Chapter Twelve

 

It was late in the afternoon when Eldon got the call, his radio crackling with the familiar, arrogant tones of Heller’s voice.

“Eldon, you’ve one more patient to see before you retire for the day. Head to the track. You’ll know where to go from there.”

Fumbling for his handset, Heller’s voice cut out before he was able to reply to the director.

“Shit.” He hung his head, weighing whether or not to indulge his irritation and radio back. Sighing, he clipped the handset back onto his belt.

Not for the first time, he was pissed at being given such cryptic instructions, but as he’d long ago concluded, it was simply Heller’s way. This seemed to be the way for the entire place — nebulous, mysterious, ambiguous.

Or maybe that was just how they were with the guy that they suspected was a mole, a narc.

A cop.

Stop talking to yourself like that. It’s ridiculous.

And he knew it was. They wouldn’t have let him do the things that he’d done, see the things that he’d seen, learn what he’d learned. No. He had their confidence.

Perhaps, if he were lucky, he’d won their trust too. He just had to figure out a way not to fuck it all up.

As he made his way out to the track, he pulled his coat tighter over his shoulders. The day was gray and cold, a fine mist drifting in the air, wetting the stubble at his chin, the faint billowing of his breath just beginning to be visible as the deepening chill took hold of what remained of the day.

Walking onto the track, scanning its length, he was surprised at the relief he felt at finding it empty. The day’s earlier encounter was still indelibly imprinted on his mind, on his memory — and even now, it made his cock twitch.

Then he saw it.

A faint movement well beyond the far side of the track, almost at the edge of the forest. Around the margins of the packed dirt of the track’s surface ran a broad green belt, a well-manicured lawn of such quality and brilliant color it rivaled anything one might see on a professional circuit-caliber golf course. But this place was anything but a leisurely sports complex.

Strolling along the inner lane of the track, he tried not to appear overly eager — and definitely not nervous. Even out here he was probably being watched. There were two figures, though it was difficult to tell much more than that from a distance. Indeed, they were close to the edge of the forest where the green belt merged into the dense underbrush, the conifers towering overhead, their tops shrouded in wispy ribbons of mist. He could smell the forest out here, clean and earthy, fresh and wild.

As he drew closer, he could see that it was a woman and a man. That certainly wasn’t unusual at this place, of course, but as he closed the distance still further, his stomach dropped.

This was something else indeed.

Along the edge of the forest was what looked to be a straight, sandy strip of earth, something that at first glance very much resembled a long-jump track. Standing at attention at one end though, wearing an elaborate heavy harness of black straps, burnished silver buckles, and gleaming rings was a man. What was surprising was that aside from a pair of heavy boots, the harness was all the man was wearing.

But that wasn’t quite the case, as Eldon discovered, coming closer. Two steel chains descended from the rear of the man’s shoulders, stretching out behind him, the other ends affixed to what looked to be a worn, dirt-encrusted railroad tie.

Jesus Christ.

The woman, a striking, statuesque brunette, her hair up, held in place by several ornate hair sticks, looked toward Eldon. She wore a black leather jacket with matching gloves and tight slacks of a light cream color that perfectly displayed and accentuated the pleasing swell of her hips, the generous, yet firm curves of her ass. Those same pants plunged into what looked to be — though Eldon was far from an expert on the subject — riding boots.

What in the hell is going on?

Then he saw what she held in her right hand. It was a whip. Consisting of several flails, he at first thought the implement was a martinet. But these lengths of leather were longer, each lash trailing down along the ground. It looked like a multi-thonged horsewhip.

How was that even possible? There certainly weren’t any horses out here. None of the equine variety anyway.

She called to him them, raising her whip as one might raise a hand in greeting. “Over here.” Her voice carried oddly on the icy afternoon breeze.

Willing himself to stay relaxed, nonplussed, he walked over to the pair. The man didn’t move a single muscle, staring straight ahead. As Eldon drew to her side and saw the front of the motionless male, he realized that the harness encasing his torso and waist and hips wasn’t quite all that he wore.

His arms were bound into thick cuffs, themselves chained to the front of a broad waist strap. His eyes were blinkered like a show horse’s might be, a thick gag of what looked to be a wooden dowel forced between his teeth.

Eldon quickly glanced away, almost on reflex, hoping he was able to hide his shock at the sight of the congested storm of purpled welts lacing the male’s round, muscular buttocks. Similar, though not quite as livid, stripes decorated the sweat-drenched muscles of the man’s back. Eldon had tended to the aftermaths of whippings before, but he’d never seen marks of this extent. It was the first time he’d ever seen them on a man too. Somehow, he’d assumed that such a thing would be anathema at a place like the Farm.

Were there male captives here as well? It didn’t make sense. It was out of order, in a sense. And he realized then that perhaps he understood a lot less than he thought he did about all kinds of things.

“You’re Forster’s assistant, aren’t you?” The woman’s voice was smooth, cool, the sparkle in her eyes betraying a keen intelligence, an attention that told him she wouldn’t miss anything.

He had to be very careful here.

“Yes. Uh, Eldon. Nice to meet you,” he said, holding out his hand. She shook it, her grip firm, but not overly so. She wasn’t trying to compensate for being a woman. A woman in a obviously male-dominated environment.

“It’s so odd that Forster sent someone. I’ve never once seen in — in years, maybe — miss a single chance to visit the Farm.” She watched him for a moment, and Eldon broke the uncomfortable silence.

“Well, his practice is rather busy, I suppose. He’s spoken very fondly of this place. I just hope I can do it justice in his place. I’m, uh, sorry if you’re disapp—”

“Not at all,” she said. “I find it very interesting. I’m glad he sent you.”

She turned her gaze to the mute man, watching him, as Eldon did. Then she lowered her voice, her tone almost conspiratorial, a confiding air to the words. “Magnificent, isn’t he? He usually has this effect on people who first see him.”

“I–I don’t know what you mean. He’s—”

“It’s okay,” she said, waving a hand. “I’m sort of a rare breed around these parts.”

Eldon forced a chuckle. “I noticed that.”

She met his eyes, and gave him a sly wink. “Well, since you’re here, let’s have a look at him.”

She walked with him over to the mute, bound man, and he could see the man’s eyes followed her every move. Surprisingly though, there wasn’t fear in those eyes. He didn’t see pain. No, he saw… he saw something else.

A possessiveness, maybe even a lust. There was a connection here, one Eldon knew he couldn’t ever hope to even understand. But it was clear it was there.

“This is one of my favorite ways to give him exercise when we’re visiting the Farm,” she said.

She stroked the man’s shoulder, and he jerked slightly, the harness creaking a bit.

“Shhh. Be still,” she said, her hands stroking down the corded muscles of his upper arm.

Eldon saw then, among the web of straps, that both of the man’s nipples were pierced with fixed studs, tiny weights hanging from the ends of those same studs. The weight of them didn’t appear to be enough to pull on the piercings. They were more of a decoration, he supposed. A humiliating one.

Though he tried not to, he noticed the man’s naked genitals as well, and what he saw there made his mouth go dry. The penis was partially erect, the genitals shaved entirely smooth, a thick, steel ring cinched around the base of the swollen, reddened scrotum, the heavy testicles pulled tight. Her palm smoothed over the curve of his balls, and a soft moan emitted from behind the dowel stoppering his mouth shut, his white teeth clamping down hard on the wood.

But it wasn’t the cinched scrotum that shocked Eldon most. It was the thick, polished silver ring pierced through the top of the head of the man’s penis, the curve emerging from the meatus directly out of the urethral opening, the ring forming a strong vertical loop at the tip of his glans.

“Beautiful, isn’t he?” She took his shaft in her palm. Within seconds, he was hard, his erection standing up tall and proud, his breathing coming faster, his nostrils flaring, the web of dark strips that split and ran down either side of his nose emphasizing either his distress, or his arousal. Maybe it was both.

She pumped his cock vigorously for a few seconds, then let it go, slapping it away, the man wincing as she did it.

“Be good now,” she ordered, glaring at the bound captive.

The man said nothing, returning to his utterly still pose, his cock bereft, throbbing.

“He’s so eager.” Her voice was back to the conversational, casual tone, so at odds with the bizarre tableau Eldon beheld before him. “Even after a whipping, you’d think that disobedient cock of his would stay soft. Not my boy.”

She walked around to the back of the man, lifting the whip, indicating the well-scourged backside. “I don’t think I broke the skin, but I wanted to make sure just in case.”

Eldon dropped to a knee as he pulled on his latex gloves, examining the man’s flesh. His buttocks were laced with swollen, crisscrossing weals, and true to her word, the skin had held. But just barely.

The marks were hot to the touch, and though the man was stoic, Eldon picked up a slight jerk or two as his fingertips touched a particularly livid mark along his left hip.

Eldon rose to his feet. “He should be fine, as long as that’s all he’s getting today.”

“That’s up to him.”

“I’m sorry”—Eldon stripped the glove from his right hand, with a muted snap—“I didn’t catch your name.”

“Anna.” As she spoke the words, her gaze remained fixed on the displayed naked backside of the man posed before her. “Anna Shaw. Does that name sound familiar to you, Mr. Bishop?”

Eldon’s heart seized.

How does she know your last name?

“I… no. No. No, it doesn’t, Ms. Shaw.”

“Anna, please.”

She crossed her arms then, the whip dangling over her forearm like a deadly serpent, gently swaying, a menace even at rest. Then she finally turned her attention to Eldon, and he felt the urge to take a tiny step back though he knew it was stupid to give in to it. There was something about this woman, a magnetism, a power almost. Even he could sense it.

But the words tumbled from his lips before he could reel them back in.

“You seem to know who I am, Ms. Shaw. You know my last name, though I haven’t told you what it is. Have we met before?”

She smiled then, and though it evoked the chilly wonder of Arctic sunshine, it was beautiful indeed. It was perhaps even… a little menacing. It was a smile that said she knew something Eldon didn’t.

He’d seen the like before.

Anna lifted a finger toward the bound man. “I make it a point of knowing anyone who comes within ten yards of my boy here.”

“Your boy?”

“Does he need a name other than that? He is my boy now, in every way. And I like it that way. I’d have him introduce himself to you, but”—she shrugged—“as you can see, he’s indisposed.”

“I–I need to examine him, but can I take the gag out?”

“No. But he can answer your questioning with a nod or shake of his head, can’t he?”

“I... suppose that’ll work.” He’d heard of male submissives, of course — he wasn’t completely ignorant — but he’d never actually seen one. Definitely nothing like this. In his pose, the man appeared as something little more than a deaf and dumb animal.

Eldon checked the straps of the harness, making sure they hadn’t dug into his skin too much. “Some chafing at his ribs. You see here?”

“That’s probably where it pulled the most.” Her lips quirked, her pleasure clear.

“Well, if you treat these when you get home, they shouldn’t be a problem. Vaseline where the straps are tightest should work next time to protect his skin.”

It was a remarkable harness, and though it was brutally tight, it fit the proportions of his body perfectly. As if it were made for him.

“I need to ask him a couple of questions that aren’t a simple yes or no. I can’t really do that when he’s got his gag in like that.”

“Then I suppose you’ll have to change how you ask your questions, yes?” Anna lifted Quinton’s cock on the handle of her whip, then let it drop. “Believe me when I tell you, he’s not getting out of that gag anytime soon.”

“I suppose,” Eldon muttered. He stood in front of the man, making sure he could see Eldon. “Are you hurt anywhere? Do you have any other pain?” He knew it was stupid asking the same question twice, but his discomfort at the situation got the better of him. What was one supposed to ask in a situation like this? It wasn’t every day that a medical person — a fake one at that — was asked to render service to a man who was trussed up like a draft horse.

The man shook his head, his dark eyes flicking to Eldon once, then alighting once more on the woman standing just behind him.

“What – what’s your…?” Eldon cursed under his breath, looking back at Anna. “I’m sorry, I’m really going to need his name.”

“Quinton,” she said, the softness of her voice belied by the way she began to idly finger the tails of her whip.

Eldon’s blood froze. “Did… did you say Quinton?”

No, it can’t be the same one.

Anna reluctantly tore her gaze away from the blinkered, bound man, regarding Eldon with a cool, appraising look. “Yes, Quinton Trask. Is that important?”

“Well, I — no. I just need it for my records.”

“Well then. Perhaps you could stay and watch how he’s put though his paces? Might be enlightening for a man of medicine. If that’s what you really are.”

Eldon tensed at that, forcing himself to close his bag and take a step away. “I’m not sure what you mean by that… but I can stay for a while.”

Anna wasn’t letting it go though. Drawing close, her voice dropped to a mere murmur. “I know about you. There’s more to you than what you say.”

Eldon knew he had to play it cool and calm. There was no way she really knew. He’d never let on anything to her to give her any suspicion. Instinct told him she was fucking with him. An attempt to get him to show his hand.

“I’m just a medical assistant, ma’am. Nothing special.”

She tilted her head, pursing her lips as she looked upon him. “We’re all special, Eldon. Every single one of us. The truth is though, I don’t care what you’re hiding. The only thing I’m interested in is knowing why you’re hiding it.”

“I’m not hiding a thing, Ms. Shaw. Is there anything else I can help you with? I–I have a couple other patients.”

Of course, he didn’t. But she didn’t need to know that.

“I know something about you.”

“This is the first time I’ve ever met you, Ms. Shaw. How is that?”

“I make a point of knowing who I interact with. And I know something about you — something you may not even know about yourself.”

“And what’s that?”

Anna’s voice was a whisper as she said it. “She needs you. She’s waiting.”

And then she stepped away, shaking out the tails of her whip. And Eldon, stunned at the words the woman had whispered to him, watched in numb silence, unsure how to process what Anna Shaw had just said to him.

Who did she mean? Did she mean…?

Stop kidding yourself, Eldon. She’s fucking with you. She’s trying to get a reaction out of you. Don’t give her the satisfaction.

But Anna appeared to have moved on. And if she were still curious about who the real Eldon Bishop was, she wasn’t letting it on anymore. Now, she was focused on the bound man standing at attention before her.

She flicked the tails of the whip around Quinton’s legs, the tips biting into his calves. He betrayed only a wince at what must have been stinging pain.

“Pull it,” she said, her voice firm but not cruel.

Instantly, Quinton surged forward, straining to break the grip of the sand upon the heavy railroad tie. With supreme effort, he finally got it moving, the muscles of his legs bunching and flexing.

Reeling from what she’d just said, Eldon simply watched in silence, unsure whether he should excuse himself or if his exit would raise yet more suspicion. Anna’s whip, flicking at Quinton’s strong legs, drove him up and down the sandy strip, the weathered, tar-encrusted length of wood behind him plowing through the sand like a lumbering freighter through the ocean. The muscles of his legs strained mightily against the drag, and he leaned forward, almost doubled over in his efforts.

Still, her whip drove him farther. He turned, Anna tsk-ing at him, striking his legs and his ass with the whip, encouraging him to turn faster, the harness creaking, the clink of the chain quite audible as they grew slack, then snapped tight once Quinton began to pull again.

Twice more she drove him up and down the track, occasionally glancing at Eldon as if to gauge his reaction, to see if he had the courage to stay — or the courage to go. Finally, with a long finger hooked through the strap of his harness, she stopped Quinton, his chest rising and falling rapidly, sweat pouring from his body, his hair a matted mess over his forehead, the bright gleam of saliva coating his strong chin.

He too looked at Eldon and what he saw in the man’s eyes was not some bestial blankness. No, what Eldon saw in their depths was an even keener sense of intelligence, of evaluation. This man may have been her prisoner, her slave, but Eldon knew at that moment he was much more than that.

This was the same Quinton Trask, the son of one of the founders of the Dominion Trust.

What in God’s name was he doing here? And what in God’s name was he doing being subjected to this treatment by this woman who was – well, she certainly wasn’t the child of one of the founders of the Trust, was she? No, it made no sense. So much of this place didn’t make any sense. And the more time he spent there, the more confusing it became.

Anna drove Quinton to his knees, the exhausted prisoner dropping to the sand.

“No, Eldon, I know you aren’t who you say you are, but that secret’s safe with me. I may not know who you are, but you aren’t the only one with secrets here at the Farm. Within the Trust. You’re an outsider, just like I was at one time.”

She looked down at the man kneeling at her feet, and ran her fingers through his sweaty hair. Quinton nuzzled her thigh with the side of his head and his eyes closed for a moment.

Then she met Eldon’s eyes again. “But there came a time that I had to decide what meant more to me. There was a moment where I had to choose.” Her palm caressed the line of Quinton’s jaw, and then she cupped his chin, her thumb stroking his cheek with a gentleness quite at odds with the way she’d sadistically wielded the whip against him but moments earlier.

“You’ll have to make that decision too. You’ll have to decide what it is you really want. Or who you really want. And what you’re prepared to do to win them.”

She crouched down before Quinton, the move smooth and graceful, as if she’d done it a thousand times before. She looked deep in Quinton’s eyes and he gazed into hers.

“That day came for me, just as it will for you, Eldon. I had to choose between what was right, and what I really needed, regardless of the consequences. I had to risk everything to make that choice. I did it because it was worth it.” Anna kissed the man softly — so softly — upon one eyebrow, then the other. Her lips moved against Quinton’s skin as she murmured the words.

“And I chose him.”