyance to him that he looked, maybe, twenty; he was twenty-nine years old. It seemed to him that no one reacted to him as if he was that, old, and that no one seemed to take him seriously, or actually even, really, notice him at all.
He was one of those people who could be in a room, and leave, and it would register on no one. Abrahmson knew dealing with this group of dirty cops that he had stumbled upon was a bad idea; but he liked it. He liked it. It made him feel, just for a little while, like he mattered.
And he especially liked being with that one slave girl, well, slave woman. She seemed like a frightened deer, but she sucked his cock the way he had always dreamed a woman would. When she was on her knees sucking him, gently running her tongue up and down his shaft, the world literally stood still for him.
That image, her head going up and down, her tongue snaking around his cock, would drift in and out of his mind throughout the day. The feeling he had after climaxing with her was like a drug. Way better even than cocaine, which he was actually frightened of. And he would see her again tonight; the beautiful Aquina had promised him.
He looked again at his image in the mirror and smiled, “You lucky son of a bitch,” he announced to himself.
(End of Chapter 09)