by M T Stone
I sent Raven a quick text after my meeting with Carter, hoping to repair some of the damage.
Me: Good news. Carter is going to let me go exclusive with you.
Raven: Seriously?
Me: That’s what he agreed to. So I need you to show up hot and bothered on Friday.
Raven: You’re hilarious. I already need some flame resistant panties!
Me: Good. We need to keep you that way for the next six weeks.
My balls ached just thinking about being with her. Normally, if I found myself with this much unresolved sexual tension, I would just take care of it manually. This time, however, I decided to let it build. We were eleven days away from Level Six, and I was determined to make it the performance of a lifetime.
Eleven days, that’s going to seem like an eternity.
Raven
Maybe Gunner and I are on the same page after all. He obviously wouldn’t want to work with me exclusively unless he felt the same chemistry that is obvious to me. My mind instantly began reanalyzing our relationship. I began wondering how many other women had been in my shoes over the past three years. Then a truly depressing thought entered my mind. What if this is simply a ploy to keep obsessed with him in order to boost the ratings? They have all been manipulating me, why would this be any different?
From the beginning, Gunner had said that it was strictly business. With a couple of record shows under our belts, it would make sense for him to do whatever it took to ensure more of them. Within a matter of minutes, I was able to go from the bottom of the roller coaster to the top and back to the bottom.
I had to send Gunner another text:
Me: How many women have you gone past level five with?
There was no immediate response, which made me wonder whether he was busy or just reluctant to tell me. After several minutes, I tossed my phone into my purse and tried to get some work done. I glanced through a few files and after about twenty minutes, Gunner finally returned my text.
Gunner: Sorry, I was in a meeting. 6 girls have gone past level 5.
Me: How many have made all 10?
Gunner: Only 2.
Me: Really? In 3 years?
Gunner: That’s it. Most are just curious and do a level or 2. Why?
Me: Just wondering.
Part of me was trying to figure out whether or not I was just another notch in Gunner’s bedpost. At the same time, knowing that several other women had successfully navigated the path before me probably would have eased my mind a bit. Only two other women had made all ten levels with Gunner? I found that a bit terrifying. How bad do these levels get?
The entire week was a roller coaster of emotions. Thoughts of being intimate with Gunner were offset by my fears of electricity and all of the other unknowns lurking in the near future. By Thursday night, I was wishing that I could somehow get my old boring life back. After Hannah was tucked in, I sat in silence on the couch on the verge of another anxiety attack. The more I tried to relax, the worse it got. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore, so I called Gunner.
“How are you?” he asked in his relaxed, sexy voice. “Are you ready for tomorrow?”
“I don’t think I can do this,” I blurted out, bursting into tears.
“I know you can do it. You are one of the strongest women I have ever met,” he replied, trying to sooth me.
“You think so? I feel like I’m losing my mind.”
“Waiting a week between shoots is rough. It gives you too much time to think.”
“Exactly. My mind keeps on going back and forth over every fear. I don’t know what’s ahead and it scares the shit out of me. If I knew what was coming, then at least I could mentally prepare for it,” I pleaded.
“The best advice I can give you is to focus on the end result.”
“The end result?”
“Yes. Figure out what you want when everything is done and focus on that. Forget about all of the unknown details between here and there.”
“That’s actually pretty smart,” I told him as the squeezing in my chest began to ease.
“Well, that’s how I got here,” he replied.
“By focusing on being a porn star?”
“No. By focusing on making half a million dollars per year,” he replied gruffly. “I thought it would come from a career in financial services, but it didn’t.”
“Yeah, this is a long ways from financial services, or real estate for that matter.”
“That’s for sure. I never dreamt I would be doing this, but I just focused on the money, and all of the other details fell into place. I came scarily close to spending the past few years in prison instead of the dungeon,” he confessed.
“Seriously? What did you do?”
“It started out completely innocent. My clients and I had lost a lot of money in the stock market meltdown,” he explained. “One day at the gym, I overheard someone talking about the fact that their software firm was being acquired. His primary concern was being laid off, but for me it was my chance to get out of debt.”
“So you bought the stock?”
“I did. I basically put every last penny into the stock as well as stock options, then nothing happened for several weeks. So I got nervous.”
“What did you do?”
“The next time I saw the guy at the gym, I asked him about the progress of the buyout. He told me he thought everything was still on track. He was a good friend of the CFO, so I knew he had the inside track. Someone overheard our conversation and decided that I was one of those one percent bastards.”
“So you got busted for insider trading?”
“Yeah, after the financial meltdown, the regulators went crazy, cracking down on everyone they could find.” He sighed. “They needed to re-establish their credibility and I was someone who they could easily squash.”
“So how did you get out of it?”
“I talked to Renegade at the gym one day after he showed up in his new Porsche. He told me that Carter had helped him out when he was in trouble. I was so desperate at that point; I would’ve struck a deal with the Devil himself.”
“Which is exactly what you did, huh?”
“I did. After I signed the contract, my case disappeared into thin air,” he said. “I found out later that an SEC attorney had been paid off. In return, I had to fulfill a five-year contract with Carter.”
“So you have basically been here against your will ever since?”
“You could say that, but it definitely beats prison,” he insisted. “Even in my darkest moments, I kept my faith and focused on making half a million dollars per year.”
“Wow, I have a whole new appreciation for the road you took to get here,” I replied, realizing that my situation had actually been pretty low stress by comparison.
~~~
After hanging up the phone, I began to reflect on how things had evolved in my own career. I had always focused on how much I wanted to make instead of how many houses or buildings I wanted to sell. Maybe I actually made this happen, too. I had despised my boring life for several years. I wanted to make a ton of money just like I did in the old days. I wanted to find an interesting, vibrant man. Maybe I really am in control and this is all happening for a reason. That realization was another breakthrough moment for me. Instead of being ashamed of what I was doing, and fearing the unknown, I decided to embrace all of it. Hell, I never would’ve thought that I would enjoy the pain. Maybe I will learn all kinds of things about myself before this is done. It’s only six more weeks.
When my head hit the pillow that night, I had a strange feeling of calmness. I had no idea how it was all going to play out, but I knew exactly what I wanted in the end. That will be my new focus.
Chapter 21
Raven
The following morning I woke up well before my alarm. Instead of rushing to the office, I dropped off Hanna and went shopping. I had already worn my three best dresses, so it was time for something new. Within minutes of entering Lord & Taylor, a beauti
ful black lace dress caught my eye. This will look great with my black hair and blue eyes. Walking past the shoe rack, a pair of black Damas leather pumps screamed out to me. They had pointed toes, three ankle straps with buckles, and four-inch stilettos. These are definitely proper dungeon attire.
I tried everything on again once I got home, but this time I put on my old black wig and bright blue contacts. This is awesome! It was such a stark contrast to the conservative business suits that I had worn the previous four days. As I studied myself in the mirror, I thought back to my revelation from the night before. I know exactly what I want and I’m simply playing a role to get it. I gave myself a smile and looked over at the clock. Crap, it’s still nine hours until show time. I really need to find a hobby. I decided to walk to the gym for a workout and booked a massage for Saturday. I thought it would be a good idea to pamper myself a bit after a night of torture in the dungeon. I hope he goes easy on me.
~~~
7:30 PM Friday Evening
Gunner
After telling me the tragic story of a neighborhood kid getting electrocuted, I knew that Raven would expect me to back off a bit. It left me walking a fine line because I had already told Carter that it would involve electricity and Suzanne had shared that with the members in the promo email. I must admit that I toned down my plans a bit, but I had to deliver a visually stimulating show.
“You look incredible!” I told her as she walked through the door about an hour before show time.
“Thanks! I took the day off and went shopping,” she smiled, settling in for makeup.
She was dressed to the nines, causing an immediate change in how I planned to open the scene. She’s going to hate me, but the members are going to love it. I went on set to make sure that I had everything I needed for the revised shoot. In our previous show, we had set the bar exceedingly high, so I knew that it would take some creativity and drama to get me out of my contract.
“How do I look?” she asked, twirling in front of me in full makeup.
“Like I said, you look absolutely amazing.”
“Too bad I have to take it off right away,” she replied with a little frown.
“Actually, you’re in luck. I want the members to see how great you look tonight.”
“Really? I get to wear clothes onto the set?”
“Yeah, I think they will like it.” In fact, I know they will.
Within a few minutes, the red light began to flash, indicating that we were sixty seconds from going live.
“I’m so damn nervous,” she admitted, tightly gripping my hand.
“Just remember that nothing I’m going to do can actually hurt you, regardless of how scary it might seem.”
“Okay, I’ll try,” she said with that nervous look lingering on her face.
Raven
I have to admit that I was completely petrified by the time the flashing red changed to a solid red. This is it. I took a deep breath and squeezed Gunner’s hand. He gave me a comforting smirk before dragging me out onto the set. He literally had to drag me because I was having a hard time getting my legs to move. It had nothing to do with the stilettos, but everything to do with the raging fear that had steadily risen up from within me. Please go easy on me, please go easy on me, please go easy on me, I kept chanting in my mind, hoping to somehow make it come true.
Once we were on the set, I immediately saw the apparatus that I would be strapped to for the duration of the show. It looked like a giant swing. Long white ropes hung down from the ceiling and attached to a brass colored pipe that rested just a few inches off the ground. That looks pretty tame, I thought as we approached the ultra-low swing.
“Hop up on the swing and grab the ropes as high up as you can,” he instructed after introducing me to the camera.
I followed his instructions as he leaned over to type something into the computer. The metal pipe fit perfectly between the heel and ball of my foot. I gripped the ropes with my hands and swung back and forth just slightly.
“You like swings?” he asked, approaching me from the front.
“I do, sir.”
“That’s good; I think you will learn to like this one.” He used a small stepladder to go up behind me and secure each of my wrists with a matching piece of rope.
“I want you on your tiptoes,” he said as he cinched the ropes around my wrists and pulled them tight.
“Yes, sir,” I complied, standing on the balls of my feet. I could instantly feel the tension in my shoulders and upper back as the ropes strained against my wrists.
“Spread your legs apart,” he commanded.
“Yes, sir.” I moved one foot to each side of the bar causing additional tension on my wrists.
“Is that uncomfortable?”
“Yes, sir.” He could obviously see the strain on my face.
“That’s good because it’s meant to be.” He laughed, before walking back over to the computer monitor.
“The members have made a request,” he told me before walking over to a small table and picking up a pair of scissors. “They really like your new dress, but they want to see it on the floor.”
“It would have been easier to take it off before I was tied up.” Shit! He’s going to ruin it. He grabbed the hem of my dress and began cutting his way right up the center of it.
“Goddammit!” Flew out of my mouth before my brain had a chance to filter it.
“Did you just swear at me? You dirty slut!” He growled with instant fire in his eyes. When his scissors finally came to a stop, I could feel the sharp point resting against the base of my throat.
“I’m so sorry, sir.” I pleaded, instantly overwhelmed with regret. I felt a huge lump forming in my throat just above the point of the scissors.
“This is all about learning self-control. I was simply following the members’ requests.” He leaned into me, locking his eyes with mine. “Are you willing to pay for your mistake?”
“Yes, sir!” Oh shit, what have I done? Please go easy on me, please go easy on me…
Gunner
After cutting her dress up the center, I rested the blade against her skin momentarily while locking eyes with her. I could see how excited she was by the way her jugular vein was pounding within her neck. That was the type of thing our cameraman always loved to focus in on. The look on her face was priceless once she realized that she had sworn at me. I had known full well that cutting her new dress off of her was going to get some type of major reaction. That was exactly why I had done it. By swearing, she set herself up for the next punishment, which had our members salivating. She had played her part perfectly, whether she knew it or not.
Her eyes bit into me as I cut both shoulders of the dress, letting it fall to the floor behind her. I tried to give her a look of reassurance, but she apparently didn’t catch it. She was still stuck in the world of reality, where actions had corresponding meanings. It was time for her to realize that everything on the set was an act, choreographed for the pleasure of the audience. I glanced over at the monitor and our audience had indeed loved the opening scene. They are really going to love what comes next.
“Can I cut those new shoes off you?” I asked, squinting my eyes slightly.
“No, sir,” she replied, giving me the correct answer.
Maybe she is totally onboard after all. I walked back to the table and retrieved my little hotshot. “Do you know what this is?” I asked, holding up the prongs in front of her face.
“A cattle prod?” Her legs immediately began to tremble.
“Exactly. Do you know what we do with them?” I asked, running the prongs along the left side of her rib cage.
“Torture people?” she asked.
She’s so cute. I pressed the button and it made an ominous sound as the coil charged. “Some people might call it torture, but I like to think of it as behavioral training.”
She released a distressed moan, scrunched up her face and closed her eyes as I moved the prongs slowly up the inside of her thig
h. “Open your eyes, bitch!”
She let out a small whimper and forced them open. “If you close your eyes again, I’m going to give you a jolt right here,” I warned, running the prongs along her pussy lips. “Believe me, you don’t want that.”
“No, sir,” she whimpered in agreement.
I would never be that mean to her. I just wanted her to act as if it was within the realm of possibilities. “What do you call this area?” I asked, running the prongs along the full length of her lips one more time.