Chapter 2

 

Wayne Jones pulled into the parking lot in a brand new fully loaded Cadillac SUV. He checked his appearance in the rear view mirror. He’d waited for several months after his release in order to allay suspicion, prepare, and grow a bushy mustache to somewhat disguise himself. There had been news stories after all. Besides, the heat of summer was a great time for the hot things he planned. In the winter his sexual playground was reduced to all indoor locations. Summer opened up so many more locations to carry out his plans. Through the huge windshield Wayne Jones viewed the clean, orderly, friendly look of the Wallace Clinic. It looked like a trustworthy medical establishment and a nice place to work

Jones knew it would soon have a dramatic decline in patient clients and would contiguously be both a much less nice place to work and, in some ways, a much nicer place to work.

Jones knew these things because he was the new owner of this private medical practice. The clientele would soon be referred to other relevant clinics for future services. The small staff of six did not yet know they had a new boss. It would be his delight to inform them.

The only people who knew about the change in ownership, other than King Jones’ own retinue, were a couple lawyers and the previous owner, one Walter Wallace. As a highly successful Doctor, Wallace was already a wealthy man even prior to Jones’ intervention. He was now much richer but that wasn’t why he’d sold. Wallace had long since reached the point where he no longer strove for greater wealth but only practiced medicine for its own sake. Normally, Wallace would never have sold.

What do you get for the man who has everything?Jones knew the answer to that question. It was based on a false premise. Rare indeed was the man who actually had everything he wanted or who did not want more of what he already had. So, in answer; give the man who has everything that which he does not have.

Jones’ retinue researched carefully to find the type of situation he was looking for. A particular type of clinic. Small. Staffed by beautiful women. Of course, the odds on a staff like this of six women all beautiful would be infinitesimally rare as to defy fulfilling Wayne Jones’ requirements if it were all up to random chance.

It wasn’t chance. Dr. Walter Wallace, married, a fine upstanding member of the community, involved in charities, was still thoroughly human. He liked pretty women. He really liked pretty women. Enough to be blinded to fairness, always hiring the most attractive female candidates, not the most qualified. Or, rather, in his mind their beauty made them the most qualified.

Perhaps he only wanted to see them all around him day after day. Maybe he thought their beauty would accrue patient loyalty. It could be, though his sense of decorum prevented him from making a move himself, that he always secretly hoped one of them would come onto him, that proximity would lead to intimacy. Who knows, and, Jones thought, who cares.

Dr. Wallace received a very generous buy out. Anyone reviewing the purchase would not question the price and only funds were mentioned in way of payment. But, under the table -- literally in one case -- Wallace also received two slaves. His to own and use and do with as he wished as long as he and they lived.

The best deals were the ones in which both parties profited. Wallace now had two slaves whereas before he had none. Jones was down two slaves but that was only a tiny percentage of his stock and only a momentary setback before leaping forward. Like climbing up a mountain, sliding back a step before taking two more. Or, in this case, sliding back two steps before taking six more forward. Jones lost two slaves but would soon have six more, none of whom a man like Wallace would ever otherwise have pulled off enslaving. So both sides did well for themselves.

Jones could not be absolutely sure of success, only confident based on his past accomplishment in the enslavement field. You never really knew. People were complex, women included, and it was not easy or certain breaking them down to their most simplistic mental framework.

The six woman ranged from the receptionist, to four nurses, to a lovely doctor. Jones expected the doctor to be the most difficult challenge. It might be best to take care of the strongest first, or at least early on. When the leader type succumbed the others may come in line all the easier.

It gave Wayne Jones quiet pleasure to contemplate the six unwitting beauties waiting inside for him. How surprised and dismayed they would be when they learned Wallace was gone and he was their new boss. They were all thoroughly investigated while they were oblivious to the maneuverings that could so egregiously impact on their lives. Jones was nothing if not a moulder of destiny. He had a detailed dossier on each and knew he would feel a delightful moment of déjà vu as he met each of them. Not just beautiful, they were all nice, good, wholesome, moral ladies. Sensitive sweethearts wanting to help people and all that.

That was exactly how Jones liked them. Why bother corrupting the already corrupt?Jones looked forward to the six little challenges ahead of him.

It would keep him pleasantly and productively occupied while his arrayed forces advanced on other fronts. Vengeance on Cassandra Zane was a priority but it would be a long time before he became involved in that directly. That sort of thing -- even personal revenge -- was why a King had subjects.

A well-dressed Wayne Jones stepped into the clinic. His new clinic. Time for the staff to meet him. Time for them to learn new roles.

It was early, just seven in the morning. Jones didn’t mind since he was an early riser. Dr. Wallace reported that they opened the doors at seven but the first patient appointments didn’t begin until a half hour later. Jones needed to meet with the lovelies and task them to cancel appointments and coach them to turn away those who showed up for today’s appointments. He wasn’t concerned about the patient clients. They would be set up with equally competent doctors, those doctors would profit from an increase in business, and the staff here would be kept quite busy on a greater mission.

The girl at the reception desk had a cute round face and a slim body. Dark brown hair framed her face, seeming to hug it. Jones could hardly blame the locks of hair their affection for her. She was so adorably cute and, by all accounts, had a heart of gold.

“You must be Amber Rogers. I’m so pleased to meet you!Allow me to introduce myself…. ”

 

“Mother, for God’s sake, stop cleaning!I’m a grown woman you know!”

Dawn Zane paused her disinfectant wipe down of Cassandra’s room as if she were seriously considering Cassandra’s request and declaration. Her wide intelligent-looking forehead furrowed in consternation.

“Yes, I know you’re an adult Cassandra. At least in age since you are twenty-one. That doesn’t mean your room is clean. It isn’t. I’m just trying to help. ”

“Maybe I want it messy, Mother. That’s my choice, isn’t it?You’re constantly cleaning!We’ve got plenty of money and there are maids out there that need jobs. I wouldn’t mind a maid cleaning up after me but you, it feels like an excuse to be nosy even though I know it isn’t. ”

“It’s not the money and it’s not nosiness dear. I just love to clean. You know that. ”

Dawn set aside the wipes. She’d come and clean sometime later when Cassandra was out with friends. She didn’t want to invade her personal space or do anything to alienate her daughter, the light of her life.

She moved across the room to watch her daughter sitting at the vanity brushing her long, rich, brown hair. They both had their idiosyncrasies. For Dawn, it was cleaning. She loved to clean. Sweeping, mopping, dusting, dishes, laundry, any kind of cleaning. She even did windows. It was so relaxing and reassuring. Cassandra’s “thing” was her hair. It was quite long, nearly to her waist and she tended it all the time with visits to salons and at home brushing it to prevent snarls. Her hair had a beautiful fullness and luster. Just as Dawn did not clean for the sake of others, Cassandra’s preoccupation with her hair had little to do with ego though she was proud of her hair. It was a relaxing and reassuring habit. Cassandra took after her mother in more ways than just hair color and a light trim build.

Ever since the incident with Wayne Jones Cassandra had barely dated despite her beauty and numerous suitors. When she did reluctantly date someone she never went on more than three total dates. Obviously she was avoiding making intimate connections, especially once they got to a point where a young man might expect some progress in sexual relations.

“Mother, I love you so much and you take such good care of me, especially since Father died, but you need to live life to the fullest, and I don’t mean by opening an industrial cleaning business. Why aren’t you spending more time at the Ladies of Greenville Club?”

“Those ‘ladies’ are always gossiping mean about everybody and comparing bank account statements. I don’t want to be like them. ”

“C’mon, Mother, they can’t all be bitches. If you don’t want to hang with them you should join some kind of dating service. ”

“Cassandra!”

“Dad’s been gone over a year, Mother. If there is an afterlife, wherever he is, he couldn’t hold it against you. You know if the roles were reversed and you were lying in a coffin he’d be dating like crazy. He’d probably be remarried by now. ”

“Cassandra!”

“Mother, you know it’s true. He was a good husband and good father, too, but he was also a great catch. All that money?You know how superficial women are. Just as superficial as men except they pay attention to money and looks instead of just looks like the men do. ”

“I hope you don’t really think that way. Everyone superficial, selfish, exploitive, and with ulterior purposes behind every act. You and I aren’t like that, now are we?”

“No, we’re not, but we don’t have to be. Father left us tons of money. What if he hadn’t?If we were poor we’d both be working unskilled jobs pining away for a rich dude to come sweep away either one of us. We’re only not superficial because we can afford to be. Literally. ”

Dawn gently took the brush from Cassandra’s fingers and took over brushing her daughter’s hair. That felt even better than cleaning. She marveled at Cassandra’s cynicism. She was so young and had so many advantages in life. Dawn knew the source of that cynicism. That asshole Wayne Jones.

Nearly three years now since the neighbors heard Cassandra’s yells and screams all the way across the huge decorative pond. The police responded quickly -- they always did in the rich neighborhoods -- and found Cassandra naked and covered in whip marks and other signs of abuse. Wayne Jones had also been naked but, unlike Cassandra, was not chained down and had no physical damage. That monster Jones claimed the sex and chains and whipping were consensual sadomasochistic acts. Dawn didn’t know if such a thing even existed but her daughter had certainly set the record clear on that. Dawn and Cassandra’s father, Douglas, were on a Mediterranean cruise at the time. Jones was arrested and prosecution attempted.

There was an issue with the “he said, she said” nature of the incident. The local press was near unbearable in their lack of respect for Zane family privacy. Sensationalist muckrakers!They fostered the idea that Wayne Jones’ defense was, in fact, the truth. They even fabricated stories of Cassandra’s lascivious sexuality and random sexual encounters at her private school. It was a nightmare!Poor Cassandra!

Douglas, or rather one of the top lawyers he retained, struck upon an expedient solution that seemed brilliant at the time but much less so presently. Instead of prosecuting Wayne Jones in a criminal court where the press would have a field day -- or a field month more like -- and where the outcome was very much in doubt, they would simply have Wayne Jones declared “mentally unfit” and a “hazard to society”. That way he would be locked away for a long time and possible even forever. Also, no one would doubt Cassandra’s word against the word of a “diagnosed” madman.

The problem was that Jones was not locked away forever. He was freed over three months ago. Every day Dawn and Cassandra wondered if he would show up at their doorstep. He’d supposedly stated he intended to seek revenge. How could they release such a man?Who were the incompetents to blame?If only Douglas were alive to deal with them and ensure Jones was locked away again, this time for good.

Instead of being on the offensive all they could do was practice good defense. They weren’t the only ones watching for Jones to show himself. Detectives were out there trying to locate him and the house was guarded by four guards at any given moment. Money was no object when it came to protecting her daughter, her only child, her darling Cassandra.

Her best expenditure, by far, was Indira Swanne. Indira was such a treasure!A mulatto, half black and half Indian, she was a very special body guard. She looked young enough that she was now attending the same classes at University as Cassandra was. That way they were together all the time and Indira appeared as just a close friend of Cassandra’s. That way she could get the drop on anyone intending harm to Cassandra, especially Wayne Jones whose face Indira had memorized. Indira gave Dawn great confidence.

She was beautiful but Dawn understood she was deadly with her bare hands. More than that, she and Cassandra had already struck up quite a close friendship. Cassandra needed friends.

“Slower, Mother, don’t rip any hairs out. ”Cassandra kept her voice as sweet as possible. She didn’t actually like her Mother touching her hair especially when her hands smelled like a cleaner’s. It was exasperating but she didn’t let it show. She knew her Mother was just trying to be a good parent, an effort she usually succeeded in, and she was just trying to help. So her exasperation was mixed with appreciation.

“Have you decided what degree to pursue yet?”

“No, you’d be the first to know. Plenty of time for that, Mother. I intend to take at least eight years to complete my degree. Maybe I’ll even do more than one degree just to keep going to school. After all, once I’m done you’ll probably expect me to get a job -- even though we don’t need the money -- and get married. You know, just because you married Father when you were younger than I am now doesn’t mean I want to be that way. I don’t want to go around with people saying “There goes the wife of so-and-so”. I’d rather be my own person, define myself. ”

“By taking classes endlessly, never working, and being a spinster?”

Cassandra couldn’t help but grin. She loved it when her Mother showed spirit, “You’re being a smartass, Mother. Good for you!”

 

Dawn snapped the oven door closed. It wasn’t even two weeks since she last cleaned it but she knew she’d clean it again today. Oh well, it was something to do and gave her a sense of accomplishment, however false. Dawn put food away in the butler’s pantry. The pantry was as big as a cabin and they could probably survive on the food in there for a year. Even so, she’d just come back from a shopping trip to their local high end grocery store. She always wanted the freshest vegetables and fruits. The cook would prepare them. She wasn’t much of a cook. Too bad, it would probably be a better hobby than cleaning, or at least a pursuit more respected by other people.

She’d intended a long multi-store shopping trip along with a manicure and had told Cassandra and Indira as much but had changed her mind before she left and made it quick, only briefly visiting the grocery store. She had a headache and the poor dears looked hungry from all their studying. Even though Indira wasn’t actually pursuing a degree the professors didn’t know that and she still had to pass her exams. It was crucial for her to do that in order to maintain her “stealth” bodyguard positioning.

Indira was so intelligent she was actually doing better than Cassandra and was practically a tutor for her. Dawn expected Cassandra’s B average to bump upwards.

Dawn zipped up two stair cases, to the second floor and then up to the third floor of the mansion. No servants were allowed up here for security purposes as it held, among other rooms, Cassandra’s monstrous bedroom and attached bathroom, a room bigger than most people’s bedrooms.

Dawn moved quietly on the plush hallway carpeting and did not knock on Cassandra’s door before silently turning the knob and pushing it open. She did not want to disturb their studies. They’d have no idea she could be home so soon and no one besides the three of them were allowed upstairs. It wasn’t that she was nosy. At least, that’s what she told herself. It would be like seeing animals in their natural environment!It would be so adorable to sneak up on them bent over their books or maybe even gossiping about some young man at school Cassandra might finally be interested in.

Dawn peeked around the door frame. Bent over… Cassandra was bent over… over Indira’s bare knees. Bare everything. Both of them were completely bare. Naked. Why?What kind of homework would lend the appearance of… of… some sort of lesbian interaction?

None. None would.

The hallway was black dark as Dawn had purposely failed to turn on the light. She could stand there and see every detail in the well lit room without being seen herself.

Cassandra’s face looked anguished and Indira’s open hand hovered above her slim butt. Good Lord, was Indira spanking her?Dawn hadn’t heard any spanks while she walked down the hallway. Cassandra’s rear, glowing whitely, looked completely unblemished.

“You little whore!”Indira sounded very firm in her insult and her hand punctuated the name-calling with a surprisingly harsh spank. Of course, any spank at all was surprising!

Cassandra wriggled in pain. Her poor daughter was trying to escape Indira’s abuse. Who knew Indira was so mean?Dawn had never detected that in those gentle brown eyes. She knew Indira was strong and physically skilled but she always assumed she would only use her strength for good purposes, like defending her daughter. Not… attacking her ass with spanks!

Several more spanks were delivered each simultaneous with verbal abuse. It was insufferable that Indira, basically hired help, would treat her daughter so terribly. Cassandra twisted about and her ass cheeks glowed bright pink-red wherever Indira’s palm struck. Dawn instinctively wanted to help her daughter but she knew Cassandra would be embarrassed to know her Mother saw her in this situation. Several times it looked like Cassandra would escape though it also looked like she was not trying too hard. Each time she began to slide free of Indira’s lap Indira grabbed her hip with her non-spanking hand and re-centered her. Each time Cassandra held still for several spanks before resuming her fruitless thrashing. If only she struggled the entire time she’d have escaped by now. Why wasn’t Cassandra giving her all to get away?

Dawn couldn’t see Cassandra’s face because it was facing the floor and her wealth of hair was tumbled down dragging the ends on the floorboards.

“Hard enough, whore?”

Good, at least Indira was decent enough to finally give her daughter an out. Dawn wondered what Cassandra had done to offend Indira and bring on this spanking.

Cassandra panted, randomly flexing her ass cheeks in reaction to the ongoing pain. Indira’s hand descended, slowly this time, and disappeared down into the groove between her daughter’s legs. That hand was doing something down there. Something sexual!Some kind of lesbian move!

Cassandra moaned and spread her legs wider. She liked it!Cassandra raised her head, her face puffy and red, then lowered it again with a groan.

Dawn couldn’t see what Indira’s hand… or fingers… were up to. She had a bad angle for that. She’d have to walk into the room and she didn’t dare. She wondered if Indira’s fingers were… petting her daughter’s private area. It seemed so.

“Answer me, whore!Have you had enough or do you want more?”

Dawn couldn’t believe how mean Indira was. That question was absurdly rhetorical. Her daughter didn’t “want more”. She would want less, would wish Indira had never spanked her. So did Dawn. Now she was going to have to terminate Indira’s contract. She’d be hard to replace. Impossible to fully replace, really, until the start of the next semester. Why had Indira turned all evil?Maybe she was working with Wayne Jones. Maybe she was one of his sick followers.

Cassandra reached down to the carpet with both hands and used that leverage to push her rear high, in a taut arc, “More. Do it harder this time. Don’t stop until I’m crying. ”

“Hey, I don’t know about this, Cassandra. I mean, your ass is really, really red. I think it’s had enough. ”

Cassandra bobbed her ass, “More!”

Indira pulled a now damp hand out from between the juncture of Cassandra’s thighs. She looked a little sick and her eyes shone with excess moisture as she again whacked her palm onto the vulnerable ass.

“Yes!Harder, harder!More!”

Indira chewed her lower lip and frowned with worry as she pummeled Cassandra’s ass rapidly and severely.

“Oh, ohhhhh!I’m… a fucking slut!I am a whore!Beat me!”

The spanking went on, Indira silent since Cassandra had taken over heaping verbal abuse on herself. Each blow to Cassandra’s tenderized rear felt like a blow to Dawn’s spirit and to her respect for her own daughter.

She wanted it!Did she think she deserved it?Her daughter was getting off on it sexually. She thrust her body around on Indira’s bare legs and twisted so that her face was against Indira’s right hip and her pubic mound ground on Indira’s left knee even as Indira smacked and smacked.

Dawn didn’t know what to do. Watching was wrong. It was wrong to watch her daughter have sex. It felt like incest to even see it. It was an invasion of her daughter’s privacy and it caused Dawn extreme emotional distress. She couldn’t try to stop it no matter how wrong it felt. Speaking up would mortify all three of them. What would she stop?It was obvious her daughter was a willing participant.

On a signal understood only by the two participants, Indira stopped spanking and her blazing hot hand searched between Cassandra’s thighs, pressing the sizzling palm hard to the pussy. Cassandra’s groans and wailing moans immediately boiled over into a racket that indicated impending orgasm.

My God, thought Dawn, if I stand her a few moments longer my daughter is going to orgasm right in front of me!Come all over the hand of the lesbian bodyguard spanking her. Cum all over the hand that spanked her so viciously.

Dawn fled, her footfalls silent in the deep carpet. Down the staircase and around the corner and down the next staircase trying not to hear anything but the noise kept intruding into the front of her mind but well behind her physically Cassandra climaxed, twisted, froze a moment in place, then melted into a shudder, going lax, strength draining from her body, pussy juice draining from her sex.

Indira pulled the wet hand up to her face and licked it all over. She liked Cassandra’s flavor. She’d never had another lesbian lover so she couldn’t be sure it was any better than normal but she sure liked it.

Then she remembered the next part of the play they acted out together when alone. She rolled Cassandra off her lap and watched her tumble to the floor in a heap of loose thin limbs. She bit her lip. That part always concerned her but Cassandra insisted. She was never hurt, at least not too much, but Indira worried she would be sooner or later.

What would it feel like to be spanked and insulted, masturbated to orgasm, then pushed to the floor so disrespectfully?Indira would actually like to know, would love to know first hand, but so far she never got to play that role, it was always Cassandra.

Worn out Cassandra looked impatiently up at her from the floor.

“Oh, ah, lick my pussy now you dumb whore. ”

Cassandra crawled into position and did just that until Indira came ten minutes later.

Five minutes after that they were both lying on Cassandra’s bed. They were still naked but both knew they better get dressed before Cassandra’s mother returned from her shopping trip.

They were quiet and each looked blissfully content to their companion. Both were having similar secret thoughts. Both felt pleased by the sex play but nowhere near satisfied.

Indira was discontent because she felt miscast. She was no sadist. She was a strong-willed confident woman but did not enjoy hurting Cassandra and only did it because the pain made Cassandra feel happy. It wasn’t that Indira wanted tender mutually pleasurable loving between equal sexual partners. Far from it. Every time she followed Cassandra’s wishes and abused her she became more and more curious about experiencing those things herself. But how could she?Cassandra was obviously a true submissive and would never agree to even play as a Dominant.

Cassandra was sexually restless as well. There were… moments during the sex when the pain suspended her disbelief and, during those moments, when it felt real, her lust spiraled amazingly. However, the feeling was counterfeit and counterfeit money can’t purchase much, at least not when the seller knows it is counterfeit. The pain caused by Indira’s hand was every bit the equal to the pain caused by the hand of a true Dominant but it still wasn’t the same. The circumstances weren’t genuine, the loss of controlled was controlled, the outcome a forgone scripted conclusion. It wasn’t that Indira did not have a cock. There were dildos if needed.

The problem was that Indira was not Wayne Jones.

 

Dawn felt shaken. She told the cook to make dinner and she didn’t care what. Then she retired to the library but couldn’t relax. She just paced in a circle. She was too upset to even clean anything.

Who was that Cassandra who was embarrassing herself upstairs?Involved in lesbian acts… accepting… embracing… wanting physical abuse. That shouldn’t be her daughter.

Her daughter experienced a nightmare in Wayne Jones. He’d done those types of things to her. Against her will. Cassandra said it was against her will. Jones said differently. Dawn had never doubted her daughter though she understood many weaker-minded people, people who did not know Cassandra, had whispered doubts about her version.

Now it seemed it was Dawn who did not know her daughter. So what?Did this event mean her daughter’s version of events was suddenly less credible?

Yes. It did.

What she’d seen didn’t necessarily mean her daughter lied about Wayne Jones. Maybe he had forced himself on her and maybe somehow that activated thoughts in her daughter’s head. Had birthed something dark inside her.

If Wayne Jones was innocent she felt bad for him but he was clinically diagnosed so obviously his incarceration had been a good thing either way. Now that he was cured he was free and no doubt better for the whole experience despite the last few years.

If she knew for sure at some point -- if Cassandra admitted it to her -- then should she cancel the services of all these guards?That would include Indira. What she’d seen between her daughter and Indira was upsetting in and of itself but the fact that while Dawn paid for her bodyguard services, Indira was actually abusing the body she was supposed to be guarding was outrageous.

Maybe all these precautions were silly and Cassandra was in no danger at all. Or… maybe she was in greater danger…. After all, a guilty man knows he is guilty and has no rational reason to seek revenge but an innocent man who lost his freedom due to false testimony would have good reason to seek revenge.

“Mrs. Zane?”

The cook was poking her wide round face in.

“Yes, Gertie?”

“Cassandra and Indira say they want their dinner brought up to them. They are cramming for a test. ”

Cramming?Dawn had a mental image of Indira’s hand cramming… or something… between her daughter’s legs.

“Good. That’s fantastic. I mean, I understand, thanks for letting me know. ”

Dawn felt relief she wouldn’t have to see them act all normal so soon after seeing them act so abnormal. Sitting around the huge dining room table making light conversation for an hour-long multi-course meal while she knew fluids were drying beneath their put-back-on clothing would have been insufferable.

Come to think of it she should find something to keep her busy outside the house. Perhaps she’d go to the Ladies of Greenville Club tomorrow.