Chapter Four

 

I watched Eldon closely as we made our way through the central residence. The doors opened onto a massive open lobby area that soared up three floors, luxurious, and well-appointed loft/mezzanine spaces on each level flanking the lobby. At the back, a massive polished wood staircase led upward to a landing, where it split, diverging to the left and right on its way to the second floor, the plush upholstered runner a crimson ribbon dripping down the center of the risers. It looked like nothing less than the stunning lobby to a great lodge or alpine hotel.

The sight never ceased to inspire at least a tiny bit of awe in me. Judging by the way the enigmatic Eldon gawked at the surroundings, it was clear I wasn’t the only one subject to the effect.

He followed me in silence down the long corridor toward the director’s suite. I nodded deferentially to the black-clad hulks MacAllan and Luske — Heller’s two personal bodyguards — as they punched in the keycode at the door, allowing Eldon and me into the director’s personal sanctum. The familiar smell of pine and a subtle hint of a mild perfume washed over us as we walked into the man’s cool, shadowed office.

He was on the phone, the gray headset in one hand as he waved us in. He gave us a grin that was far more wolfish than warm.

We took a seat in the deep maroon upholstered chairs set before his expansive cherry wood desk. The thing seemed to take up half the room, even more so when a woman had been ordered to prostrate herself over it for a tight twelve with the cane.

Fortunately, I’d never been called upon to render such service, but I’d been witness to it on countless occasions. The man was fearsome with the rattan, that was for certain.

I admired that fact almost as much as I feared it.

Fortunately, the director did not make us wait long, hanging up and lighting a stout Cuban from the ornate gold-filigreed humidor atop his desk. “I’ve largely quit the habit — unhealthy, of course — but on certain occasions, it’s called for.” Blue-white smoke puffed as he shook out the match. “Especially celebrations.”

“Uh, celebrations, Mr. Heller?” Eldon had pulled his knee up, crossing his legs with a forced casualness. It was duly noted by the keen eyes of the director.

It was clear Eldon was exceedingly nervous. But about what?

Can I blame him? What normal kind man wouldn’t be after what he’s just seen?

That fact only intrigued me more, a quality in a man that was so rare here, a hint at a character of principle, and kindness. And perhaps, even more.

For I’d spied the bulging evidence of quite another aspect of Eldon’s character as he’d examined Drayton’s wife-cum-slavegirl. Even Drayton had seemed to notice it, though he’d gracefully said nothing to embarrass the newcomer. It wasn’t as if such a thing were unknown; Dr. Forster greatly enjoyed his work at the farm, tending to subjugated females something that regularly rewarded him… in more ways than one.

Though I’d never been assigned to attend Dr. Forster in his quarters—mine was a special case, after all—nearly every other inmate at the place had, at one time or another. He was voracious, and appreciated variety almost as much as the value of abject obedience and a keen willingness to please.

Which made me all the more curious to know about why Eldon had been sent in his stead.

“We’ll get to the celebration topic in due time.” Heller drew on the cigar, a cloud of blue smoke wafting around him, the note smooth and subtle on the air. “For now, let’s get you situated. Since you’ll be staying overnight, I’ve assigned you to one of our suites on the fifth floor. Good views from up there, when the fog’s away that is.”

“That… that’ll be nice. Thank you, Mr. Heller.” Eldon tucked a lock of his dark hair back from his eyes, fixing his gaze upon the man. “I do have a couple more questions, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course,” Heller said, waving the cigar, leaving a ragged arc of smoke in the air before him. “I thought you might have a few more… inquiries.”

“One of the patients—she’ll need a prescription. I can’t write one.”

“You can tell Dr. Forster when you arrive tomorrow morning.”

The tension in Eldon’s broad shoulders relaxed at the words. “That… that’ll be fine too.”

“Anything else?” Heller tapped some ash into the sparkling, cut glass ashtray on his desk.

“Well, I suppose I need to ask about… what’s going on in the harvest shed.”

“It’s exactly as it seems.” Heller took a long drag on his cigar, his eyes narrowing as he looked at them both. “We cater to a very particular — and voracious — market. Not everyone can provide the product that we do. Not everyone has the means to obtain the product in the way that we can.” He looked out the window in the direction of the sprawling harvest shed. “That milk is practically liquid gold, Eldon. And nobody ever enjoyed obtaining it more than I do — along with everyone else here. The Dominion Trust affords us a certain… latitude… to operate in the way we think is best. In return, we provide them with a valuable commodity — and an even more valuable service for certain women in need of the tough love one tends to find in this place.” He smiled slyly. “Intrigued, aren’t you?”

“I… I don’t really know what I am,” Eldon said, scrubbing a hand across his face. Then he straightened, seeming to gather himself. “But it doesn’t matter. I came here to do a job for Dr. Forster — and for you — and I hope I’ve done it to your satisfaction.”

“You have indeed.”

“Do you have any questions for me then?” Eldon grasped the arms of his chair, preparing to stand.

“Just one.” The director stubbed out the cigar, waving his hand in front of him quickly. “Jesus, I’m already light-headed after one of those things. Just one question, Eldon, and I want you to answer it honestly.”

The room seemed to grow even more silent in that heartbeat of time before the Director spoke once more.

“Would you like to come again?”

“In the place of Dr. Forster?”

“That’s one way, certainly.”

Eldon’s jaw tightened for a moment, then he looked away. “I think that’s probably up to you — and Dr. Forster.”

“So it is, Eldon, so it is.” Heller sprang to his feet, undoing the last button of his suit coat. “Tamara will show you to your room and take care of anything you need. Anything at all.”

Then he nodded toward the back corner of the office, and Eldon and I both turned to look.

It was something I’d seen before, of course, but it still made the butterflies flutter in my belly each time, my nipples beginning to tingle insistently.

Crouched in shadow, the girl was on hands and knees atop a smooth gray marble table, quite low to the floor—which explained why I hadn’t spotted her when we’d first entered. She was tightly blindfolded, one of her plump, scarlet painted lips drawn pensively between clean, white teeth. She wore nothing but her thick collar, and matching cuffs at ankle and wrist. Her bulging breasts were pinioned at their bases with thin leather straps, making the soft flesh taut, the nipples erect and jutting, the sweet—and obviously full—globes huddling between her elbows like prey searching for shelter from a predator.

Heller cracked his knuckles, flexing his long fingers as he strode toward the girl. “If you two will excuse me. Sometimes, one of our inmates needs a more… manual expression… of our values here.”

* * *

 

Tamara threw back the curtains, the sunshine that had finally broken through the clouds now pouring through the massive picture windows in the last hours of the afternoon. The room was a huge dual-chambered affair, all dark wood, and sumptuous upholstery. It looked like the Presidential Suite at a five-star hotel.

And here it is in the middle of the fucking sticks.

The vision of the kneeling girl with the bound breasts, waiting for Heller’s predations kept repeating in his mind, along with all the other mind-blowing sights he’d witnessed during the last few hours. Sleep was a welcome visitor at times like these, when there was simply too much for the mind to process.

He needed something more than sleep now, though. He needed to know more about her.

Though he sat on the couch in the sunken living room area, he could never take his eyes from her. She moved with a feline grace, a languid sway of her hips, a smooth cadence to the way she walked. Her eyes seemed to take everything in, and through it all, she maintained a striking serenity, a peace with whatever was happening around her.

“You don’t have to do all that,” he said.

She took his bag to the bedroom, drawing all of the drapes to allow the room to fill with warm brightness. He liked it better with just the sunlight and the shadow at its margins. Artificial light would spoil the loveliness of watching the sunshine play through that soft, flaxen hair as she moved.

“Of course, I do. But more to the point, I want to.”

She smiled at him then, kicking off the low-heeled sandals she’d been wearing when she’d met him in the punishment bloc. Even thinking of name of that place was somehow wrong.

“Would you please come over here and sit down?” He was definitely feeling sheepish now, wholly unused to being waited upon, and by a virtual stranger, no less.

“Yes, sir,” she said, her voice little more than a lilting murmur.

But rather than sit on the plush, deep cushions of the huge chair across the sitting area from him, she did something else entirely.

She knelt on the carpet before him.

His penis was already awake just at the sight of her lithe limbs folding beneath her, the flat, taut belly revealed by the midriff-baring top. Her shorts were pulled so far up her lush thighs that they seemed little more than a line of fabric where beautiful leg met curving hip.

His heart was galloping along nicely now, his cock an iron ridge between his legs, protesting loudly at the constriction of his jeans. He suddenly didn’t care if she saw it either. Why would he worry about such a thing at a surreal Satyricon of a place like this?

Besides, it’s just the job.

If only he had any real hope of convincing himself of that anymore.

“What… are you doing?” He whispered it, almost to himself, his gaze locked upon the vision of her stunning beauty.

Her smile was as bright and mischievous as it was irresistible.

“Waiting for you to decide what to do with me.” Her eyes sparkled as she said it, the deep blue of her gaze something that had an almost magnetic power on him.

He knew his mouth practically fell open, but he was momentarily stunned — despite the surge of arousal at her implication.

Remember the job, asshole. We don’t fuck the hookers, and we don’t do the blow.

But that didn’t mean we acted like uptight dickwads either. Not if we wanted to live through our assignment.

He stood up from the couch, taking a step closer, the sunshine brilliant all around them as he looked down upon the kneeling creature. Her gaze followed him as he stalked nearer. He noted that what he’d originally thought was a single piece top was in fact a button-up, a tiny row of buttons the same color as the fabric running up the center of her chest.

“Open it.”

Don’t do this.

She took a sharp breath, but the bursts of color at her cheeks were her only sign of surprise at his order. He had no idea what he was doing, but something about this place, about the atmosphere all around… it was affecting him. Maybe even changing him.

Or perhaps it was simply revealing what was there all along.

As he watched her fingers working each button slowly loose, inside that small, quiet voice was pleading with him to stop this, that once this door within him was opened, it couldn’t be closed again.

You’re the good guys. They don’t do this.

Gently, she pulled the top open, her breasts spilling forth. A hint of bluish veins could be seen here and there across their alabaster curves, the nipples a very light pink, the areolas, broad and smooth, an even paler shade of blush.

“Jesus Christ…”

Far back on each nipple, tight about the base, was a silver clamp. They were affixed unmercifully tight, her poor nipples crushed within their embrace.

“Why, Tamara?”

“I have to… unless I’m drained.”

“You mean, yours are… too?”

She nodded slowly, blushing freely now, but not hiding her nakedness. “Since I’m a… special case. I must wear them when I get especially full. Until I’ve… given up my yield.”

“Who?”

“The director. He takes me down there himself, when I need it. It’s quick, and quiet, and he doesn’t make it any more humiliating than it needs to be. With the right one though, even that could be something I might…” She shook her head, a note of almost sadness creeping into her gaze. “But I must, at least once a day, or it becomes too much for me. It’s the price all of us pay for being here.”

“The women.”

She nodded once more, her hands moving to the open top.

“I didn’t tell you to close it.”

Her gaze snapped up to his as she chewed at the corner of her mouth. There was a heat he saw there in her gorgeous eyes, even as his lust and his conflict raged within him.

Anything you need.

Those had been the words of the director. He knew what that meant now — and he knew with equal certainty that he mustn’t let himself be seduced by those same words.

Eldon crouched before her, and took each side of her top, drawing it closed, hiding the luscious breasts his hands positively ached to touch.

Then he did something so unlike him, he’d never have believed himself capable of it.

He leaned close, down upon one knee, and softly kissed the crown of her head. She sighed, and her fingertips whispered across the back of his hand.

But that was all they allowed each other.

“I don’t know what others would expect of you… but I’m not like the others.”

Eldon rose then, taking in one last, long drink of the gorgeous woman kneeling on his carpet, then walked down the hall to his bedroom.

He locked the door behind him, and though his heart — and his body — screamed for something quite the opposite, he hoped she’d be gone the next time he opened it.