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A Castle of Sand by LongDarkRoad Chapter 20 It’s Getting Better

A Castle of Sand By LongDarkRoad

Chapter 20 It’s Getting Better

…once I believed that when love came to me, it would come with rockets, bells and poetry…”

Hie Dhang looked once more at her telephone; perhaps she had underestimated the beautiful American. Perhaps another approach? But it was late; her entourage’s bags were all packed and ready for an early departure; the time for discussion was over. This would be one fish that got away.

For now.

* * * *

The ride in to the office Tuesday was almost surreal for Christine, as she sat silently, and listened to the chatter fall around her. Lana smiled at her once and nodded, but the knot in her stomach remained. Twice that morning she sat and looked hard at the telephone, but by nine-thirty it dawned on her that Dhang would have already left her hotel. She scolded herself for being so dense.

There was no way to reach the woman, even if she wanted to. The reaction to this was a strange mixture of relief and despair. Is this what love feels like? Christine asked herself, and then looked for something, anything, to work on to get her mind from, this.

* * * *   * * * *

Thursday had seemed to come in a rush, and Anne felt a definite pang of anxiety as she walked up to Laverne’s back door, carrying supplies. Her two crew mates were busy loading things in as well. Laverne was in the kitchen, trying to look casual but the anticipation was clearly evident on her face.

As the two other Like-Hot-Cakes staff went back out to the truck, Laverne came quickly to Anne and embraced her. “Oh my God, I can’t believe how I’ve missed you,” she said quietly into the blonde hair.

Anne chuckled, partly to hide her emotion, whispering,

“I’ve thought of you every day, and I mean every day. So I made sure I got this event.” They broke apart as they heard footsteps approaching and Laverne scurried out of the room.

* * * *

“Hey my man, things are boss and copacetic, baby; my boys are in place and the deals gettin’ done tomorrow, chief. Tha’s for real.”

“Call me at this number when you’re clear and cooled out,” Fuller said calmly.

“You got it, J-Edgar.”

Fuller snorted softly at that. “And remember, Jim-boy,” Fuller said, now with some ice in his voice, “this goes sideways and I get screwed, I’ll find you and it won’t matter to me at that point. I’ll put some lead in your head, where it don’t belong, dig?”

Jimmy paused. “I got no plans to screw the man, Bawwb. I’m good lookin’ annnn’ smart, roger ‘dat?” 

“Right,” Fuller mumbled.

* * * *

It was eight o’clock and there was no sign of Elroy. Anne had not heard anything from anyone since earlier in the morning. Managing to get a note into Laverne’s hand, Anne then spoke with her assistant, agreed everything was under control, with just the dessert and coffee left to take care of. Most of their supplies were already packed, so Anne took one truck and left.

* * * *

The days had at times dragged, but Christine was glad for the distraction of Miss Gerry and her creative sex ideas. At this moment, for example, Christine was tied on her bed, crossways, one wrist and one ankle attached to the headboard posts and the other two limbs tied to the opposite legs of the bed, so that her spread vagina was the first thing one saw when you came in their room.

Miss Gerry had again pushed the two ‘Steely-Dans’ into Christine’s lubricated openings. She had also blind-folded her Slave-girl with a special black felt covering that she had bought, having read somewhere that being unable to see who was touching you could be very erotic; it definitely was for Christine.

Margie, back for a visit, slapped ‘the slave’s’ ass one more time and untied her, then rearranged her, hands tied above and ankles to the end posts. She then settled her torso down on the eager mouth, and relaxed, enjoying Christine’s tongue.

After about fifteen minutes, and as she was feeling very, very nice, with her eyes closed and concentrating on the rising emotions, she didn’t notice the door opening. Dolly came in, then stood transfixed before the sight.

From the other bed, Gerry gave Dolly a thumbs-up and said quietly, “Two minutes and it’s your turn, Margie’s about ready to blow.” She grinned.

“This is unbelievable,” Dolly whispered, slipping off her slacks; Gerry grinned wider and nodded.

* * * *

Only General Ostrander, Laverne and Frank remained. The catering crew were all gone and Ostrander’s driver was out waiting in the car. “I guess I should follow up with this um, now, General?” Frank asked, looking uncomfortable.

“It can’t wait, Frankie my boy. I told Hagan’s assistant you would follow up, today,” the large man said, tapping his watch.

“Well, okay, if you’ll excuse me for a few minutes, I’ll make the call.” And with that, Frank headed for his office down the hall.

“Um, more coffee, General?” Laverne asked, uneasily.

“No coffee, Laverne. No, my dear, you know what I want.” He said, darkly, a leer on his corpulent face.

Laverne could not make eye contact with the man, she found him so revolting. Suddenly his massive bulk was blocking the light and he had gripped one of her arms in his huge paw of a hand, literally lifting her off the chair. There was no point in calling out; what would Frank do?

Because this was not the first time and there was no point in fighting; Laverne, however, was determined to assist as little as possible. In a moment, the general had tugged Laverne’s expensive pant-suit slacks down as well as her lace panties, which he had chuckled at, before ramming a large finger into her ass and forcing Laverne’s head to his crotch and her mouth to his short, thick erection.

Thankfully, he was an efficient man in many ways, and he had come, Laverne had swallowed, quickly dressed and headed out to the kitchen before Frank returned from his call; no point in embarrassing the man, after all, Laverne thought bitterly.

“The General’s leaving, Dear,” Frank had then called after a moment’s discussion.

Keeping her voice calm, Laverne had answered that she had already said her goodbyes, to which the general chuckled and nodded, before swaggering out the door and down the walk to his waiting Lincoln.

In a few moments, the general’s large car had left the exclusive cul-de-sac of the May’s residence and was now heading down a short stretch that had a natural, wooded area to its right and a large field to its left. A sudden loud bang announced that the tires had just gone over a studded belt, blowing them, and causing the vehicle to spin and veer to the left, coming to an abrupt halt against the curb. Both passenger-side windows were then blown-out by a hand-held launcher, the driver and the general now sitting stunned and bleeding within.

The front door was ripped open and Harrison the driver was pulled from his seat by two hooded men and hauled into the field and up a gentle rise. Through the shattered back window of the Lincoln an arm entered, its hand holding a gun. The general only had time to look up in dazed disbelief before three shots, all to his head, ended his life.

Up on the rise, Harrison’s gun was pulled from his holster as he was stood upright. The gun that was used on the general was now turned on the unfortunate Harrison, dropping him dead to the grass; two shots to the chest.

It would be murder by a lone malcontent, a young, colored man the news would report, with ties to various protest groups and possibly Cuba.

The struggling form of Elroy Stubbs, walking dead man, was now dragged forward. He was promptly shot twice with Harrison’s revolver; then both guns and the mini-launcher were dropped by the two bodies and the hit team of five dispersed in different directions.

They had time, as no one would call in the incident for another fifteen minutes, when a passing vehicle came upon the grisly scene. One of the crew ran for three blocks before coming to the small motorcycle he had stashed behind a garage; he rode that several blocks until he spied a pay phone.

“Hello,” Anne murmured, sitting alone in the caterer’s office.

“It’s done,” the voice announced.

“Thanks, TJ. You’re certain the packages are all wrapped?” She asked.

“That’s a positive; checked myself.” There was a pause before TJ murmured, “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Anne murmured in return. She then placed a call to Eagleton, setting up a meet. Taking a look around she knew she had left nothing; she only had the one small handbag.

Anne turned off the lights and left, knowing she would never return.

* * * *

At the May’s home, Laverne sat with a double whiskey; Frank already gone to bed. She needed to sit, alone. In the distance she heard sirens; they sounded close. What was up, this was a very quiet neighborhood? She now took out the note from Anne and read it.

She sipped her whiskey and closed her eyes as the tears slipped from them, remembering the last, quick kiss with Anne. “I will be back in touch; I don’t know when my sweet Lavvy, but I will…”

This sounded like a good-bye, but really, what else could it be….

God damn.

* * * *

Christine lay with her back to Miss Gerry’s breasts; hands again tied loosely in front.

“Dolly was pleasantly surprised,” Gerry murmured, remembering the woman’s pleasure.

Christine snorted softly, remembering as well. She hadn’t known whose pussy she was eating out, on her knees, as Gerry entered her with the ‘Steely Dan’ from behind, as she was blind-folded throughout, which was part of the excitement.

After the session ending with a mild climax for the newcomer, Miss Gerry had removed the blind-fold and ordered their slave to kiss Dolly’s feet and then thank her for being allowed to serve her, which Christine did easily.

She had agreed that Dolly would be obeyed now as well. “I, um, enjoyed not knowing who I was serving, but I knew it wasn’t Margie’s pussy,” Christine replied, thinking she had been intimate now with everyone in the crew but Connie.

They lay quietly together. “Why do you like to do, this, to be used like this? I’m not complaining, Slave-girl, just, you know…” Gerry whispered, gently pulling Christine’s hardened nipple.

“Ummmm,” Christine murmured, feeling very relaxed, thanks to Gerry’s tongue and fingers. “don’t know, and I mean that. I know that certain things, certain, people, turn me on and it just, happens. I don’t think on it; I don’t want to, jinx it, hey?”

Gerry chuckled, “You’re an odd duck, Chris.”

Christine snuggled her hips against her ‘mistress’. “Yeah; I get that a lot,” she purred.

* * * *

“You played us, me for sure,” Eagleton said quietly. They were standing in another small park; it was now two in the morning.

Anne looked up into the craggy face, “I never lied to you, Mr. Eagleton. I told you I couldn’t kill anyone.” She handed him her passport; he handed her an address.

“You should have known,” he said, quietly.

She smiled. “So, there was a plan B; that shouldn’t surprise you. They weren’t going to let this son-of-a-bitch live, but I didn’t want it to happen with a bunch of people around.”

“The driver was killed too; and the young Negro man. I’m guessing he’s the fall guy?”

Anne lit her cigarette and looked again at Eagleton. “I’m sorry about the driver, and Elroy. But Elroy was dead one way or the other.” She paused, thinking that with Laverne safe, the others were not her concern. People were going to die, that was the deal. “Okay, so after I get the going over from your people, I’ll call you to pick up my shit.”

Eagleton regarded the slim, attractive young woman, thinking she should be doing something else with her life. But then, who was he to judge? “Right, see you.”

They each turned and walked off.

* * * *

Laverne sat now at the kitchen table, the clock on the stove reading four-thirty. They had been awakened by first banging on their door and then the phone ringing, informing them of the murder of General Ostrander. Frank had gone to the White House to deal with the fallout. Laverne had put the coffee percolator on, although Frank hadn’t even had time to grab one cup.

Laverne was now sipping her second, thinking murder was nasty, but if it had to be someone, it was a good thing it was the lousy, stinking, foul creature who sat toad-like and repulsive in their living-room just hours before. Who, for the third time in two years, had forced his disgusting cock into her unwilling mouth.

No, she was not sad he was dead; not in the least. Hopefully her husband’s next boss was someone at least a step above this, dead, one.

* * * *

With the murder of a military officer, Cliff Eagleton knew the FBI would be busy as a hive of angry hornets today and so he wasn’t expecting to hear from Bob Fuller until later. Hell, even his own crew were looking into possible suspects, although the public was being told little.

‘AK’, who he now knew as ‘Anna’, would be meeting a personally-selected agent off-site today, but there would be nothing in her notes linking her to General Ostrander; Eagleton had erased that connection. The woman would be providing information on the man Roshov, whose file had been sealed as inactive several years earlier; and she would also be explaining how agents from the KGB had access to some fairly sensitive CIA communication. That would earn her a new passport, some cash and the chance to disappear.

* * * *

Friday morning Lana came and sat beside Christine, who was busy typing some notes on the expected behavior when first introduced to someone who was Japanese. “Well,” the woman sighed, “it’s done. I turned in our letters.”

Christine grimaced and then reached over and stroked Lana’s hand. “Thanks. Feeling bad?”

Lana shrugged, “Not really, except for ol’ Gibbons. She seems to take things personally. She wanted details and all I said was we have a job offer and it may involve going to New York.”

“Which is true, right?” Christine raised her eyebrows.

“Absolutely true; Madam Lucy confirmed you and I are booked for a shoot early in August.”

Christine sat quietly, then asked something that had been nagging her, “How are you able to handle this, I mean, with your, um, upbringing?”

Lana paused. “You mean, with my catholic mother and father coming from Italy, and thus being personal friends with the pope?” Lana grinned.

“Yeah,” Christine smiled, “like that.”

“Well, yes, I was raised with a heavy religious, um, philosophy. Sheesh, there were seven pictures of Jesus in our home and it was a six-room house.” She smiled.

Christine studied her friend, who had not said much about her childhood so far. Christine had learned that Lana was catholic from Margie. “So, um, what uh, happened?”

Lana sighed, “Life, I guess. Or rather, death, in my case.”

Seeing that Christine would not be satisfied with that, Lana continued. “I was eleven and my best friend became gravely ill; turned out to be leukemia. And she suffered, which wasn’t the hardest part. That, was all the praying and the empty nonsense about her being tired and God wanting her home, etcetera. I just about lost it, and I realized what utter foolishness organized religion is. It’s the biggest scam there is. When I was old enough, I walked, no ran, away; and my parents haven’t spoken to me since.”

Christine stroked her hand again and Lana said quietly, “Sex is just another activity, kid; it can have serious consequences, no doubt. Syphilis is a very, very nasty business, trust me, I’ve witnessed it. But sex has nothing to do with our morality; this, the government and the lies it tells, should be front and center with morality; but no, it’s, well, all about sex with, everyone.”

Christine did not respond; there seemed nothing to add and Lana was on a roll. “So, this is how I exist now, accepting the sex for what it is and nothing more. My sexuality does not define me, hey. And this deal with Madam Lucy is just a business arrangement; one I hope will give me the money to do what I want to do. It does not make me one thing or another, except to others who sit in judgement.”

And his delight shall be in the fear of the Lord. He shall not judge by what his eyes see. Christine did not know why those words of Devers came to her now; like her emotions, they just came and went, like the image of Elizabeth Devers’s face.

The two women sat and looked at each other, the buzz of the office drifting around them.

* * * *

In the end, Bob Fuller decided to let Jimmy Lee and his crew ‘do their thing’ without any interference by him; he would remain safely in Washington. Friday night at nine o’clock the number he had given Lee, to the phone at his favorite bar, was called and the bartender brought the black device to Bob sitting at one end. “Yeah?” Fuller said quietly.

“Hey, pal Bawwwwb, the deed’s done, my man and the product looks fiiiiine, just top graaaade, baby. So, when and where can we meet?”

They decided on a warehouse in Baltimore; Fuller knew the place and liked that it was a location where he could be in control, somewhat.

“Saturday around nine, nine-thirty, got it.”

Now it just remained to be seen if Jimmy R. Lee could be trusted.

* * * *

Saturday at the house was sombre; word had quickly spread of the decision by Lana and Christine; both women had gone out to do some shopping but also just to get away from the sad eyes and the questions.

“Whose car is this?” Christine asked as she slid into the Chevy station wagon.

Lana smirked, “Mine.”


Lana laughed, “Madam Lu leant me some dough. We need to buy some furniture right, and you don’t have much, until your final pay check. I got the keys to our place last night, so we can start moving stuff in this week. We need to get out of the house; it’s, too hard.”

Christine nodded her head, “I know.” Then she looked over at her friend. “You are so organized.”

Lana laughed, “You’re going to get mad at me when I get after you for not cleaning up. Then you’ll regret those words.”

They both laughed; but inside there was sadness at the thought of leaving their friends and, just, the end of something.

* * * *

Bob Fuller sat in the deserted lot at the back of an abandoned warehouse in Baltimore; it would be a three hour drive for Jimmy, but that was too bad. Fuller had made him enough money to take care of any of that.

At just after nine-thirty, Fuller saw the vehicle approaching and the adrenaline began pumping. He checked his forty-five again; he’d already checked it twice, but that didn’t matter. Fuller waited in his car until, as arranged, Jimmy got out by himself and went to the trunk, then began walking toward Bob’s Pontiac carrying / dragging a large duffle bag.

Bob opened his door and climbed out cautiously. Jimmy stopped two feet away, grinning broadly and extending his hand. “Good doin’ bi’z-nus wit’ you, my man,” he chortled, a tooth-pick sticking out between his lips.

“No matter how much you try, Jimmy, people know you’re not from the south,” Bob said, kneeling down and opening the bag. “So,” he said, feeling an unbelievable rush, “that’s what a million bucks looks like?”

He looked up and Jimmy gave him two thumbs up and a wide, toothy grin.

* * * *

“Haven’t been in this part of town for a while,” Eagleton observed. Being Sunday evening, everything was quiet; almost too quiet. “So you changed the plan, a bit.”

Bob Fuller snorted, “Yeah, I figured my ass was more on the line than yours and I didn’t want any more contact than necessary.”

Eagleton paused, “My Hong Kong contact is now burned, what with the shipment being heisted rather than caught. They know there’s a leak somewhere, so that shit hits the fan.”

Fuller nodded, “Yeah, I thought that could happen, but you know Eagle, your source was not being completely straight, either. The day the boat came into New York, another shipment hit Miami.”

Eagleton regarded his friend. “Where’s this intel from, a reliable source?”

“Very reliable. My good, good buddy Jimmy R. Lee. One of the crew begged for his life and offered up some news. Anyway, this is for you.” Fuller lifted a large suitcase out of his trunk, laying it on the cracked asphalt of the lot. Eagleton popped it open and stared at the rows of stacked bills. “Pretty sweet, hey Cliff?”

Eagleton let out a low whistle. “Beats my pay check, that’s for sure.”

Fuller laughed and put out his hand, Eagleton rising and shaking it. “Been great workin’ with you over the years, Eagle. Guess it’s best if we don’t have any more contact?”

Eagleton nodded, “Yeah. What’s your plan; lay low for a few months as you were thinking?”

“Yeah, I’m thinkin’ end of the year makes sense, it’s a logical thing. I just turned fifty and been in the field for twenty-five years, Eagle. You know,” he paused, and shook his head, “this is all that men like you and me know, serving these agencies.” He snorted and waved his hand, like he was wiping something. “But, in the end, no one’s gonna think anything’s weird if I pack ‘er in, hey? What about you?”

“Yeah,” Eagleton murmured, “the New Year should find me far away from here.”

Fuller climbed back into his big car and headed out; Eagleton watched until the vehicle turned onto a major road and was lost in the traffic. He picked up the suitcase and loaded it into his trunk. Once home he hauled the large case down to his basement. Opening it, he took out five grand, then placed the case beside two others.

He went upstairs and poured a scotch. This was okay, he thought, after all the bullshit and all the sacrifice, getting something back was okay. Well, more than okay.

He pondered, it had only been a week since men had walked on the moon, and here he was, sitting on cloud nine. Ha! He laughed out loud to the empty room and sipped his scotch; it was his best bottle, but he’d buy another.

A few, actually.

(End of Chapter 20)

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A Castle of Sand by LongDarkRoad Chapter 19 My Whole World Ended

A Castle of Sand By LongDarkRoad

Chapter 19 My Whole World Ended (the moment you left)

“…last week my life had meaning, but now it’s nothin’, nothin’ without you baby, my whole world is incomplete…”             

“Nervous?” Lana asked.

Christine smiled, “A little, but compared to what else went down today, I’m okay with, this.”

They had gone for a drink before meeting Madam Lu, and Christine was glad they had; her glass of white wine had taken the edge off; she still felt a little numb, mentally, but was glad to be out, not sitting around and thinking. Just make it past Tuesday, she was telling herself.

Lana checked her watch; “Let’s go, we can walk; it’s maybe ten minutes or less from here.”

* * * *

“Where you been, stranger?” Beverly asked.

“Hmmm, I know if I say, busy, you won’t believe me, but, I’ve been busy.”

“Feel like some company?”

Anne paused for a moment, “Yeah, ya’ wanna come here?”

“Sure, I’m actually calling from a pay phone a few blocks away,” she snickered. “Be there in five.”

Anne sat for a moment, then lit a cigarette. It would actually be nice, she pondered, to have some company; help get her mind off the crap with the dinner at Laverne’s. She looked again at the name on the piece of paper. Cliff Eagleton. She needed to decide soon what she was going to do; the dinner was in five days, and she had delivered all the bomb parts to Elroy, the walking dead man, as Anne thought of him.

* * * *

“So, you think she’s made up her mind?” Douglas Silverberg asked, quietly, conflicting emotions at work.

Julia Sullivan sighed, “I think so, Sir. Certainly from her point of view it is a very personal decision; she, um, shared some info with me, you see, that is hard to ignore.”

Silverberg sat in thought; he’d been on the phone with a number of sources, etcetera, though-out the day. “You know, it sounds like something is going on with Dhang, herself. Almost as if she’s, um, done something or fallen out of favor.” He paused and Sullivan waited. “There’s no way any of the deals can go south if Dhang is in the glue or anything?”

“No,” Sullivan said, “I’ve read those contracts over backwards and forwards, they’ve been signed by the minister, so definitely above Dhang’s pay-grade.”

“Good,” Silverberg responded, “maybe this thing with, mmm, Miss Callister, is for the best.”

“Maybe, Sir.”

* * * *

“UUUUnnnngggg!” Hyun cried out, as the belt struck; she then called out the Korean word for twelve. Three more times this was repeated, with only the numbers changing; Madame Dhang stopped after Hyun had cried out fifteen.

Leaving the young woman tied where she was, Dhang found an armchair and collapsed into it, another of her young assistants bringing her a whiskey and soda. She sat, brooding, and sipped the drink. If her lovely whore did not show, then Hyun would become slave number five; it was only fair.

* * * *

“My dear, Lana did not exaggerate,” Lucy Nagy murmured, smiling into Christine’s face.

Christine regarded the slim, elegantly dressed woman, like Flori Hănescu, she thought, only shorter, with the dark hair and eyes, and a shrewdness about her. This was not a woman one would mistake for a housewife.

“I told her you were gorgeous,” Lana smiled, nudging her friend with her elbow.

“So,” Nagy continued, “Let us sit and talk about, some  possibilities.”

They sat. And then talked.

* * * *

“Where are you goin’?” Beverly asked, looking at the clock and noting just past eleven.

“Out, sweets, for a few minutes. Don’t flip your hippy-wig, darlin’, I’ll be back.”

“Why are you so, mysterious sometimes?” Beverly asked from the bed.

“Why do you want to be my mother, sometimes?” Anne replied, her hand on the door knob. “Look, it’s cool for you to hang out here if you don’t want to be at your place for the, um, gathering or whatever, tomorrow. I dig, just relax; I’m back in a flash.”

“With the cash…” Beverly smirked.

“Hey, if I hav’ta start paying you for your services, babes, your sweet ass, much as I like it, is outta here.”

Beverly laughed and Anne headed out, off to her favorite phone booth and a call to a CIA agent. Who woulda’ thought? She mused, anxiety beginning to rise.

* * * *

Bob Fuller was up late, for him, going over and over the plans in his mind; plans which he was now changing. Stopping the heroin shipment and lifting some of the product had too much risk and not enough reward, he’d come to believe.

No, he had a better plan. He called the number on his ‘special list’, listened to three rings and then the voice of Jimmy R. Lee came on, “Hey, Mutha-fucka, it’s your dime, shoot.”

“Hello, Jimmy,” Bob said, quietly.

“Hey, it’s muh new bes’ fren’, Mutha-Fucka, Bawb,” Jimmy chortled.

Bob grinned, then said. “You’re no street thug, Jimmy- boy; last time I checked you were Chinese, so what’s with the jive?”

Jimmy laughed.

* * * *

“So, there you go,” Lana murmured, as the two women stood on the curb, eye out for a taxi. “It’s been a long day, huh?”

Christine leaned in and kissed her friend’s cheek. “Thank you for sticking by me, and for this. It’s an awful lot to take in, but let’s talk again, tomorrow.”

Lana looked at her, “Well, you were screwing Korean gentlemen for peanuts, or zilch, so this would be a step up, my beauty.”

Christine smiled ruefully, and then began waving as a taxi came up the street.

* * * *

“Hello?” Cliff Eagleton asked, with some caution, checking the clock; it was not the time for social calls. 

“Mr. Eagleton?” Anne asked.

Eagleton paused, “That depends; who’s this?”

“No name now, but I have some info for you, and I’d like to meet; tomorrow night, at twelve; write this down.” As he wrote the street names, Eagleton recognized the location.

“It’s a park.” Eagleton noted.

“Yeah, I’ll sit in the middle bench and wear a ball cap.”

“I’m supposed to just show up, without knowing who you are?”

“It’s a public place, Mr. Eagleton; open with several ways in and out, you’ll be safe,” Anne chortled.

 “You’re a big guy, and I’m, well, not. But this involves General Ostrander.”

Eagleton paused, “Give me a little more.”

“He’s going to a dinner at the home of the Mays this Thursday.”

Eagleton paused; he had heard a bit of info regarding the general’s return; not many people would know (or care) of that and fewer would know of the dinner. A handful at most; the caller had his attention. “Once again, why would I have interest?”

Anne paused; from this point forward her life would never be the same, she knew that. “You might not care about that, but you always like some dope on the KGB; like about Rashov, who, by the way, is not dead. Oh, and also by the way, the ‘King’ is a woman.”

The line went dead and Eagleton sat, staring at the receiver.

* * * *

Gerry was still awake when Christine entered; she was lying again dressed in T-shirt and panties. Christine stood by the bed. “Sorry about today, Miss Gerry, but I’m, at your service now, if you wish,” Christine said quietly, hoping; she needed her release.

“Well, that’s a polite Slave-girl,” Gerry murmured, putting down her book, “Undress for me, slowly.” Christine did an unrushed strip, teasing at the last with her panties, until Gerry laughed, “Take those off, Slave, and stand; mmmmm, nice. Turn slowly, ummm,” Gerry chuckled, “God I love your ass, but it’s too late for spanking; you’ll get twenty tomorrow, how do you feel about that?”

Christine felt a surge, then murmured, “Thank you Miss Gerry, you are, um, thoughtful.”

Gerry chuckled again, “Bend over and spread your ass, Slave-girl; wider; good. Now, put a finger in as far as you can. Pump it for your mistress, bitch, that’s it. Imagine there’s a room full of people, watching you…” Christine complied, feeling dirty, a low moan escaping her lips. “Okay, good.”

Gerry now simply lay and regarded the lovely body for a few minutes, appreciating near perfection. She sighed, “Alright, put your collar on and grab your things; we’ll go brush our teeth and, stuff.”

Christine fastened her collar, picked up her toiletry bag and reached for her robe. “Leave the robe; you’re going like that, my Slave-girl. I’m thinking maybe it’s time to make you the house slave. I think you’d like that, serving everyone.”

Christine inhaled, the thought stabbing her erotically. She looked at the other woman, a small smile on both their lips. “You’re enjoying this, Miss Gerry, aren’t you?”

Gerry’s smile grew broader, “I didn’t give you permission to ask personal questions, slave. That’ll be another five tomorrow. Now, follow your mistress down the hall, naked like you belong.”

And off they went.

* * * *

Sunday morning was busy at the house, as the plan was to be at the Silverberg’s for breakfast at nine, the news being that the landing would be happening before eleven. “This is like science fiction,” Dolly bubbled.

“Yeah, except it’s happening, Doll, so science-fact,” Connie smirked.

Christine, her hands tied, had slept again with Miss Gerry; now that they were up, she was on her knees, serving the woman before they got ready. “Remember, Slave-girl, you’re being spanked today, after we get back.” Gerry murmured, stroking the brunette head.

Christine looked up, resting her chin on the thick hair, “Yes, Miss Gerry,” she paused, “you mentioned that you had bought some, things?”

Gerry chuckled, “Yes, and you’ll see them later too, now stop talking, I’m getting close, hmmmmm, yes, just like that. Mmmmmmm.”

* * * *

The ladies were getting purses, etcetera, as the van would be leaving in a couple of minutes. Christine was leaving the kitchen and heading upstairs, when the hall telephone caught her eye.

She stood, gazing at it for a moment; it would be so easy, came the thought. All she needed to do was call her mistress and say she was sorry; her life would be set for the foreseeable future; no job, no money worries, everything taken care of. She was separated from her family anyway; she had not even spoken to her mother since last Christmas, and that was brief.

Just a call, and she would be carried away to another country, another life; one where she could serve her mistress completely. She saw herself, walking in public, her breasts, ass and pussy exposed for the world to see, yet she would be hidden under her covering. And she would be presented in public, as the property of her mistress.

“Let’s go, kid,” Lana’s voice summoned her and Christine turned, a look of anguish twisting her face. Lana reached out and gently touched her, “I’m with you, Chris, you’re not alone in this.”

And like a spell being broken, Christine shook herself and ran upstairs to get her things, but with Lana watching her from the bottom of the stairs with some concern.

* * * *

It had been a pleasant time for the group; the Silverbergs were gracious and hospitable hosts, laying out a wonderful spread that looked like they were expecting a football team.

“This set sure does a number on our little black and white box, hey girls?” Dolly enthused, as they gathered around the large color television; and no one could disagree.

“This is pretty freakin’ amazing, people, sitting here in a living room watching a telecast from the freakin’ moon. Holy freakin’ cow,” Margie added to laughter, and  then the room went silent; the mood was suddenly eerie and moving, with several tissues making an appearance.

And then Armstrong said it, “One small step for man…” and there was a pause, and then the room exploded with cheering and general yelling, back slapping and tears.

“You’d think it was us up there,” Connie joked.

It was 10:56, July 20th, 1969.

* * * *

Christine and Lana were sitting on the steps as dusk settled on the city. The day had been hot and it wasn’t much cooler with the sun going down. The two women sat in the gathering dark in their shorts and light blouses.

Miss Gerry had administered the promised spanking to her Slave-girl, then played-with and fingered Christine to a laughing orgasm that had lifted her spirits.

“Thank you, Miss Gerry,” she had whispered into the dark, curly hair and Gerry had responded by kissing her lovingly and holding her. “Hey, I don’t really get what your deal is, Slave-girl, but I’ll roll with it as long as you want. You’re somethin’ special, hmmmm.”

As she and Lana sat now, Christine still felt the pleasant memory of that moment, and her anxiety had surprisingly ebbed away. “So, what’s your plan, Lana?” She asked, reaching out and clasping her friend’s long, elegant hand and then impulsively kissing it, making Lana chuckle.

“Well, I’m going to submit my notice this Friday, effective the end of the month. They won’t be happy, and there’s the thirty day clause and all, but there’s not much on the go right now, so they won’t squawk too much. I’ve already put down a deposit on an apartment  in town; a two bedroom, girl, so you can join me.” She winked, “Then I start working, for Madam Lu.”

Christine looked on with amazement at the calm way Lana  had just laid this out. “Just like that?”

Lana made a face, “Yes and no; I’ve been thinking on this for a while, right? I’m not jumpin’ into this, not like you, sweet thing.” Lana gave her a look and Christine felt sheepish. What she had contemplated was way more life-changing than Lana’s change of life plan.

As Lana had pointed out, Christine had been serving people sexually almost since her arrival, and while the money, in comparison to what she had known, was great, Madam Lucy had pointed out that it was really pocket change compared to what they could bring in, for doing essentially the same thing, with choice.

Christine had asked about servicing female clients, and Nagy had said that was definitely part of her trade. The woman had looked at Christine with an appraising eye, “You would do very well with that,” she had declared.

Christine knew there was risk, obviously; well, there was risk in life. And her exchanges with Sullivan had certainly soured her. “So, Miss Gallo, I would not even consider this on my own, but with you,” she paused and took a deep breath, “I’m game.”

“Partners,” Lana said, squeezing Christine’s hand. Both smiled and then sat quietly, before Lana murmured, “Miss Gerry doing anything with you now?”

Christine looked up in surprise, “How do you know about that?”

Lana laughed and looked with affection at her friend, “You’re such a kid.”

* * * *

Eagleton stood by the only large clump of tress. He had of course already checked out the location in daylight; it was as his mystery caller had said, fairly open with multiple entry points. He watched as a slim woman wearing a ball cap moved to the middle bench and sat. For a large, broad-shouldered man, Eagleton moved with surprising grace and silence.

He was just about at the bench, coming up behind, when the girl murmured, “Good evening, Sir.”

Eagleton paused about three feet behind the seated figure and chuckled, “Good evening. What do I call you?”

Anne paused again; this would be another burned bridge. “In your files, say twenty something years ago, there might be the name Kasynanov.” Eagleton registered that; he was certain he had seen that name somewhere. “But for now, just call me AK.”

“Sure, AK. So, what’s your deal?”

Anne then explained the scenario with the dinner and the planted individual who was set up to take the fall, although she was the one who was to set the device.

Eagleton paused and considered. “So, why are you backing out?”

It was Anne’s turn to pause. “I got into this whole intelligence thing, because I have a problem with America’s military power and it’s, mmmm, need to use it. I think a balance of power is better for the world, so I’ll feed info to the Soviets for that, uh, reason.”

She turned her head slightly, and Eagleton was surprised by her youth. “But I didn’t agree to blow people up,” she said, evenly, although her heart was racing at that moment. “I wouldn’t be any better than the Yankee butchers dropping bombs in Nam.”

“Hmmmphf,” Eagleton grunted and lit his pipe, the fragrant aroma spreading out and reaching Anne, who lit her own smoke. “So what do you want me to do?”

“Stop it,” Anne murmured. “We have, um, excellent access to much of your inter-agent talk; let it be known that a threat has been detected and action may happen at the Mays; that will warn these guys off.”

“That’s it. And in return?”

Anne sat now and smoked, before replying, “Then you get me. I’ll sit down with your analysts and spill whatever beans I have. You then get me new papers and docs and

I’ll, vanish.”

“Are you watched?”

“Of course. But, like tonight, I have my, moves.”

“How will I reach you?”

Anne put out her cigarette with her foot, then turned and headed off, “I’ll reach you, Mr. Eagleton.”

Cliff Eagleton watched the slim figure disappear into the night.

* * * *

Christine was lying face-down on her bed, her knees bent and her wrists and ankles tied together. As she moaned softly, Miss Gerry spread some Vaseline on her anus and vagina. “I said I got some things for my Slave-girl, hmmmm?” Gerry crooned, slapping one cheek.

“Unng!” Christine responded, “Um, yes, you said that, Miss Gerry.”

Just then, Christine could feel an object being inserted slowly into her ass. Gerry chuckled, “I found a couple of these dildo things, my slave, steel ones. They call them Steely-Dans, by the way,” she chuckled again. “But unlike real Dans, these babies stay nice and hard.” She stopped when she had about four inches wedged into Christine’s lovely ass; then she began pushing the second, larger phallus into the vagina opened so enticingly before her, fattened labia sitting like guards aside a door.

Just then the real door opened; someone was coming in! “Don’t worry,” Gerry murmured, noting Christine’s reaction, “It’s just our ol’ pal Margie, come to pay a visit, and see how our slave is doing.”

Christine felt a hand on her ass and knew it was Margie, as Gerry was busy pushing one dildo while fondling her labia. “She does have an incredible butt, hey sister?” Margie said.

“She does.”

“Unnngg!” Christine grunted again in response to another slap.

“C’mon, Margie my dear, give it a go.”

Margie chuckled and slapped, tentatively, but after a couple of tries, she and Gerry were trading smacks that had their slave-girl wiggling and moaning. Each woman also had control of a dildo, and were moving them in and out as well.

“When we’re done with this, we’ll turn her over and give her tits a go, then have her lick us; she’s good, but you probably know that.” Gerry smirked and Margie nodded her head, giving Christine another good slap.

* * * *

Connie and Dolly were on holidays as the work week started; no trade delegation was coming in until August when the Japanese would arrive. So this week the crew were tasked with clearing out old files and other mundane tasks.

“I’ve spoken with Madam Lu,” Lana said quietly to Christine as they were sorting some paper piles.

“Um-hmmmm,” Christine replied, looking up.

“We are ready to get going right on the first, and…” she paused for effect, “she’s got something happening with, um, films. In New York, actually. It’s like stag films but much better, with directors and everything and really good money.”

Christine looked at Lana, “These are films that will be out there, for anyone to see?”

Lana smiled, “Well, anyone who is interested in, this. But you wear make-up and people really aren’t focused on your, um, faces, they’re pretty much looking at the other parts, you know. Remember,” she said, putting a reorganized folder back in the file, “I want to make as much money as I can in two years and then move on. That’s my plan, girl.”

Christine gave her the v-for-peace (or victory) sign.

* * * *

Just before four, Christine’s phone rang and she answered with her mind on the page she was reading but then froze as she heard the voice, “So, my sweet whore, I have heard nothing. Does that mean what I think?”

Christine took in a breath and willed herself to be calm, but it was impossible. “M-madame Dhang, I didn’t expect to hear from you.”

Dhang sighed. “I could not just leave, without at least some word,” she murmured in that velvety tone that reached deeply into Christine’s being.

“Thank you, but we’ve talked, and I have decided,” Christine said quietly, feeling a little like the child with the school principal.

“Once I’m gone, there is no second chance,” Dhang said quietly.

“Well,” Christine replied, as Gerry bustled into the room and then back out with a quick smile, “I am here; if you return I will come to you. But it must be here,” she said quietly but with determination.

There was a pause. Christine could not know, but Dhang  had one of her assistants tied to a bed and was sitting on the girl’s face. The girl was struggling more and more frantically as she could not breathe with Dhang feeling the need to release her stress physically. “You would be here for me if I returned,” Dhang murmured, finally allowing the girl a breath, before sitting again on her face.

“Y-yes, Mistress, I would be here.”

“And you would come to me and kneel as you should…?”

Christine fought the rising arousal and fear, “Y-yes, I would.”

“Remember this,” Dhang whispered, “you will always be my whore. Always; I do not release you. You know, and I know you know, that you would have been at peace, walking with me, wearing my collar, attached to my leash, my mark upon your body, showing the world that you belong to me. But, that life, that world, is gone when I leave. You know that, Christine Callister.”

There was a pause, Christine fighting with all her will not to shout out an apology and run after this voice.

“You will always be my whore, my slave, my property. You will always belong to me, we both know that. Your world will be, incomplete.”

And then, as it always did with this woman, the line suddenly went dead.

(End of Chapter 19)

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A Castle of Sand by LongDarkRoad Chapter 18 Bad Moon Rising

A Castle of Sand by LongDarkRoad

Chapter 18 Bad Moon Rising

…I see the bad moon a-rising, I see trouble on the way; I see earthquakes and lightning, I see bad times today…”

Jade, Lucy Nagy’s assistant, let her know her long distance call from New York was returned and the party was waiting. “Eddie?” Nagy murmured, taking a drag from her cigarette holder.

“Miss Lu, my pleasure, doll. Great to hear ‘dat voice o’ yours,” he chuckled. “I know ‘da Cold War is still on when I talks with youse, doll.” They both laughed. “So, is it business or pleasure?” he asked.

“You know me, my friend, my business is pleasure.” They both laughed again. “Anyway, just getting back to you; it’s been a month since the Warhol film, the city still goes on? No raging do-gooders roaming the streets attacking smut? No bible-thumpers screaming about Hell-fire damnation?”

“Ha, naw, too busy with all the shit from the whole Stonewall thing; there’s been more violence on the streets and the cops are all on ‘dat. But Blue Movie has really opened some eyes, and I mean ‘dat literally, doll.”

Nagy smiled. “My associates are setting up shop there right now; in fact, they shot a couple of short films this week, just using local hookers.”

“You are, as always, on top o’ things, Lu. They’re calling it the porn explosion, even if nobody knows what porn is.” Eddie laughed, sounding a little like a donkey. “But if we’re talking dicks in pussies, then ‘dat’s porn, I guess. An’ people are eatin’ it up, Lu. Eatin’ it up.”

Nagy laughed. “I like the sound of that, and I can send people to you, personally, and you’ll look after things?”

“Absolutely, doll. You’re thinkin’ of usin’ your own girls?”

Nagy tapped her smoke onto the ashtray, “That I am. My girls are gorgeous, it’s my trademark, and if you like seeing a woman actually fucking, for real, then you’ll like it even more when it’s a beautiful woman.”

“You got production?”

“I do. It’s actually one of Warhol’s people, from the Factory.” She paused, “I have one of his early pieces you know, in my place in L.A. A silkscreen.”

“No shit,” Eddie marvelled, “You always had the eye, doll. Right from the start.”

* * * *

The large car picked Christine up outside the house and it was again just her and the driver. Fifteen minutes later she was riding the elevator up to the ninth floor, and when the doors opened, the smirking face of Hyun greeted her. She was dressed today, at least right now.

“Ah, our dirty whore. Come this way.” Hyun entered what was the adjoining room to the one the men were in, and had Christine strip and kneel. Cuffing her hands behind her, Hyun sat on the bed and lifted her skirt to reveal the black nylons and no panties once again. “We have a few minutes, so you can be of some use,” Hyun smirked, pulling Christine’s face into her crotch.

* * * *

“Madame Lu?” Lana asked, although she knew; the voice was very distinctive; nasally, precise, and with a definite eastern European accent, even after all these years. ‘Why should I change, she had said, it’s my trademark’.

“Ah, Lana. So I heard that Mr. Winters was pleased, very pleased, and has asked that when he’s back, you are reserved for him. I told him that would cost him and he said, “it’s worth every penny.”

Lana chuckled, “Well, glad the customer’s happy and, I have your cash. I’ll bring it tomorrow when Christine and I drop by. Eight o’clock still work?”

“Absolutely, my dear. Can’t wait to see you, and not just for the money, either.”

They both smiled.

* * * *

For the first half hour, Christine had been ‘dressed’ in a G-string and a see-through bra, but after everyone (there were seven Korean gentlemen, playing cards or watching a stag film that was displayed on one wall) had had a drink, Christine’s tiny outfit was removed.

The men had pawed and fondled her from the start and that continued for the next thirty minutes until Hyun took her into the bedroom. There she was tied on her back, spread-eagle on the bed. During the ‘session’, Hyun knelt by the bed and sucked the men and made sure they had their condoms on; it was a steady stream for the next hour.

At that point, Christine was untied, turned on her stomach and tied again. Hyun then massaged some Vaseline into her anus and stretched it with her fingers, although the first man to enjoy this new position just used her vagina. The next three, however, fucked the lovely, prepared asshole. One man was so energetic that Hyun mentally named him ‘Mr. Rabbit’.

By the end of this hour, everyone had come at least once, and most of the men were now focused on the card game or having a final drink. Christine was brought out to serve drinks again; over the final hour she ended up sucking two men, one who managed to come again, on her breasts this time.

At eleven the men began to depart and Christine was sent to shower, Hyun giving her the special soap. Coming out of the shower, the men now all departed, Hyun directed Christine to kneel by the bed, and bound her wrists again, then forced panties into Christine’s mouth and proceeded to spank her with a small, wooden paddle, until she was bucking and moaning, her ass a bright red.

Hyun took the panties from Christine’s mouth then and sat in an armchair, placing the ‘slave’ on her knees in front of her; Christine began licking without any direction, Hyun leaning back and sighing. In about fifteen minutes, Hyun shook, her vagina actually squirting out a little liquid, and then she giggled, laying back and breathing slowly, a smile on her face.

Suddenly gripping Christine’s hair forcefully, Hyun looked into the brown eyes and said, “You know we are leaving the country?” Christine nodded. “The Madame wishes to take you, filthy whore, with us.” Christine nodded again; Hyun smiled an unpleasant smile, then spit on Christine’s face, but at least not in her mouth this time.

“I would be the one looking after you, bitch,” she hissed, menacingly. “I look after all of the Madame’s slaves.” She smiled as Christine registered surprise. “Oh yes, filthy cunt-slave, Madame has four slaves waiting for her, and every day, like them, you will be allowed to lick my asshole and make it perfectly clean.” She grinned this time, fondling Christine’s lovely hair.

“The first thing we will do, is shave your head; all the slaves are shaved completely; they have no hair on their bodies, not even eyebrows. Then you are branded, with the Madame’s mark, right here,” Hyun tapped with her toe just above Christine’s cleft and labia, “and a permanent collar is attached; it is metal and can only be removed by cutting it off, which is very difficult.”

“You are always naked and of course whipped every day, for amusement and discipline. When you piss or shit everyone watches. And being new, you will be Madame’s piss-slave, drinking it for the first month or so, as it should not be wasted. Rings will be put through your nipples and through your pussy lips, so that you can be attached and displayed. Being a white, filthy whore, you will be displayed and abused a lot, because you are inferior.”

The woman paused and regarded Christine with hostility, if not hatred. “And that first week, well, you are fucked, for three or four days in a row. You are tied, just like tonight, but on a wooden pallet and then soldiers are brought in, one after the other, there’s a line of them, and you suck and fuck until you are about to go insane. And then, I can tell you, bitch, you never want to see another cock again in your life.”

Hyun put her head back and laughed and Christine stared in horror.

* * * *

“Doesn’t it ever bother you?” Laverne asked, quietly. She knew this was dangerous territory, but the news that night, with its images of mangled bodies being carried from fields, had stayed with her.

“Doesn’t what, ever bother me?” Frank replied, sipping his whiskey.

“That you’re part of the, ummm, machine, the war machine, that has all this death and destruction going on?”

Frank pondered; this was not a topic Laverne ever broached, but there had been so much negative press that even women like her, basic housewives, were asking questions. That was not good. “Well, you don’t always have a choice, my dear. The communists aren’t going to go away quietly.”

Laverne struggled with her doubts. There was a time she wouldn’t have cared; but for some reason Anne had turned her eyes to these issues, and now she had questions. “But we’re, in America I mean; we’re not threatened by the communists.”

Frank sighed, “Well, not directly, maybe, but look at England in the big war; they ignored Germany because ‘it didn’t concern them’, and look what happened; they came close to being overrun. We can’t grow complacent, dear, that’s what they want.”

Laverne paused. “And it, um, has nothing to do with American companies that have interests in other countries, and the business of, well, war…”

Franks sighed again, this time a little louder. “What  are you getting at; that sounds like some left-wing nonsense to me, dear?” Frank replied wearily.

Laverne looked at him; she knew he didn’t take her seriously; she was there to help his career, not to pester him with questions; but she wasn’t some wet-behind-the-ears kid.

“You forget; I worked for United Fruit, Frank. I know how our government interfered there, in Central America. It gave the company a green light to make profits hand-over-fist, and then accepted those generous campaign donations, and weren’t concerned about any dead civilians. And they warned about the commies back then, too.”

They sat in silence, and Frank finished his drink, then stood. “You need to watch less television, dear,” he said, heading for a refill.

* * * *

Although it was past midnight, Christine was sitting once again on her front steps. She needed air; her mind was in disarray, her thoughts, as the song said, were ‘distracted and confused’. How to separate her intense feelings and desire for Madame Dhang from the images Hyun had shared. Christine was certain Hyun was exaggerating, but how much?

She rose slowly and went inside. In their room, Gerry was lying on her bed in a T-shirt and her panties, one meagre bed light dimly illuminating the space; “Hey there, Tiger, how’d things go?” She asked.

Christine undressed and put on her robe. “I made it through and no one died,” she smiled, “back in a minute, Miss Gerry.”

Again, Christine took extra time brushing her teeth; no one had come in her mouth tonight, but she had sucked several cocks and licked the odious Hyun; she used the strong-tasting mouthwash as well, then headed back to the room. Dropping her robe on the bed, she moved closer to Gerry and stood, then began to slowly fondle her breasts. “Anything you’d like me to do, Miss Gerry?” Christine crooned, again needing intimacy, her kind, to take the place of the men and all the shadows Hyun had conjured up.

Once again, her very active night had meant nothing to her emotionally, and now she wanted to be with someone, to have sex with someone, she felt something for.

Gerry sat up and smiled, “Pull those tits more whore, stretch your nipples.” Christine complied, arousal building quickly. I want it, she thought, I really want it; she herself had not climaxed this evening, (not even close) unlike everyone else. “Like this Miss Gerry?” she murmured.

Gerry chuckled, then paused, “Hey, Slave-girl, do you still have that collar you bought?”

Christine stopped, thinking Margie had shared a lot,  then moved over to her desk, taking the collar out from its place in a bottom drawer, she held it up. “Put it on, and crawl over to me, like an obedient dog,” Gerry smiled.

Christine did this, then came slowly on her knees to the bed, kneeling and looking up at the dark woman. Gerry stood and slowly pulled down her panties, then lifted Christine’s face, “Beg,” she murmured.

Christine moaned softly, delighted at the strong surge of desire now stirring within her. “Please, mmmmm, please Miss Gerry, please let me serve you.”

Gerry gripped Christine’s hair and brought her face to within an inch of her luxurious bush, “What do you want to do, Whore. Say it.”

“Uunnnngg, mmm, oh jeez, oh jeez, jeez, jeez,” Christine chuckled softly. “Mmmmm, please, Miss Gerry, let me lick your p-pussy. Mmmmm, please, oh Gaaawd…”

“My cunt,” Gerry said firmly, “Say it.”

“Mmmm, I want to lick your c-cunt, mmmm, plea…” Gerry pulled Christine’s face between her legs, grinding her crotch and moaning, then falling back on the bed as

Christine began to hungrily devour the thick, dark labia.

“Unnngggg, mmmm, oh jeez, I love your, cunt, Miss Gerry. I love it, mmmmm,” Christine cried out. And it was true. None of the cocks tonight had meant anything; they were just things attached to faceless men. This was real.

Then soft moans filled the room.

* * * *

The morning started with a jolt. “Hey Christine, you’re wanted out front!” Dolly had shouted from the main floor, and there was a scramble now to grab slacks, bra and shirt, as, at the moment of the call, Gerry had been sitting on Christine’s face, both of them naked.

Outside waiting was the usual large, dark automobile, and when Christine approached, the rear door opened to reveal Douglas Silverberg, sitting. He moved back to allow his guest room, saying, “Very sorry to disturb your Saturday, unannounced, Miss Callister, but time is pressing.” The man seemed nervous, or ill at ease, at least.

“That’s okay, Sir. What is it?” Christine murmured.

Silverberg now made eye contact and used his resolve to hold it, saying, “Mrs. Sullivan has talked with you and notified me of the request, the um, unusual request, regarding you, from Miss Dhang.”

Christine fought the rising panic within her and the growing lump to reply, “Yes, she has, we’ve, um, talked…”

Silverberg cleared his throat and began. “You realize of course the value we have placed in the, er, negotiations with the Koreans, and the, well, we really hope to keep this deal working.”

“I, um, understand that, Sir. And, I’m guessing you know, that M-madame Dhang has asked me to accompany her. Is that why you’re here, to encourage me, to, go?”

Silverberg now looked down, and was not able to make eye contact again. He understood very clearly the incredible opportunity to have ‘one of his own’ planted within the Korean group. He had pondered over how to do this for weeks, and here it was, being gifted to them. Yet to counsel a young woman, barely older than his own daughter, to leave her country and accept a totally unknown consequence was extremely distasteful.

“Well, yes, I guess I am. I just want, well, you see, to make sure you understand the importance of this, what good might come from this…” Silverberg paused, as he happened to glance up and noticed Christine was sitting with her head bowed, her hands folded on her lap. He knew she was crying, but continued. “Many are asked to make sacrifices for their country, Miss Callister, for the greater good…”

They sat then in an awkward silence. Christine wiped her eyes and straightened up, saying quietly, “I, um, need to talk with Madame Dhang, then I will, mmmm, let you know.” She slid across the seat and opened the door before the driver could come around, and then she hurried up the walk and then up the steps.

The driver looked inside, “Back to the office, Sir?” Silverberg nodded, feeling angry and, dirty. This was the bullshit that he hated; thankfully, it only happened now and then.

* * * *

“Okay, so now you need to wait for the queen to contact you, if she will?” Lana said quietly. She and Christine had just spent twenty minutes with a review of the previous night and now today’s developments.

“Well, she said she would need to know, so I expect her to call, or something.” Christine stated, glad for Lana’s counsel. She reached across and stroked the long, elegant hand.

“You should call her hotel, and leave word. Don’t just sit around, waiting,” Lana offered.

Christine pondered that, and then went inside to the telephone.

* * * *

For the second time that day, now just past noon, Christine went out to meet someone in a large, dark vehicle. She slid in again; Dhang’s car always had a pleasant odor, a mixture of leather and the woman herself. Dhang smiled her persuasive smile, “Strip, sweet whore,” she said, without emotion.

Christine hesitated, “I just have a couple of questions,” she said, feeling a mix of arousal, anxiety and plain excitement.

“If you are not naked before me, there will be no discussion,” Dhang murmured in her captivating voice.

Christine hesitated again, then somehow found the will to turn and grip the door handle, Hyun’s words rising in her mind.

“Stay,” Dhang said, with a hint of annoyance, “quickly ask your question, but be prepared to accept your punishment for disobeying.”

Heart pounding as usual, Christine turned to face the woman. “Do you have other slaves?” she said quietly.

Dhang made a motion as if a fly was near her face. “I have four, if that is any of your business, but you would be my special one,” her eyes twinkled, and she reached out a hand to touch Christine’s.

“Your slaves are punished, every day?”

Dhang made a face, “Of course, I’ve told you, slaves need whipping. But you like punishment, and more importantly, you need punishment. You know this, my whore. And the punishment is always given with others present, which you also enjoy. And afterward, always, comes the pleasure. You know how I can bring you there, the punishment and the pleasure, they go together. This is not news, my pretty. And you love the pleasure, do not try to deny it.”

Feeling her confidence beginning to wane under the power of this woman, Christine asked bluntly, “Will my hair be shaved?”

Dhang paused for a moment. “I see young Hyun has been talking; I will deal with that.” She paused again, considering; clearly this was not something Hyun was supposed to disclose. “Slaves must be clean, always; the easiest way for you and I, is if the hair is removed. But you are covered anyway, my sweet. Your head and the top of your face is always covered.”

“Why?” Christine asked in amazement.

Dhang glanced at her watch. “You have two minutes more of my time; is that a question you need answered?”

Christine held her ground, “Yes, it is.”

Dhang sighed. “Very well.”

She paused, looking at her ‘slave’ and considering. “My slaves have their bodies covered to communicate their, um, purpose. So your mouth, breasts, vagina, hands and ass are open, always and everywhere uncovered, for those are the parts that are used by me, that serve me. The rest of you, including your head, is covered.”

Christine paused, taking this in. “Am I, branded.”

Dhang set her face, and the iron in her being was clear; for a moment Christine thought the woman might strike her. “That is your final question, and the answer is of course, foolish whore. The brand communicates to the world that you are my property and must not be bothered with. Anyone who sees my mark knows the wearer is off limits, in every way. Even the police would not bother you.” She furrowed her brow. “Now, I will leave Tuesday at nine-thirty, which means I need you at my hotel Monday night. Are we clear?”

Dhang stared, and Christine slowly pulled the door handle and slid out. Looking back, she murmured, “Good-bye, Mistress.” Then she closed the door and headed up the walk.  

* * * *

Now for the third time that day, and just past two, Christine went outside, but the car awaiting her was not large or dark, but the small vehicle of Julia Sullivan. Sitting in the passenger seat, she glanced over at the woman, who looked agitated.

“Good afternoon, Miss Callister. It’s been a, well, busy day, at least with the phone calls. Madame Dhang is concerned, making some negative comments. It’s a good thing we have those trade deals already signed and delivered.”

There was silence for a moment. “She’s upset because of me?” Christine asked, suddenly feeling like laughing at the absurdity.

Sullivan rubbed her nose. “Well, um, she’s upset with what appears to be your decision…”

Christine stared. “So, Mrs. Sullivan, if I am getting this right; Madame Dhang is upset with me not accompanying her back to Korea, and if the trade deals weren’t signed, she wouldn’t go through with them. Because of me?” Sullivan rubbed her nose again and looked uncomfortable. “Oh for heaven’s sakes, that is ridiculous, isn’t it? Well, I can’t believe it.”

There was silence again. “Well, there is some displeasure all round, Miss Callister. This seems to be a lost opportunity, that you’re, well, tossing away.”

Christine sat, and for the first time in the whole thing, began to feel anger, but she kept her voice calm and spoke quietly. “You do realize that I wouldn’t be going with her to work in her office and listen to any plans, don’t you, or do you even know? I would be going as her slave, for sex and service.” Christine paused, the anger and her voice rising, “I would be kept in her private residence with her other slaves to be used and shared with her friends. I doubt I would be privy to anything of any importance to our government, and I would be alone and beaten and punished for Dhang’s pleasure. I would be branded, for heaven’s sake. Is that the, um, opportunity I’m tossing aside?”

She stopped and looked at the other woman who was sitting in silence. “Well…” She paused, then uttered a word she never used, “Fuck all of you.”

Climbing out of the car and slamming the door, she marched for the third time back up the walk, not looking back. Sullivan sat for a moment, then drove away.

* * * *

“Hey, good for you,” Lana said, sitting beside Christine. They were in Lana’s room, Margie was not home and Christine, calmer now, had related the whole Dhang and Sullivan conversations. “I’m proud of you, and you know you made the right decision; the only decision? Yes?”

Christine nodded her head but remained silent. “Look,” Lana continued, “I know Dhang is there, in you, but it’s your need, it’s not her. You just have to find a way to deal with it, and committing your life to a stranger, moving away and giving up all you know, that’s not the way to deal with your need. You’ve only started to face it, Chris.” Lana kissed Christine gently on the lips and they held it before Lana then kissed her friend’s face several more times.

“Look, we’ll have dinner, and then we’ll go meet my friend, and then go for a drink and look at our options. Our options. You may have seen the last of Madame D, but you’ve got me, kid. And I ain’t a bad second choice, am I?”

Christine had to smile, looking into that beautiful face.

“You really told them to fuck themselves?” Lana asked with a smirk and Christine laughed and hugged her friend.

(End of Chapter 18)

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A Castle of Sand by LongDarkRoad Chapter 17 Baby Can I Change My Mind

A Castle of Sand

By LongDarkRoad

Chapter 17 (Baby) Can I Change My Mind

…as I took those steps, toward that open door, knowing all the time, oh Lord, I just didn’t wanna go…”

Gerry and Christine were together in the bathroom, brushing their teeth. Christine of course was naked, her negligee hanging on the back of the door, and she was on her knees.

When they had rinsed, Gerry placed Christine on the toilet, opening her legs, then dropping her own pyjama bottoms as she straddled the seat. Squatting, she aimed her stream of urine directly onto Christine’s shaved labia, with Christine closing her eyes and enjoying the warm sensation, spreading her legs as wide as she could.

When she was finished, Gerry straightened up saying, “Wipe me, Slave-girl.”

Christine blushed slightly (although considering all she had done in the last month, this was not excessive) and she carefully wiped the outer and inner labia of her ‘Miss’, smiling up at her when she finished.

“Okay,” Gerry said, looking down. “Now lick me, make sure I’m clean, and keep looking at me as you do this.”

Christine did as commanded, tasting a little acrid urine but aroused still by her ‘service’. When Gerry was satisfied, she murmured, “That’s a good Slave-girl, what do you say?”

Christine looked up into Gerry’s face, a shy smile on hers, “Thank you, Miss Gerry….”

Gerry chuckled. “I think I’ve got you figured, Miss Chris. You’re a beautiful and innocent farm girl on the outside, and a raging street whore on the inside, one who likes being naughty and obedient, hmmmmm,” Gerry smirked and Christine snickered, thinking that could mostly be true. “But you know what, sweet bitch?”

“What?” Christine asked quietly, her legs still spread.

“Now you need to rinse your mouth again.”

They both snickered.

* * * *

Thursday, and Christine was trying hard not to think about the evening, but it was challenging as they were not onto any new projects, still doing odd (and boring) tasks given to them by Gibbons.

At least this morning after bathroom chores, she’d had some fun with ‘Miss Gerry’, who had spanked her and then ‘gone down’ on her, producing a small but pleasant moment, its memory still lingering.

* * * *

With only a few days until the shipment arrived, Bob Fuller was making sure he was ready, without arousing any suspicion. He was quietly organizing the work details so the men he would call out were ones he knew, inside and out. Ones that would simply accept his orders with no questions asked.

* * * *

Anne sat on a bench, in a different park today, having her usual cigarette. She had left a note alerting her superiors that a week from today the Mays would be hosting a dinner at their home for the general and a small group; eight or so. Like-Hot-Cakes Catering would be on site, so Anne would be there.

She felt odd today, sitting by herself; she was thinking about Laverne, and that bothered her. Don’t grow attached, was a cardinal rule in her line of work.

Sometimes things are easier said than done.

* * * *

“So,” Lana said, sitting down beside Christine, “thought any more about what I said.”

Christine looked up into that mesmerizing face, thinking it should be so easy to lie in order to have this woman approve; but lying was one thing she couldn’t do. “Oh, only like every hour,” she grimaced and Lana chuckled.


Christine sighed. “It is like Margie would say, heavy sister. I, um, I’m meeting Dhang tonight, and tomorrow I have another, private event, but I promise that on Saturday I will sit down with you and really go over this.” Christine stroked Lana’s hand. “You are deadly serious; you’d leave this and try, um, that? Isn’t that, incredibly risky?”

Lana shrugged. “Everything has risk, sweet Chris. Look what you’re doing. And I’m not judging, just saying, you’re taking risks. But yes, I’ve pretty much made up my mind, but I really want it to be us.”

Christine sat, moved by this comment. She looked into her friend’s dark eyes, “Why me? I don’t get it.”

Lana shrugged again. “Two are better than one, I think, when it comes to this. And I think we could make great money. Oh, and you’re beautiful.” She chuckled. “Remember, my plan is two years and out. Hey,” she said, standing, “good luck with your, queen.”

* * * *

“God, it seems like I’ve been away for months,” Frank May sighed, leaning his head back on the couch and accepting the martini Laverne handed him.

“What all did you have to do; oh, and where did you go?” Laverne asked, sitting on the chair opposite.

Frank smiled at her. “Here, there and everywhere. You know, my dear, that’s all classified.” They both smiled, “And speaking of that, what all did you do to keep busy, besides the party on the fourth that is, these weeks?”

Laverne looked at her husband and smiled thinking, wouldn’t you be surprised, before murmuring, “Sorry dear, that’s classified.”

They smiled.

* * * *

The car was waiting for Christine when she came out, first and alone, from the Annex building. The driver opened the door for her and she was surprised to find she was alone. In a few minutes she was being deposited at the doors of Dhang’s hotel and in moments was making the ride up to the seventh floor and then, heart pounding, she knocked and waited, anxiety building.

But instead of the annoying Hyun, Dhang herself opened the door, looking exquisite in a sheer, black negligee. Christine dropped to her knees and crawled into the room, Dhang standing and smiling benevolently.

* * * *

Dinner over, the ladies placed the dishes and cutlery into the double sink. Connie was washing tonight, and Dolly drying; neither Lana nor Christine were there and Margie and Gerry now headed upstairs. “So how are things going, with the, um, switch?” Margie asked quietly.

Gerry looked at her housemate; she and Margie had not spent a lot of time together, and she didn’t really know the girl well. “It’s going, um, good so far. Are you okay?”

Margie smiled, “Yeah, I’m dealing with it. It’s easier dealing with, uh, feelings or whatever like this, away from Christine.”

They had reached the second floor and stopped. “You care for her,” Gerry said quietly. “That’s understandable.”

“Yeah, I do, and so that makes it complicated. You must like her, too?”

“Oh shit yeah, I like her. I like her a lot. But she’s not inside me, I guess, like I think she is with you.”

Margie nodded her head, “That’s a good way to put it, she’s inside my head and I need to deal with it.”

Gerry considered for a moment. “Um, you know, you can use her, hey. And you should. She wants to be used Margie, that’s the way it is.”

Margie looked at her. “What are you suggesting?”

Gerry started walking toward her room. “Come to our room and have her serve you, eat you out, stuff like that. Treat her like a doll or whatever, get over this attraction you have and just have fun. You know, she’ll never belong to you or me, so what the hell, like I said, have some fun. I’m going to.” Gerry stopped and looked at the younger woman. “I’m going to use my Slave-girl, which is what she is now, every day I can, and you should too.”

Margie considered. “I don’t know; I care, I guess it’s different, personal…”

Gerry shrugged, “Only if you let it be, girl.”

* * * *

Christine and her mistress lay together on Dhang’s bed. It wasn’t yet even nine, but they had eaten, drank and made sweaty love for over an hour; and it had not been mistress and slave love-making, but two women doing everything to each other they could.

While Dhang could be self-centered, demanding, even cruel, she could also be wonderfully loving and passionate; it was her paradox. And after Christine had brought her mistress to a climax, the woman had, as she seemed so capable of doing, taken Christine to the edge over and over again before lifting her over the top, in an orgasm that seemed to take Christine out of this existence and into something else. Somewhere where she was soaring and floating, away from the bed and the room and the hotel they were in.

Christine could not describe it in words, she could only feel it, and it was spell-binding and bewildering.

As they lay, Dhang talked in her soft, melodious, compelling voice, of whatever was in her mind. To Christine it was hypnotic.

“You have never been out of the states, have you?” Dhang asked, and Christine murmured her acknowledgement. “You should, you know, travel.”

“Why?” Christine asked, quietly, while snuggled against the warm, brown body, her hand allowed to rest on the thick, black patch of her mistress’s pubic hair.

Dhang lay in thought. “Well, my, slave-to-be, this is only one way of existing; there are other cultures, many of them, that hold a different view on many, many things.

Now Christine considered. “Well, I am happy here. It’s the greatest country in the world. We have so much, why would I want to leave?”

Dhang chuckled. “That is so, American of you, my sweet bitch.” She paused. “We live in a world of lies, my love; everything is made of sand. The only thing that lasts is that which you cannot touch. You have been raised on American lies, not everything is as you’ve been told.”

Christine lay now, slightly troubled and not knowing why. “Why do you say lies, Mistress. Who is lying to me?”

Dhang propped herself on one elbow and looked at her companion. “You are like a child,” she said, stroking the thick brunette hair. “Everyone lies, my sweet. Your parents, your teachers. And now you are working for the government; they are the biggest liars of all.”

Christine just stared, in silence. She knew she was clueless about most things and she had no doubt Madame Dhang was far more sophisticated and knowledgeable about, well, everything. “Land of the free and home of the brave, that’s the motto, the slogan, right? Yet you have a large part of your society that, even now, after demonstrations and legislation, still remains segregated. It took armed guards to allow Negros into schools. And you, white, but a woman, do you feel free?”

Christine considered. “I, um, can go where I want. I’m here, in Washington, alone, by my choice.”

“Yes,” Dhang nodded her head, “but there are many things you, as a woman, are not allowed to do. And, there are many things you are expected to do. Have you ever wondered why authorities are so fixated on sex, like the big fuss happening in New York City; people of the same gender having sex. Are those people free?”

“Well, I know a lot of stuff, even laws, comes from religion, especially about sex.” Christine murmured, thinking of her mother; and Elizabeth Devers.

“That is true, and yet, why is it anyone’s business where a man puts his penis or if a woman wants to lay with another woman, like we are, right now? What harm are we causing, yet you could be fired for this behavior. Open to public ridicule and shame.”

They sat in silence, Dhang then continued. “But I’m thinking of bigger things, my whore. Things like war, which your country has become very good at.”

Struggling with this discussion, Christine said, “But the world depends on us, to keep it safe.”

“Safe from what?” Dhang smiled.

“Well, um, Communists, for one thing.”

Dhang chuckled, “Do you know any communists? Could you tell a communist if you saw one? Could you, for example, tell me the difference between what Stalin believes and what Marx believes? Two famous communists, but very different men.”

Christine knew she was in over her head and decided to just listen, rather than appear foolish.

“Is that why your country has thousands of soldiers in Vietnam, to save the country from communists?”

“Well, um, yeah, that’s what they say.”

Dhang rolled off the bed and stood naked, looking down at Christine, “I saw Vietnam as a young woman; it was called a Garden of Eden then. I saw it again not long ago and it has been changed by war; by daily bombings, by your American army. And the thing is, my young white whore, those bombs can’t tell the difference between peasant villagers and communists. But the American companies that are profiting by this war don’t care about that.”

Christine looked up into Dhang’s face, feeling uncertain and insecure.

“You should get away, and, I have a proposal.”

Christine stared, a growing unease slowly spreading through her gut. “Y-yes?”

Dhang stood for a moment in contemplation; a smile playing on her plump, red lips. “I am being ordered back to my country. I leave Tuesday morning.” She paused and stared hard at Christine. “I want you there, with me, in my home, as my slave. I will care for you and teach you; you will be safe with me, and never need to worry about a job or a husband, or any other expectations. You would only need to do one thing; serve me.”

Christine lay in silence, overwhelmed, unable to speak.

* * * *

Lana picked up her small purse and stood, smiling at the gentleman. “Ah’d love to see you a-g’in, darlin’,” he said in his southern drawl.

“That would be wonderful, just call Madame Lu and we’ll meet for another date. But I warn you, steak and lobster is always my thing.”

The man chuckled, “Y’all kin have as much o’ that as y’all wants. Ah luv t’see a woman eat. S’pecially one’s as purty as y’all.”

Lana smiled and left, checking the envelope as she walked to the elevator. Six hundred dollars, four for her. More than a month’s work in the crew, unless they had several events. And she hadn’t even slept with the man, just given him a hand-job and some cuddling. She smiled.

* * * *

Anne entered her favorite hotel; a message had come to her that a phone call was coming through tonight and so she had made haste, checking her watch to see she still had four minutes. When the call came it was not what she was expecting.

“Okay, so this young Negro man will be part of the staff at next week’s function, why do I need to know that today?” When the answer came she sat, stunned. “So he’s a patsy, okay, but what’s going down?” She listened, growing more agitated. “Alright, I agreed to gather info and compromise individuals, I never agreed to anything close to a fucking…bomb. Jeezus! How the hell are you going to take out the general with all of us there too?”

Anne listened now with a growing sense of dread, hanging up the receiver without saying anything more.

She was to help get the parts of a small bomb to this new fellow, who would be prepped to think it was for something far different. But it was intended to go off near the general, at the home of the Mays, and collateral damage was expected. This would then be blamed on the young man with a history of public disturbances and two arrests on his record.

‘Collateral damage’, Anne shivered at the term. Laverne was possibly to become collateral damage.

* * * *

Christine sat on her steps; a bell somewhere was chiming the hour of ten, but she was in no hurry, sitting as if she were in a daze. She looked up as a taxi pulled along the curb, and watched as Lana climbed out and paid the fare.

As the tall woman strolled up the sidewalk, Christine lifted her head and smiled, but Lana stopped and regarded the woman, “What’s wrong, Christine?”

Christine smiled feebly and said, “What do you mean?”

“Don’t give me that, kid. You look like your dog just got run over. Things didn’t go well with your, mistress?” She said, sitting beside her friend.

Christine wavered for a moment, then threw her arms around the woman and sobbed into the collar of her expensive jacket. Lana made gentle, soothing noises and  stroked the lovely hair, as Christine slowly calmed down. When she was under control, she summarized the evening, and Dhang’s proposal.

“Well, shit, that’s a kick in the gut. Did you have any idea this was coming?”

Christine wiped her nose and patted her face, then sighed. “Well, you know she asked me to be her, um, slave, which I didn’t really get, because I was already doing whatever she asked. But leaving the country, no, this was never even hinted at, and you know, I don’t think Dhang knew about it.”

“Well, damn, that beats my news.”

“Yeah,” Christine tilted her head and regarded her friend, “what’s that?”

Lana sat quietly for a moment, then pulled out the envelope with the cash. “I had my first john tonight, well, at least my first official john, one arranged through an agency.”

Christine stared at the wad of bills. “Well, damn,” she said.

* * * *

“So,” Gerry murmured, as she and Christine stood in front of the sink, having slept together again but with no ‘extra-curricular’; “with last night’s deal and your event tonight, my Slave-girl is going to have to make things up tomorrow, hmmmm?”

Christine bent slightly and kissed Gerry’s cheek, “Thank you, Miss Gerry, for being an understanding,  mistress. Tomorrow I’m all yours; most of the day, anyway (she knew she needed to talk with Lana at some point).”

Gerry slipped her hand between Christine’s thighs and gently squeezed, “That’s very good. I’ve actually bought a couple of things for my Slave-girl.” Christine looked at Gerry and raised her eyebrows. “You’ll see,” the woman smiled.

* * * *

A message was waiting for Christine when she walked into the office; she was to head upstairs to meet Julia Sullivan. This wasn’t a surprise, as they knew Christine had met with Dhang last night and had the event tonight, but Christine was surprised that this wasn’t a ‘private session’.

Christine was shown into Sullivan’s office and waited as the woman finished up some paper work. “So,” the stocky assistant began, looking business-like this morning, before getting right down to business, “I’ve had word from Dhang that she’s leaving; you’ve heard this too?”

Christine nodded, “She told me last night. She said it will be Tuesday and she’s heading home.”

“This was a surprise?” Sullivan observed.

Christine nodded again, “To me, certainly, but I think um, Madame Dhang was surprised as well.”

Sullivan nodded and sat in thought for a moment, then said quietly, “She’s gone through, um, back channels you might say, above Director Silverberg actually, to have paper work and passport expedited for, you, Miss Callister. She wants you to accompany her.” Sullivan looked at the young woman and Christine could not read her.

“Um, she, well, proposed that to me last night. I was taken by surprise; I’m still, uh, confused or not clear. So much has happened so quickly.” Christine paused and looked at Sullivan, sitting solid and stoic.

“That I can understand, Miss Callister. The decision, obviously, a huge one, is yours to make. We will move things along very quickly if this is what you wish, just know…” She looked hard now into Christine’s eyes, “the department is very interested in the, oh, possibilities in this. You could be a real asset to us, being right there.”

Christine sat and considered. She had always been someone to not make waves. She accepted things, assignments, duties, whatever, often to avoid conflict. She could feel the pressure on her right now, and the easy thing, the normal thing for her, would be to just say, “Of course, I’ll do it.” This without the added consideration of her overwhelming feelings for Dhang.

She spoke quietly, “But where would I be, Mrs. Sullivan? Does the department even know where Dhang is headed? Do you know where she actually lives? Will there be any way for you to check on me, or contact me? Will I be totally alone?”

Sullivan sat back in her chair and studied the beautiful woman before her. She could understand someone wanting to take this creature away, but it seemed at this point Callister might be growing a bit of a backbone. She wasn’t prepared, it seemed, to go along to get along.

“What you ask is fair, Miss Callister. You would be on your own, pretty much. Dhang has an estate in Seoul, her main residence and our group, with Gary England, will be based in the city. But we would not be, watching over you, no. You have reason to fear this woman?”

Christine sighed, “I, um, fear being isolated and vulnerable in some place where I don’t speak the language and under the supervision of a powerful woman. Dhang and I have enjoyed, um, each other’s company you might say. I have feelings, well, strong feelings for her as a woman. But I really know nothing about her.”

All that was true, Sullivan contemplated, they were asking an untrained office staffer to walk into a potential lion’s den. But, many do that each day, she thought, considering the war in Vietnam.

After Callister had left, Sullivan walked over to her boss’s office. He looked at her, aware of why she was there. “I think you may need to talk with her, Sir, if we’re going to um, move things along.”

(End of Chapter 17)

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A Castle of Sand by LongDarkRoad Chapter 16 Touch Me

A Castle of Sand by LongDarkRoad

Chapter 16 Touch Me

…can’t you see that I am not afraid? Why won’t you tell me what she said? What was that promise that you made?…”

1958 Saigon

Hie Dhang and her ‘father’ travel to Vietnam for some government business, planning to spend three days. Dhang loved the greenness of the place, the wide river and the vegetation; the men in their boats rowing here and there. The city seemed like something from another time.

On the third day, after walking around the busy port, the man showed Dhang several warehouses, asking her what she thought was in them. Dhang suggested farming machinery, to which the man chuckled.

They walked to one warehouse, met at the entrance by a guard with a rifle. The man showed a letter and he and Dhang entered. Inside, Dhang stood and stared in amazement at a vast storehouse of military weapons; vehicles, boxes of rifles, even tanks.

“The Americans,” the man had answered to Dhang’s question. “They brought this here after the occupation of Japan. I think they have plans for it.”

He had lit a cigarette and laughed. They had returned to Korea that night, and Dhang had never seen Saigon again, until this year, when she had flown over the country, amazed by the scenes of destruction.

But she had never forgotten those warehouses and what they had contained.

* * * *

General Ostrander looked down at the petite, Asian woman standing before him. Morrison had mentioned something about Vietnamese, but the general had not paid attention; he simply loved her size. “I could pick you up and eat you,” he laughed and the woman regarded his massive bulk with alarm.

An hour later, as she lay crying softly on the bed, blood oozing from her anus, Ostrander looked thoughtfully at the bottle of champagne they had ‘enjoyed’. He had laughed as she had choked on the bubbly, forced by him into her mouth. He’d had his share as well, and felt pretty good.

Now, the woman protested a little as the large man spread her legs, but his massive paw on her back held her in place. He laughed as he inserted the neck of the bottle into her vagina; this would be something else for him to ‘enjoy’.

* * * *

Lana strolled over to Christine’s desk. “So, what were you up to last night?” the woman smiled.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Christine smiled in return.

Lana laughed, “Oh, we both have our needs.” She looked hard now at her friend, “We’re going out for a drink tonight, unless your, Mistress, has other plans for you.”

Christine felt the familiar tug of emotions, “I should be good. Where are we, uh, going?”

“You’ll see,” Lana smirked and left.

* * * *

Cliff Eagleton gazed at the pay-phone for several seconds, before finally lifting the receiver and plunking in a coin, then dialling. In a moment Bob Fuller’s voice answered.

“Okay, pal, I guess we’re going for a walk on the wild side. Shipment coming in on the twenty-fifth, New York,” Eagleton said.

There was a pause; Eagleton could hear Fuller drumming on his desk with his fingers. “Roger that. I guess if this was poker, we’d be all in?”

“I guess,” Eagleton murmured.

* * * *

Christine had been sent to the library with a task related to Bulgaria and was looking through a file cabinet when the sturdy form of Julia Sullivan appeared, motioning to a table at the back of the room.

“Good day, Miss Callister. I understand you met with Dhang yesterday?”

“That’s correct, Mrs. Sullivan. At her hotel. A woman named Castillo was there as well.”

“That’s interesting,” the woman murmured, then got up and went to the telephone, returning after a brief conversation to sit down across from Callister. “So, the time with Dhang was mostly, social?” Christine nodded her head. “You gave her the info?” Christine nodded again, feeling a knot in her stomach. “How…did she react?” Sullivan asked, evenly, eyes on Callister’s face.

Christine hesitated for a second, before replying, “She didn’t seem surprised. She made a call afterwards, but she was in the other room and speaking Korean.”

“Yes, of course. Well, thank you Miss Callister. Anything planned?”

“Nothing yet, I’ll probably get a call today.”

“Very good, carry on, as they say.” And with that, Sullivan stood and headed off. She had what she needed; Callister had lied to her. But then, that was what she expected. She had most certainly told Dhang about the set-up; which was, sadly, also what she expected. The beans had been spilled correctly.

But it was interesting about Talia Castillo, who was a Cuban, and connected to Castro. Very interesting. Had Dhang revealed something unintended, or was this on purpose? Cat and mouse, as always, but who was the cat and who was the mouse?

The lovely Christine Callister clearly was the cheese, but a piece of cheese also clearly prepared to betray her country. Sullivan shook her head as if to clear away the annoyance.

* * * *

Young Morrison was terribly agitated when he finally located Frank May in the lounge.

“Okay, okay, son, take a breath and breathe. That’s it. Here, drink this…” May handed the fellow his scotch, which Morrison downed in a gulp and steadied himself by gripping the bar. “Alright, what is it?” May asked, quietly.

“She’s dead, Sir, there’s blood and I tried to revive her, but there was n-nothing and then…”

“Whoa son, whoa. Who’s dead?” May asked, as calmly as he could.

“The girl, Sir, the one in the general’s room, Sir.”

May stared at the young man. “You are sure; you did check for a pulse?”

The white-faced young man gulped and nodded; he looked like he would break down and cry, so May steadied him with a hand on the shoulder.

“Okay, okay. Better leave this with me.” May crooned, thinking Damn! What a snafu. And we leave tomorrow.

* * * *

Christine was headed to the library again, but this time she was following Margie, the girl looking up with a start when she turned and Christine was standing there. “Yow, kiddo, you gave me a scare,” Margie announced, sitting down and eyeing Christine carefully.

Christine sat and suddenly felt emotional, looking at a girl she liked and cared for and who was now shutting her out. “Talk to me, Margie, I need to understand what’s going on. You’re hurting me; is that what you want?”

Margie looked down, “I, um, I don’t want to hurt you, or anybody. I’m not like that, but, I, um, jeezus, Chris, it just hit me like a brick, you know.” All of this had been said with Margie focused on the table.

Christine lifted the woman’s face to see tears welling from her roommate’s eyes. “Oh, God, Margie, what is it!?”

Margie stared, suddenly looking fierce. “It’s the goddamn collar, Christine. The dog collar. You’re thinking of being a woman’s slave, for Christ’s sake. Her slave, on your knees, not for an evening event or a laugh, but to live. She doesn’t love you, Chris, can’t you see that? She’s just using you and you’re a fool, a damn fool.”

With that, Margie jumped up and rushed out, leaving Christine sitting, sadness seeping through her guts, her mind in turmoil.

* * * *

The conversation was in Korean, and it was between Dhang and her immediate boss. “I should at least have an explanation,” Dhang said with emotion, “But why now?” she responded. “Fine.” And the call ended, with Dhang looking like smoke might soon come out of her ears.

She called for the third of her young assistants and Hyun brought her, tying the girl to the bed as Dhang ordered. A few minutes later, Dhang collapsed into a chair and Hyun brought her an American whiskey; strange for this early in the day, then stood waiting anxiously.

“Take care of her,” Dhang said, nodding to the sobbing, bound girl. “Oh, and we return to Korea in one week.” She then swore in Korean.

* * * *

The call to Christine’s desk phone was not from Dhang, who she had expected when it rang. It was instead the smirking Hyun. “How is the white whore today?” she asked.

“I’m fine, Miss Hyun,” Christine replied, respectfully.

“You served us well last night, I certainly enjoyed whipping you. Madame Dhang has said I can whip you each time you are used; slaves need whipping, especially disgusting white slaves.”

Christine sat, silently, unsure of a response; then said, “I am happy I, um, pleased you.”

Hyun chuckled, “And I think you enjoyed licking my asshole.”

Christine paused again, feeling slight arousal but mostly annoyance. “Um, yes, Miss Hyun, I d-did,” Christine murmured, the buzz of the office keeping her words confidential.

“Did you like being used as a, toilet?” Hyun murmured.

Feeling a swell of disgust but also desire, Christine replied, “I was happy to serve my mistress’s, um, friend.”

There was a longer pause, before Hyun said, “We will need you on Friday; you will receive instructions. Until then, continue as your mistress has instructed, filthy whore.”

“Mmmmm, yes, Miss Hyun…” The line went dead and Christine sat, unsettled and unsure.

She loved serving Dhang, even some of the more unpleasant things, but could she be her slave, being used by people like Hyun and Castillo, giving up all choice? Was that what it meant? Was she really a fool, or was Margie just being, jealous?

At that moment, Connie came in and rapped on a table. “Ladies, ladies, I think you are aware that tomorrow the Apollo 11 spacecraft takes off for the freakin’ moon (there was applause and cheering)and the actual landing is supposed to be Sunday. Mr. Silverberg has invited us over to their home to watch it on their color television, so that’s the event for this weekend. Cheerio.”

Hmmmm, Christine pondered, the moon, maybe she would be safe from her desires up there.

* * * *

The taxi stopped in front of The Jefferson Hotel and

Lana and Christine got out. They made their way to the lounge and ordered white wine, and then Lana ran her hand up Christine’s thigh and said, “Okay, tell me what you did last night.”

“Can we wait until we’ve at least had a drink?” Christine offered and Lana laughed. They engaged in small talk until the first glasses were almost empty and then Christine laid it all out. It many ways it was a relief to share her experience with someone who understood, especially now that Margie had closed a door.

As before, Lana simply sat and listened, pausing only to order two more glasses of wine. When Christine was finished, Lana did not comment; she simply, and surprisingly, said, “See that woman at the bar?”

Christine turned her face to see a very attractive woman, late twenties, sitting with a man who was decidedly older. “Um, yes,” Christine smiled.

“She’s a call girl; she has had dinner with that gentleman, most likely a business-man from out-of-town. Later they will go to his room; maybe have sex, or a blow job. Then she will likely go home. She will leave with at least eight hundred dollars, five hundred for her and three for her agency.”

Christine looked at Lana, trying to read her face, something she was not good at. “And, you are telling me this why? And you know, how?”

Lana laughed, “I know, because I know the woman who runs the agency the girl works for. I know how much money is involved because I am seriously considering working for that agency, and I think you should come with me.”

The two women regarded each other for a long moment, Christine with eyes ‘as big as saucers’. “You’re not kidding, are you Lana?”

“Absolutely not, my lovely girl. You, right now, are giving it away for peanuts and for someone else’s benefit, and you’re doing things that you wouldn’t have to do. Or if you did, you would be making a lot more money for. Now, if it’s all about serving this woman, crawling on your knees because of some desire in you, well then, that’s your call. But you are worth so much more, and there are ways to get your, fix as they say. But only you can decide that.”

Lana stood and placed twenty dollars on the table, then turned to go. “Why are you leaving?” Christine pleaded.

“You need to get your head together, Chris. Decide what you want. Until then, no one, not Margie, not me, not anyone, can be of any help.” And then she was gone.

Christine finished her wine and caught a taxi home. When she got to her room, there was a surprise waiting; Gerry was sitting on Margie’s bed. “Margie wanted to trade, Christine. I’m good with bunking with you; just give her some time, I guess. I’m, um, sorry.”

Christine stood for a moment in a daze, then got her things and went to the washroom, returning later in her housecoat. Gerry was lying naked on the bed, and Christine put her things on her bed and then looked into the woman’s face. Gerry opened her knees, “Come here,” she said, in a quiet voice. Before Christine could start, Gerry said, “Drop your robe first.”

Christine paused, frozen for a moment, deciding, then tossed her housecoat on the bed. “Just stand like that for a minute,” Gerry said, sitting up, a smile on her face. She had thought on this and was pretty sure she knew what made the lovely Christine tick. “Play with your tits for me,” she said, quietly.

“What…?” Christine murmured.

“You heard me, or do I need to get my hairbrush?”

“Ummmm,” Christine moaned. “Ummmm, how do you want me to, um, play with, them?”

“Your tits.”


“Rough; pull them. Pull your nipples hard.” Christine did this, feeling the wave already beginning. Gerry chuckled, enjoying this show very much. “Find something I can tie your hands with,” she murmured.

Christine quickly pulled the belt from her robe, not wanting to lose the feeling.

“Bring it to me on your knees, like a good little slave.”

With a groan, Christine sunk to her knees and began to crawl to Gerry’s bed. Gerry had her kneel, and tied her hands behind her back, before reaching around and mauling Christine’s breasts, twisting the nipples hard and making her cry out. She then lay back on the bed with her legs spread, dangled over the side. She brought Christine’s face into the dense tangle of her crotch. “Pleasure me, Bitch. I’m gonna guess you like being called bitch, hey?” she chuckled. “I plan to have you do this a lot,” Gerry murmured, as Christine’s tongue went to work on her thick inner and outer labia.

Christine loved them; they were like little sausages. She loved the musky aroma, the wildness of the spreading pubic hair. And as she licked, her sadness left her, for the moment, and an incredible sense of peace settled over her, different from anything she’d ever felt.

She would think on that later; for now she wanted to serve this woman and please this pussy and then receive her reward. She wanted it.

No; she needed it.

* * * *

The ‘situation’ had been taken care of; the body secretly removed and disposed of. Young Morrison was under control and everything was in place for their return home. Frank May sat with a fresh cup of coffee, pondering that it would be good to soon sleep in his own bed.

And good to see Laverne; what a trooper she was, he smiled.

In the guest room of their home in Washington, Laverne cried out, then laughed, her hands embedded in Anne’s blonde hair.

“Hey, please release me, let me go, babe,” Anne chuckled, loosening Laverne’s grip on her locks. She moved up and lay between the woman’s spread legs, grinding her pelvis and smiling down at the face.

“God, I’m going to miss you,” Laverne whispered. “I don’t know if I can take it,” she said, gripping Anne in a ferocious hug.
* * * *

When they awoke, Christine, with her hands tied now in front of her, was lying with her back against Gerry’s pert breasts. Both of Gerry’s arms were around her, one hand on a breast and one between her thighs.

“Off the bed and on your knees,” Gerry murmured softly into Christine’s ear.

In a moment, Christine was licking Gerry’s sex again as the woman lay back and moaned softly, thinking this was a great way to start the morning, “Ummm, that is sooooo freakin’ nice, mmmmmm, what, uh, what do you call that woman? Uh, Margie told me, a little…”

Christine paused and looked up, “Mmm, Mistress Dhang.” She then bent back to her work.

Gerry lay, enjoying and thinking, “I’ll think of some rules for you today, Slave-girl, but for now call me Miss Gerry. We’ll work out the details later.”

Christine paused, with a smile on her face, unsure why, and not really caring. “Yes, um, Miss Gerry,” Christine murmured, her tongue centered on the woman’s g-spot, her nose breathing in the woman’s musky scent.

* * * *

“I’m around this weekend, my love,” Madame Lu said, “Saturday night I am in my office.”

“Thanks,” Lana replied quietly, “I’ll let you know.” She hung up the hall receiver just as Gerry, Christine and Dolly came down the stairs. In a minute all six women had piled into the van and it headed off. The talk today was all about the moon mission; Christine felt clueless again, as everyone but her seemed to have details, so she just listened.

Lana had looked at her ‘hard’ for a few moments, before smiling and talking to Connie. Margie was studiously avoiding eye contact with her former roommate (no one had said anything about the switch, yet) and Gerry had winked at her once, licking her lips, making Christine smile, in spite of everything.

* * * *

When Christine answered her phone mid-morning no one else was in their area. She caught her breath as the sultry voice of her mistress accosted her. “And how is my little slave-whore, my bitch, today?” She asked.

“I’m, um, good, Mistress…”

“Did you enjoy having my friend piss in you?” Dhang asked, suddenly and melodiously.

Her heart-rate increasing and the deep response beginning, Christine murmured her previous response, “I am pleased to serve my m-mistress.”

There was a pause, Dhang was actually sipping tea and stroking the head of assistant number one, who was licking Dhang’s dark, thick labia with long, slow strokes, as she had been commanded to do this morning. Dhang was thinking of tying the girl up and whipping her later, even as she was speaking with her ‘White slave’. “Would you like me to piss in you, my whore?” Dhang asked in a voice that made Christine squirm on her chair, grateful she was alone.

“Mmmmm, yes, um, yes, Mistress, I would.” And sitting there, her emotions torrid, her arousal rising, the fact was she would like Dhang to use her in this nasty way, pissing in her; even on her. She blurted out, “I would like you to piss on me, Mistress.” Then she felt an incredible swell of shame and desire, as the angel on one shoulder scolded her in disgust, while the devil on the other nodded his approval, a broad grin on his malevolent face.

Dhang smiled at this, “When you are my slave, full time, I will use you daily as my toilet; if you are worthy.”

The two women sat now in silence, Christine about to explode, the erotic images Dhang had incited clear in her mind. Dhang then murmured, “We will have you at a private event Friday, but I want you Thursday as well. I will send the car right after work. Be out as soon as possible.”

And as usual, the line suddenly went dead, and Christine sat, overwhelmed. At the other end, Dhang leaned back and allowed her assistant to pleasure her, knowing it was almost time, and much earlier than she wished, to have her ‘whore’ make a decision.

* * * *

“Yes, Julia,” Silverberg answered into his receiver.

“Afternoon boss, just thought I’d let you know that there are rumblings the Koreans may be clearing out soon. All of them.”

“Including Dhang? Where is this coming from?”

“Yes, I think Dhang too, although this is not confirmed, I’m still following up. Just thought you should know.” She paused, “It is from a reliable source, Sir,” she smiled.

“Good, Julia, and who would that be?”

Sullivan paused. “The hotel cleaning staff.”

Silverberg smiled. “Roger that.”

* * * *

Now approaching four, Gerry had signalled to Christine and the two of them had sauntered down to the library and were now sitting at the same table she and Sullivan were at the day before.

“So,” Gerry began, “we obviously won’t, uh, play around at work, but you are serious about us having some fun at the house?”

Christine nodded, saying quietly, “I am. Miss Gerry.”

She smiled.

“You will obey me at the house?”

Christine nodded.

“I plan to use you and punish you.”

Christine swallowed, feeling the familiar surge, which was interesting, being prompted by a house mate; she nodded again, whispering, “Yes.”

Gerry smiled and nodded her own head. “Okay, we’ll keep it simple, for now, and see where it goes. You’ll be naked in our room at all times. All times, no exceptions. You will pleasure me in the morning and at night, on your knees. I will spank you every day and you will accept it. You will be on your knees whenever I enter the room, no matter who I am with. That’s it, really.”

Christine looked across at the attractive brown face. “I agree, Miss Gerry. The only problem is Madame Dhang. I still have the commitment to her.”

“I know, and that was in place already, so we’ll work around it.”

They regarded each other warmly, Christine asked, “Will I be able to sleep with you?”

Gerry grinned. “I’m thinking yes, but I’ll make that call, Slave-girl. Who knows, I may have you sleep on the floor.”

Christine smiled self-consciously. “As you wish, Miss Gerry.”

(End of Chapter 16)

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A Castle of Sand By LongDarkRoad Chapter 15 Sweet Cream Ladies

A Castle of Sand by LongDarkRoad

Chapter 15 Sweet Cream Ladies

“…to the lost and lonely people of the night, out of need, they seek direction for their life, they will love you in the darkness, take advantage of your starkness…

The ride in to work on Monday seemed, normal. Christine and Margie had not talked but their behavior would not have caused anyone to wonder. The talk was mostly about how things had gone with the Hungarians and what was next up.

After the morning group debrief, everyone had their own reports to write up. The morning was moving along fairly well when Christine’s telephone rang. She thought, even before she answered it, that it could be Dhang; her quickened pulse and onset of anxiety were witness to that.

“My delightful whore, I’ve missed you. Are you in a quiet area?”

“N-no, Mistress. I will go there now,” Christine replied and headed for the library, empty this morning as no one had assignments. Apparently the regular staff sometimes used the room but not often. “Mistress…” Christine said and waited.

“You had a busy week, my pussy-licking bitch?”

“Mmmmm,” Christine could feel the heat spreading from between her legs and out; her nipples stiffened, she could feel them straining against her bra. “Yes, I have, Mistress. I hope you are p-pleased.”

Dhang chuckled. “I won’t be pleased until I have my whore with her tongue in my pussy and my paddle on her ass. Be at my hotel immediately after work; take a taxi. We are back in the same place and will be for this week.”

Before Christine could answer, the line went dead. She closed her eyes and slid off her chair, then knelt on the floor, before slowly curling into a ball, her hands wedged between her thighs. Why couldn’t she stop this; what was wrong with her? She lamented, as she lay on the carpet with equal measures of disgust and desire coursing through her.

* * * *

Dhang was sitting at her desk in the embassy. Spread out before her were a number of photographs of ‘her whore’; she smiled thinking of what she would be adding today. Next she looked over the notes form her asset who had worked with the staff at Sheridan Point on the weekend; apparently Silverberg and Callister had walked off together and had been seen kissing. She smiled, then called her friend Castillo and arranged a drink for this evening.

She pressed her intercom and spoke briefly, and in a moment a young, slim Korean girl entered, standing with apprehension. On a signal, the girl disrobed and stood shyly; she had large breasts for her petite body and slender frame; it was one of Dhang’s preferences. Dhang tossed a black leather collar, menacing-looking with silver spikes protruding, and when the girl had it on ordered her to crawl to her.

Dhang stood and walked behind the kneeling figure, suddenly delivering a swift kick to the girl’s crotch, doubling her up. Dhang then grabbed a handful of the girl’s thick, black hair, and dragged the figure into a nearby, private washroom. After tying the girl’s wrists behind her back, Dhang plunged the girl’s head into the toilet bowl water, and held her as the girl struggled, more and more frantically, before she was released.

Dhang repeated this until the girl was gasping and sobbing, at which point Dhang left her lying on the bathroom floor, and returned to her desk to finish some work, a smile on her face.

* * * *

Christine had been back at her desk for about five minutes when her telephone rang again. Heart beating as she answered, and expecting more delicious torment from her mistress, she instead found Julia Sullivan on the other end.

“Good morning, Miss Callister. I believe you were just in discussion with Miss Dhang?” She smiled at Christine’s surprise, “All the in-calls come through our switchboard, so we know who is calling. Anyway, Arlene will be bringing you an envelope with a note in in. Copy it in your own handwriting and the next time you meet Dhang give her this info. Tell her you simply saw it on my desk. Tonight? Very good, I’ll meet with you tomorrow then.”

In a moment Arlene arrived with her wonderful smile and the note and Christine took care of her small task; the info had said simply: England leaving the twenty-second. Two assets acc. That was it.

Christine sat now with her mind in turmoil, more than usual, what with Margie and now tonight’s meeting. At some point, as difficult as it was for her to deal with them, Christine knew she would have to face her emotions. It was clear she loved the sexual release; loved it, wanted it, desired it. And it was clear that being dominated and humiliated, for whatever deep reason, enabled this. Just how far was she willing to go to meet her need; to get her, drug? Her fix the junkies called it.

“How far could she go with you?” Lana had asked. It was disturbing to Christine, even as she felt the desire, that, she just didn’t know.

The thought (uncalled for) then came to her that she had experienced that very nice orgasm courtesy of Mrs. Yee; there had been humiliation and domination and very aggressive sex.

But there had been no Madame Dhang. Curious.

* * * *

Cliff Eagleton looked over his notes; he was quite informed, as much as any government man could be, when it came to criminal activity, and he had intel that a large shipment of heroin had left Hong Kong over three weeks ago and that it would land in New York in a few days; he now even knew which shipping line would be carrying it. He gazed at his telephone; Eagleton also knew, very well, that this was not a decision he could take back.

* * * *

“Hey,” Christine murmured to Lana, “I’m heading out after work, so don’t wait, okay.”

“Sure, Hon.” Lana smiled, “Your mistress awaits?” Christine felt pangs of desire and guilt, and Lana continued, “Well, you do have a new collar to show her.”

“Now you’re teasing me, Lana,” Christine whispered.

Lana regarded the young woman for a few seconds, then murmured, “Mmmm, who’s teasing whom, sweet girl?”

* * * *

“Look,” Anne said quietly, “Frank’s going to be going away again; it’s what he does. I’m willing to bide my time, if you can handle the stress. It’s your decision, babe.”

Laverne looked up into a face she loved to kiss, of a woman who now mattered to her. Decisions; some were a bitch.

* * * *

Christine walked briskly into the hotel lobby. In her purse were three items for her mistress, two of which were causing arousal and stress. The elevator ride seemed to take forever and then the walk down the hallway seemed extended, but finally Christine was knocking on the door, to be admitted by Hyun, dressed again in a thin bra, garters, nylons, shoes but no panties.

“Whore,” Hyun greeted her with a genuine sneer, “leave all your clothes here and get on your knees.” Christine complied and then crawled behind the assistant into the living room, to come at last to the black, polished shoes of her mistress; she had carried her handbag along as she crawled, and she now raised it slightly. “I have something for you, Mistress,” she said, not raising her eyes.

“Hmmmm, very good. I like your devotion. Tell me where you belong, Bitch?”

Again the heat began spreading within her; it was as if she had no power over these things. In the back of her mind, a nugget or a kernel of resistance had lodged, built from shame and the displeasure of Margie and the irreverence of Lana, but it was now overwhelmed. “I b-belong on my knees, Mistress,” she murmured, still facing the floor.

Dhang chuckled darkly, saying, “That is good, and we will be testing your obedience soon. For now, show me what you have brought.”

Christine took out the collar, the envelope from Paulette Yee and the information from Sullivan. Dhang took the envelope and opened it, crooning “My whore’s pussy, asshole and mouth have earned me fifteen hundred American dollars. That pleases me. You do have your uses, whore.”

The end of the sentence was accompanied by Dhang nudging Christine’s breasts with her shoe, and they swayed.

Next she looked at the note form Sullivan. “How did you come to acquire this information?” She asked quietly, and Christine hesitated for a moment, then said, “I was told to tell you that I saw it on Mrs. Sullivan’s desk, but she actually gave it to me, and had me write it out to give to you.” Christine paused, breathing hard now through her nose, the stab of guilt intense, almost overwhelming. How far would you go…

Dhang leaned down and caressed Christine’s face, turning it up, and looking into the brown eyes, “That is good, my devoted whore. I am very pleased with you, and will use you now as you deserve.” She smiled and looked at the collar as she turned it in her hand, saying something to Hyun who got up and returned with a permanent black marker.

Dhang handed the marker and collar to Christine. “What name should go on the collar?” She smiled.

Christine studied the carpet and said quietly, “Whore?”

“Indeed. Print that in large letters and then put the collar on. The world needs to see exactly what you are.”

Christine did that, and after fastening the collar, she looked up into the compelling eyes of this woman who could somehow reach inside her, making her into a puppet. Tears were now rolling down her cheeks, and Dhang reached down and gently brushed them away. She then said something to Hyun, who bent forward and lifted Christine’s face herself; then spit on it.

Both women laughed.

* * * *

“So, Callister is meeting the Korean woman today?” Silverberg asked, glancing up at the sturdy form of Julia Sullivan, sitting across from him.

“Correct, Sir. I’ve, um, given her some info; we’ll see what she does with it.”

“It’s about England, right?”

“Yeah, him, but I also put in there that the two assistants going with him are assets.”

Silverberg studied his own assistant for a moment, “That’s interesting; I thought there’ll be three assistants, and none of them are assets?”

Sullivan smiled, “Correct.” She paused, “I’m pretty sure Callister will ‘come clean’ with Dhang and tell her she’s been given the info on purpose.”

Silverberg pondered. “You don’t, mmm, trust Miss Callister?”

Sullivan sighed; her opinion of Callister was complicated. “She’s young, inexperienced and smitten with Dhang. I’m not going to judge her morality; God knows there’s a lot that’s much, much worse out there that, um, people do. But she can’t lie, it’s as simple as that, sir. We cannot expect her to carry a lie to this woman, she just can’t do it. So we’ll do a reverse; expect her to spill the beans, just make sure the beans are the ones we want spilled.”

Silverberg nodded. It made sense, yet for some reason it also made him sad. He liked Christine Callister; he disliked what they, and she, were doing.

Not for the first time he considered that this life he led was a bitch, at times.

* * * *

Christine was now standing and wearing a short, thin cotton dress, her dog collar and nothing underneath. With a smile, Dhang handed the woman a dog’s leash, which Christine studied for a moment, and then hooked to her collar, handing the leash back to her mistress, with Dhang nodding her pleasure.

“I should make you come on your knees, whore, but that would take too long. Soon though, you will be displayed in public as you should be, as my possession.”

Holding the loop of the leash, Dhang headed out, walking to the elevator and leading her slave. When they were inside, they stood against the back wall, the other three inhabitants casting cautious glances their way, Christine light-headed. Once on the main floor Dhang led the way into the lounge and to the back corner, heads turning as they went.

At the last table a ‘Latino’ woman was seated, and she stood, greeting Dhang before the two sat, with Christine kneeling beside them on the floor. Their table blocked the view of the lounge patrons, but Christine still shuddered with excitement and shame as she knelt, exposed; Dhang’s pet and whore.  

The woman did not introduce her ‘slave’ and she and the Latino woman, amazingly to Christine, began speaking in Spanish and it was clear they were discussing her, as the woman, Talia Castillo, kept grinning down at her, not necessarily in a pleasant way.

Now, the dark-haired woman (likely early forties) wearing an expensive business suit; handsome and commanding rather than pretty, and with a mass of curly, jet-black hair, leaned forward and took Christine’s face in her hands, the bright red polish of her nails standing out against the whiteness of Christine’s skin.

“Puta!” the woman said, and then she, too, spat on Christine’s cheek, pausing to spread the saliva around, as Christine closed her eyes.

“That means ‘whore’,” Dhang murmured, bending close to Christine’s ear, “which is what you are, yes? Someone who fucks when she is told to?”

Christine nodded her head, too filled with emotion to speak. Castillo then reached around and undid the tie of Christine’s dress, pulling the top down so her heavy breasts lay exposed and tempting. Taking her red lipstick out, Castillo wrote ‘PUTA’ on the exposed chest. Both women chuckled.

“What are you?” the woman then asked with a sneer.

“Ommm, a h-whore, Miss Castillo,” Christine murmured in a choked voice.

“You spread your legs when your mistress tells you to?”

Afraid she might pass out with the arousal, Christine nodded and “mmmmed”.

Castillo gripped her face again, “Say it, dumb bitch,” the intimidating woman sneered into Christine’s face.

Focused on the floor, Christine said quietly, “I spread my legs and fuck when my mistress commands me t-to.”

Both women laughed again and spoke in Spanish, but then a waitress came to their table, stared for a moment at Christine, and nervously asked for Dhang’s order. Castillo was drinking white wine.

With a quick glance, the waitress; tall, dark hair, late twenties, attractive in a certain way, turned and headed back to the bar.

“Okay, Slave,” Dhang said sweetly to Christine, “my friend, who is someone much superior to you, has lovely black boots that need cleaning.”

Dhang handed Castillo the leash-end and then the woman tugged Christine’s face down to her boots, uncrossing her legs and revealing the black triangle of her lace panties, murmuring, “Pronto”, as Christine’s tongue reached out and began to lick the fragrant black leather.

“She’s trainable,” Castillo said.

“Like a dog,” Dhang replied, and they laughed again.

“A dog that fucks,” Castillo added and both women laughed out loud.

* * * *

Anne looked over her note; she had informed her handlers of May’s return, and also that the following week they would be hosting a dinner for General Ostrander at their home. Finally, she noted that the Callister woman was romantically involved with a high-level Korean woman.

After leaving the note, she hurried from the park and hailed a cab; she hadn’t actually admitted it out loud, but she wanted to spend more time with Laverne before ‘the assholes’ all returned.

* * * *

And speaking of assholes, Christine was at that moment now on her knees, her face between Hyun’s nylon-covered legs, her tongue embedded as far into the woman’s fragrant back door hole as possible.

“Why do you lick out her ass?” Dhang murmured, for the fourth time.

Christine answered correctly again, having learned the answer with the help of the riding crop, “I lick her a-asshole because she is my superior, Mistress. I’m a white whore and I am pleased to clean her ass.”

“Do you like the taste?” Hyun chuckled at this and lifted Christine’s face, opening her mouth and spitting inside. As disgusting as it was, it had happened so often tonight that Christine simply knelt and accepted it, before saying quietly.

“I do. Mistress.”

“Is this your proper place in life?”

“Y-yes, Mistress, this is where I belong.”

Christine’s own round ass, which was facing Dhang and Castillo who sat sipping wine, watching the show, was reddened more than at any other time in her life. All three women; Dhang, Castillo and Hyun, had taken turns, punishing her with an assortment of paddles and even a riding crop, which accounted for the four welts that stood out even against the inflamed skin. These were the first welts Christine had experienced from Dhang, and if she hadn’t been effectively gagged, her cries would have caused alarm on the hotel floor.

Castillo now rose and moved softly, then kicked Christine’s labia from behind with her stocking-clad foot. “Spread your legs more, Whore; now, reach back and spread both your holes, wider. That’s it.” She paused, “She displays nicely, for a whore,” the woman remarked to Dhang, resuming her seat.

Castillo had been aggressive this evening in her abuse of the lovely ‘white whore’. The most noteworthy scene being when Dhang ordered her slave to be Castillo’s ashtray, and the woman had languidly tapped the ashes of her cigarette into Christine’s opened mouth as she smoked, before a bowl of water was brought for her to wash the remnants down with. Castillo had then butted her cigarette out on Christine’s bare ass.

Now, as Christine worked to keep herself spread from behind, and sucked aggressively on the dark, textured creases of Hyun’s anus, the young woman suddenly tightened her knees around Christine’s head and cried out in pleasure, with both Dhang and Castillo applauding.

They had both already received their rewards from Dhang’s dedicated slave; Castillo while they were still in the lounge, Christine licking the woman to a climax as she sat on her chair, while the dark-haired waitress worked a small glass bottle in and out of Christine’s sopping vagina, earning herself a nice tip.

Now Hyun stood and left for the washroom; Dhang instructing Christine to relax her hands and arch her back; she then slapped her buttocks a couple more times, encouraged by Castillo, who said something to Dhang in Spanish. Dhang then called out something to Hyun in Korean, and the young woman returned with a plastic funnel.

Christine was now placed with her face pressed against the carpet but still able to see her reflection in the wall mirror. She now saw, as well as felt, Dhang insert the funnel into her asshole. She then saw Castillo squat down over the funnel, and then felt the warm sensation, as the woman pissed into her, followed in turn by a laughing Hyun. Christine was then roughly brought to her knees to lick both women clean.

A few minutes later, as Christine sat dazed on the toilet, ridding herself of their urine, Dhang stroked her face, murmuring. “You smell of piss.” She chuckled, gently stroking Christine’s face, purring, “When I piss in my slave, it will be in your mouth,” which she now kissed. She then slipped her hand down and masturbated her slave, right there on the toilet.

* * * *

Cliff Eagleton took his bowl of Kraft dinner to the table, along with a beer and a slice of bread. Most nights he simply ate at a restaurant, which had been his routine since he and Maria had divorced eight years earlier. Tonight however he had decided to make one of the few things he knew how, and just relax at home.

He looked over the numbers from his bank accounts; okay, but nothing remarkable, and if a serious illness came along, or something to do with one of his two children, he would not have much wiggle room.

He’d sleep on it, and decide in the morning whether to call Fuller or not.

* * * *

Christine sat on the front porch. Despite all that she had experienced, it was still just after nine. Standing cautiously, her rear end and thighs tender, she slipped into the house and listened; she really didn’t feel like seeing or talking with anyone. She managed to make it to the upstairs bathroom where she ran water for a bath, emptying the Epsom salts her mistress had given her into the warm water.

Easing herself gently into the tub she rested her head on a towel and pondered. Much of what had been done to her tonight had aroused her, but not all. She liked being spanked, but only to a certain point; tonight had gone past that, and that was likely because the woman Castillo had been there. She was clearly someone who liked hurting people.

It was also now clear in Christine’s mind that she loved eating women’s, pussies (she smiled at the word). Whatever happened with Dhang, she knew she would continue doing this. Even when she was licking the unpleasant Hyun, she enjoyed what she was doing, even if she didn’t like the person. She also liked, was greatly aroused by, being made to perform sexually in public. Was that sick?

And being used as a toilet was arousing, but again it was mostly because she was serving Dhang. Christine doubted she would want to serve Hyun or Castillo that way, on their own. Paulette Yee? Maybe, so the act was still dependent on the woman.

She didn’t however like the spitting; recalling this now, a surge of revulsion suddenly rose in her and she needed to climb quickly from the tub and retch into the toilet. After the nausea had passed, she eased herself back into the water and lay back for another twenty minutes, before a gentle rap on the door signaled someone needing to enter, and in a moment Gerry came in, apologized and sat on the toilet, the two women sharing trivial chat to ease the awkwardness.

As Gerry finished wiping herself, Christine happened to open her eyes, and the two held each other’s gaze. Gerry smiled and gently stroked her own labia, hidden in a thick covering of dark hair. “So,” Gerry murmured, “is it true you like girls?”

Christine continued to watch Gerry fondle herself, saying quietly, “Yes, I do.”

“Would you like some of this?” Gerry smiled, massaging herself more deliberately.

Christine hesitated, then nodded her head. “I would.”

“Come up to my room when you get out,” Gerry said, pulling up her pants and heading off. In a few minutes Christine climbed out of the tub and turned to look at her reflection in the mirror; the welts had almost disappeared and the redness was greatly diminished. She towelled herself off and put on her housecoat, then, despite her very full evening so far, made her way to Gerry and Lana’s room, knocking softly and entering to find Gerry lying naked on her bed.

She needed comfort, and arousal was okay too, if it happened.

“Lana won’t be home ‘til eleven,” Gerry smiled, lifting her knees and spreading her legs. Christine dropped her house coat and moved to the bed, kissing Gerry’s mouth and then sucking both breasts, before dropping her face into the thick bush and attacking the heavy, dark labia with surprising desire, as Gerry moaned softly.

Twenty minutes later she lay against the brown body as they both gently kissed and stroked one another. “I wish I could stay here tonight,” Christine murmured.

But that was not allowed, and a half hour later, after spending an extra amount of time brushing her teeth, Christine lay on her own bed; no sign of Margie so far. She was just starting to drift off when she heard her roommate enter and take some things, then leave again. Ten minutes later she was back, laying quietly on her own bed and turning her face again to the wall.

Christine lay alone, her thoughts again a mess, a bewildering mixture of desire, regret, elation and sadness, taking turns twisting within her. My delightful whore, my pussy-licking bitch, spread your legs and fuck when I order you…

She suddenly remembered other words, unsure if her mother had been reading to her or if it was Miss Devers speaking; Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. But what was love?

How did one ever know?

(End of Chapter 15)

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A Castle of Sand by LongDarkRoad Chapter 14 What Does It Take

A Castle of Sand by LongDarkRoad

Chapter 14 What Does It Take

…it takes an earthquake to move a mountain, it takes the typhoon to churn up the sea, but what does it take to make you take to me…”

How many women and girls had she met over the years who felt like Miss Carson did? How clueless had she been all these years? Christine asked herself these questions as she lay on her bed, Margie asleep and snuggled against her.

In high school and at college she had clearly been wandering in a daze; surely what was happening to her now (she listed in her mind, Hănescu, Bianca, Margie, Madame Dhang, Lana, Beverly Silverberg, Paulette Yee and now this Amy Carson) with these women didn’t suddenly occur; there had to have been women, or girls, earlier who liked her; were attracted to her; wanted sex with her. Why hadn’t she noticed before this?

Miss Dhang’s whore, came again; was that all it was? She wanted, desperately almost, to belong to the woman, to be hers; to be with her, in every way. Was that all it was, to make her accept this? To be a whore.

She had had sex with five men at the same time, five faceless men, for her ‘mistress’, loving the woman watching her and not at all personally involved in the actual sex. But then she had liked being with George Yee. She’d felt, something, as she was instructed by Paulette to watch the man’s cock enter her, and to then watch it move in and out of her naked sex. She’d actually taken part in that, been involved emotionally, even become aroused (a little) and her mistress had not been there.

Why do you do this?

Why indeed.

* * * *

Hyun answered the long-distance call, listened for a moment and then handed the receiver to Dhang, saying,

“It’s your asset in the Commerce Department.”

“Yes?” Dhang said, her voice much less-honeyed than with Christine.

She listened to the report which included that Callister had met with Gibbons and then Sullivan, that last evening had gone very well, that tonight Callister was part of the event for the Hungarian delegation and that tomorrow she would be going to a private residence, with Douglas Silverberg in attendance, for a dinner. The group appeared to be staying overnight.

“Very good, I will be back Monday. Call me in the evening. I also want to know which girls in the crew Callister associates with the most. Good day.”

* * * *

“Ahhhhhh,” Paul groaned and collapsed to the right of Beverly, who remained on her knees for a minute. Anne, lying to Beverly’s left, remarked, “See, Paully, I told you it was worth the wait.”

Paul and Beverly had worked twelve hours today in the yard of one of Silverberg’s many acquaintances (arranged through Virginia) and after a shower and dinner had welcomed Anne into Paul’s bed. Beverly lay now between her two partners, then turned to Anne, “You need to finish the job, honey-bunch…” she murmured.

“Well, since you’re talkin’ so sexy, how can I refuse,” Anne chuckled, as she slid down her friend’s slender body, opening her legs.

* * * *

By nine-thirty Friday evening, things had already begun to wind down. For Christine, there had been no ‘fireworks’ of any kind. No one in the Hungarian delegation had made a move on her; Connie had just cruised by, giving her a wink saying, “Looks like we’ll be done soon.”

Julia Sullivan now sidled over; “Hello, Miss Callister; wasn’t able to see you earlier so, uh, how’d last night go?”

Christine paused and then glanced at Sullivan to her right, asking, “If it’s only, um, like a date, what do you, you know, need to know?”

Sullivan nodded. “Roger that. I, mmm, don’t intend to embarrass you, Miss Callister. I will try to be discreet, so I don’t need, um, romantic details, if that concerns you, although…” here she paused and looked up saying, “if Dhang starts using you like a, um, hooker, that could be a problem, you see that, right? Unless you, like being a hooker?”

Christine felt the sting of those words but nodded, a grimace on her face. Put that way, it sounded skanky. ‘Madame Dhang’s whore’; aroused her coming out of Paulette Yee’s pretty mouth, but it also bothered her, and she needed to resolve this. What would being Dhang’s, slave, really mean? Could she be Christine Callister, government employee and a sex-slave, or whatever Dhang was envisioning, at the same time. That whole cake and eat-it-too thing?

She really couldn’t disagree with the hooker word, if she was being honest; Dhang, like a pimp, had been paid money for the sex Christine had provided.

Christine cleared her throat and said quickly, “We had dinner and then spent some time together, in their room, about an hour, and then we parted.”

“With, mmm, both of them?” Sullivan asked, evenly, not looking at the woman.

Christine sighed, bothered by this. “Ummm, yes. And I can tell you we had no discussion of any importance. They asked me no questions about anything, other than small talk of very general things. It was, I guess, just a favor for Madame Dhang.”

“Thank you, Miss Callister.” Sullivan nodded, taking a breath and fighting conflicting emotions. “Mr. Yee used a, condom, with you?”

Christine nodded, bothered by this question as well; why?

Sullivan continued, still not looking at Christine.

“For tomorrow, you will travel to the estate with Mr. Silverberg; Gerry, Margie and Dolly will travel with me. It’s not far, about a half-hour drive. The boss will pick you up at four-thirty. Pack your evening wear but dress in your casuals. Understood?”

And with that, the woman moved away, and Christine noted that people were already departing and Mr. Silverberg was waving at her and there was again a nagging sense of something hovering near her, like a shadow.

Unless you like being a hooker.

She had liked being ‘used’ by the Yees; what was the point in denying that?

And wasn’t it her bosses idea to ‘please Miss Dhang?’ They had no idea, really, of where that might go?

Without analyzing it, Christine Callister recognized that she was getting the ‘Washington Treatment’.

Or being screwed, as some would just say.

* * * *

Saturday morning Christine was up early; she had her errand, and was travelling by taxi to the Woolworth’s on Fourteenth Street. Once inside the busy, crowded store she found the meagre selection of pet supplies. Luckily for her, if that was the correct way to view it, she smiled when she spotted several dog collars, choosing a plain, brown, leather one.

Feeling ‘naughty’ and exposed, Christine tried the collar around her neck to ensure it fit, feeling an amazing rush of desire. She briefly pictured herself on her knees, handing the collar to her mistress, and then shook her head and came back to the present, glancing around to see if anyone happened to be observing her, before strolling to the cashier.

“What kind of dog do you have?” the young woman behind the cash register asked pleasantly, placing the purchase in a small, paper bag.

“One that needs control,” Christine smiled, heading off. “If you are willing and obedient, you shall eat the good of the land,” came suddenly to Christine’s mind, along with the image of Elizabeth Devers, standing and looking down at her.

Followed of course by the image of herself, naked, by Dhang’s feet, a leash attached to her collar, as the mistress took her pet for a walk.

* * * *

The estate, in Fort Hunt, turned out to be a large, elegant old home right near the Potomac River, on a property heavy with trees and the sense of history and old money. The owners were connected to the Republican Party in some way, and the place had been used as a retreat since the days of Eisenhower, as it boasted five bedrooms in the main building and an odd row of eight, small cabins on the northern edge of the property. That was apparently where ‘the crew girls’ would sleep tonight.

Some staff had been brought in for the weekend and when Silverberg’s Cadillac pulled up the drive they were met by two of them. Several of the Hungarian party were already there, as well as Sullivan and her group. Margie came out to greet Christine and show her to their cabin. Like the house, it would be two girls to a hut.

* * * *

A little later, Margie and Christine were browsing (they were told they could wander anywhere on the main floor) in the large, impressive house. “You wanna live in a place like this?” Margie asked.

“Hmmmm,” Christine thought, considering the modest house she had grown up in, “maybe for a while, but it’s just too much. Why would anyone want this much space?”

Margie stopped and gazed at the impressive winding staircase, “Dunno, unless you had a whack of kids. And they did have larger families back then, you know, whenever. I’m just assuming this place is like ancient, hey?”

Just then Julia Sullivan appeared and informed them it would be dinner in an hour and they should get ready. The two women headed for their cabin, Margie saying, “It’s like being back in camp. Well, a very expensive camp; not the kind I went to.”

“I never went to camp,” Christine replied.

* * * *

“Let’s go for a stroll, Miss Callister,” Douglas Silverberg remarked, gazing down at the woman who was looking absolutely enticing tonight, her mass of brunette hair curling around her bewitching face. At times he felt a stab of conscience when what she was doing for the Koreans came to mind; but in his practical way he forced the thought down. This was Washington, he told himself for the thousandth time, and everyone gets used, one way or another.

Even him.

The two headed out the front and chatted about nothing on the wide veranda. “I say we wander over, cross the roadway, and walk along the river. If anyone is watching, that would be noted.” Christine smiled in response and the two walked off at a leisurely pace. It wasn’t far, and soon they were on a grassy stretch passing through a wooded area, the wide Potomac moving languidly beside them.

They stopped and Silverberg leaned against a poplar’s trunk and lit one of his Pall Malls. “So,” he began in his rich voice, “a lot has happened in a short while, for you certainly.”

Christine gazed at the river and smiled, “I can’t believe it, sometimes. It seems like I’ve been here a life-time and it hasn’t been even a month, so much, like you say, has happened.”

“Is it, moving too fast for you?”

She looked up at him, his face clear in the moonlight, nodding her head. “Yeah, but time doesn’t, what do they say, stand still?”

He sighed and looked sad, briefly, as the thought crossed his mind that this young woman and his daughter were close in age.

He shook that off and smiled, then nodded, and said quietly, “Now, you need to bite the bullet and lean in and kiss me, just in case.”

She laughed and took a step closer, raising her gloved hand to caress his broad chin; then leaning in, as his cigarette smoke curled up around her, she kissed his cheek, gently, and then, without consideration, she kissed his mouth. It tasted of tobacco and smelled fragrantly of Brut aftershave, and his lips weren’t hard like Brian’s. She hadn’t paid any notice to the lips of the Korean men( there hadn’t been much kissing anyway, not on her mouth at least) but these were amazingly gentle.

Straightening up, she smiled at him. The kiss had been very nice; for some reason that pleased her. “That should give them a little to talk about, if someone is, um, there.”

A short distance away, one of the hired staff made a note, then hurried back to the house before he was missed.

* * * *

“So, second meeting in a month, somethin’s up,” Eagleton commented, looking over at his friend Bob Fuller, who tonight seemed to be a man with something on his mind.

Fuller smiled and sipped his whiskey, “Yeah, our last, chat, stayed with me. Your, um, frame of mind, like.”

“My frame of mind?” Eagleton grunted.

“Yeah, you remind me of me, Eagle. We’re like a couple of old plough mules, heads down, doing our job. We’re probably both lookin’ to get out to pasture soon, while we still have some life left in us, huh?”

Eagleton nursed his bourbon unsure of where this conversation was headed. “You getting’ tired of haulin’ in bad apples, Bob?”

Fuller regarded his glass. “That’s the deal, hey? We’ve talked about the new way of things, that there’s no black and white anymore. Somebody sticks up a bank, maybe shoots a citizen, you catch ‘em and lock ‘em up. That’s easy. But this, emmm, crazy brave new fuckin’ world, with the politics…” He paused and looked up, his face tired; Eagleton noticed the lines around the eyes and mouth; same as his own.

“And it started with the war, the big one, not this piece of shit Nam freak show. And it started with makin’ deals, hey.”

“I’m thinkin’ you have something, specific, in mind, Bob?”

Bob grinned, more like a grimace, really, “We both know that the big, well, one of the big fears back then, was that Nazi infiltrators would somehow get into the New York docks and screw up the works, and…”

He paused and looked at Eagleton, who finished the thought for him, “And so we made a deal with the Mafia. They kept the docks clear and we looked the other way on, certain things.”

Fuller chuckled, “Yeah, very diplomatic. Certain things mostly being the heroin trade. I think back then they called it the French Connection.”

“Yeah, from the fields of Turkey and Lebanon to the streets of New York. I think it originally involved some Corsicans, if memory serves.”

“Right, and Marseille was the port of choice. You and I both know that the fascists tried to shut down the trade, and it was American intelligence that helped keep things going, in exchange for the help with our docks, and other, things.” The two drank in silence for a moment.

Fuller continued, “You know, I was in Marseille end of the war. I even saw one of the heroin processing labs, as your OSS guys were trying to recruit me and took me around. Opened my eyes.”

“But then you joined the bureau,” Eagleton chuckled.

Fuller sipped his whiskey, “Yeah, I was young and idealistic. This prick was all on about how much money they were looking to pull in, from fuckin’ dope for Christ sakes, and they would then use it to fight communism. Shit.”

“You sometimes pick your devil, Bob.”

“Yeah, well now I’m not so idealistic any more, and now the devil be damned. I want a piece of that action, Eagle. You and me, we deserve to go out with more than a gold watch, a wrecked marriage and a drinking problem. We need to enjoy life, whatever time we got left.”

Eagleton regarded his friend cautiously; it was not that he hadn’t thought the same thing, but saying it out loud made it more real; and dangerous.

* * * *

Lana stretched her long legs out of the cab and stood on the sidewalk as the car pulled away. It had been three years since she had last stood here, three years since her last conversation with Lucy Nagy, or Madame Lu as she was called then. Lana had been at a crossroads that night; having ended her marriage and tried other things; a professional music career was a dream but not practical.

She had first been approached by Nagy at a concert recital she had performed in, as part of a trio. The woman had seemed elegant, sophisticated and a little mysterious. As the owner of a very exclusive escort service, she always kept a low profile. Lana had met with her more than once, but in the end, took a government job that had opened up, followed eventually by the crew.

All this was coming back to her now as she stood outside the door of a room labelled, High Seas Travel, which contained a legitimate travel agency, but also fronted a more private service for wealthy male (for the most part) clients.

Lana knocked, and Nagy’s distinctive voice invited her in.

* * * *

“It seems like you’ve been thinking on this for a while, Bob. What’s put the burr under your saddle right now?”

Bob regarded his companion and chuckled. “My work, strangely. Or, Jimmy R. Lee, to be precise.” Eagleton tilted his head; the name meant nothing to him, but this was domestic, so it likely wouldn’t. “Jimmy came under my watch after a shooting, in New York, but the local boys reached out ‘cuz they knew this cat had connections that went up quite a ways; in the drug biz.

Now we know what happened after WWII; lots of folks jumped on the opium train; Armenians, Mexicans; hell, even the Canadians for cryin’ out loud. But nobody did like the Chinese and the Vietnamese. And damn-it, Eagle, you know the CIA was in up to their necks, with all of them, especially in the far east. But the road ended up right back here, in the U.S. of A, land of the free.”

Fuller sipped again and started, “But, it didn’t become a major problem until the sixties and the escalation of the ‘Nam war, and our troops coming home, a shitload of them bringing back their addiction. ‘H’ was already big on the streets and now we had service men who were there and are now here with the pipeline going right back there. And man it’s only growing, ‘cuz what’s the next hot spot, Eagle?”

Eagleton sighed, “Hong Kong; we’re hearing of high quality H starting to come out; ninety-nine percent pure, unheard of; Burma, Thailand, northern Laos…”

“The Golden Triangle,” Fuller said quietly, pausing as the waitress brought two fresh drinks.

“You’ve heard.”

“I’ve heard, from my new best friend, Jimmy R. Lee, who has connections right back to, Hong Kong.”

Eagleton sipped reflectively, “So, I’m guessing you have a plan, Bob? Or an idea at any rate?”

Fuller nodded, “I do indeed; you and me; working a deal. You find out when a shipment’s coming into New York, and ‘cuz it’s my region, I will follow up and bust it. We’ll seize the product, which is usually north of two hundred kilos, and we’ll keep twenty, don’t log ‘em in. Jimmy R. Lee takes our dope to his people at fifteen grand a ‘k’, we bank close to three hundred large.”

“And?” Eagleton murmured; interested but guarded.

“We do this two times, Eagle, and in a few months, quietly put in our paper work, and the Caribbean Islands, here I come; don’t know ‘bout you. We can pull this off ‘cuz of our positions, right?”

Eagleton regarded Fuller for twenty seconds or more before grunting, “Hmmmmm.”

Fuller nodded and raised his glass, “Right.”

* * * *

Although their beds were side by side in the small cabin, Christine and Margie were laying side by side on Christine’s. “So,” Margie murmured, “you and the boss went off for a moonlight stroll, hmmm. Any news?”

Christine smiled, “We had a kiss; that’s it, kid.”

“Hmmm, seems like you wasted an opportunity there.”

Christine hesitated, not knowing how much she was supposed to share. “Well, I like him, but he is married, and now I’ve met his wife and daughter, so it would be awkward to begin some wild affair. It was a nice kiss, two actually, but that’s it.”

They lay quietly for a moment. “And then there’s your dark-eyed woman, who wants you for, herself.” Margie said, quietly.

Christine sighed; after buying the collar this morning (something she had mentioned to Margie, in a spontaneous moment) and having her, mistress, on her mind a lot, she hadn’t thought of her much at all this evening. “Yes, there’s that. Relationships are complicated, hey?”

Margie lay thinking, “The path of true love is never easy, or something like that. How many damn lost-love songs are out there?” She asked darkly.

“Lots,” Christine murmured.

It was a moment before Margie responded. “Right.”

* * * *

“Well, my dear. It has been so good to see you,” Nagy spoke, looking up. Lana, noting it had been over an hour since she arrived, had stood, signalling her intent. “So good. I really thought I would never see you again, my dear.”

“I’ve thought of coming to see you, several times, but; I wasn’t ready, to have that, conversation.”

Nagy smiled. Now in her early fifties, she was still a handsome woman. “So bring your friend to see me. I think you should at least consider your options, especially if she is as beautiful as you say. The two of you would clean up, my precious.”

Lana bent slightly and kissed both of Nagy’s cheeks, then turned and headed off, her mind going over everything.

* * * *

“Ummmm, good, okay; yeah, you can relax,” Margie said, in a business-like fashion, even though she was kneeling behind a naked Christine’s ass. They were in the shower and Margie had just finished helping with her roommate’s pubic shaving, the hairs between her butt cheeks being the most challenging. “You’re all nice and pure for your, um, queen,” she murmured.

Christine turned around and Margie stood up. “Thanks again, that part is tough.” She smiled, “You know, I’m not sure you’re always joking when you say things, you know, like your queen and stuff.” Christine said quietly, reaching for a towel.

Margie shrugged her shoulders as she strolled out of the shower stall; they were in cabin One, which held all the washroom facilities. “Maybe I’m not always joking,” she said, grabbing her own towel and aggressively rubbing her hair. The two women dried themselves in silence.

Something had changed since yesterday, and Christine could not understand what.

* * * *

Anne and Laverne were enjoying a Sunday brunch when Laverne mentioned, trying to sound casual. “So, I heard from Frank. He’ll be back on Thursday.” She then began to studiously butter her toast.

Anne watched for a moment, then chuckled, “I don’t think that piece of toast has done you any harm, Laverne; show it some mercy, girl.”

The woman laughed and looked up, “I’m so torn up, here, Anne. I’m happy that Frank’s coming home, I am. But God, there’s a knot in my stomach when I think on you. That’s a fact and I’m, disturbed.” She held a napkin up to her face.

Anne smiled across at her lover. The thought had bothered her as well, although she would never say anything.

* * * *

Sunday night, Christine was back lying now on her bed when Margie returned from her evening washroom tasks, wearing pyjama bottoms and a towel around her neck.

Christine looked over at her roommate, who was now sitting on her bed. When Margie spoke, it was in a strangely subdued voice, “Hey, kid, I think I’m just going to crash here, okay?”

Christine sat up and looked over at her friend, a feeling of concern spreading through her. “Ummmm, okay, uh, why?”

Margie looked down, considering. “We’ve become pals, had a little fun, but, um, I kinda need to back off a bit here, Chris. I, uh, well shit, I care about you more than I should.” The woman sighed audibly. “You need to take care of one, relationship, at a time, right. So, I gotta do this, put some space between us…”

A sudden swell of sadness welled up within her and Christine fought back tears. She could understand Margie’s reasoning, but she hadn’t expected the hurt. “I, uh, I don’t know what to say. I like you, um, really like you, Margie. I wouldn’t hurt you for the world. There’s you, there’s Madame Dhang, but you’re separated…”

Margie looked up, “But not for long, kid.” She sat, struggling with her feelings, her face reddening. “You bought a goddamn dog collar, for cryin’ out loud. She wants you to be her slave. Have you really got that in your head, Chris? I’m sorry, I can’t do this. I, um, I’m good to work events and shit with you if they come up, but this other thing, it’s too heavy for little ol’ me. I’m sorry.”

And with that, Margie turned and lay, her face to the wall. Christine sat, numbed, for a few moments before she too lay facing her wall.

Both women crying silently in their own beds.

(End of Chapter 14)

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A Castle of Sand by LongDarkRoad Chapter 13 Lay Lady Lay

A Castle of Sand by LongDarkRoad

Chapter 13 Lay Lady Lay

…why wait any longer for the world to begin, you can have your cake and eat it too…”

“You want me to call who, dear?” Virginia asked, looking up from her newspaper.

“The new girl in Dad’s office, her last name is Callister.”

Virginia studied her daughter, but she was never an easy read. “And invite her here for dinner, tonight? Why for heaven’s sakes?”

Beverly strolled over and stood behind her mother, before reaching around and grasping both breasts. As instructed, Virginia was wearing a soft bra with an underwire that provided support but still was thin enough to allow Beverly to feel and grasp the nipples, which she did now. Virginia cried a muffled gasp, but continued to hold her newspaper. “I’m thinking you want me to get out the hairbrush, don’t you, Mommsy? Missing those old days with Rhonda?” Beverly crooned.

Virginia swallowed hard. “It’s okay, Beverly, I’ll do what you want. I’m sorry for my, ah, disobedience.”

Beverly ran her tongue down the side of her mother’s face, before whispering, “Go to my room, lie on the bed and have your skirt raised for when I get up there. We won’t need to wait ‘til Daddy gets home, will we?” She chuckled.

Virginia sighed and put down her paper, then stood and headed upstairs. Half an hour later, her backside reddened and with Beverly listening on the extension, Virginia reached the office of ‘the crew’ and spoke with the young woman; and it was arranged. She would be there for six.

Beverly smiled as she placed the receiver back, thinking this could be fun. She still wanted to know what Anne was after, though; ‘a favor for a friend’; yeah, right.

* * * *

Beverly answered the door, as both her mother and Martha were getting dinner ready. She looked up slightly into a beautiful face, set off with glossy brunette hair. “Christine, hello.” She said, with slightly more enthusiasm than usual.

“Um, Beverly? Nice to meet you,” Christine held out her hand and instead of shaking it, Beverly held it and led her guest into the dining room and large kitchen, introducing her to the two women.

Dinner itself was a touch awkward to begin with, the two Silverbergs knowing next to nothing about their guest, but Virginia was skilled in these social situations and before long had Christine sharing life in Glenn Rock and her decision to come to Washington. Beverly was even inspired to chat, briefly, about her travels through Europe and beyond after her graduation.

“I’ve been home a year or so,” she said.

They retired with whiskey and coffee into the living room, although whiskey was not something Christine ever drank. After her ‘Tequila evening’, however, she found the whiskey not too challenging after all.

After an hour or so, Virginia left the two young women alone. Christine had accepted a second whiskey, thinking she shouldn’t but not wanting to offend, and was feeling a little mellow as Beverly moved closer to her on the couch. “So, what’s it like, workin’ for the old man?” Beverly asked with her usual smirk.

Christine laughed, “I wouldn’t call him that,” she said. She then added that he was, the little time she had been with him, thoughtful and pleasant. “He doesn’t really seem like a, well, boss, um, boss, if that makes sense.”

Beverly smiled and nodded. “Makes sense.” She regarded the very desirable woman for a moment, then asked, “Have you had sex with him?” Christine almost choked on her sip of whiskey. “I’m thinking, no,” Beverly laughed as Christine recovered. She moved again, so that their two bodies were now touching, noticing Christine look down and then up, almost shyly. The young woman, older than she was but still young, did not move away or comment. Beverly leaned over and kissed the wonderful, soft lips, breathing in Christine’s fragrance.

When they separated, Christine asked, “Is your mother, um…”

“She won’t be doing anything, don’t you worry,” Beverly murmured. As she was speaking, she had unzipped Christine’s dress and slipped it off her shoulders, meeting no resistance. For her part, Christine felt the power of this girl and within her sex, the sense that pleasure awaited; she knew it, and she would let things take their course.

Beverly regarded the round breasts held within the white bra. She bent forward and kissed the flesh just above the garment’s edge, and then kissed Christine’s neck.

Slipping off her shirt, and revealing she was not wearing a bra, Beverly moved Christine’s face down to her own modest breasts and the lovely woman closed her mouth on each round orb in turn, softly biting the engorged, pink nipples, before hungrily sucking Beverly’s mouth.

“C’mon,” Beverly said with a smile, and took Christine by the hand, leading her upstairs to her room.

* * * *

“So, this is a weird life, Laverne, if I can be cool with you?”

“How so?” Laverne asked, her face nestled into the crook of Anne’s neck as they lay naked on the large bed in the guest room. She hadn’t used her and Frank’s bed for any of their love-making; it just didn’t seem, right.

“Well, never knowing when your husband will be here? You just go on living your life, buying groceries, watching television, making out with boss chicks…”

Laverne laughed, “Yeah, that latest thing there is new, but pretty amazing.” She paused. “It is a, special life, a privileged life I guess you could call it, being helpful to my husband’s ambitions and everything; but it is lonely. I could hang out with the wives of other government people, but I don’t really feel close to anyone.” She regarded Anne, “Until now.” She smiled.

Anne smiled too. “But no word on how long the man’s gone for?”

Laverne paused. “I actually got a telegraph yesterday saying at least a while longer, but Frank believes he will be back late next week. They want to be in Washington for the moon landing.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard about that. A man on the moon, that blows your mind, huh?” Laverne nodded and Anne added, “So, I can still camp out for a bit?”

Laverne grinned, “I love having you here, Anne. Love it. Oh, I’m doing some shopping tomorrow, anything special for dinner?” They had managed to work around the cook so far; it had been sort of a game.

“Naw, you spoil me, lady. Just surprise me.” In her mind, however, Anne now planned to do some ‘looking’ with Laverne away; she hadn’t had a chance to use the keys, yet.

* * * *

Christine paid the taxi and headed up the sidewalk to the set of stairs, feeling, very good. All those years she had never experienced a woman’s warm tongue on her labia and clitoris; wasted years, she pondered.

She would have let Miss Devers do ‘it’; she wanted her to. She had sat blindfolded, listening to her mother pleasure the woman, aroused but unable to do anything about it.

“Lick, sinful whore,” Devers’s honeyed voice had commanded, usually followed by a slap, as her mother’s naked buttocks were struck. “It is true, the flesh is weak. You are weak Eleanor; weak.”

Christine would imagine the scene, but she desperately wanted it to be her on her knees, as weak as Eve.

And she had given that up for Brian, and his boring, repetitive sex, that had provided Christine with absolutely zero pleasure; not even real companionship. She was certain Mr. Silverberg would be a much better lover; if he was anything like his daughter; Christine had to smile.

As she entered the house, Lana came from the kitchen to stand with a small smile on her lips, “So, how was dinner?” she asked, pleasantly.

Christine did not even ask how Lana knew; she had not spoken with her. The woman was like a spy.

“Did you have me followed?” Christine laughed.

Now it was Lana that took her by the hand and led her into the kitchen. When they were settled, Christine gave Lana a complete summary, including the time in Beverly’s room.

“You have a very popular, pussy.” Lana smirked.

Christine chuckled, thinking how many people she had been, intimate with, since coming to Washington; coming being the operative word. “Yeah, it’s weird, thinking of all those years I was in, um, hibernation sort of, like a field, um, laying fallow.”

Lana smiled. “I get it. And you’re from a farming community; I’m sure they talk about ploughing the furrow; you were fallow, and now your furrow is being ploughed, really good.” They both laughed out loud at that, before Lana continued, “But you have both men and women involved with you, so you’ve had more experience in your short time than a lot of women have in their entire lives; you know that, hey.”

Christine nodded and then replied, “Yeah, and thanks for not using that ‘f’ word; I still think it’s ugly. You know, it’s, um, weird with the men. I don’t feel anything when I’m doing it with them. It’s almost not real. It’s like I’m in a movie; there’s something inside me but it’s nothing, well, important. I’m focused on my, mistress, watching me. That is, until the stuff comes in my mouth, which I don’t like; that’s real. Ugh.” She smiled.

Lana sat in thought for a while, the ticking of the large, kitchen wall clock the only sound. “Have you thought any more on Madame Dhang’s, request?”

Christine shifted on her chair. “I, um, need to know more. This is all new to me; I’m already doing all that she wants, right. Although she has requested I buy, um, a dog collar.”

Lana snorted and shook her head in wonder. Then she studied the enchanting face across form her for a few seconds; does she even know how beautiful she is, crossed her mind. After a few more seconds of sitting, Lana asked, keeping her voice conversational, “Christine, do you think, your, um, mistress is right? That you are, a whore?”

Christine looked steadily into the equally enchanting face sitting, smiling, two feet from her. Lick, sinful whore, she remembered. “I think, I might be; ummm, maybe,” she murmured, feeling both shame and, something; what does being a whore really mean? She wasn’t out walking the streets.

She shrugged and looked away. “But I am going to buy the collar. I want to.” She shook her head in wonder.

* * * * 

“Hello?” Virginia answered, expecting a call for Douglas, who was home tonight, but she was surprised when it was Anne’s voice, greeting her and then asking for Beverly.

“How are you?” Virginia asked.

“I’m good, Mommsy. Been busy; working if you can believe it.”

In a moment, Beverly was on the phone; checking first to see who might be around. She saw her father sitting at his desk reading some documents. Martha was in the kitchen and Virginia was back in the living room, watching the television.

“Okay, Anne-the-mysterious, I met Miss Callister yesterday, so now you can get off my case, Perry.”

“Hey, thanks.” Anne chuckled, “No seriously, I promise not to bug you again. So, what’s your take on the gal?”

Beverly lit a smoke and sat on a stool, “Well, I don’t have a clue what interest your, um, ‘friend’ might have in the woman, except maybe to bang her. She’s a classic sex pot, sweetie. I mean a real fox; I am not exaggerating. But she’s sweet and naïve, Anne, and there’s no way she was trying to do a number on me. It just isn’t in her.”

“Or maybe she did a real, good number on you?”

Beverly paused, “Well, I’m not buying that, I’m tellin’ you straight up, this gal is just a farm girl from Pennsylvania. Believe me or not, that’s your call.”

“Hey, Bev, don’t get frosted, okay. I’m not putting you down and I really appreciate you taking time for this. I do. Did the chick mention anything about, um, Korea?”

Beverly paused, where was this going? “Uh, nope, Korea never came up in our conversation; oh, wait, she did mention that she’s helped host a couple of events and I think one was for Korea; there you go. You know, if you were interested in, um, Korea, you shoulda’ told me…”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Hey, thanks again, I owe ya’ one, check?”

“Check. Oh, by the way, they’re, Christine and my father and some others, like going down to Sheridan Point this weekend for something.”

“Thanks, kid.”

* * * *

Anne sat now in thought; yesterday had been a productive day. In the morning, after Laverne had gone off shopping, Anne had gone to Frank May’s office and tried the keys, all of them worked; the wall safe was another matter. It was clear, because it was a high-end model, it would definitely need the expert to crack the code.

Anne had then spent an hour carefully sorting through files and photographing a number of pages, using up her film. She was then able to get to her drop-off spot, leave the film and get back before Laverne returned. In the evening Laverne had prepared a wonderful meal for her. And now Beverly had at least made a contact of sorts with the apparently lovely Miss Callister. Yes, a productive day.

Like Beverly, Anne was not sure why this seemingly innocent ‘farm girl’ would be of interest to the Soviets, when it was a Korean connection. Oh well, she thought, heading out to meet the taxi that would take her back to Laverne’s, it wasn’t her job to worry about the why.

* * * *

Thursday afternoon, with Christine finding it difficult to concentrate, her mind on what tonight might bring, Arlene came to her to say that Julia Sullivan wished to see her.

Why this always caused her anxiety, Christine didn’t know; she considered herself an optimistic person, but being summoned like this always affected her.

“This came for you,” Sullivan said, handing Christine a large, brown-paper wrapped parcel.

“It’s a dress, for my, um, meeting with Dhang’s friends tonight,” Christine said quietly.

“Yes, I guessed that, but here’s a note.” Sullivan handed Christine an envelope which she opened and found a message from Madame Dhang. It read, “Whore; change of plans. From work go to the Hay-Adams hotel (where she’d had her special ‘lunch’, Christine recalled with a smile) and ask for Miss Carson, who will take you to the room where you can change; then wait in the lobby. My friends will meet you there at five-thirty and you will dine with them. Serve well. HD.”

Christine looked at Sullivan, “Could I pick the parcel up before I leave; I don’t want to have to explain it,” she said and Sullivan nodded.

She added, “The couple, by the way, are Mr. and Mrs. Yee. He’s an engineer and she’s a lawyer, both here in Washington, so I’ll of course need to meet with you later. I’ll probably just chat with you quietly Friday at the dinner.” They stood for a moment, then Sullivan asked, “How’d dinner go, over at the boss’s?”

“Pleasant, if, um, a little…”

“Weird?” Sullivan dead-panned.

“Yeah,” Christine nodded, then smiled, as Sullivan sat, just looking at her. “Is, um, there anything else, Mrs. Sullivan?”

The woman tilted her head to one side, “You are good, with what you’re doing for Miss Dhang?” Sullivan herself knew the role sex played in politics, but still had something of a struggle with understanding this young woman.

“Um, what do you mean?” Christine deflected, looking down at her hands, and picturing herself again on her knees before this woman. Sullivan was plain-looking and nothing like Dhang, or any of the other attractive woman she had been with; but the woman was compelling in her own way, at least to Christine.

Sullivan seemed to make up her mind about something, then sighed, “Nothing really, Miss Callister. We’ll talk Friday.”

Christine nodded and turned, then headed back to her office, the anxiety lessened but not gone.

* * * *

Noting the wonderful fragrance once again, Christine strode to the hotel lobby desk and asked “Miss Carson?” In a moment a young woman in a navy blue jacket and skirt came briskly out, nodding at Christine and saying, “This way.”

Soon they were riding up in the elevator, and heading to the fifth floor, silent due to the presence of the elevator operator.

The room was a luxurious one and Carson entered with Christine, and looked at her quizzically. “You haven’t worked here before, have you?”

Christine was not certain what this meant but she did respond that she had lunched here a short while ago. “I’m with the Commerce Department,” she said, then immediately wondered if she should have said anything.

“Hmmmm,” the dark-haired young woman said, looking up into Christine’s face. “That is interesting. Um, I’m not sure about what is happening, but my instructions were to watch you get changed and then we’re going back down. Um, does that make sense?”

They then both stood awkwardly, before Christine placed the parcel on the bed and began unwrapping it. Inside was a black garter, black nylons, see-through black-lace bra, black evening dress, black high-heels, a twenty dollar bill and a package that contained a jade necklace and ear-rings. Carson took the wrapping paper from her as Christine began to undress.

Carson alternated between gazing at Christine and looking away with mild embarrassment. When Christine was finished, her own clothes stored in the dresser, she stood before Miss Carson. The woman looked up at her and murmured, “You are, um, gorgeous. My God.” She sighed, then said, “Well, back down we go.”

The ride down was just as silent as the ride up had been, and in a minute, Christine was seated and waiting in the lobby. Carson was now back behind the lobby desk, and when Christine looked at her, she held the gaze for several seconds, then smiled.

Christine, meanwhile, was feeling a growing desire. Undressing for Carson had excited her; she’d wished the woman had touched her. Now, waiting for her ‘guests’, the arousal was building. What would they be like? What would they want to do to her?

Looking up, she saw two people heading her way; both late thirties, the man clearly Korean but the woman with him was not; she was white.

* * * *

Anne sat on the bench and took her time with her cigarette. When she was finished, she strolled past bench three, dropping to one knee, grabbing the envelope and then moving on, stuffing the object down the back of her jeans.

She didn’t open it until she was home. She had already told Laverne that she had a job, which was partly true; (she was working Saturday) but that she would be over on Sunday. She needed a break from the woman, mostly because of the growing feelings that were developing. She liked Laverne, and in Anne’s line of business, the heart could be more deadly than the knife.

She read over the notes; lots of great stuff on her film; her superiors were happy. And they had opened a file on Christine Callister; more to come on that.

* * * *

Christine sat on the edge of the bed, naked. She needed a moment to just collect herself. The Yees, George and Paulette, had just left, and the evening was replaying itself in Christine’s mind.

They had gone into the hotel’s elegant restaurant, sitting at a back, corner table, with Christine at the back of that. They had been seated for less than a minute when Paulette had Christine lift her dress to reveal her shaved vagina. The dress remained raised, and Christine exposed, throughout the meal.

When their waitress, a slim woman in her twenties with long, blonde hair (someone the Yees had requested specifically) came to their table, she was greeted warmly. She was then told to place Christine’s wine glass between the woman’s thighs, causing the server to redden slightly, but she still filled the glass as directed, before placing it back on the table.

Throughout the meal, Paulette and then the server, Helen, took turns fondling the thick labia, as George sat with a grin on his face. For her part, Christine, rather than being embarrassed, grew aroused and by the time the meal was over and the three were heading upstairs, she was ready for whatever.

Over the next hour, Christine sucked both husband and wife while the partner fucked her from behind; George had flashed the condom with a grin when they entered the room.

Paulette Yee attached a kind of belt arrangement around her waist and then fastened a four-inch long metallic tube to this, which she used in both of Christine’s holes, screwing her more aggressively in fact than her husband had.

George had not lasted long and spent most of the hour sitting in an armchair and grinning as he watched his wife and their ‘date’. Paulette had experienced what appeared to be a strong orgasm and then whispered to Christine, “I will take care of you, sweet whore.”

Sweet whore.

She then fucked her from behind as they lay side by side, Christine’s back to Paulette, who reached around and expertly fondled Christine’s engorged clit.

From the moment the woman’s gentle touch began on her sensitive organ, Christine knew she would ‘climb her mountain’. And she did, ending with a sweet, leg-shaking climax that had both Yees chuckling.

“Good job,” George called from his chair, actually clapping his hands.

Later, as Paulette reached up to kiss Christine, she handed her two envelopes, asking, “Are you Madame Dhang’s whore?”

Christine hesitated for only a moment. “I am,” Christine murmured into the woman’s ear.

“Are you available for other, engagements?”

Christine paused, feeling conflicting emotions, “You need to speak with my, mistress,” she said obediently.

“Of course. Bye for now.” Both Yees then left, George

Still grinning broadly and nodding.

One envelope contained a message; the other, sealed, clearly contained money. The message instructed Christine to take the clothes to Miss Carson, but she was free to keep the earrings and necklace, which impressed her as they seemed expensive.

She stood up from the bed and considered; maybe she could have her cake and eat it too, like they say. Serve her mistress and still find pleasure within herself? Miss Dhang’s whore.

Clearly she was. Miss Dhang’s whore, Brian Sturm’s steady, somebody’s wife; was there a difference in the end? This relationship at least did something powerful to her, of that there was no doubt.

Downstairs she found Miss Carson, who stated she had ordered a cab when Christine had called, and then took the clothes and went down a little hallway. In a minute she was back and stood, looking at Christine.

“What?” Christine asked with a smile.

Carson stood, now slowly shaking her head. “I’m just trying to figure you out,” she said quietly.

“Why?” Christine asked, still smiling; the dinner wine and her orgasm had mellowed her; she felt very good.

Carson sighed, “You are one of the most beautiful women to come through those doors, at least as long as I’ve worked here. Yet you do, this.”

“What, exactly, is this?” Christine asked, enjoying this conversation for some reason, not dwelling on the changes in her from that girl who stepped off the bus not so long ago. Christine simply reacted, finding this pretty and pert; smart and intelligent woman interesting.

Now Carson became a little flustered, but before she could say anything, Christine asked, “Madame Dhang has paid you well, I’m guessing?”

Carson looked at her shoes for a moment and nodded. “Well, then don’t sweat it, as my friend Margie would say.”

“Just a minute,” Carson murmured, heading off again. She returned in a moment and handed Christine a slip of folded paper, and then scuttled off.

Christine opened it; it said ‘Amy’ and then a phone number. Christine wanted to chase after the girl, but her taxi had just pulled up.

Some nagging feeling tried then to push its way in, but Christine fended it off efficiently and headed for her ride.

(End of Chapter 13)

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A Castle of Sand by LongDarkRoad Chapter 12 Things I’d Like To Say

A Castle of Sand by LongDarkRoad

Chapter 12 Things I’d Like To Say

…baby, baby, it’s you I’m thinking of, in the morning when I wake up, in the evening, it’s you that I dream of…”

Anne watched as Laverne backed down the drive and then headed south on the street. “I can drive, I just prefer not to,” she had said. This being Sunday, the cook wasn’t in and Laverne had announced that she could actually cook and wished to make dinner for Anne; and now she was off to buy specific groceries for the meal.

Taking advantage of this opportunity, Anne now moved down the hall and tried the door to Frank May’s home office. She was a little surprised that it wasn’t locked, but when she entered she discovered why.

The room held three large filing cabinets, two wooden and one metal; a large desk with five drawers; a book shelf; a small cabinet that held booze; two lamps and two chairs. Two of the filing cabinets were locked and when Anne looked in the unlocked one she found nothing of interest. All the drawers of the desk were locked as well. She looked at a large painting, then swung it out from the wall to reveal a safe. No need to lock the door with all these other locks in place.

Slipping her miniature Minox camera out of her handbag, Anne photographed the desk and cabinet locks and then the safe. Her people would likely be able to find keys that worked; it just depended on how much time she had. She looked over the desk calendar, but there was nothing listed for July.

She’d need to pump Laverne tonight, in more ways than one.

* * * *

Monday morning and Christine sat at her desk in thought; in a few minutes she would be called to her meeting with Sullivan; Margie had just left for hers. Christine’s mind was still filled with the events of Saturday; she’d had no contact with Dhang yesterday but the images from the day before were still fresh, and compelling.

They had talked at length; Christine on her knees and Dhang sitting, before Christine was taken into a bedroom and the two then lay together. In time Dhang would undress and Christine would become lost in the woman’s body, but at first and for over an hour, they talked.

It was a wide-ranging discourse, beginning with the Hindu concepts and then moving out. Dhang, almost as a teacher to a pupil, discussed ‘self’, and one’s will and things that could control someone, things that influenced their decisions.

Christine, feeling arousal as usual, agreed with Dhang that she was someone who wished to be controlled and accepted without reservation that Dhang was someone who sought control. They agreed about how it was necessary, even vital that a person understood this and did not fight their nature; an idea that had been sitting in Christine’s sub-consciousness, without being acknowledged, for years.

“I speak of something called Moksha,” Dhang had said. “It is a part of the Hindu belief system that includes Kama Sutra. Moksha is about emancipation and liberation, and ultimately, release, which you desire.”

“Release from, what?” Christine had asked quietly, in one of the few gaps in the conversation, which was essentially Dhang talking and Christine listening.

“Release from the bonds of society, the expectations, but with one still being within the safety of a social network. We cannot exist as an outlaw; no one can.”

At one point, Dhang took Christine back into the living room and had Hyun bring a tub of water and a razor, and then watched as the young Korean completely shaved Christine’s pubic area, including underneath and between her buttocks. A collar was placed around Christine’s neck and she was ‘allowed’ to clean Dhang’s feet with her tongue, as many photographs were taken.

“Do you wish to commit yourself to me, to serve me?” Dhang had asked before shaving her, and Christine, in a voice choked with emotion, had said yes.

After this they had gone back to the bedroom and made love for an hour, until both lay sweaty and exhausted against one another.

Sitting at her desk now, Christine could picture the slim, light-brown body with the amazingly thick, black bush and the small but lovely breasts with their huge, brown areolas and thick, dark nipples. Christine had sucked these until Dhang laughingly complained she would get a blister.

Finally, before she was released to return home and while on her knees with her hands tied, (Hyun lying underneath her) Dhang had spanked Christine with a paddle as Hyun’s tongue worked vigorously and effectively on and in her sex. Christine’s third orgasm of the day came as her ass was warmed and reddened by her mistress’s paddle while Hyun sucked ferociously on her thick labia.

Christine now recalled that even as she was arching her back and crying out, the vision came to her of her  mother, her ass reddened, and Miss Devers standing over her, a look of triumph on her face.  “For it is with your heart that you believe and are justified, and it is with your mouth that you profess your faith and are saved,” Devers had declared.

* * * *

Anne had left Laverne with a promise to return; and she had meant it. Right now, however, she had business to take care of. After a phone call she headed to her favorite park (this would be the final time they would use this drop) and sat on bench one, furtively removing one envelope while leaving another; the one with film in it.

Back out on the street she read that there had been no fall-out from the July Fourth event, though the assistant had returned confused by the fact there had been no family emergency. Anne had to smile when she read that the crew had spoken highly of her, telling their manager she should be hired. Anne permitted herself a chuckle, and noted that she would in fact be working another event this coming Saturday, to maintain her cover. It was good to be appreciated, everywhere.

* * * *

Do you wish to commit yourself to me, to serve me, Christine was remembering that moment, as Arlene came into the room and announced that Miss Gibbons wished to see her now. She forced her thoughts away and prepared herself to face the debriefing; she needed to be focused.

As before, once in Gibbon’s office, the woman closed the door, the secret panel was opened and Christine went down the corridor (Margie, Christine had noted, had gone to the second floor for her meeting). Waiting for her again was the round, placid face of Julia Sullivan. “Good morning, Miss Callister,” the woman greeted her as Christine settled herself on the wooden chair.

“Good morning, Mrs. Sullivan,” Christine replied with that familiar feeling of anxiety again sweeping over her. She forced the feeling away by fantasizing about being across Sullivan’s sturdy frame and being spanked by her; this actually brought a faint smile to her lips, imaging Sullivan’s face if she were to suddenly blurt out her thoughts.

“So, I have the summary of Friday and since Miss Taylor and you were together the whole time, we needn’t go over that. Glad to hear you were, umm, taking precautions…” Christine smiled a self-conscious smile and Sullivan continued. “I’m more interested in your meeting on Saturday and how things are, um, progressing with you and Madame Dhang?”

Christine nodded and looked down; she would have been okay with sharing Friday, more or less, but she was glad that Margie had taken care of that. “Well, Madame Dhang has made it clear she wants the two of us to have, um, a sexual relationship.” Christine looked up at Sullivan. “I won’t pretend to not care for her, Mrs. Sullivan; I like her very, very much.”

The two women regarded each other now, Sullivan sitting with no expression showing on her face, as Christine continued. “She did ask me, though, to do some things for her.”

Sullivan sat up straighter; this was interesting, “Yes?”

Christine tilted her head to one side; she felt a pull of emotions, yet; she could still share this with no problem. “First, she would like me to get, um, closer to Mr. Silverberg.” Sullivan chuckled and nodded; this did not surprise her. “And, for the second thing, she wants me to start ‘snooping around,’ I guess would be the word. I don’t know what she thinks I might find out…”

“That’s good Miss Callister, don’t worry about the details, let us take care of that. Anything specific she might be looking for?”

“She, um, wants to know what I can find out about a Gary England; I don’t even know who that is…”

Sullivan chuckled, “Dhang is quick, that’s for sure. He’s a new hire, don’t worry about it. We’ll come up with some gossip that should satisfy the woman for now. Anything else coming up with events, etcetera? You know that delegation from Hungary is here, and we’ll likely have something Friday. Maybe also on Saturday, hmmmm, let me think.”

Christine nodded. “Well, there’s nothing with Miss Dhang this week, as they are leaving tomorrow for Los Angeles and won’t be back ‘til next Monday.”

“Thanks,” Sullivan said, standing, “we didn’t know where they were off to, so that’s good. Just keep it up, Miss Callister, and if it seems to be too much for you, please talk to me. Please. I mean that.”

For a brief second, Christine wanted to ask the woman

if she had ever spanked anyone, but common sense and a natural reserve held her back, but she did feel a jolt at the thought. “Thank you for that; I’ll wait to hear more about, um, this week.”

* * * *

Christine noticed it was two thirty and she was the only one working in the office; was she supposed to be somewhere?

But just then Lana walked in, throwing a bright smile at her and coming to sit beside her. “Hey, haven’t seen much of you, busy girl.” Lana teased.

Christine laughed and said she’d had an event Friday, and…

“Yes, I know, I know, and then Saturday off in a taxi.”

“Hey, you spying on me?” Christine chuckled.

“Yeah, that’s why I’m in your face like this; I’m new at this whole spy game.” They both laughed and Lana continued, “Seriously, I do want to know what you’re up to.”

“Why?” Christine smiled at the woman, thinking for the umpteenth time how beautiful she was.

Lana tilted her head to one side, “’Cause I like you,” she smiled, “but you know that ‘cause we’ve had some, fun.”

The chatter from the main office came to them as they sat quietly, regarding each other. “You are, ummm, incredibly beautiful, Lana, but I guess you um, know that, right?” Christine murmured.

Lana reached up and stroked the other’s face, “Looked in the mirror lately, love? You haven’t noticed how eyes follow you wherever you go?” Christine snorted. “Don’t be like that, kid. I’m being serious. You’re a heart-beaker, but you don’t seem to have a clue…”

Christine sat, confused but happy. “Hey, are you practising tonight?”

Lana smiled, as the door opened and Gerry cruised in,

“Do you want me to?”

“Yes,” Christine nodded.

* * * * 

“Yes?” Cliff Eagleton murmured into his receiver. “Mmm, hmmm. Right. That works well, really well. They leave when? Great, thanks for that.”

Putting down the receiver he pulled out a file folder and added a couple of names. Gary England and two assistants would be heading for Seoul before the end of the month; time to place his next asset.

* * * *

“Well, well, how-do stranger, long time no see, and right here on my doorstep,” Beverly greeted Anne, who was standing outside her door and smiling.

“Hey, I was working on the weekend, kid. We can’t all lie around and eat grapes, dig?”

Beverly laughed and stood aside to let her friend pass, “I was working too; with Paul, remember him. I have photos if you need a memory jog.”

“Yeah, yeah, some of us are busy, man, give me a break, Suzie Q.”

They had moved to the living room, “Wanna beer or somethin’? Coffee, water, my mom?” Beverly teased.

“Do you have beer? I’d have one if it’s cold.”

Once they were settled with their beers, Anne asked about Virginia and was told she was actually out. “Okay. I have a question for you. I heard, through the grapevine or whatever, sorry Marvin, that an interesting woman has started working for your dad?”

“Yeah so, what do I care? Like I talk to the old man about anything.”

“Yeah, yeah I know, rebel with a cause and all that. Maybe chill a touch and do this for me. Her name’s Christine Callister and I’ve heard she’s choice. Just snoop around and fill me in.”

Beverly looked at her friend, “Why do you give a shit about this particular chick?”

Anne was prepared. “Let’s just say it’s a favor for a friend.”

Beverly regarded the other woman for a moment before dead-panning. “I thought I was your only friend?”

Anne threw a pillow at her ‘friend’.

* * * *

Lana had played three pieces, with Christine sitting and listening, a smile on her face, thinking she would pay money for this.

Lana then announced, “And, for my final number, I present a Chopin selection, Cello Sonata.” And she did, Christine closing her eyes and just drifting.

When the music ended, Christine looked up into the smiling face of her private ‘Rooftop-Performer’, feeling as if her soul had been replenished. Lana stored her instrument away and then stood. “Come on,” she said, and they headed down the fire-escape and then to Lana and Gerry’s room. “Gerry won’t be home ‘til ten, so let’s talk here,” Lana said, pushing the large case into the wardrobe where it just fit.

She sat on her bed and held out her hands; when Christine came and held them, Lana stood up and turned Christine so her back was to her; she then began softly kissing the slender, shapely neck, before breathing into the delicate ears and nibbling on the earlobes, with Christine responding by pressing her back and hips against the slightly taller woman.

“You like that?” Lana murmured.

“Oh, jeez, mmmmmmm, aaahhh, God…”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Lana chuckled, unbuttoning Christine’s blouse and then unzipping her skirt. She unhooked the bra next and dropped it to the floor, then turned Christine to the bed and lay her crossways and on her stomach, before pulling down the pantyhose and panties. Christine arched her back and Lana slapped her buttocks; noting the response, the cry of surprise /pleasure, the raising of the hips, the hand reaching down between her legs; Lana crooned, “Ummmmm, I think you like that, too.”

She turned Christine over and remarked on the shaved pubic area, “Oh my, what do we have here?” She asked, standing straight. Christine looked up at this incredibly beautiful woman and felt a mixed-up surge of affection, friendship and desire; it was wonderful, and she decided then and there to tell Lana the whole story; starting with the men at the dinner, and then Dhang’s washroom encounter, and then her commitment to Dhang and then the theatre adventure and the sex party with Margie, followed by her talk with her, now, mistress.

Through it all Lana, still fully clothed, simply listened as Christine, completely naked, talked. When she had finished, she sat, waiting, before Lana leaned over and kissed her, mouth open, sucking in her lips and then her tongue as her hand aggressively fondled Christine’s shaved labia.

“You are quite the paradox,” Lana murmured, looking into Christine’s eyes.

“I always have been,” Christine replied quietly. “Or maybe I’m the Sphinx.”

* * * *

“Okay,” Silverberg noted, reading over his notes, “so we’ll have the dinner for the Hungarians on Friday, with all the crew; then on Saturday, we’ll go down to Claire and Ted’s place in North Mt. Vernon; I know Claire’s away but Ted says the place is good to go. We’ll take four of the ladies, as you suggested, plus the head of the delegation, his assistant, a woman I take it, and the two fellows who seem to be the key players. And then there’s the one interpreter, the young man. That should work.”

“Right,” Sullivan agreed, “you’ll be able to discuss this New Economic policy they are keen to develop, as they crawl out from under the Soviets. And…” Sullivan paused, “we’ll be able to show Callister’s, um, friend, that maybe something is beginning with you, um, two.”

“Hmmm,” Silverberg noted, “I do always draw the tough assignments.”

Sullivan laughed, “Right.”

* * * *

As Christine was heading back to her room at nine-thirty, the phone rang and she hustled downstairs to get it. It seemed most of the incoming calls were for her; this one was as well.

“Hello, the house,” Christine said.

“Ahhh, it is good to hear your voice, my love,” Dhang’s words drifted from the receiver into her, and Christine, despite having spent a lovely hour with Lana that produced one pleasant orgasm, still responded to this.

“Mistress, it is so good to hear from you. I was afraid you would be gone.”

“We leave tomorrow, so you will be free to do other things, although I know you will work on the tasks I gave you.”

“I will, Mistress; there may be an event this coming weekend where I will be with Mr. Silverberg.”

“Very good. If you suck his cock I will be very pleased with you.”

Christine softened her gasp; Dhang commanding her in this profane manner lit a fire within her. “I will try my best, Mistress.”

“Try for what?” Dhang asked, softly.

Christine, “I will try to suck his cock, Mistress. For y-you…”

Dhang chuckled and then there was a pause now, Christine afraid that Dhang would just hang up. “I wish you to be my slave; do you know what that would mean?” Dhang purred in a seductive voice; if Christine had been a man her erection would have sprung to life.

Her heart now pounding, aroused and concerned at the same time, Christine murmured, “Um, I’m not sure how that w-works. What would you, mmm, want from me?

Dhang chuckled, “We will discuss that when I return, and you are on your knees, licking my ass, which is your place. But in the meantime, like an obedient slave, you will go out and buy a dog collar. You will wear it when you serve me, to show your place in our relationship to anyone who may see. You, like a dog at my feet.”

Instead of this offending her, Christine almost cried out with the rush of desire it produced. “Mmmm, yes, Mistress; any, um, anything in p-particular?” Christine struggled to get this out, her vagina again demanding attention, like it had a mind of its own.

“Ummmm, you will at times be wearing it in public, so choose something that you will be okay with, for now. When I want to humiliate you when we’re out, which I will because you deserve it, it will be my choice and not because of what you have around your neck…you understand this?”

“Y-yes, Mistress, I understand…”

“Now, on Thursday night you will have a date with a Korean friend of mine and his wife. They will pick you up at seven. I will send a cocktail dress for you to wear. I know they will give me a good report of your, service. You are good with both cocks and pussies, because you are a true whore.”

Christine’s mind was spinning and her heart was racing; the arousal was incredible. “I, um, I won’t disappoint you, Mistress, mmmmm.”

“I know…”

Then the line went dead and Christine leaned back against the wall, trying to control her breathing. How can words, just words, and that voice of course, do this to me? She asked herself, in bewildered excitement; the image of herself, naked in public wearing a dog collar attached to a leash Dhang was holding now was so clear in her mind, it was like it had already happened. Not only would she do it, but she wanted to do it.

Do you wish to commit yourself to me, to serve me;  those words returned as Christine went back up the stairs.

I wish you to be my slave…

* * * *

On Tuesday Anne was in a new park; this one only had four benches; and there would be other parks. Under bench two Anne found her envelope and headed off; inside were three keys and a note.

The note said that the safe would need someone onsite to open it, so they would need to plan. There was a question; any progress on Christine Callister? What was so important with this girl? Anne thought. The girl was new and inexperienced, but her people were being demanding so that usually meant a priority of sorts; she would have to pressure Beverly again.

* * * *

“C’mon, kid, let’s do our research together,” Lana said, waving some sheets at Christine. They walked down the hallway to their library.

“No one else is here,” Christine noted, as Lana took her by the hand and led her to a table. They kissed warmly, Lana squeezing Christine’s breasts, before pushing her down onto a wooden chair, as she sat on the adjacent one.

“Nope, the only other person who needs to do this is Dolly and she’s off doing some work for Aggy, so we have the room.”

Christine smiled, “Are we going to actually do some research?”

Lana laughed, “Yeah, eventually. But I want to follow up a little on that heavy story you laid on me, girl.” They both smiled. “So, you’ve been a pretty straight shooter until now, what’s the attraction with this Dhang?”

Christine thought for a moment about Miss Devers but decided that enough had been revealed for now, “I’m not sure why I have the response I do. Being with her, um, turns me on as they say…” She held out her hands, palms up, and shrugged.

Lana asked, “But, you do want to, serve her, do what she commands, allow her to use you?” Christine nodded, beginning to feel arousal just by discussing this. “You, um, like being used, publically?” Christine nodded again and Lana smiled. “How far could she go with you?”

Christine looked down; she had asked herself that question. Once again the image of herself naked, in public, on her knees, wearing a dog collar with Mistress Dhang holding the leash; people standing and staring, came to her along with a rush of emotion she fought to control.

“Well, so far, it has just been, you know, with strangers, no one that matters to me.” She paused. “But now, Madame Dhang has said she wants me to be her, slave. Her personal slave.”

Lana sighed and looked for a long while at this beautiful, young woman, but she said nothing, although there were some things she would like to say.

Just not yet.

(End of Chapter 12)   

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A Castle of Sand by LongDarkRoad Chapter 11 You’ve Made Me So Very Happy

A Castle of Sand by LongDarkRoad

Chapter 11 You’ve Made Me So Very Happy

…cause you came and you took control, you touch my very soul, you always show me that, lovin’ you is where it’s at…”

Anne came around a corner with some trays in her hand and almost collided with Laverne May. “You need traffic signals at some of these corners,” Anne commented and Laverne gently gripped one arm, “You folks are splendid, splendid; this is going marvellously.”

“We’re here for you, my sweet,” Anne said, quickly bending and planting a brief kiss on the woman’s cheek. They both then headed off smiling.

* * * *

About four o’clock, Christine had to go for a walk, she was too full of tension; Margie had disappeared off somewhere a while earlier. The two had almost tried to avoid being around each other, to lessen this tension.

Christine walked for almost twenty minutes and then headed back, thinking, that was about an hour she had taken care of. She had been back for about fifteen minutes when the phone rang and Gerry answered, bawling out, “Callister’s answering service.”

Christine took the phone, making a face at her housemate, but with her heart pounding. What if something had happened? What if all this was for nothing?

“Ah, sweet whore, how are you?”

Again, Christine had to steady herself as her entire body reacted to the seductive voice on the end of the line. “Mistress, so good to hear you. Is, is anything wrong?”

“No, no my little sweet bitch, absolutely nothing is wrong, everything is ready and soon we will be coming to get you.”

Christine moaned softly at this news and sank again to sit on the floor. “Um, that is wonderful, Mistress. We will be waiting.”

There was a pause. “Are you my obedient whore?”

Christine swallowed hard, not fighting the feeling, letting the desire rise. “I am your obedient whore, mm, Mistress.”

“Are you my dirty bitch?” Dhang crooned, before emphasizing the last word.

“Mmmm, oh, yes, I’m your dirty b-bitch.” Christine didn’t resist; she allowed her hand to squeeze her labia through the fabric of her slacks.

Dhang chuckled. “I am looking forward to my whore being used tonight. You will suck cocks, say that…”

Christine was breathing heavier now; she wanted to put her hand inside her slacks but was afraid of someone suddenly appearing, “I, ummmm, I will suck c-cocks…”

“No, say you want to suck cocks.”

“I, um, oh God, yes, I want to suck cocks, as you watch…”

Dhang smiled. “Men are going to fuck you tonight,” Dhang murmured, her voice soft as silk.

“Unnnnggg, ummmm, men are, oh God, mmmm, men are going to f-fuck me tonight, nnnnnggg…” Christine had to work to keep her moans low.

Dhang chuckled softly again, able to hear her girl and delighting in the response. “They’ll be no doubt tonight, that you are my whore…” Then the line went to dial tone; Dhang had hung up.

Christine sat immobile, her hand between her thighs. It took several seconds before she roused herself and stood, grateful that no one had come around. She headed upstairs; she needed to have a shower.

* * * *

Just after six, Anne and the crew started the steaks and ribs. Several salads had been laid out and the keg of beer was popular. Laverne came up to Anne who was minding one grill, “I know I’ve said it already, but this crew is outstanding; the salads are super and these steaks are mouth-watering. I‘m already composing the letter I’ll send to your manager.” The woman beamed up at Anne who smiled in return and held her gaze for a moment. “When do you guys take a break?” Laverne asked, gently squeezing Anne’s arm.

“When everything’s done, hon.” Anne grinned, and Laverne gave the arm a final squeeze.

* * * *

At seven o’clock the large, dark car pulled up in front of the house and Christine and Margie were waiting on the curb, dressed as directed. The car was the same one they had used to go to the theatre in, so it had the two seats facing each other in the back.

Dhang and her smaller assistant, Hyun, were on one seat so the two ‘party girls’ settled on the other. The ride to the hotel was less than ten minutes but young Hyun, to Dhang’s amusement, peppered the Americans with questions about movie stars and pop idols.

At the hotel they took the elevator to their suite, which was a room slightly larger than a regular hotel room and with two washrooms and a small kitchen. Christine was interested in the two gaming tables that were set up and Hyun commented that one was a card game and the other dice, and both were very popular is Southeast Asia, before Dhang with a smirk, instructed her slave to stop asking questions and focus on being a whore.

Christine and Margie were then told to strip completely before being directed into the shower where Hyun had them cover their heads and then wash each other very thoroughly, even though both had already showered. Hyun gave Margie a rubber penis-shaped tool which the women used, taking turns forcing it into each other’s anuses; and then the ‘Papa Bear’ plugs were re-inserted.

The ‘clothes’ they were then dressed in amounted to see-through bras and G-strings, with thigh-high elasticized nylons, and, their shoes. Their lips were colored with garish, red lipstick. Then Dhang brought out one bottle of Tequila, some salt and cut limes, and had each girl take a shot. Christine of course coughed; she had never sampled anything stronger than wine, apart from the cocktails at the bar recently, and they were drinks with mix.

At seven-thirty the two young women who would run the gaming tables came in and they were dressed like the Americans. Margie asked if those two girls would be part of the ‘entertainment’. Hyun giggled, saying “maybe, but later, after all the men have used you two sluts.”

* * * *

At nine o’clock the over fifty guests at the event began settling down with coffee and or cocktails, as the caterers brought out dessert. The fireworks guy began to set up, planning to start things in about forty-five minutes. Anne caught Laverne’s eye, and the woman gave a ‘thumbs up’ and a huge smile.

* * * *

At the hotel suite, the fireworks had already begun. The men, five in total, all Korean businessmen, all early forties, had begun arriving just after eight. While they were interested in the games, they were more interested in the ‘American Whores’, and after everyone had a drink, the action began.

Christine and Margie, on their knees, had been paraded around by Hyun, taking turns sucking the cocks of each man. As Dhang had instructed them, the men would have to use a condom when using their vaginas, but not in their asses or mouths. One of Hyun’s jobs was to make sure this rule was followed.

At this moment, Christine was being lowered down onto  gentleman two, who was lying on the floor. Once his condom-covered erection was in Christine’s vagina, Hyun bent her forward slightly, and spread her ass as gentleman five forced his modest erection into her lubricated anus, an act that required some agility from the men, but produced cheers.

Then, kneeling beside them, Hyun acted like a coxswain on a rowing crew, calling “Stroke, stroke…” as the two men began to synchronize their thrusts. Christine, who found this more arousing than she thought she would, glanced at her mistress, then closed her eyes and let the rhythm take her away.

Beside her, Margie was on her knees, gentleman three firmly in her ass, as she sucked gentleman one from the front. Gentleman four sat on a couch, jerking himself and waiting for an opening. Dhang, as she had most of the night, watched from the side with a bemused look on her face.

* * * *

The fireworks for Laverne’s event were not intimate, like at the hotel, but they were bright and colorful and received appreciative ‘ooohs and aaahs’ from the gathering.

Now past ten, and with the display over, the crowd had begun to leave, or relax with a final drink or coffee. Anne and the crew had begun to gather up supplies and bag garbage.

* * * *

In the hotel, things were beginning to wind down as well. Every man but number four had orgasmed once, and while number three and five were keen on a little more action, the other two had moved to the Sic Bo table and the lure of the dice. Gentleman four was jerking himself, his cock resting on Christine’s lips, her tongue snaking up and around the bullet-like head. Meanwhile, gentleman three was busy licking her vagina, as her own fingers circled her clitoris.

With a groan, four finally came, shooting some cum into Christine’s mouth, where it lay in a glob on her tongue, and then also spraying some streaks of the liquid on her cheek and nose as she now lay, commanded by Dhang, “Don’t swallow, leave your mouth open, filthy cum-whore”.

Dhang now personally led Margie over to lick the cum off her roommate’s face and then aggressively lick and suck the woman’s tongue and lips; then the two women opened their mouths wide, to show the group that all the goo was gone.

Gentleman five liked the scene so much he now pressed Christine’s shoulders back down and positioned his cock over the lovely brunette’s mouth, as Margie leaned forward and added her tongue as well.

Five said something in Korean, and Hyun translated to the women with a sneer. “He said he has died and is in heaven, more or less,” she snorted, looking disdainfully at the two white women.

* * * *

It was now past midnight and all the guests had departed. The catering crew was just finishing up, one truck already gone. As Anne was putting the last of the wine in a box, Laverne came to her and murmured, “Would you be able to close off things tonight; I could give you a check?”

“Sure,” Anne smiled, “I have my own vehicle. Let me just get rid of this and I’ll be right with you.”

Laverne looked at her for a moment, “Would you be able to have a glass of wine and finally relax for a minute?” She laughed.

“Absolutely,” Anne nodded, smiling inwardly, then taking the box and spending a moment with the other assistant, who drove away with the remaining crew members. Anne came into the kitchen with the receipt book and Laverne handed her a glass. “Let’s just sit in here, if that’s okay?”

Anne followed the slim woman into the living room and they both settled on a couch. After dealing with the bill, Anne looked at Laverne and asked innocently, “So what does your hubby do, that he’s away on the fourth like this?”

They then chatted for a few minutes about government responsibilities and the like, Laverne mentioning the general. “It must be tough, sounds like you’re alone quite a bit,” Anne said quietly, gently brushing some light brown hair from Laverne’s face.

The woman blushed and looked down. “Well, I won’t say I don’t get, lonely,” she said quietly, sipping her wine. Anne took the glass from her hand and laid it gently on the coffee table. She then turned Lavern’s face to her, kissing her softly on the cheek and then the mouth. 

“You know, you don’t have to always be lonely,” Anne purred, and Laverne moved her face into the space between Anne’s neck and her shoulder. Anne kissed the woman again and Laverne kissed her back with feeling. Anne smiled down into the face, eyes clearly showing desire; then unzipped and slowly removed the woman’s expensive Pucci dress.

* * * *

After the ‘event’, Hyun, with a nod from Dhang, had directed the two Americans again into the shower, where they scrubbed with a special soap the efficient woman provided.

When they were dressed, the car was brought around for them; but with no sign now of Dhang, and they were driven back to the house. They had been given small bottles of potent mouth wash and both women spent extra time on brushing their teeth and then aggressively rinsing.

“It’s hard getting the taste of jizz out,” Margie commented with a grimace and Christine agreed.

“I think that might be the worst part,” she added.


Now they were laying together on Margie’s bed. “You okay?” Margie asked quietly.

“Mmm-uhmmm,” Christine replied.

“Those fellows really, um, liked you.” Margie murmured.

Christine chuckled ruefully, “You looked pretty busy yourself, kid,” she replied. “And I think it was my vagina they liked, not me,” she added with a look.

Margie smirked, then asked, “Did you, um, come?”

Christine chuckled, “I pretended to, twice. Weird, huh?”

Margie smiled, “Me too. Not so weird. It wasn’t about us and our, um, pleasure, right.” She was quiet for a moment. “Are you okay with this, doing this?” Margie propped herself up on one elbow so she could look into Christine’s face.

Christine hesitated, then said, in the same quiet, even tone, “Yeah, I am. It’s uh, weird, hey?”

Margie nodded. “Weird. I’ll say. You know, we’re really just call girls. Selected call girls workin’ for the government.” She snorted.

“You think, they, um, Mr. Silverberg and everyone, knows what, goes on?”

Margie considered. “I think in their heart of hearts they know exactly what goes on, although tonight with five guys goin’ at us, that might have blown their sweet minds.” She chuckled. “They absolutely know there’s sex. That’s why we earn those bonuses; it’s not just for bein’ pleasant and chatting, hey.”

Christine considered, “I’ve heard that Connie doesn’t do, um, any of, well, any of it.”

Margie nodded her head, “Yeah, she’s kind of been a sort of management, but this is her last year, so they don’t seem to care. No one stays past thirty, hey.” They lay in silence for a moment before Margie murmured, “And what’s up with you and this Dhang?”

At just the woman’s name, Christine felt a jolt. “Why, what do you mean?” she replied, quietly.

Margie smiled, “Come on, Chris. The two of you can’t take your eyes off each other. Every time I looked at you tonight, even when you were riding that one guy and had a cock on either side of your face, taking turns sucking them, your eyes were on her. Christ,” she laughed.

Christine lay silently now, gently stoking Margie’s arm. “I don’t know what it is; I don’t know why. It’s like there’s, um, a switch in my brain and she’s able to flick it. I want to please her, that’s all I know. It doesn’t make sense to me and I don’t even try to figure it out. I’ve never been, um, good, at understanding why I feel things…”

They both lay in silence, before Margie gently kissed Christine’s mouth, whispering into her ear, “Do you, love her?”

Christine lay considering this; she struggled with an answer, finally saying, “I have no clue what love is, really, Margie. I, um, I’m not being shy or clueless or anything. I really don’t know what love should feel like. I know we’re all pushed to want love, be in love; find love. I don’t know anything, except that I want to make Madame Dhang smile at me.” They lay in silence, each listening to the other’s breathing. “Weird, huh?” Christine murmured.

* * * *

“Here you go,” Laverne said, propping a tray up on Anne’s lap as she lay under the covers.

“Oh man, Laverne, you didn’t need to do this,” Anne smiled.

Laverne sat on the edge of the bed and reached over to caress Anne’s face. “After what you did last night, taking me over the moon for Christ’s sake, it’s the least I can do.”

“Hey, it was fun for me to, lady.” Anne laughed, leaning over to kiss the woman’s mouth.

“I can’t remember the last time I felt this happy,” Laverne smiled, watching Anne scoop out some soft-boiled egg.

* * * *

The telephone in the hall rang at just after one-thirty. Christine happened to be in the kitchen and moved quickly to answer it.

“Aaaah, my sweet whore, how are you feeling today?” the compelling voice asked, and Christine stifled her gasp.

“I’m fine, Mistress. Are you happy, with me?” Christine felt foolish after blurting that out, but it was the first thing that came to her mind.

At the other end, Dhang smiled. She was in fact very happy with both ‘whores’; the five influential businessmen they had entertained were elated with the event, but now Dhang needed to move things along. “You did well my sweet bitch. I was happy to see your whore’s pussy, mouth and ass please so many men. You are a whore, made to serve. You need to accept that.”

Christine leaned against the wall to steady herself, but a soft moan still escaped her lips. She had no time to reply however as Dhang carried on. “Now, we have come to another decision. You have been used as the whore you are, on your knees for me as I watch. Now, I must have you decide to become mine, truly, or not. Do you remember my hotel?”

Christine had clearly seen the name as they entered and even had a good idea where the place was, even though she hadn’t travelled much on her own in the city. “Y-yes, Mistress, I…”

“Good. Come to me today if you want to serve me totally. I will be here until six, room seven-o-nine. I am hoping you will come; I care for you very much.” And with that she was gone, leaving Christine standing, bewildered and aroused as usual.

* * * *

“So,” Laverne looked up at Anne, with apprehension showing on her pleasant face, “will I see you again?”

Anne gently touched the woman’s face, “Do you want to see me again?” she asked quietly; this had gone well, her handlers would be happy; but it was more than that….

“Oh, God,” Laverne murmured, hugging the taller woman, “what do you want me to say, I want to see you tonight for crying out loud?”

Anne chuckled, “But you have your cleaning crew and your cook coming in; me kickin’ around would be hard to explain.”

Laverne looked up at Anne, “Do you want to come back, um, would you like to go out for dinner? I can deal with the staff; what about you, Anne?”

Anne smiled, “I would love to have dinner with you, babe. What’s your plan?”

Laverne walked away and then came back, handing Anne a twenty, “Take your car home and drop it off, and then take a cab back here, say for six, six-thirty. Then you can drive us in one of our cars, we have three in the garage, right. I’ll make reservations at some quiet spot that won’t be concerned with two women having a meal together. What do you say?”

“I’d say, I’ll see ya’ later, baby. Be back here a little after six and we have a date. How dressy we talkin’ here?”

“Oh, not too, just wear a pant suit, how’s that?”

“That’s fine,” Anne murmured, kissing the woman and heading off. When the door closed, Laverne leaned her back against it, a smile on her face. The devil be damned, she thought, this is for me.

* * * *

Christine climbed out of the taxi just before two, and entered Dhang’s hotel walking briskly. She marched to the elevator and it took her to the seventh floor, her heart in her throat once again.

Dhang’s door was three rooms to her left and Christine was soon knocking gently on it; Hyun opened and stood with a smirking grin on her face, wearing only a white garter belt and dark nylons. “Come,” she said, and Christine followed the round hips into the suite, to find Dhang sitting in an armchair; a smile on her face as well.

“Thank you, Hyun. Wait in the other room.” Dhang said, and then to Christine, “Kneel, my slave.”

When Christine was on her knees, Dhang walked in a circle around her, stopping and standing behind Christine’s back. The woman knelt and reached around to massage Christine’s breasts, eliciting moans. “Remove your blouse, bra and slacks,” was the next command.

Dhang then called for Hyun to bring a corset and the woman returned with the black garment, fitting it around the kneeling submissive. It was a tight fit, pushing Christine’s breasts up and out enticingly.

“Stand and remove your panties and hose.”

When Christine was on her feet, wearing only the corset, Hyun fastened two black, leather cuffs around her wrists and clipped them together behind her back. Then the woman placed Christine back on her knees, directly in front of Dhang, who was now seated again on her chair; then Hyun left.

“Are you a Christian, my sweet?” Dhang asked.

Christine was taken aback slightly; it was not the question she anticipated. “I, um, was raised by a very religious mother, a Baptist; I have certain, ideas, I guess, but I do not attend service.” Christine looked up at Dhang, who smiled benignly.

“I, personally, have no religious belief,” Dhang said quietly. “I did, however, come in contact with Hindu as a youngster and then discovered the Kama Sutra. Are you um, familiar with that, Whore?”  Christine shook her head. “I didn’t think so. The western belief is that the book just shows different sexual positions; which it does of course, which is one reason it is so popular,” Dhang chuckled.

“But it is about so much more. It is, mostly, about what triggers desire, what sustains it, and how and when it is good or bad.” The woman now looked intently at Christine, who felt a strong urge to bend forward and kiss the woman’s feet. “Which brings me, to you.”

* * * *

The restaurant Laverne had chosen was pleasant and off the beaten path. They had enjoyed small filet mignons and crab legs, a fine Riesling complementing the meal. They had chatted about all sorts of things from politics to the weather, touching briefly on each other’s past. Now they were sitting and waiting for their coffee. 

“Are you, um, a, lesbian,” Laverne asked quietly.

Anne smiled, “I’m me, Laverne. I like women but I also have a guy who fucks me. And that’s the thing, what Paul does is fuck, pardon my French, but what we did last night was make love. Which is why I prefer women, but I’m not burning my bra and marching in no parade.”

They both chuckled. Laverne looked again with apprehension in her face, “Will you, um, come back with me tonight?”

“You liked what we did last night?” Anne smiled.

“Like when I died and went to heaven?” Laverne smiled.

Anne chuckled, then quietly sang a snatch of the Blood, Sweat and Tears song, “You made me so, very happy; I’m so glad you, came into my life…”

Laverne smiled, “You have a lovely voice and such a pretty face, dear me…”

And then the coffee arrived.

(End of Chapter 11)