A House of Slaves
Chapter 15 Threats & Actions (Only a Matter of Time)
(Columbus, Ohio, September 2005)
Aquina stood in the room that would be her home for the next few years; standing beside her was Harriet Smith, who had guided her and assisted her with applications and all the necessary paperwork needed to get her into Capital University.
Aquina’s S.A.T. scores were a tribute to her intelligence and effort, but Smith had been very important all along this path. And she had taken her down another road as well, as Aquina had been living with her as her sexual slave for the last several months. This moment was filled with emotion for them both.
“You will come down to…see me, my mistress?” Aquina asked, kneeling before the older woman and pressing her face into her shoes.
“I am tempted, my dear. But I would rather wait for your breaks, and have you return to my house, where we are…more comfortable.” She smiled; a small, sad smile.
“I will miss you…so, so much, Mistress,” Aquina murmured, pressure building in her chest.
“And I you, but in life there is change. You have a goal here, to graduate with a degree; it will take most of your time and attention. But I am only a call away if you need an ear to listen.”
Smith reached down and stroked the glossy, dark head. And then she left, quietly. Aquina stayed where she was for several moments, allowing the sadness to flood over her and flow on. She knew her life would never be the same, and so true it was.
A month later, Harriet Smith was dead from a brain aneurysm.
Aquina and Claire came out of the bedroom of Sanders McHugh’s lakeshore condo. They each were wearing a shirt, unbuttoned, and little else, although Aquina had put her panties on, conscious of her new tat, which her undies just covered. Claire had enquired with interest, but Aquina had not elaborated on the marking.
Their hair was a mess and they both looked very relaxed and content, an arm around each other. “Seems like youse-two had a good time,” Sanders noted from his chair, as he sipped his bourbon.
They both smiled at him and Aquina asked, “And why do you say that?”
“I got ears, Doll.”
They all laughed. Aquina then went and retrieved her clothes as she had some things to do before her trip tomorrow, and she wanted to talk with Sanders about it.
He poured her a drink as she settled across from him, asking, “I’m going to the Cayman’s tomorrow; business of course; who do you recommend I get a plane through? I may need some…um, soft security.”
“You’ve been there before?” Sanders noted.
“Yes, several times. I have an account at Alhambra Bank & Trust right in George Town. But I’ve never been carrying in cash, like this. I’ve actually never taken more than ten grand at a time. This is very different.”
“Hmmm,” Sanders murmured, “You should just use one of my company’s planes?”
“Absolutely, Doll. I’ll cover the flight, you need to pay for the pilot and you’ll need five G’s to make sure security is…nice to you; right?”
Aquina smiled. “Right. Thank you again.”
Claire now came and sat down, leaning against Sanders, as he added, “And youse don’t owe me A, I owe you. Right?”
Aquina smiled again, nodding her head.
“Someday, you two are going to have to tell me what the deal is between you,” Claire announced.
Sanders and Aquina looked at each other and smiled, then swallowed down their expensive bourbon.
Sanders then guided Claire’s blonde head down to his lap with one hand while unzipping his fly with the other; all that ‘listening’ had…consequences.
(Chicago, April, 2011)
Aquina Morez had been working on a contract basis, assisting individuals and some small companies with financial matters, since her graduation. She had been getting fairly steady work, and having some money of her own coming in was great; but she was restless. She probably, simply, had expected…more, youthful dreams being what they are.
Then, as Smith had noted, life changed.
Late one night she was doing some work at a client’s residence when ‘Mrs. Client’ sat down at the table and looked over her forms and notes. These clients owned a small enterprise offering carpets from ‘around the world’ and the books were straight forward, although Aquina had found several areas of deduction the clients weren’t using.
Mrs. Client spoke up, “You are very good. A, how you say you name?”
“A – kween’ – uh,” she had replied.
“Interesting. You are very, um…efficient I think, and you have already saved us some money.” The woman studied her for a moment. “We would like you to look at our…um, other books. You can of course say no and leave. We will pay you for what you’ve done…”
And so it had begun for the young accountant, helping people off record, payments under the table; and because she was good, people kept recommending her to friends. But the friends got progressively ‘sketchier’.
But Aquina was making a lot more money, and she was enjoying things a lot more. She even travelled for the first time…to the Caymans, and opened her own account.
She thought then that she was on top of the world.
Aquina was thinking back now on her first trip here as their plane circled for the descent into George Town. She had come back many times since, sometimes flying to Jamaica and coming in by boat; sometimes flying to Belize with a stop-over, and then flying to the Caymans later. She had never taken a lot of cash, preferring bank drafts and always as she said, less than ten k; but over time she had built up her ‘pension plan’ nicely.
For this trip, the first with partners involved, it had been a hectic couple of days leading up; starting with the disclosure to the group (minus Jake) that Melissa had been sold; the boys were pleasantly surprised by the money but concerned as always about Jake. Aquina went through it all again and finally the concept seemed to be sinking in; Jake was a major problem and they could not let him mess up their plans.
Aquina did not discuss any further the ideas about freeing Anna or Kate; one thing at a time. The boys were excited, and a little anxious, about their money flying off; but they understood that if they wanted to move away from nickel and dime stuff they needed to aim a lot higher, and an offshore bank account was essential.
With her loyal bodyguard Garth accompanying her, they had flown to Washington late Thursday night, then drove down to a private airstrip in Virginia where IAC (Illinois Action Consolidated, Sanders’s main company) kept their planes. Aquina and Garth were to fly in one of their smaller Cessnas; which was still much more convenient, and nicer, than flying commercial.
All the right people had been paid, and thus they checked only what was expected and the money was safe in Aquina and Garth’s Lueders leather briefcases, designed with their special compartments.
Although it was past regular ‘bank hours’, the manager of Alhambra was a personal friend of Aquina’s and had made arrangements. They would drive from the private landing strip to the bank and take care of business. Then they would spend a pleasant night at the Marriott on Seven Mile Beach, before flying back out in the morning.
Later, relaxing in the jet tub in her suite, her hand gently grazing her tattoo, Aquina thought to herself that it had been a pretty incredible six weeks.
I wonder how Melissa is doing, she pondered briefly, as the warmth of the tub caressed her, and she leaned back, completely relaxed, apart from the occasional vision of Shareen Macgregor that came, arousing her.
And also thoughts of lovely Claire, which caused her to smile; what a loving, and definitely compliant, woman.
She had things to sort out, for sure, on her return. She looked again at her marking; I am a slave, she said to herself and felt a surge of arousal. Macgregor was right, she was playing a role as a dom. She was more content on her knees, serving the right woman; it was what completed her.
She reached over and picked up her cell, her hand now trembling, then typed, “Let me serve you next week, Mistress. Please. Please. Your dirty whore.”
She sent that off and lay back, heart racing. Amazingly, a return text chirped in a few minutes. “You disgust me,” Macgregor had written. “and you deserve to be whipped. But you may be able to serve me again. Did you enjoy being used as my toilet?”
Aquina sighed and squeezed her labia hard, replying, “Yes Mistress, very much. I love when you piss on me.” As she sent that off she considered how pathetic that was, but it was true. Just thinking of it again heated her.
In a moment the reply arrived. “I knew that, and it is not a surprise. You belong on your knees, serving me, and my friends. Now, for my amusement, send me a shot of you lying naked on your bed, legs spread wide. Something I can share with those friends; all women whose shoes you are only fit to clean, on your knees of course, after they piss on you as I watch.”
Actually moaning at this message and imagining that scene, Aquina quickly climbed out of the tub and dried off, then placed her cell on the desk by her bed, before lying down as the device clicked its five seconds and snapped the shot, her legs wide and her pussy spread as she pulled back the labia. She sent it off with a message, “I hope this pleases you. And your friends. May I please touch myself, Mistress?” and waited, gently fondling her clit, ashamed with herself and amazed, once again, at her arousal.
In her home, Macgregor smiled at this; it was excellent, more than she hoped. She typed, “Call room service, whore, because you are a whore and need to have sex daily, and pleasure whoever brings your tray. Send me a shot of your face in a pussy or sucking cock. You may touch yourself once you send the shot.”
Aquina knelt by her bed, desperately wanting release, then called the front desk.
Twenty minutes later, a clearly startled young black man was taking a shot of a beautiful woman with his cock completely in her mouth.
After the bewildered but very satisfied employee had left and Aquina had sent the shot, she lay and stroked her labia, before savagely fingering herself, coming with a wonderful climax in less than a minute.
A text arrived shortly, “I’ve shared your photos with several of my friends, whore. They all agree that you are made to serve. You will be on your knees for me, and others, soon. S.”
Aquina got up to brush her teeth; a flood of emotions swirling through her mind, but wishing she was on her knees before Shareen Macgregor, her mistress, right then.
It was late Sunday before Aquina, forcing herself now to focus on her job not her desire, was able to meet with Brandon, Eric and Kevin to review things. She showed them the receipt indicating where their funds were and how much; and everyone had a big smile. The topic then moved to recent events.
Last night they’d had a poker game with Alderman Gusbertson, Adam, as usual, who was actually becoming a fair poker player, and Kevin, with the fourth being Daniel Garrett, a young man who worked in the governor’s office on one of the current initiatives; and he appeared to be someone who could become useful.
As the boys retold it, Garrett was clearly taken with the party girls, especially Bobbi, who he couldn’t keep his hands off of (she is a hot one, Eric added). At the end of the evening (Gusbertson again came out on top for winnings, but no one lost a lot) Garrett had his own ‘happy ending’ courtesy of Kate.
Aquina later pulled up the video from that room and saw a very enthusiastic Garrett pounding Kate’s ass. When he finally came and rolled over, Aquina noted that he had the biggest cock of any of them, so Kate did well to please him, anally, although when she looked up at the camera, she didn’t look pleased, causing Aquina to sigh.
Garrett did enthuse as he was lying and recovering, “the wife never lets me do that.” Aquina nodded; she was not surprised; that, after all, was what whores were for, or so someone had once told her.
Back to the present, the topic then shifted to Jake, and it was clear that the group was uneasy about him. He was a scary dude, and he had gone ballistic after learning about Melissa. The boys speculated about Jake’s next move with some concern.
Aquina quieted the discussion with the comment. “I’ve had it with Jake, so I will give you an option. Let me buy him out.” She paused and looked around the group. “Or let us end our partnership here, sell off and move on.”
Everyone sat in silence.
No one wanted to lose Aquina and Jake had become moody and unpredictable. The guys, even Brandon, did not even look forward to riding with him on patrol anymore. To be honest, what had he brought to the partnership? Anna, a petrified wife who needed to be cared for. Melissa; someone he lured and kidnapped, something that could land them all in prison. And while Melissa had brought in some serious cash in her short time, that was because of Aquina, not Jake. Who knew what Jake would have done with her if he’d been allowed?
Eric and Kevin both looked at Brandon; Eric spoke, “It’s your call bro’, he’s your old buddy.”
Brandon nodded his head; he and Jake had had some times together, but even he saw the problems. He turned to Aquina, “You think you can get him to agree?”
Aquina looked serious, and spoke quietly but with confidence. “He’ll agree.”
Springfield, January 2012
It was only a matter of time, Aquina reminded herself, for this to happen. As her clients had moved from sketchy to shady to criminal, she had told herself, this is the last one; then find some regular clients. Enticed by the money, she had been unable to resist; but the big problem, as she found out, was that criminals were…well, criminal.
They were by and large bad people who did bad things. Some white collar ones were not into assault or worse, but you never knew what you were dealing with until you were in the middle of it.
Which was where Aquina had found herself, standing in a warehouse in the cold of an Illinois January, staring down the muzzle of a thirty-eight caliber handgun. Holding the handgun was Elmo (don’t ever call me Elmo) ‘Bugsy’ French, lieutenant to Ronnie (The Needle, where did they get these names?) Dolan, who was in fact Aquina’s client.
Aquina knew that Ronnie was into serious shit; she had had a chance to walk away, but the fee he offered her to ‘review’ his books was forty grand; still quite significant to Aquina even with her current successful work.
Ronnie thought someone in his organization was skimming; he just couldn’t see how. Maybe a fresh set of eyes could; and he had heard very good things about Aquina Morez; could she see what he could not? Also, he really wanted the chance to screw her.
Turned out Ronnie was right on two counts; he had a thief in his employ and Aquina was able to sniff out the guy; Bugsy, who had been watching like the proverbial hawk from the moment Aquina was hired. He knew when she had found his slip-up, and using Ronnie’s cell, had lured her to this warehouse. Now, before he killed her, Bugsy wanted the details on how she had discovered what she knew.
Aquina could not believe she was about to be killed by some guy named Bugsy; it was surreal, things seemed to be moving in slow motion. Aquina began to explain what she had found (what was the point in not telling this jerk) when their conversation was suddenly interrupted and in a dramatic way. The body of Bugsy’s partner, Louie (the Loser, what else) fell from the walkway above them, landing with a thud to Bugsy’s right.
Bugsy looked down and knew Louie was dead; his twisted head was a give-away, and immediately raised his gun and began scanning the area above them.
But there was no point, the danger was now coming from behind. For a very large man, Garth Clarke came up rapidly and as Bugsy turned Garth grabbed his gun-arm and brought it down across his knee, breaking it.
Bugsy screamed out in agony, Aquina looked on in disbelief and Garth smiled up at her. “Thought you could use some help here, A.”
Since that night, Garth had been Aquina’s support whenever she needed ‘muscle’; although Garth was way more than simple muscle. But, it was not surprising that after the chat with the boys and the decision to confront Jake, Aquina’s next call was to her old friend.
Garth Clarke, forty-five years old; six-foot-six, three hundred and twenty pounds, former British special forces; forced to take early retirement and disappear after the wrong man died in an operation, had then left for America, settling in Illinois and gravitating to protection and private investigations, until the day someone named Sanders McHugh approached him with a request; check up on an old friend for him.
That someone was the attractive and fiery young woman who was into some treacherous business. Garth had liked Aquina from the moment he set eyes on her. Even though she seemed capable of looking after herself, Garth felt a desire to protect her.
As Aquina would attest, Garth had never been more than her friend and protector, had never so much as tried to kiss her cheek. But he would always be there if she needed someone. Garth would help her with Jake, and he had a trusted pal to assist him; with Jake it might be necessary.
However, the ‘Jake problem’ could now be pushed to the back of her mind, Aquina thought as she drove to the warehouse and her next session with Macgregor; this being (finally) Monday; it had seemed to take forever to arrive.
In the meanwhile, she had been ordered to send several more shots of herself, masturbating, urinating, one with a sign reading how disgusting she was. All had been sent and her mistress had told her that all had been shared. “Whores are public, you would agree?”
“Yes, Mistress,” Aquina had texted back, excited by the idea of strange eyes seeing her in intimate situations.
And now she was very aroused again as she drove along, conscious of not speeding; she would likely arrive early as it was. As for Jake, Brandon had spoken with him indicating Aquina wished to meet and Jake had countered with Friday, and he would text the location.
Brandon was concerned about that, but Aquina, with Garth’s (and a friend’s) support, was very comfortable about the meet. Jake might have plans; but so did she, and her plans would most likely win out.
She now pulled into the parking area and noticed there seemed to be more cars than the previous time; maybe some of the women ‘her mistress’ had sent photos too were here, which added to Aquina’s arousal.
The clock read one fifty-three so she just sat and listened to music. When the clock read one fifty-seven she got out, aware again of how wet she was. Her panties were clinging to her; Macgregor would definitely notice; did Aquina like that or not? What she did like was the thought that in a few moments she would be on her knees before a powerful woman who could control and arouse her. She would be free to be a…whore, a slut and especially, a slave; Shareen Macgregor’s slave.
She pondered no more because she had arrived at the entrance and two other women were already waiting. They were both around her height and age; one was blonde with long hair down her back, the other was dark; central African dark, and with an amazingly beautiful face. Both women had good figures with full but not large breasts and round asses, currently displayed nicely in super-tight pants.
Suddenly the door was opened but not by Macgregor; it was a woman of probably forty-five or so, impeccably dressed and looking elegant. She sized up the three waiting women with a glance and with a grin invited them in. When they arrived at the entrance to the room Macgregor had used, with the stage etcetera, the woman paused and told them to undress completely, as per the warning on the floor.
She then had them stand side by side in a row; the dark woman first, then Aquina and then the blonde. The woman then attached collars to them that read simply: “Slut #1; Slut #2 and Slut #3. Aquina being number two. The woman then attached leashes to the collars and led the three naked women into the room.
Waiting for them on the stage were six women and one empty chair, with Shareen Macgregor sitting on the second chair from the left. All the women were over thirty, very well dressed in skirts and dresses and everyone had a martini in their hand. The three ‘sluts’ were paraded in front of the group of women to some ‘unlady-like’ hoots and comments. The naked women were made to bend forward and sway their ‘tits’ and then turn around and bend over so their asses could be seen, before one woman spoke, “Prepare the sluts for our service.”
A naked young woman came from the side; an assistant apparently. She appeared to be in her early twenties and looked Jamaican. She sported a slim, youthful body with a dense but cropped pubic bush and pert round breasts, each adorned with a silver ring.
The young woman put each slut on her knees, with their collars attached to a ring in the floor so their heads were just an inch or so above the tiled surface. Their hands were then bound behind them and their asses were displayed, high and prominently for the women.
There was movement beside her Aquina noted, the assistant was with Slut One, with the audience now yelling out things like, “Do it harder”, and “pump faster”. In a moment Aquina felt the girl’s fingers now spreading her ass, to the loud approval of the ‘audience’. She then felt cool gel being applied and inserted into her anus. The girl fingered her hole aggressively, as various women yelled out to “put four fingers in”, and “give the slut a good finger-hump”, etcetera.
After a few moments, the girl moved on to the third ass, prepared it as she had Aquina’s and then left the room. Aquina heard the quiet chatter of the women; it was like they were at a cocktail party, then she heard the soft pad of the girl’s feet as she returned. A bag of sorts was placed beside Aquina and then she felt something being pushed into her asshole; a moment later she felt the surge of warm water being released into her bowels; she was receiving an enema.
Each ‘slut’ received the same treatment and then all three were unhooked and made to crouch over buckets and the seated women watched as their ‘performers’ eliminated the water. The watching women howled their amusement, threatening the sluts with forcing their faces into the buckets and worse. The process was repeated three times for each woman and then their anuses were pronounced clean.
Aquina and the other two were then marched onto the stage, hands still bound behind them, and placed on their knees in front of a woman, who raised her skirt or dress to reveal a naked pussy, into which each slut’s face was pressed and which they began to lick and suck. Aquina felt a pang of jealously when she realized the blonde girl beside her had her face between Macgregor’s thighs.
Each slut serviced two women, and then all three were put to work on the lady who appeared to be the leader, licking her ass and pussy together until she shuddered, and the group applauded. At that point, the naked assistant took the three women down from the stage to where tables had been set up in front, and the three slaves were tied down on these: arms, legs, heads and waists, bound tightly to the tables, in extreme spread positions; Aquina actually thought her hamstrings might give.
Once the three were thus prepared, various finger foods were then placed and arranged on their naked bodies, with sauce placed into their vaginas (all three being completely shaved) that the elegant women could dip crackers and vegetables into.
Oval rubber frames were then inserted into each bound woman’s mouth, forcing them to remain open. As the party ladies moved around, sampling the snacks, they also enjoyed shoving vegetables into the ‘sluts’ holes and then into their mouths, or simply spitting into their mouths, as the mood struck them.
Aquina’s nipples and pussy lips were being relentlessly pulled and twisted, or slapped. All the sauce that had been placed in her pussy was gone but one woman was now voraciously licking out with a long tongue what little was left.
Eventually the women had their fill and gathered together to one side.
Some sort of draw seemed to be happening.
(End of Chapter 15)